The sitting-room in the Stable House was comfortably furnished with deep armchairs and a sofa covered in faded rose-coloured linen. There were a few good pieces of furniture: a walnut tallboy and a graceful regency table on which was arranged a great vase of Michaelmas daisies and yellow roses.
“This is how I’d always expected England to be,” Helen said, gazing round the room. “I didn’t really take it in properly last night. But now I’ve seen the sunlight on the old red bricks, and all the flowers growing in the garden, and that man Bludgen, bent double weeding, well, I guess I’ve arrived all right You must have fixed those flowers, Phyllis; they’re lovely. Thank you.”
Phyllis said: “What do you think of London?”
“It’s beautiful. All those ancient buildings! And the river! And the stores, too. Of course, we didn’t have time to go in any place, we just drove around for a while, and we had lunch at the Savoy Hotel. That was quite something.”
“I’ll bet it was,” said Cathy. She felt drawn to stare at Helen, but tried to hide her intense curiosity. Her stepmother wore a simple coffee-coloured dress; her hair was smoothly brushed into a long bob, and she looked superlatively elegant.
“Have you had dinner?” Phyllis asked. “Though after lunch at the Savoy, you can’t have been very hungry.”
“We fixed some steaks out of the ice-box,” said Helen. “It’s the first time I’ve cooked anything for Gerry, Phyllis. I expect we have you to thank for getting in the groceries.”
“Cathy and I did it together,” Phyllis said. “We didn’t want you to have to bother about shopping until you’d had a chance to settle down and find your way about. You’ll be coming up to the house for lunch tomorrow. We have a custom that all the family gathers together for Sunday lunch. Mother expects it”
“Yes, Gerry told me,” Helen said.
To Cathy it seemed strange to hear her father called by this diminutive of his name. It was endearing. Although Helen seemed so self-contained, she must be very fond of him. It all took a little getting used to.
A door led from the sitting-room directly into the kitchen, and at this moment it opened and Gerald came in, carrying a bowl of ice.
“Sorry to keep you all waiting,” he said.
“We thought you’d gone to the well, Daddy,” said Cathy. “You were ages.”
“We’re all panting for that drink, Gerry,” Helen said, with the slow, sweet smile that transformed her face.
“It’s coming up right away,” said Gerald. “What’ll it be for you, Phyl? Whisky?”
“Please.”
Gerald set about preparing the drinks, and he had just handed Cathy her Dubonnet when the doorbell rang.
“I’ll go,” said the girl, springing up. She went out into the hall, and returned almost at once, beaming widely, and followed by a tall, well-built man with thick, straight dark hair and a pair of very keen hazel eyes behind heavy-rimmed spectacles. He carried a collecting box and a tray of flags.
“It’s Dr Grant,” said Cathy. “I had tea at his sister’s house today, I told you. He’s doing some of her flag-day collecting.”
“Why, come in Dr Grant,” said Gerald warmly. “I’m delighted to meet you. You know my nephew, I believe.”
“I do,” said Patrick, and added, “I apologise for intruding on this family occasion, but my excuse is that I want to help my sister, who has already spent hours tramping round the village for the good cause. I hope I can persuade you all to add a contribution?”
“Certainly,” said Gerald. He took out his wallet and extracted a pound, which he rolled up and poked into Patrick’s tin.
Patrick gazed expectantly round, and Gerald introduced him to Helen and Phyllis.
“I’ll just get my purse,” Helen said, and left the room. Phyllis rummaged in her bag and found a florin.
“I put mine in this afternoon,” said Cathy sunnily. “I bet Jane’s collected more than they got last year. People would cough up better for her than for boot-faced old Mrs Hunt who always used to do it.”
Patrick shook the tin.
“It feels quite heavy,” he said. “It can’t be too bad, unless it’s mostly pennies.”
“You’ll have a drink, won’t you, Dr Grant, now that you’re here?” said Gerald.
Patrick accepted readily. He sat down beside Phyllis and spoke to her.
“I’ve seen you before, Mrs Medhurst,” he told her. “In Fennersham yesterday. I was shopping for my sister. You were in the chemist’s.”
Phyllis’s face turned an ugly dull red.
“I didn’t notice you,” she said.
“Why should you? I heard the name Ludlow, and remembered the young man we have at Mark’s,” said Patrick.
“Tim. He arrived home unexpectedly this evening,” Phyllis said.
“You’ll meet him at lunch tomorrow, Helen,” Cathy said. “A treat in store. Modern youth.”
She turned to Patrick. “All the family has lunch at Pantons on Sundays, Dr Grant,” she added. “Except Tim’s brother, Martin, who’s broken with tradition because his wife doesn’t believe in such Victorian conduct.”
“Really, Cathy,” remonstrated Phyllis. “I’m sure Dr Grant isn’t the least bit interested in our family customs.”
“But I am. I find these habits that survive through the generations very fascinating,” said Patrick. He stood up as Helen came back into the room.
“I’m sorry I’ve been so long. I’m not used to your English money yet,” she said. She was rather flushed. “I have some lire, and a few dollar bills, but not many English notes. Will this be all right?” She produced a ten-shilling note and gave it to Patrick, who put it in his tin.
“Splendid. Thank you,” he said.
“Darling, you didn’t have to go hunting about upstairs for that,” Gerald said. “You’ve got me around now to see to such things.”
“I’d have thought your pound was plenty for the whole family, Daddy,” Cathy said.
Helen laughed. She looked rather embarrassed.
“I guess you’re right, Cathy,” she said. “Still, it’s for a deserving charity, isn’t it?”
“Cathy, since Dr Grant is here, why don’t we pick his brains about getting you into the university?” said Gerald.
“Oh Daddy! I didn’t think we’d get round to talking about it for weeks,” said Cathy. Her eyes shone and she looked expectantly from her father to Patrick.
“Well, you’ve really your aunt to thank,” said Gerald. “She wasted no time reminding me about your excellent exam results. What should we do, Dr Grant?”
Patrick told him, at some length, and added an invitation to any Ludlows who cared to accept for luncheon in his rooms next term. Helen was delighted by this; she said that she had longed for years to visit Oxford.
“Helen’s a most gratifying Anglophile; aren’t you darling?” said Gerald. “I think she only agreed to marry me because it was a quick way to get to England.”
“Well, I think it’s wonderful that you should feel like that, Helen,” said Phyllis firmly. “Nowadays, when so many people are saying that Britain is finished, it’s very heartening to find foreigners, if you’ll forgive me for calling you one, Helen, eager to settle here.” She spoke with some passion, her colour high.
“Well done, Mrs Medhurst,” exclaimed Patrick admiringly.
“Well, it’s what I feel,” said Phyllis. “When you think of what happened during the war, it sickens me to think of how much national pride we’ve lost. It’s like saying that all young people are decadent. They’re not.”
“Phyl, have another drink,” said Gerald, holding his hand out for her glass. He grinned at her. “I’d forgotten what a girl you are for causes.”
“That’s what’s wrong with most of us today,” Phyllis said. “We haven’t got a goal.” Her voice was still vibrant, but she made an effort to steady it.
“You’re right, of course, Mrs Medhurst,” Patrick said. “And there are plenty of industrious, well-conducted youngsters about who get pretty fed-up with their ill-disciplined contemporaries. Unfortunately the acts of the virtuous don’t make news, and we’re conditioned today to seek sensation. Every non-event is reported as a crisis.”
They discussed this theme at some length, and then Patrick rose to go, saying that he hoped they would all come down to Reynard’s one evening before he returned to Oxford.
He had walked up to Pantons. It was not very far, and after a day spent idly in the garden he thought the exercise would do him good. As he walked back down the drive he heard a car’s engine start up, close at hand. He stepped off the gravel into the shelter of some shrubs, and was passed by a small, dark saloon, a Vauxhall Viva, which turned into the road at the lodge gates and with a sudden roar accelerated rapidly away.