The Feast (26 page)

P
.S.
—I enclose 5/- and my sweet points for the Feast. Friday night, isn’t it? I’ll think of you all. But don’t you think of me unless you can think kindly.

Gerry had not known that Duff and Robin meant to sleep upon the cliff. He was much put out to find them when he took up the tea basket. Not that he was quite sure that he intended to remain himself for a third night in succession; prudence had suggested to him that it might be better to return to the stables as soon as he had settled his ladies for the night. Affairs between himself and Evangeline were going too far for safety. He must not allow himself to become attached, and he ought to have remembered that before.

Usually it was his first thought, whenever he encountered an attractive girl. He could not sit behind one on a bus without a certain pang of self-sacrifice; for an instant he would see her in a flowered overall, busy at a cooking stove, and then, with a sigh, he would relinquish her. For it was thus that he always imagined a wife, not as a bed-fellow or as a play-fellow, but as a cook,
decoratively
preparing his favourite dinner, setting it before him with a smile, watching him eat it, and listening while he talked about himself.

When introduced to a pretty young woman he was always excessively guarded in his manner, for fear that he might raise false hopes. Since he could marry no girl he was able, unchecked, to indulge in the fantasy that all would have been ready to cook for him, if invited to do so. A mild flirtation might have taught him better, but he had never dared to embark upon one for fear of becoming attached.

If Evangeline had been pretty, if she had possessed any of the attractions which made him sigh after girls in buses, he would have taken fright before. But he had begun by disliking her and had grown fond of her in a disinterested attempt to do the poor thing justice. Never for a moment had he visualized her as a possible wife-cook. She had stolen into his heart so imperceptibly that he did not know she was there until faced with the prospect of losing her. His mother, at supper, had casually thanked heaven that the Wraxtons were going on Saturday, and the pang which he then experienced was his first intimation of danger. He could not bear the thought of never seeing Evangeline again. There was a note in her voice to which he had not listened nearly long enough. He had learnt to like it unawares, while telling himself that she was really quite intelligent.

So he toiled up the hill in a mood of melancholy decision, meditating a break. He did not want to hurt her feelings. But while they drank their tea he would drop a hint or two about his position. And, for the rest of the week, he would avoid her.

Before he reached the shelter, however, he was startled by strains of song; Duff’s baritone and Robin’s lusty tenor were raised in a catch. And all his melancholy evaporated in a gust of anger. How could he drop any hints while those young brutes were roaring their heads off? Was he never to be allowed any intimacies of his own?

Standing still upon the cliff path he silently cursed his entire family. Nor was he inclined to be pleased with Mrs. Paley and Angie for having admitted these intruders. If they had valued him as they ought they would have kept this twilit hour for him, and him alone. Angie had no business to be singing rounds with his brothers; no business to be singing at all. He had never known that she could sing. It was intolerable that Robin and Duff should have discovered this about her before he did. She had a high, sweet voice which toned well with theirs,
and as Gerry came round the boulders she gave out the first line of a new catch, singing alone in the quiet summer dusk:

Robin and Duff took up the air. They were sitting in a row on a rock, looking ridiculously pleased with
themselves
, while Mrs. Paley occupied her usual seat, some distance away, at the end of the headland. The singers did not stop when they saw Gerry; they merely grinned and signed to him to join them. He put down the basket with a bump and stalked off to join Mrs. Paley, from whom he learnt that his intolerable brothers were really intending to stay the night.

‘Then I shan’t stay,’ announced Gerry sulkily. ‘I shall go back to the stables.’

But he did stay. He sat down beside Mrs. Paley and fumed for a little while. Then he said:

‘I’m in a hopeless position.’

Mrs. Paley nodded. Bruce had sat on the very same spot, last night, and had used the very same words. He had told her a long story. So was Gerry going to tell her a long story. They could tell her nothing which she had not guessed. And for Bruce she believed that she had been able to do nothing, since it was said that he had gone off up the coast with Anna. It was improbable that she would be able to do anything for Gerry. These people in hopeless positions all seemed to be intent upon their own ruin. She wanted to sit by herself and watch the stars come out.

‘I suppose it began when I was born,’ said Gerry, mournfully, but settling down to it with a certain zest. ‘I …’

‘Oh, my goodness,’ said Mrs. Paley, ‘it began ages before that. It began when your father was born.’

‘Perhaps it did,’ agreed Gerry. ‘You see, he …’

‘I’m sure. But I don’t want to sit here all night. Let’s skip a bit. Are you quite sure that you want to marry Angie?’

‘How on earth did you guess …?’

‘Plain as a pikestaff. But are you sure you want to marry her?’

‘No. My trouble is that if I did, I couldn’t.’

‘But that must apply to so many girls. All of them really.’

‘Yes,’ agreed Gerry. ‘I suppose it does.’

‘And you can’t marry them all. So you aren’t in any position, hopeless or otherwise, until you want to marry one in particular.’

‘I’d like to be married.’

‘I don’t wonder. But what has Angie got to do with that?’

‘I … I like her very much.’

‘Umhm?’

‘But philandering is no good.’

‘I don’t agree. I think a nice little philander would cheer you both up considerably.’

‘Oh, Mrs. Paley!’

‘Don’t look so scandalized. It won’t get you anywhere, I agree. But it will pass the time agreeably and that’s all that anyone in a hopeless position can expect to do.’

‘But she mightn’t understand.’

‘Oh, I think she would. She’s in a tolerably hopeless position herself, isn’t she?’

The party on the boulders were now singing
Shenandoah,
a sad song at any time and not likely to enliven anybody in a hopeless position. Angie sang the solo lines while the boys joined in the chorus:

‘And if I philander much longer,’ explained Gerry, ‘I shall kiss her.’ 

‘And if I kiss her I shall marry her.’

‘I thought you said you couldn’t.’

‘Well … I could, if I go to Kenya.’

‘Then, my goodness,’ cried Mrs. Paley in exasperation, ‘what is all the fuss about?’

‘I’m in a hopeless position.’

‘I can’t bear this,’ protested Mrs. Paley. ‘I really can’t. I never heard such a depressing song. Nobody’s bound to do anything. We’re not black slaves. You take Angie for a little stroll along to Rosigraille, and don’t come back until you’ve made up your mind. Take care of rabbit holes.’

Gerry obeyed her. As soon as
Shenandoah
had been wailed to its last stanza he got up and joined the singers. But his excitement was so urgent that he could not issue the invitation as casually as he wished; he barked an abrupt command at Evangeline.

‘Come for a walk.’

She jumped up at once.

‘A walk!’ said Duff. ‘At this time of night? Where to?’

‘To Rosigraille cliffs,’ said Gerry, seizing Evangeline by the elbow and dragging her away.

‘We’ll come too,’ said Robin. ‘No need to run.’

But Mrs. Paley joined them at this point with a
counterattraction
, announcing that she had strange news about
Mrs. Cove’s soapstone. Gerry and Angie escaped while the boys remained to listen.

Robin was much delighted by the poltergeist story and disposed to commend the little Coves. He leant a kindly ear to Mrs. Paley’s plans for the feast and promised his help. But he soon returned to the drama of the soapstone, and while Mrs. Paley made tea he planned further
adventures
for it.

‘I’ll get it out of my father, if he’s got it now,’ he said. ‘Oh yes, I’ll certainly return it to Mrs. Cove. I know it’s hers. Don’t worry, Mrs. Paley. She shall find it again.’

‘Ssh!’ said Duff. ‘Listen! What’s that?’

A distant bellow had for a moment shattered the quiet dusk. They fell silent, listening, and heard the gurgle of the sea against the rocks far below.

‘A bull, somewhere,’ said Robin.

It came again, nearer.

‘No,’ said Mrs. Paley. ‘It’s Canon Wraxton calling his daughter.’

Presently the Canon appeared, massive against the sky-line, and Mrs. Paley informed him that Evangeline had gone for a walk with Gerry Siddal.

‘Then she’ll find me waiting for her when she gets back,’ said the Canon, sitting down upon a rock. ‘I’ve had enough of Gerry Siddal.’

‘Would you like a cup of tea?’ suggested Mrs. Paley.

‘No. I would not like a cup of tea.’

There was a short silence, and then the Canon opened the attack.

‘I should very much like to know,’ he said to Mrs. Paley, ‘just why you are encouraging Evangeline to
behave
like this. If you think that you are doing her a service you never made a bigger mistake in your life. She’s going to be exceedingly sorry before I’ve done with her.’

‘I hope not,’ said Mrs. Paley. ‘I hope she’ll marry Gerry and get away from you. I hope they’re settling it now.’

‘What?’ cried Robin.

‘Umph,’ said Duff. ‘I thought as much.’

‘But he can’t,’ protested Robin.

‘He won’t,’ said the Canon. ‘I won’t have it.’

‘You won’t be able to stop it,’ said Mrs. Paley, ‘if that is what they want to do. Angie is of age.’

‘She’s not all there, and you know it. I don’t want to lock her up, but I may have to.’

‘You can’t, Canon Wraxton. There is absolutely nothing more that you can do to Angie. She is free.’

‘She shall
not
marry him.’

Mrs. Paley smiled and began to pack up the tea basket.

‘I think,’ she said, ‘that I shall go to bed now.’

The Canon got up and kicked the rock upon which he had been sitting.

‘Very well,’ he said. ‘Very well, very well, very well….’

And he gave the rock another kick. The impact must have hurt him considerably. But he continued to massacre his toes against the granite and to repeat
very
well
for some minutes after Mrs. Paley and the boys had gone down to the shelter. When at last he went off in the direction of Pendizack he was walking very lame.

‘He wants to hurt somebody,’ explained Mrs. Paley to the boys, who were shocked. ‘So much that he enjoys hurting himself. And now, will you kindly tell me why Gerry should not marry Angie?’

Robin began to explain, but the facts did the whole Siddal family so little credit that he faltered very soon. And Duff said sulkily that he, personally, could manage quite well without any more help from Gerry.

‘I can get jobs in the vacations. I’ve got a
scholarship
. And there is father’s law library. That’s worth five hundred pounds. Gerry seems to think we’d all be sunk unless he runs the whole show. I think he’d much better marry and boss his wife.’

‘Then suppose,’ said Mrs. Paley, ‘you are just a little
bit nice to him and Angie about it? It won’t cost you anything, and it will mean a lot to them.’

‘Nice?’ said Duff.

‘Kiss her, do you mean?’ asked Robin.

‘And slap Gerry on the back?’ asked Duff.

‘I leave that entirely to you,’ said Mrs. Paley, with a yawn.

Something disturbed the gulls on Rosigraille cliffs. There was a squawk and a flutter and a chorus of cries, echoing over the water, before they settled on their ledges again. Angie, half asleep in Gerry’s arms, roused up and saw the moon hanging over a landward hill.

‘We must go back,’ she said. ‘It’s fearfully late.’

‘I don’t want to go back,’ murmured Gerry. ‘I’m happy. I’ve never been happy before. I never shall be again. Let’s stay here.’

‘But we shall be happy again,’ said Angie. ‘We shall be happy for the rest of our lives. And if we stay here we shall get rheumatism.’

‘I don’t mind if I get rheumatism. I shan’t get it till to-morrow. And to-morrow we’ll know it’s impossible. They’ll all be against us.’

But they rose from their lair in the bracken and made their way back along the cliffs towards the shelter, clinging together and pausing often to kiss and to exclaim. The moon rose higher and threw a sheet of silver over the gorse bushes as they reached the shelter. A voice
whispered
:

‘Here they are!’

Two lumps of shadow, couched under a boulder, started up to greet them.

‘Sorry,’ said Gerry. ‘We didn’t mean to wake you.’

We weren’t asleep,’ said Duff. ‘We stayed awake to congratulate you.’

‘What?’

‘It’s what we’ve always wanted in our family—a nice soprano. We’re very much obliged to you, Gerry.’