Green Girl (22 page)

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Authors: Sara Seale

BOOK: Green Girl
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We shouldn

t have listened,

she muttered distractedly to Rory, as her mind and her limbs unfroze again.

You shouldn

t have let me hear all those—those very private things.

She darted back to the terrace door to let the dog in, but as the cold air from outside greeted her with a cleansing rush of freshness, and she looked up at the myriad of stars shining down so impersonally from the heaven, she slipped out into the night, slamming the door behind her.

She ran down to the shore of the lough, the dog at her heels, and stood there watching the water lapping at her feet. She was unaware that she was crying, because tears always came easily, and she was unaware of the cold or the fact that she was without a coat, so welcome was the night air on her burning face.

“Harriet...”
Nonie

s precise little voice behind her made her jump and she turned in surprise to see the little girl standing there, holding out a coat.


I thought you would be cold,

she said, and Harriet slipped her arms into the sleeves, realising she was beginning to shiver.


Isn

t it a beautiful night?

said Nonie conversationally.

I walked as far as the point and back while you were all unpacking Cousin Samantha

s pared.


Did you?

Harriet felt at a
loss. Nonie had been politely tolerant of her since Rory

s arrival, but it was the first time she had made an unprompted overture of her own.

I thought you would be there to help me unpack. Don

t you want to see those lovely decorations for the tree?


I can see them later when Cousin Samantha

s gone,

the child said.

Shall we sit down on this rock for a while if you

re wa
rm
er now?


Yes, if you like,

said Harriet rather helplessly, and they sat side by side on one of the flat, low boulders dotted sparsely along the shore.


How did you know I was out here?

Harriet asked, and Nonie replied:

I saw you go. I was listening, too.


Oh!

Harriet felt she was in no position to deliver a mild homily on the undesirability of eavesdropping, so she said instead:

Well, I hope you didn

t hear anything to upset you?


Oh, no, I didn

t understand much. I often listen, you know. It

s the only way you ever get to find out what

s going on in this house.


Well, that

s probably because you go off on your own and won

t mix. You should come down when we have a guest, you know, because you
are
the dau
g
hter of the house, after all.

Nonie looked pleased at the acknowledgement of her own importance, then she said carelessly;


Cousin Samantha doesn

t count. She isn

t a guest.


Well, she

s a very lovely woman, and it

s always nicer to look at a pretty face than a plain one,

Harriet said with some vague idea of giving credit where credit was due and discouraging childish prejudices, but Nonie turned her mouth down.


No, it isn

t,

she said.

When you

re ugly yourself, it only makes it worse.

Harriet felt a rush of tenderness and her first moment of liking for this difficult, unchildlike little girl.


You are not ugly, Nonie,

she said gently.

And children alter so much. I was a hideous child, all skin and bone and eyes—like a scared white rabbit, they used to say, only fortunately my eyes weren

t pink! I know I

m no beauty now, as you once pointed out, but I

d pass in a crowd, wouldn

t you say?


Oh, yes, you would,

the child conceded politely,

though you

d never set the Liffey on fire, Agnes says, which she seems to think is a good
thing
as Father is very jealous.


Jealous? Your Father?


Oh yes. My mother was very pretty, you know, and that caused trouble. Are you really a charity child, Harriet? That was the only interesting thing I heard Cousin Samantha say.


Well, they don

t call orphans that any longer, because it was supposed to carry a sort of stigma and nowadays orphanages are quite different sorts of places, and many of them are simply called Children

s Homes, which is what they are, really. Orphans, you see, can

t help being left alone in the world and some charity has to look after them.


It must,

said Nonie, wiping a dewdrop from her nose with the back of her hand with a heartening disregard for nice behaviour,

be
wonderful
to be an orphan—never to know who you are, or what might happen next—why, you might turn out to be a princess in disguise!


Oh,
Nonie
...

Harriet put an arm round the child and found she was half laughing and half crying. Here was no smug little girl prepared to condescend, but only another wool-gathering echo of herself, and she remembered that Nonie, too, devoured unsuitable literature in her father

s library and probably, no less than Harriet, made up impossible fantasies as part of her defences.


I suppose we all want what we haven

t got,

she said.

When I lived in the orphanage I used to imagine myself in a castle with grand rooms and lands and serfs and, of course, Prince Charming thrown in, and you, who were brought up to this, would rather be an orphan!


Don

t you like your dream-come-true, then? Of course, Father isn

t anything like Prince Charming, but you can

t have everything,

said Nonie practically.

Now, Uncle Rory

s my idea of Prince Charming. Why couldn

t you have waited for him?


Because your father asked me first, I suppose,

Harriet answered.


Well, I

m glad he married you and not Cousin Samantha,

Nonie said, and Harriet felt herself whisked back with unexpected discomfort on to dangerous ground.


Your cousin was only recently widowed, I understand, so there was hardly any likelihood of that,

she said, knowing that she sounded prim, but Noni, however her childish instincts had led her to recognise the attraction which once and perhaps still existed between her father and her cousin, accepted the explanation without argument.


Only—

she said

—there

s a queer sort of feeling when they

re together, as if they sort of hated each other, but Uncle Rory says that often means the opposite.

Harriet fell silent, watching the moon come up from behind Slieve Rury. A door on the terrace behind them opened, letting out a soft flood of lamplight, and Duff

s voice called:


Harriet? Are you still out there?

They got up and walked back to the house, and Duff, recognising his daughter

s small figure, said with surprise:


I didn

t know you were out there, too, Nonie. What have the pair of you been up to, leaving our guest alone and unsupported?

he said, and spoke with the light inconsequence he would have displayed towards any casual visitor.


Has Cousin Samantha gone?

Nonie asked in her usual tones of cool withdrawal, and when her father nodded, said:

Good!

with unflattering relief at the guest

s departure, and ran into the house and upstairs to her own domain.

Duff stood aside to allow Harriet to enter, then closed the windows and stood looking at her with a rather sombre expression.


I hope Samantha didn

t hurt you with any flippant remarks about orphans,

he said, and she took off her coat and threw it on a chair.


No,

she replied.

She didn

t make any comment as far as I can remember except to say that it explained things—meaning your marriage, presumably. I

m sorry if I blurted out the truth without thinking.


For heaven

s sake! Do you imagine I

m ashamed of your upbringing?

he exclaimed.

If the question had ever arisen I would have been the first to acknowledge my debt to orphanages in public.


Well, that was very nicely spoken,

Harriet said, and he gave her a quick, puzzled look.


Has something upset you?

he asked.

Nonie—has she been difficult?


Nothing

s upset me, and Nonie

s been particularly kind. She

s a lonely child, I think.


I know she is; she often makes me feel guilty, but
I
don

t seem to be able to get through to her.


Agnes says the little girl dotes on you,

Harriet ventured.


Agnes, like most of her class, has her own unshakable conceptions of correct filial love and respect. It would seem that you, too, Harriet, pay too much attention to servants

gossip. Don

t try meddling with matters you don

t understand,

he said, and she wondered if that was a tacit warning not only against interference with his relations with his daughter, but in such other relationships he might be considering.

 

CHAPTER EIGHT

THAT night marked another milestone in Harriet

s growth to maturity. The bustle and preparations which filled the remaining days before Christ
m
as allowed little time for introspection, but she was aware of change in all their relationships, not least of a change in herself. She could see Samantha now for what she was, a dangerously attractive woman who could afford to be tolerant towards an insignificant little bride whose negligible stature would scarcely inconvenience her, and she could see herself as Duff must see her, a guileless child with her head filled with romantic nonsense.

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