Dorothy Eden (12 page)

Julia, sitting on the edge of the bed, tried desperately to control her trembling. I mustn’t let them see how vulnerable I am, she told herself. It only gives them more weapons. Someone is doing this to upset me while Paul is away. Someone who hates my being here.

“I’ll be all right now,” she managed to say. “I’m ashamed of myself. I don’t know why I dislike moths so much. I’d rather have tarantulas crawling over me.” She attempted to laugh. “Well—the battle’s over. I’m sorry I disturbed everyone.”

“Poor little girl,” said Kate, patting Julia’s shoulder with her fat white hand. Julia was aware that it trembled slightly. “I shall bring you a hot drink, no matter what you say. Lily, run downstairs and put the kettle on.”

Lily obeyed, and Nita, also, turned to go. But in her acid manner she could not resist a parting remark.

“Wherever the moths came from, you know who Granny will blame.” Her brilliant black eyes rested on Julia, her mouth twitched slightly in that tense overstrung way. “Don’t you?” she said.

“Now don’t take any notice of her either,” said Kate. “I don’t know why so many absurd things are said in this house. It’s like”—her lips quivered with their easy emotion—“it’s like reviling the dead.”

When the hot milk, in which Kate had insisted on putting a spoonful of brandy, came Julia would not drink it. She was grateful that Kate who had a nervous headache from the disturbance and was anxious to get to bed, at last left her alone so that she could leave the glass untouched. Because who knew what might be in it? Perhaps now she was being unduly suspicious. But anyone who had observed that afternoon the terrified disgust moths aroused in her and could deliberately play this horrible trick on her was quite capable of putting something unpleasant in her drink.

She could not sleep that night. She longed passionately for Paul to be home again, so that at least she might know he was in the house and not be left entirely to the mercy of some unknown woman. She lay listening to the wind in the trees, and occasionally, as she remembered the fluttering moths, a ripple of revulsion went over her body. Finally she was glad she could not sleep, for she intended to be up at daylight the next morning and listening. The moment she heard the faintest sound in the passage she would whip her door open and see who prowled by. Thus she would unmask her persecutor.

But after all she slept. The sun was shining when she awoke, and the slip of paper, folded cheekily in the shape of a paper hat was under her door.

Slowly she got out of bed and went to pick it up and read its malicious message.

How can you trust Paul Blaine’s honeyed tongue? You are like a moth caught in a flame.

She had scarcely finished reading the note before there was a sound in the passage, a shuffling scraping noise just at her door. Julia flung the door open and almost knocked over Georgina who was making her slow painful way towards the bathroom. With her little hunched back she was bent almost double, her fine white hair fluffed over her face so that she might have been a rabbit hopping on all fours.

“Can I help you, Granny?” she asked.

“No, my dear. I can manage if I take my time.” The old lady turned her mild, kind eyes on Julia. “Is that naughty boy Harry leaving letters under your door now? I thought I saw him a few minutes ago.”

Julia was suddenly clutching the old lady’s frail shoulders.

“Who did you see, Granny? Tell me.”

“Why, I think it was Harry, dear. But I don’t see very well, you know. And he wouldn’t stop when I called. But it may have been a woman. I couldn’t say. It’s only that if there’s mischief you can be sure Harry is the culprit.”

Paul arrived home in the middle of the afternoon. He drove up to the front door with a flourish, honking his horn madly, then came inside with his arms full of parcels.

There had been so much Julia had wanted to ask him, suspicious things all of them, that she wanted him to dismiss, with frank, simple answers. But when he was there before her she could not say one word. His vitality filled the house and gloom and tension had vanished. Julia wanted to laugh for happiness. Darling Paul! She was so glad to see him again. He brought with him gaiety and reassurance and safety. Safety? Her mind slurred over that query. She let Paul take her in his arms and kiss her warmly, the slight tickling of his golden moustache titillating that secret laughter within her.

“Hey, what’s wrong with you?” he asked. “You got a joke?”

“A nice one,” Julia said, rubbing her fingers over the soft golden hairs of his upper lip.

“If it’s me, I agree with you. I’m a poor joke for any girl. Look, I bought a new car for Nita, and this is all I have for you.”

He held up a small square parcel tantalisingly out of her reach.

“Oh, Paul! How exciting! What is it?”

“Don’t you want to know about Nita’s car first?”

“Car?” That was Nita’s voice from the doorway, a dry sceptical voice on an upward inflection.

Julia looked up and saw her standing there, a slight, vivid figure in a red sweater, her dark eyes glinting. It occurred to her vaguely that since Nita had arrived the other night she was never out of earshot. On a provocation remark she appeared like a genii. It could be, of course, that she listened at doors.

“Yes, I bought you a car,” said Paul casually. “It’s in Timaru. You can take delivery whenever you please. I’ve also rented a flat in Timaru for you and Timmy. It’s quite large and it overlooks the bay. I think you will like it.”

Nita took a step down the stairs.

“But why all this munificence?” Her voice was wary and suspicious, and Julia wanted to shout at her not to spoil Paul’s marvellous generosity by her inevitable suspicion.

“You deserve it,” Paul said. “After all—” He stopped, but his sympathetic voice implied the rest. Harry was dead, while Paul was happily alive; Paul was marrying the girl he loved, while Nita was a lonely widow. Yes, it was fair that Paul should buy Nita things and try to comfort her. But why did she look so ungrateful?

“Well,” said Nita softly, “I didn’t know there was so much money in the family.” Her swift gaze round the shabby hall was eloquent. Then she seemed to remember her manners at last, and she added eagerly, “What sort of a car is it? I’m longing to see it. Couldn’t I have it out here?”

“I hardly thought it was worth while bringing it out,” Paul answered. “I didn’t think you would be wanting to stay.”

Did some secret message pass between them? Julia couldn’t be sure, but for some reason Nita suddenly became acquiescent.

“You’re quite right. I’m not crazy about the country. Actually, I loathe it. Thank you very much, Paul. I shall go and take possession of my new home in Timaru.”

Paul smiled in his warm friendly manner.

“We’ll have a house-warming for you. After the wedding.”

“Oh yes,” Nita cried, in her tense excited manner. “Do let’s do that. Promise!”

Then Kate appeared, delighted to see Paul back, and Paul groped among the packages which he had dropped carelessly on the floor when he had kissed Julia.

“Here you are, Mother,” he said, handing her a long flat box. “That’s your share.”

“My share, darling?” Kate enquired, her blue eyes irrepressibly eager at the prospect of an unexpected gift.

“For the wedding,” said Paul. “Well, open it.”

Kate needed no second admonition. She tore off the wrappings, lifted the lid of the box, and disclosed a blue fox fur.

“Oh-oh!” she cooed. “Paul, my pet! How you spoil me! This is beautiful. I adore furs. But, darling, the expense!”

“Forget it,” said Paul lavishly. “I’ve even bought Davey a thousand sheep. Where are the girls?”

“The girls?”

“Lily and Dove. You don’t suppose I could forget them?”

Nita suddenly burst into excited laughter. “Paul, you’ve come into money. I know it!”

“Don’t be silly,” said Kate with sudden uneasiness in her voice. “Where would Paul come into money? He’s merely spending his hard-earned savings. I think he’s being extremely reckless.”

Paul wagged his finger.

“Now, Mother! I’ll take that fur back.”

Kate clutched at it, her eyes full of desire.

Paul laughed. “Then don’t be a spoil-sport. You wear that thing before the moths get into it.”

His glance went round the three women, aware of the sudden silence. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing.” said Kate quickly. “Nothing at all. It’s just that Julia has a thing about moths. They worried her last night.”

“At this time of the year?” Paul questioned.

“Oh, we’d been pulling down hangings. We disturbed them. Great flopping things. Paul, did you arrange about the wedding?”

It seemed to Julia that Kate had changed the subject too quickly. She seemed to get unaccountably nervous when Paul was about.

Paul slipped his arm round Julia’s waist.

“I did, indeed. Wednesday week, as ever is.”

There was a short silence. Then Nita said, “I must tell Dove and Lily. They’ll be enchanted.” Her eyelids drooped with their deliberate secretiveness. “About their presents, I mean.”

Julia’s gift from Paul was a necklet of seed pearls. “To wear round that delicious little neck on your wedding day,” he said. And suddenly, for no reason at all, Julia was seeing the insolent writing on the scrap of paper—
How can you trust Paul Blaine’s honeyed tongue?

She wouldn’t let herself start wondering how Paul could suddenly have so much money to spend, when the house and farm were in such a sad condition of disrepair and neglect. She lovingly clasped the pearls round her neck and said, “I must go and see what they look like. They’re beautiful, Paul.”

In her room an impulse took her to open the wardrobe and look into its cavernous depths at her wedding dress, shining like a white flower. The pearls, Paul’s lovely gift, would be perfect with it. Suddenly she wanted to see how they did look. She stripped off her jumper and skirt and began to array herself in the wedding dress.

She hadn’t had it on since showing it to Uncle Jonathan before leaving France. She had dressed up in it so that he should get a glimpse of the bride whom he in his peculiar. vicarious way, was substituting for the girl he had never married. She remembered the way he had looked as he saw her, his thin old face full of a wry pleasure.

“You have made me very happy,” he had said. “I have had a lonely life, I don’t mind telling you, but your and Paul’s marriage at the end of it is very satisfying to me. Do you understand that?”

“Because Paul is your Georgina’s grandson?” Julia asked.

“I’m a sentimental old man in my dotage. But it’s pleasant to end one’s life with a little flourish.”

Julia turned slowly in front of the mirror. The pearls lay softly round the hollow of her throat. She imagined walking slowly towards Paul down the aisle, and him turning to look at her with his warm, admiring gaze, but her eyes remained unlighted. She looked remote and somehow unreal. A snow maiden, she thought, and involuntarily she looked towards the high peaks that shone chilly and austere beyond the trees. She began to shiver slightly. Why, she wondered, did she always feel cold in Uncle Jonathan’s beautiful dress?

There was a call from downstairs. “Julia! Julia dear, come quickly!” It was Kate in her excited child’s voice, and Julia, without thinking, went to the head of the stairs. She didn’t know that both Dove and Lily were going to be down there looking up at her. Nor that Paul was still there and seeing the dress she hadn’t meant him to see until her wedding day. The hall seemed to be full of faces, and suddenly there was the last one of all, Davey’s, still and without expression, as he paused at the door on his way in.

“Oh, my goodness, it’s
beautiful!”
That was Kate, spontaneously speaking her feelings. “How sweet of you, dear, to dress up for us.”

“I didn’t dress up for you,” Julia said in a small cold voice. Now she was beginning to shiver violently, for no reason at all. The upturned faces of the four women were too much for her, because one of them, Nita with her hungry eyes, Dove quick-tempered and difficult, Lily silent and sly, was deeply and vindictively jealous.

She gathered up her skirts. “You aren’t supposed to be seeing me. But Kate called—”

“It was to tell you to come and see Dove’s and Lily’s presents, dear. But you have put everything in the shade.”

“My, my!” said Paul softly. “Why haven’t I seen that before?”

“Don’t be silly, Paul,” said his mother. “The bridegroom isn’t supposed to see the bride until the wedding day. Is it bad luck? Oh no, it can’t be. Just a superstition or something.”

“I’m awfully superstitious about weddings,” said Dove in her high clear voice.

Lily giggled suddenly, and turned away, concealing her face.

It remained for Nita to change the subject.

“Give me a cigarette,” she said to Paul. She almost snatched the packet from him in her tense nervous way, but when she had lighted the cigarette there seemed to be amusement and that undercurrent of excitement in her voice. “Paul, I’ve changed my mind. I think I’ll have the car sent up here. I’d like to stay until after the wedding.” Her brilliant black eyes were raised to Julia at the top of the stairs. “It’s going to be so exciting!” she murmured.

Davey, who had been at the door a moment ago, had vanished before Julia turned to go.

That evening the dark shreds of clouds that had drifted about the mountain peaks all day moved across the sky, the wind cried on a high eerie note, and a few flakes of snow began to fall.

There was a large fire lit in the big front room downstairs. The new curtains, with their rich texture, were drawn across the windows and the room was full of cosiness. Paul sat on the couch with his foot up, because too much movement had made his ankle swell again and Dove had been angry with him. At least Julia imagined it was anger with a refractory patient that had brought that sharp note to her voice as she had scolded Paul before dinner for his carelessness. It had made Lily giggle again, and Paul had exclaimed in his amused, tolerant way, “You woman make my life too complicated.”

Nita was at the piano singing softly in a husky contralto. Kate had been in the winged chair with her novel and a box of chocolates until a few minutes ago when she had had to go upstairs to answer Georgina’s impatiently rapping stick. Julia was curled up on the hearthrug as close to the fire as she could get, because that queer shivery cold seemed to be still in her bones. All she could think of was the lovely Lanvin dress dropped in a heap on the floor in her bedroom and the goose-flesh on her arms. Nita sang charmingly, but somehow her song seemed to be part of the cold, a dirge that said, “You’ll never wear that lovely dress, because Paul is faithless…faithless…faithless.…”