The Shifting Fog (29 page)

‘Hannah,’ Emmeline said. ‘What
are
intimacies, exactly?’

‘I … well … They’re expressions of love,’ Hannah said breezily. ‘Quite pleasant, I believe, with a man with whom you’re passionately in love; unthinkably distasteful with anyone else.’

‘Yes, yes. But what are they?
Exactly?
’

Another silence.

‘You don’t know either,’ Emmeline said. ‘I can tell by your face.’

‘Well, not exactly—’

‘I’ll ask Fanny when she gets back,’ Emmeline said. ‘She ought to know by then.’

I ran my fingertips along the row of pretty fabrics in Emmeline’s wardrobe, looking for the blue dress, wondered whether what Hannah said was true. Whether the same attentions Rufus had tried to foist on me might ever be considered pleasant from another fellow. I thought about the few times Alfred had stood very near me in the servants’ hall, the strange but not unwelcome feeling that had overcome me …

‘Anyway, I didn’t say I wanted to marry
immediately
.’ This was Emmeline. ‘All I meant is that Theodore Luxton is very handsome.’

‘Very wealthy, you mean,’ Hannah said.

‘Same thing, really.’

‘You’re just lucky that Pa’s decided to let you dine downstairs at all,’ Hannah said. ‘I should never have been allowed when I was fourteen.’

‘Almost fifteen.’

‘I suppose he had to make up numbers somehow.’

‘Yes. Thank goodness Fanny agreed to marry that terrible bore, and thank goodness he decided they should honeymoon in Italy. If they’d been home, I’m sure I’d have been left to dine with Nanny in the nursery instead.’

‘I should prefer Nanny’s company to that of Pa’s Americans any day.’

‘Rubbish,’ Emmeline said.

‘I should be just as happy to read my book.’

‘Liar,’ Emmeline said. ‘You’ve set your ivory satin dress aside, the one Fanny was so determined you shouldn’t wear when we met her old bore. You wouldn’t wear that one unless you were as excited as I am.’

There was a silence.

‘Ha!’ Emmeline said. ‘I’m right! You’re smiling!’

‘All right, I am looking forward to it,’ Hannah said. ‘But not,’ she added quickly, ‘because I want the good opinion of some rich Americans I’ve never met.’

‘Oh no?’

‘No.’

The floorboards creaked as one of the girls trod across the room, and the spent gramophone record, still spinning drunkenly, was halted.

‘Well?’ This was Emmeline. ‘It certainly can’t be Mrs Townsend’s ration menu that’s got you excited.’

‘Poor old Mrs Townsend. She does try,’ Hannah said. There was a pause, during which I held very still, waiting, listening. Hannah’s voice, when finally she spoke, was calm, but a slim thread of excitement ran through it. ‘Tonight,’ she said, ‘I’m going to ask Pa whether I might return to London.’

Deep within the closet, I gasped. They had only just arrived; that Hannah might leave again so soon was unthinkable.

‘To Grandmamma?’ said Emmeline.

‘No. To live by myself. In a flat.’

‘A
flat
? Why on earth would you want to live in a flat?’

‘You’ll laugh … I want to take work in an office.’

Emmeline did not laugh. ‘What sort of work?’

‘Office work. Typing, filing, shorthand.’

‘But you don’t know how to do short—’ Emmeline broke off, sighed with realisation. ‘You
do
know shorthand. Those papers I found the other week: they weren’t really Egyptian hieroglyph …’

‘No.’

‘You’ve been learning shorthand. In secret.’ Emmeline’s voice took on a note of indignation. ‘From Miss Prince?’

‘Lord, no. Miss Prince teach something so useful? Never.’

‘Then where?’

‘The secretarial school in the village.’

‘When?’

‘I started ages ago, just after the war began. I felt so useless and it seemed as good a way as any to help with the war effort. I thought when we went to stay with Grandmamma I’d be able to get work—there are so many offices in London—but … it didn’t work out like that. When I finally got away from Grandmamma long enough to enquire, they wouldn’t take me. Said I was too young. But now that I’m eighteen, I should walk into a job. I’ve done so much practice and I’m really very quick.’

‘Who else knows?’

‘No one. Except you.’

Veiled amongst the dresses, as Hannah continued to extol the virtues of her training, I lost something. A small confidence, long cherished, was released. I felt it slip away, float down amid the silks and satins, until it landed amongst the flecks of silent dust on the dark wardrobe floor and I could see it no more.

‘Well?’ Hannah was saying. ‘Don’t you think it’s exciting?’

Emmeline huffed. ‘I think it’s sneaky. That’s what I think. And silly. And so will Pa. War work is one thing, but this … It’s
ridiculous
, and you may as well get it out of your mind. Pa will never allow it.’

‘That’s why I’m going to tell him at dinner. It’s the perfect opportunity. He’ll have to say yes if there are other people around. Especially Americans with all their modern ideas.’

‘I can’t believe even you would do this.’ Emmeline’s voice was gathering fury.

‘I don’t know why you’re so upset.’

‘Because … it isn’t … it doesn’t …’ Emmeline cast about for adequate defence. ‘Because you’re supposed to be the hostess tonight
and instead of making sure things run smoothly, you’re going to embarrass Pa. You’re going to create a scene in front of the Luxtons.’

‘I’m not going to create a scene.’

‘You always say that and then you always do. Why can’t you just be—’

‘Normal?’

‘You’ve gone completely mad. Who would want to work in an office?’

‘I want to see the world. Travel.’

‘To London?’

‘It’s a first step,’ Hannah said. ‘I want to be independent. To meet interesting people.’

‘More interesting than me, you mean.’

‘Don’t be silly,’ Hannah said. ‘I just mean new people with clever things to say. Things I’ve never heard before. I want to be free, Emme. Open to whatever adventure comes along and sweeps me off my feet.’

I glanced at the clock on Emmeline’s wall. Four o’clock. Mr Hamilton would be on the warpath if I wasn’t downstairs soon. And yet I had to hear more, to learn the precise nature of these adventures Hannah was so intent upon. Torn between the two, I compromised. Closed the wardrobe, draped the blue dress over my arm and hesitated by the doorway.

Emmeline was still sitting on the floor, brush in hand. ‘Why don’t you go and stay with friends of Pa’s somewhere? I could come too,’ she said. ‘The Rothermeres, in Paris—’

‘And have Lady Rothermere enquire after my every move? Or worse, saddle me with that ghastly daughter of hers?’ Hannah’s face was a study in disdain. ‘That’s hardly independence.’

‘Neither is working in an office.’

‘Perhaps not, but I’m going to need money from somewhere. I’m not going to beg or steal, and I can’t think of anyone from whom I could borrow.’

‘What about Pa?’

‘You heard Grandmamma. Some people may have made money from the war, but Pa was not amongst them.’

‘Well I think it’s a terrible idea,’ Emmeline said. ‘It … it just isn’t proper. Pa would never allow it … and Grandmamma …’ Emmeline drew breath. Exhaled deeply so that her shoulders deflated. When she spoke again her voice was young and pale. ‘I don’t want you to leave me.’ Her gaze sought Hannah’s. ‘First David, and now you.’

Her brother’s name was a physical blow for Hannah. It was no secret that she had mourned his death especially. The family had still been in London when the dreaded black-rimmed letter arrived, but news travelled surely across the servants’ halls of England in those days, and we had all learned of Miss Hannah’s alarming loss of spirits. Her refusal to eat was the cause of much concern, and had Mrs Townsend intent upon baking raspberry tartlets, Hannah’s favourite since a girl, to send to London.

Whether oblivious to the effect her invocation of David had caused, or entirely aware, Emmeline continued. ‘What will I do, all alone in this great big house?’

‘You won’t be alone,’ Hannah said quietly. ‘Pa will be here for company.’

‘That’s little comfort. You know Pa doesn’t care for me.’

‘Pa cares a great deal for you, Emme,’ said Hannah firmly. ‘For all of us.’

Emmeline glanced over her shoulder and I pressed myself against the doorframe. ‘But he doesn’t really
like
me,’ she said. ‘Not as a person. Not as he does you.’

Hannah opened her mouth to argue but Emmeline hurried on.

‘You don’t have to pretend. I’ve seen the way he looks at me when he thinks I can’t see. Like he’s puzzled, like he’s not sure exactly who I am.’ Her eyes glazed but she did not cry. Her voice was a whisper. ‘It’s because he blames me for Mother.’

‘That’s not true.’ Hannah’s cheeks had turned pink. ‘Don’t even say such things. No one blames you for Mother.’

‘Pa does.’

‘He doesn’t.’

‘I heard Grandmamma tell Lady Clem that Pa was never the same after the dreadful business with Mother.’ Emmeline spoke then with a firmness that surprised me. ‘I don’t want you to leave me.’ She rose from the floor and sat by Hannah, clasped her hand. An
uncharacteristic gesture which seemed to shock Hannah as much as it did me. ‘Please.’ And then she began to cry.

The two sat side by side upon the chaise, Emmeline sobbing, her final word between them. Hannah’s expression bore the stubborn set that was so singularly hers, but behind the strong cheekbones, the wilful mouth, I noticed something else. A new aspect, not so easily articulated as the natural consequence of reaching adulthood …

And then I realised. She was eldest now and had inherited the vague, relentless, unsolicited responsibility such familial rank demanded.

Hannah turned to Emmeline and gave an appearance of brightness. ‘Cheer up,’ she said, patting Emmeline’s hand, ‘You don’t want red eyes at dinner.’

I glanced at the clock again. Quarter after four. Mr Hamilton would be fuming. There was nothing for it …

I re-entered the room, blue dress draped over one arm. ‘Your dress, miss?’ I said to Emmeline.

She did not respond. I pretended not to notice that her cheeks were wet with tears. Focused on the dress instead, brushed flat a piece of lace trim.

‘Wear the pink one, Emme,’ Hannah said gently. ‘It suits you best.’

Emmeline remained unmoved.

I looked at Hannah for clarification. She nodded. ‘The pink.’

‘And you, miss?’ I said.

She chose the ivory satin, just as Emmeline had said she would.

‘Will you be there tonight, Grace?’ Hannah said as I fetched the beautiful satin gown and corset from her wardrobe.

‘I shouldn’t think so, miss,’ I said. ‘Alfred has been demobbed. He’ll be helping Mr Hamilton and Myra at table.’

‘Oh,’ Hannah said. ‘Yes.’ She picked up her book, opened it, closed it, ran her fingers lightly along the spine. Her voice, when she spoke, was cautious. ‘I’ve been meaning to ask, Grace. How is Alfred?’

‘He’s well, miss. He had a small cold when he returned but Mrs Townsend fixed him up with some lemon and barley and he’s been right since then.’

‘She doesn’t mean how is he
physically
,’ Emmeline said unexpectedly. ‘She means how is he in the head.’

‘In the head, miss?’ I looked at Hannah, who was frowning faintly at Emmeline.

‘Well you did.’ Emmeline turned to me, her eyes red-rimmed. ‘When he served tea yesterday afternoon he behaved most peculiarly. He was offering the tray of sweets, just as usual, when suddenly the tray started quivering back and forth.’ She laughed: a hollow, unnatural sound. ‘His whole arm was shaking, and I waited for him to steady it so I could take a lemon tart, but it was as if he
couldn’t
make it stop. Then, sure enough, the tray slipped and sent an avalanche of Victoria sponges all over my prettiest dress. At first I was quite cross—it was really too careless; the dress could have been ruined—but then, as he continued to stand there with the strangest look on his face, I became frightened. I was sure he’d gone quite mad.’ She shrugged. ‘He snapped out of it eventually and cleaned the mess. But still, the damage was done. He was just lucky that I was the one to suffer. Pa wouldn’t have been so forgiving. He’d be ever so dark if it happened again tonight.’ She looked directly at me, blue eyes cold. ‘You don’t think it’s likely, do you?’

‘I couldn’t say, miss.’ I was taken aback. This was the first I’d heard of the event. ‘I mean, I shouldn’t think so, miss. I’m sure Alfred is all right.’

‘Of course he is,’ Hannah said quickly. ‘It was an accident, nothing more. Returning home must take some adjustment after being away so long. And those salvers look awfully heavy, especially the way Mrs Townsend loads them. I’m sure she’s on a quest to fatten us all up.’ She smiled but the echo of a frown still creased her brow.

‘Yes miss,’ I said.

Hannah nodded, the matter closed. ‘Now let’s get these dresses on so we can play dutiful daughters for Pa’s Americans and be done with it.’

THE DINNER

All along the corridor and down the stairs I replayed Emmeline’s reportage. But no matter which way I twisted it, I arrived at the same conclusion. Something was amiss. It was not like Alfred to be clumsy. In all the time I had been at Riverton I could think of only a couple of occasions when he had faulted in his duties. Once, in a hurry, he had used the drinks salver to deliver the mail; another time he had tripped up the service stairs on account of he was getting the flu. But this was different. To spill an entire tray? It was almost impossible to imagine.

And yet, the episode was surely not a fabrication—what reason, after all, had Emmeline to invent such a thing? No, it must have occurred, and the reason must be as Hannah suggested. An accident: a moment of distraction as the dying sun caught the windowpane, a slight cramp of the wrist, a slippery tray. No one was immune to such occurrence, particularly, as Hannah pointed out, someone who had been away some years and was out of practice.

But though I wished to believe this simple explanation, I could not. For in a small pocket of my mind a collection of motley incidents—no, not so much as that—a collection of motley observations was forming. Misinterpretations of benign queries after his health, overreactions to perceived criticisms, frowns where once
he would have laughed. Indeed, a general air of confused irritability applied itself to everything he did.