ADELINE’S FIRST JOURNEY
SHE WAS WOKEN by Alma while it was still dark. She did not know whether it were night or morning and she was almost afraid of Alma’s great shadow looming on the ceiling. Without preliminary Alma lifted her, rosy and warm, from the snugness of her cot. She hung limp on Alma’s hands like a sleepy puppy.
“Wake up! My goodness, what a sleepyhead! I wish I was you. You’re going on the train today.”
“Where?” Adeline’s eyes flew open.
“To New York to see your Momma.”
“Me too! Want to go see my Momma,” cried Roma. She had forgotten all her French and now chattered freely in English.
“You can’t,” said Alma. “Your Momma isn’t in New York.”
“Where is she?”
“I don’t know.”
“But I must go too.”
“You lie down and keep warm, like a good little girl. I’ve got my hands full.”
Alma was in a state of excitement. She had been up since five, ironing the things she had washed before she went to bed. She had sewn on buttons, polished little shoes. A suitcase was already packed with Adeline’s clothes.
She ate her breakfast sitting opposite her father, the light still burning above the table though the sky was growing blue. With the fatalism of childhood she never questioned this upheaval in her life, but behaved as though she had known all along that she was to go to New York. But unlike some children she was not too excited to eat. She munched her way steadily through her breakfast, her eyes scarcely leaving Renny’s face. He was preoccupied, nervous. He kept throwing scraps to his dogs, talking to them in endearing terms, as though he were to be long separated from them.
Ernest came down in his dressing gown, carrying his own travelling rug which he insisted Renny must take for Adeline’s comfort. He remained to put her into her little hat and coat and draw on her tiny gloves. She was to go upstairs, Nicholas had sent word, to say goodbye to him. The car was at the door.
Renny stood by it looking at his watch. Still Ernest did not return with the child. Rags had gone to the basement, dragging the dogs with him.
“My God!” Renny shouted through the open door, “do you want me to miss my train? Uncle Ernest, bring that child down!”
There was no answer. Merlin, escaped from Rags, came round the outside of the house and climbed into the car. Renny caught him by the tail, took him in his arms and carried him to the top of the basement stairs.
“Rags, you blasted fool!” he shouted, and delivered the dog to him. He returned, swearing along the hall. He looked at his watch.
He bounded up the stairs, met Ernest mildly interrogatory at the top, snatched Adeline from him and ran with her in his arms to the car.
“Now,” he said to Wright, “step on it!”
They shot down the drive, through the gate and along the icy road. The sun rose red across the lake which steamed like a glassy caldron. Gulls flew in and out of the rose-tinted mist uttering thin cries. Adeline was in a state of mingled bewilderment and bliss.
This state continued all day, with now one emotion predominant, now the other. She was swept into a new life, into undreamed-of things, into a state of intimacy with her father never before achieved.
But no matter how great her bewilderment she was always mistress of herself. As soon as they had arranged their things in the train and she had found out what was expected of her, she behaved like a seasoned traveller.
Renny was proud of her — of her looks and her behaviour.
He was proudly conscious of the admiring glances she received when he led her through the long rows of carriages to the restaurant car. Many eyes turned toward them as they sat at table there, the small child composed, making animated conversation with him in an almost unchildlike way; the man attentive to her but nothing of the doting father in his aspect. The two were complete in their relation.
She grew very tired as the day wore on, very hot in the overheated carriage. He showed her the pictures in his newspaper. For hours she looked out of the window at the snowy landscape. Then he laid her on the seat with Ernest’s rug folded under her head and she fell into a deep sleep. When she woke it was night, a strange night of shifting lights, roaring darkness and changing faces. Her hair clung moistly to her head, her cheeks were blazing. Renny stood her on the seat and put on her coat and hat. She stared bewildered as the negro porter brushed his clothes and dusted his shoes. She had never seen a negro before. All day this one had been nice to her, leant over showing his white teeth, brought her a coloured travelling guide to look at.
“Goodbye!” she called to him over Renny’s shoulder. “Goodbye, and good-luck!”
There were more people in the marble station than she had dreamed were in the whole world. She clasped her arms tightly round Renny’s neck and wondered however they should find her mother in such a place.
Renny had hoped to go straight to Alayne that night but when he considered how tired the child was and the question of Miss Archer’s being able to put them up at such short notice, he decided to go to a hotel.
It was the first time Adeline had ever been in one. She had not known that there were houses larger than Jalna, except, of course, the King’s Castle, and she was almost frightened by the innumerable doors opening from the unbelievable length of the corridors. She marched along sturdily, grasping Renny’s hand. She thought of food and wondered if ever she would get something more to eat. She thought of milk, and thought — “I could drink a whole cow-full!”
At last a door was thrown open. The porters carried in their bags and they found themselves in a bedroom looking out on a hundred lighted skyscrapers.
She watched Renny attack the radiator, heard him talking to it under his breath, heard its terrible hissing, sizzling retorts, drew in a deep breath of relief when he threw open the window, raised her voice and howled at the top of it as famine implacably attacked her.
He came to her aghast.
“What’s the matter? Have you a pain?”
“No!” she howled out of a square mouth.
He caught her by the arm. “Now, look here, no tantrums —”
She gripped her stomach and glared at him out of streaming eyes.
“Hungry?”
She made a gurgling assent.
Oh, the long wait for food! Oh, the unspeakable bliss when it arrived! A glittering damask cloth was spread before her. A waiter disclosed a tureen of soup enough to serve four. There were biscuits and custard and little cakes. She felt that she could go on eating forever, beaming at her father out of grateful eyes.
But quite suddenly she could eat no more and wanted nothing but to go to bed. She felt a revival of excitement at sight of the glaring white bathroom, at sound of the volcanic taps. The water came out raging, steaming. Surely she would be boiled alive!
It was amazing to think that Renny should give her her bath. It was glorious to see the grimy lather on her hands. He bent over her, in shirt and trousers, lathering her well. He rubbed her down, whistling through his teeth as he did so, like a groom.
Oh, how she loved him! Naked she rolled in his arms, hugging him as though she would throttle him, laughing into his face, shrieking with joy when he tickled her.
He had a time of it to quiet her but at last she lay in bed with closed eyes looking remote and touchingly young and weak.
He rang for a maid, asked her to tidy the room and keep an eye on the child. He brushed his own moist hair, put on his coat and went down to dinner.
“I’d call it a day!” he said to himself.