The Oracles (18 page)

‘I’d have to work that out. They need clothes too. They haven’t a thing, and what they’re wearing ought to be burnt.’

‘Mrs.… Mrs.… what is your first name?’

‘Christina.’

He completed the cheque and made an entry on the counterfoil.
Conrad
again.
£100.

‘You’ll let me know immediately, won’t you, if there is any news of Swann? Here’s a card with my London address. I shall be in England for some months now. And here’s a cheque. It will do to go on with for a few weeks. You must write to me if and when you want more.’

‘It’s plenty for the moment,’ said Christina, taking the card and the cheque. ‘Anything that isn’t spent can be sent back to you. I shall have to take them to my house tonight. That’s what I shall have to do.’

Archer, who had been determined that she should do this, gave a convincing start.

‘Not really? Dear me! I’m afraid that will give you rather a lot of trouble.’

‘It will,’ she said grimly. ‘But I couldn’t find anywhere else tonight, at this short notice.’

He smiled benignly. He could, as he had told
Elizabeth
, sell anything to anybody, but he had never done a slicker deal than this. To have sold the little Swanns to so excellent a guardian, without moving from his chair, was a master stroke. She would, he was certain, never shirk any responsibility which she had
undertaken
. She was obviously an admirable woman. Had it not been for that little oversight about the apron he might have thought her almost oppressively admirable.

‘Have you room?’ he asked sympathetically.

‘Oh yes. The girls can have the guest-room. And Joe …’

Suddenly she laughed. Archer sat up. What a delicious laugh! Admirable? This girl was a honey!

‘Joe‚’ she said, ‘can have a bed in … in a little room—it’s going to be a nursery, but at present it’s my
husband’s
dressing-room.’

A strange light had come into her eyes; it was not, he thought, entirely the light of loving-kindness.

‘But won’t that be a great nuisance for him?’

‘He’s very
fond
of Mr. Swann.’

‘I see.’

And she’ll larn him to be fond of Swann, thought Archer. She well may. People who love Conrad must accept the consequences.

So I can’t surprise him, thought Christina. He always knows what I’m going to do next. He’s got a big
surprise
coming to him now, anyway. He’ll be furious, but he won’t be able to say a thing, not even that I’m not nice to his friends. Mr. Swann’s children, who all his other dear friends will do nothing for, because they think ridiculous ugly statues are more important than children. I always did want to get hold of those children and look after them a bit.

She jumped up.

‘I’ll take them now, if they’ve finished their supper. The sooner they’re in bed the better. Thank you, Mr. Archer!’

‘Not at all. Thank
you
!’

They beamed at one another, each with a pleasant sense of triumph. Christina thought that she had twisted him round her little finger; only a very short scolding had been needed to make him see his duty. He was quite easy to manage. Had she been at that stupid
party she would never have allowed him to make
everybody
drunk.

‘You’ll let me know if you hear from Swann?’ he repeated.

‘Yes. Mr. Archer … I do appreciate … I mean … I do see that anybody might think you had no particular cause for …’

‘Oh. I’m fond of him, you know. Like your husband.’

‘Are you? Oh, that’s … I mean, I’m glad. I mean, it’s nicer to do things for people if you are fond of them.’

‘It is, isn’t it?’ he said, conducting her back to the sitting-room.

All the children were sitting in a state of glazed repletion except Joe, who had gone to sleep with his head in a plate of ice-cream. Archer picked him up and carried him out to the car. In the lobby Christina remembered her apron and ran back for it. She found Polly and Mike sitting by themselves at the table, staring sadly in front of them with their pop eyes, waiting for something else to happen. With a pang of compunction she kissed them and told them that they were going to a lovely place where they would be very happy.

‘Who will be there?’ asked Mike doubtfully.

‘Kind people and a lot of nice children to play with. It’s all going to be quite different.’

For the first time the twins displayed emotion.

‘I don’t want different,’ announced Polly.

‘People here is kind,’ gulped Mike. ‘We get shrimp cocktails. We have too got nice children to play with. Serafina and Dinah and Joe.’

‘We like it here,’ wailed Polly. ‘We have snails.’

Tears made them look more hideous than usual. Christina was still trying to comfort them when Archer came back, having stowed all the Swanns away in her
car. She shook hands with him and ran off, leaving him to still their mewing sobs as best he could. Her last glimpse of the Archers was so forlorn that she began to feel quite sorry for the man, wandering through the desert with a worthless wife and two ugly little children whom nobody could possibly want except Serafina and Dinah, who began to cry too when they realised that the twins had been taken from them.

‘People laugh at them‚’ howled Serafina. ‘People call them little horrors. We don’t. We lo-o-ove them.’

Joe, waking up, joined in the chorus, bawling lustily.

‘Everybody goes away‚’ cried Dinah. ‘Mummy and Conrad and Elizabeth and Polly and Mike.’

Their tears were still flowing when they reached Bay Hill. Christina was disappointed. She had looked
forward
to seeing Dickie’s face when they all came trooping in and he learnt what happened to people who were fond of Swann. But she had pictured Dickie as the only person in the scene who was not smiling and contented; his dismay should have been a contrast to her own motherly common sense and the children’s rapture at the prospect of a hot bath and clean beds. To herd these wailing infants into the house was not quite so satisfactory; she felt that they had taken the wind out of her sails.

‘
I
HAPPEN
to believe Serafina,’ said Christina. ‘And I’ve no time to argue about it on a Monday morning. Will you give me your soiled collars, please?’

Dickie went into the little room where he kept his clothes and was confronted by Joe, majestically
enthroned
, according to the morning ritual in all
well-managed
nurseries.

‘I’m doin’ my business like a good boy,’ stated Joe.

‘I should have thought,’ said Dickie, hunting for his collars, ‘that you might have gone next door.’

‘Dinah’s next door.’

Like hell she is, thought Dickie. Dinah had been locked up next door for the last twenty minutes, as he knew to his cost.

‘She’s constlipated,’ explained Joe. ‘We’re all constlipated. Aunt Chris says she isn’t surprised. She’s going to give us something for it that tastes like
chocklick
. Are you constlipated?’

‘I’m going to be,’ prophesied Dickie.

In the bedroom Christina was swiftly stripping and folding up sheets. He gave her the collars.

‘I’m sure Serafina means to speak the truth,’ he said. ‘But it’s monstrous to accept this story about the Rawsons on her bare word. They’re Swann’s most intimate friends. She seems to be muddled about a lot of things. She told you that her mother had gone to Korea.’

‘That woman is not her mother.’

‘You know perfectly well what I mean.’

‘It just shows how little you and the Rawsons care about those children. I at least know who their mother was.’

‘So do I. It was a slip of the tongue and you know it. Wait a minute, Tina! Don’t go!’

‘It’s my washing-day. It’s Monday. In the provinces …’

‘I’m going to ring the Rawsons up.’

‘Do. I can’t stop you.’

‘Until we’ve got their side of it you are not to go about spreading this ridiculous story.’

‘I don’t see anything
ridiculous
in it.’

‘Do you hear me? You’re to hold your tongue till I’ve got at the true facts. It may turn out to have been a mistake.’

‘You think it’s a nuisance having the children, so you want to make out that it wasn’t necessary.’

‘You and Archer had no business to settle it like that between you. Why didn’t you get in touch with me?’

‘I can’t see that you’ll suffer much. You’ll be out all day and I’ll have them in bed by the time you’re home. I know it’s all rather a muddle this first morning, but I’ll get it straightened out.’

‘I’m not talking about the inconvenience.…’

‘I’m only pointing out that I settled it with Mr. Archer because I’m the one who’ll have to cope. You don’t think I took on three extra children just for fun? If I’m willing …’

‘I know. I know. It’s noble of you.’

The generosity and unselfishness of Christina’s conduct were very confusing to Dickie. In any other circumstances he would have applauded them warmly.
But now they merely made it more difficult to explain that she was in the wrong. He believed that she knew this perfectly well, and found it hard to keep his temper. With a great effort he smiled and said:

‘Of course, darling, if it turns out that the Cygnets have no other refuge …’

‘The what?’

‘The little Swanns.’

‘Funny. Tell Martha. She’ll roar.’

‘Oh!’ He gave it up. ‘You’re impossible. You understand me quite well and you won’t … I’m simply telling you this. You are not to say that Martha turned a starving child from her door.’

‘I’m to say exactly what you say? How medevial!’

‘Not at all. I say medieval. If you prefer medevial, say it by all means. It does credit to the High School.…’

‘I knew quite well, only I wasn’t thinking. No need to start cracks about my education.…’

‘You hold your tongue about Martha. Understand?’

‘And what if I don’t?’

He had been walking up and down excitedly, but now he drew up and looked at her.

What if she did not? One cannot beat one’s wife, he thought. What does one do when she seems to be asking for it? Would she really prefer to be beaten, or did she want it both ways? Did she expect the privileges both of an equal and of an inferior?

‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘It will only be one step nearer, won’t it?’

‘Nearer? To what?’

He gave her a look, so sad that it frightened her a little.

‘Nearer to what, Dickie? What do you mean?’

‘Let’s not put it into words. I suppose I mean a point from which we can’t come back.’

Did he mean that all this would not blow over in due course? Why did he have to take everything so seriously?

‘All right,’ she conceded. ‘I won’t say anything to anybody, if you must make all this song and dance about it.’

She spoke sullenly, but he was satisfied. He knew that she would always keep her word.

Does he think I’m mentally deficient? she wondered. Do I make a habit of telling stories I can’t prove? Of course I wouldn’t spread this all over the town until I was quite sure; he ought to know that, after being married to me for two years. Fancy taking me seriously just because I teased him a little.

‘Can I go now?’ she asked, with provoking meekness.

‘What? Oh yes. That’s all I wanted to say.’

She went downstairs with her pile of linen. It was just like him to suppose that she would have time, on a Monday, to go rushing round the town with any story at all. He could never get it into his head that
washing-day
was hard work.

Nor had she, as a matter of fact, much wish to meet her friends until she had disarmed all possible criticism by a spectacular transformation of the children. People would think, and say, that she had acted in a very peculiar way. She meant to silence them by securing their applause. She meant to silence her own conscience, which kept on suggesting that she was being very mean to Dickie. A miraculous improvement in the little Swanns was to atone for everything.

Presently she heard the door slam behind him. He was in a hurry to get down to the office and ring up The Moorings. Further dealings with Martha Rawson were
not agreeable to him, for he had made up his mind to steer clear of her. He saw no alternative, however, and tackled the distasteful task at the earliest possible moment.

He spoke on the telephone, first to Don and then to Martha. Their distress was obviously quite genuine. They were shocked and horrified. All was as he had thought; they knew nothing of the children’s plight and had supposed Elizabeth still to be at Summersdown. Serafina’s appearance had been, to them, quite
inexplicable
. They blamed themselves severely for sending her off, and explained that this sudden interruption to their party had flustered and confused them.

Something, declared Martha, must of course be done at once. Something would have been done sooner, had she known sooner. It was exceedingly kind of the Pattisons to have come forward like this, and she was most grateful, but the responsibility must be regarded as hers. Dickie was to thank Christina for all her trouble and assure her that other arrangements would be made immediately. Such a burden must not be imposed upon her for a moment longer than was necessary. There was an excellent progressive school at Brixcombe, over which Martha appeared to have some hold; she was sure that it would receive the little Swanns at the request of so influential a patron. Mr. Archer’s money must be returned. He had no right to interfere in Conrad’s affairs, whatever his pretensions might be. He must be sent about his business, since there was no knowing what he might attempt to do next; from disposing of the children he might proceed to claim some interest in the contents of the studio. It was therefore imperative that Joe should be removed from Dickie’s dressing-room at the earliest possible moment.

Dickie heard all this with relief. He was glad that this plague of children was not to afflict his house for long; he was glad that Martha had been able to clear her character to some extent. He put the whole business out of his mind, plunged into the day’s work, and thought no more of the Cygnets until he encountered them in his front garden when he went home.

Since they were no longer so distressing a problem he was able, for the first time, to view them with charity. They were, in any case, easier to view. A great change had taken place in their appearance. Christina, in spite of her washing-day, had begun upon her miracle. She had managed to clothe them. They were combed and washed. Even their complexions had improved; they were less pasty and Joe’s cheeks were quite pink. Christina’s prompt attention to their bowels might account for this.

The group which they made held Dickie’s attention. They had been left in charge of Bobbins for a few minutes. Christina felt no fear in doing this; their gentleness and care of the baby had struck her ever since she had known them.

Serafina sat upon a rug on the grass, with Bobbins in her lap. Her hair had been smoothly brushed back from her bony forehead and braided. She wore a blue dress. For once her sharp restless face was calm, as she gazed down at her charge in an ecstatic trance. Dinah, who knelt beside her, reflected the same gravity. For the first time Dickie perceived Dinah’s likeness to Conrad; in a girl it was unfortunate and gave her an elderly look. Bobbins, rosy and lively, with the radiant bloom of a well-tended child, might have belonged to some different species, might have been some godling tended by awestruck mortals.

Amidst all this motionless solemnity a little private game was going on between Bobbins and Joe, who, smiling, held out a nasturtium towards which the baby stretched a dimpled hand. It was Joe’s smile which arrested Dickie’s attention; an unusual smile, never seen on an adult face. There was in it indulgence toward a younger creature, yet a certain complicity, the tacit understanding of an equal. These two were living in a world apart; they attached their own meaning to a nasturtium.

Pretty! thought Dickie, looking also at the wall of flowers which rose up like a tapestry behind their small heads. Beautiful. I’ve seen it before. Where? A Memling … in several Memlings … this group—the grave girl, grave angels, grave saints, and that quiet little game going on between the Child and one of the young-eyed cherubim.
Young-eyed!
Fantastic,
unrealistic
pictures, they might be called. But here it is. Here it is, he told his
doppelgänger
, who, on this occasion, failed to turn up. He was alone and nobody else was looking at it.

He hurried into the house to find Christina before the group broke up. She liked Memling and he was sure that she would like this; looking at it together, they might bury the hatchet. Through the open kitchen door he could see lines of sheets and shirts flapping gently in the breeze. Christina came in with a basket of pegs.

‘Tina,’ he began, ‘do come …’

But she interrupted him furiously.

‘So you rang up Martha Rawson?’

‘Yes. Has she …?’

‘Did you, or did you not, give her leave to come and take those children away?’

‘Why … I … I …’ 

‘Because that’s what she seems to think. She
telephoned
. I had quite a job to convince her that she’s going to do nothing of the sort, whatever you and she may have arranged between you.’

‘Now, Tina, she has a far better claim.…’

‘No she hasn’t. They’ve been entrusted to me.’

‘By whom?’

‘I’ve more right than she has, since there’s nobody really to say who has the right. I’m prepared to do it myself, and do it properly. She means to shove them into one of those awful … She’ll have to kidnap them if she wants them. I don’t give them up of my own accord.’

‘Do be reasonable. She’s their father’s intimate friend. We are only slight acquaintances. Supposing he’s deserted them? Supposing he’s dead? She’s a rich woman. I’m not …’

‘What kind of a woman are you, then?’

‘You’ll hand those children over when she sends for them. This is my house, remember, and I have some say in what goes on here.’

‘I won’t. She may be rich. But I’d be sorry for a dog, I’d be sorry for a rat, handed over to her. She isn’t kind. She doesn’t want them because she’s sorry for them. I’ve always been fond of them and taken an interest in them, but she only thinks of her honour and glory. She doesn’t want anybody else to butt in over Mr. Swann’s affairs, because she thinks he’s famous. If anything happened to make him less famous she’d drop them like a hot potato. I don’t trust her a yard and nor do you. If it was Bobbins, which would you give him to? Me or Martha?’

Dickie had no immediate reply. It was quite true that he did not trust Martha a yard.

‘You haven’t any answer to that,’ said Christina, ‘
because
you know I’m right, and you know you oughtn’t to have gone behind my back like that. Are you going to cut the grass before supper? You said you would if you got home early.’

The grass certainly needed cutting. It had better be cut. He took himself off to do it.

The Memling group had broken up and taken itself indoors when he brought the mower to the front lawn. This was very small, and to cut it was a tiresome little job; he was always having to turn the machine round. He set about it after giving a friendly nod over the fence to his next-door neighbour, who had been sent out upon exactly the same errand. Up and down their tiny lawns they went, in opposite directions, passing one another at a laburnum tree which grew halfway along the fence.

Clankety
–
clankety
–
burra
–
wurra
–
wurra
–
wurra
–
wurra
–
wurra
–
wurra
–
Brck!

Turn the thing round.
Clankety-clankety
.
…
What is
he
thinking of? He looks resigned enough. Is he
thinking
of a liner and a gangplank, and going up it never, never to come back. Is he?
Wurra-wurra-Brck
!
Round.… Entirely my fault. We don’t suit. I shouldn’t have married her. Having married her, I should have put up with it better.
Brck!
Round.
Clankety-clankety
.… She’ll never forgive me. She may pretend to, but there’ll always be this bitterness. This bitterness!
Brck!
Round.… This bitterness, this continual trying to score off me, I cannot stand. Not for ever. When the children go there’ll be something else.
Brck!
Round.… She’s a good wife. Never looks at another man and feeds me like a Strasbourg goose. I’d rather … tinned food … a slut.…
Brck!
Round.… Anything would be better
than this continual sour bickering. She’ll never drop it, even if I declare I think she’s perfect. I don’t mind being bored.…
Brck!
Round.… I could stand that, if we could be good-tempered and peaceful. But I won’t stand this for ever … only while Dad is alive.
Brck
!
Round. Can’t break his heart. Idiotic to ruin my life, coming back here to please him and then …
Brck!
Round.… But not for ever. One day I’ll clear out and sail across the sea … sea … sea.…