Saplings

  Throughout lunch the talk went on as it had in the taxi. Kim, full of bounce and excitement, and she trying to draw Tony into the conversation and only getting monosyllabic replies. One thing she noticed with pleasure. Kim had improved. As usual his good looks made everybody in the dining-room stare. It was the kind of occasion which, in the old days, would have forced Kim to show off. Now he seemed unaware that he was being looked at and was only genuinely delighted to see her again and to talk to her. School life was evidently what Kim needed. He had clearly established some sort of position for himself.

  ‘We’re doing a play at Christmas. It’s scenes from A Midsummer Night’s Dream and I’m Puck. Do you know. . . .’ He leant on the table and spoke earnestly, ‘I start by jumping on the spring-board, and I come down in the middle of the stage exactly as if I flew.’

  Ruth tried another tactic to get Tony to talk.

  ‘Have you any special friends? Next time I come you might both like to bring a friend out with you.’

  Kim shook his head.

  ‘I’m friends with one person one minute and the next minute I find they’re simply hateful really, and then I look proud and don’t speak to them for weeks.’

  ‘What about you, Tony?’

  ‘There’s nobody special.’

  After lunch, as it was too cold to go out, Ruth borrowed a pack of cards and they played ‘Old Maid’ and ‘Snap’. It was over tea that Ruth caught her first impression that there was something definite that was wrong with Tony. Kim was describing how he made the other boys laugh. It was at shelter practice.

  ‘Once every week we have to march to the shelter. The warning goes when you aren’t expecting it, when I’m lucky it goes in the middle of French.’ Kim’s voice burbled on. Ruth, apparently engaged in pouring out the tea, was looking at Tony. He had turned pale and he was breathing quickly.

  ‘I was the last,’ said Kim, ‘and I slammed the door and I pretended for a minute it wouldn’t open and, do you know, Tony fainted.’

  Tony spoke quietly.

  ‘It was nothing whatsoever to do with your fool joke. It was just that I’d eaten something bad. Matron said so when I got into the san.’

  Kim refused to be squashed.

  ‘I bet it was me shutting the door. I wasn’t there but you fainted that time you went over to see the Abbey and were made to go into the script.’

  Tony scowled.

  ‘It’s called a crypt. Anyway, heaps of people faint.’

  Ruth walked the two boys back to the school. She hung about saying good-bye. Tony merely shook her hand and stalked off, but Kim clung to her, pleading for one last kiss. She had told them that Laurel had decided to call her Foxglove, and Kim had adopted it delightedly.

  ‘Come on, Foxglove. One simply enormous hug.’

  There were two small boys crossing the hall and Ruth saw them grin tolerantly. Evidently Kim was the school card. She had half hoped that Mr. Phillips would pass and she would have an opportunity to speak to him. She had no idea what she would say. She had no excuse to discuss Tony, but she hated to leave the school without saying anything.

  She lit her torch because it was dark in the drive. Suddenly a voice spoke out of the shadows. It was Tony.

  ‘I thought you might get lost. I’ll walk with you as far as the gate.’

  Ruth felt as if she were dealing with an opportunity made of spun glass. She dared not waste the time. She took Tony’s arm.

  ‘What’s the matter, Tony?’

  He was as surly as ever.

  ‘Nothing. What should there be?’

  ‘That’s nonsense. There’s something wrong. You’ve spent the whole day looking as if you’d eaten a sour lemon, and you don’t sound to me as if you were doing much good at school.’

  Tony changed the conversation.

  ‘Do you know anything about submarines?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Do you think Uncle John really would come down? There’s something I’ve been wanting to ask him.’ He broke off. ‘About submarines, I mean.’

  Ruth knew Uncle John and liked him. She had not known that Tony was especially fond of him or interested in submarines, but any interest was to be encouraged.

  ‘I bet he would.’

  Tony’s voice came out of the greyness.

  ‘I don’t know his address, do you?’

  ‘No. But I could get it. If you’d send a letter to him to me, I’ll get it forwarded for you.’

  At the gate she pulled Tony to her and gave him a kiss.

  ‘Good-bye, darling. I know letter writing’s a nuisance, but I should like to hear from you when you can spare time.’

  Tony was running back up the drive. His voice sounded a shade less surly.

  ‘I might. Good-bye.’

  Waiting for her bus Ruth chewed on the subject of Tony and a letter to Uncle John. Uncle John and Aunt Lindsey had stayed quite often in London. Lindsey came up for literary gatherings and, though John hated being dragged from the country, she insisted that he accompany her. He had been secretary of a golf club. He became secretary of the golf club after he was axed from the Navy and seemed reasonably happy. Ruth had found Lindsey completely terrifying and marvelled that anyone could be happy with her. She was certainly fond of John in a possessive way and nicer to him than to any one else, which was not saying much. It was clear that Tony’s letter to John ought to have a covering letter from somebody. He might spare a day of his leave to come over and see the boy. It seemed imperative somebody should see him. What a mess it all was. How could so nice a boy as Tony go to pieces like this? I suppose, in a way, they were too carefully brought up. They had too happy a home. Odd, I shouldn’t have thought any one could have too much of that sort of happiness. She thought about her A.T.S. girls, coming as they did from all types of homes. Certainly the spoilt ones found life hard when they were thrown into the Army, but the Wiltshires had not really been spoilt. Alex had been quite ruthless in the code of behaviour he laid down for his children, taking special trouble with Tony. His father’s death, shock though it must have been to the child, should not have had this effect on him. His training should have stood by him and he should have risen above it. What was all this about fainting in shelters and crypts? Tony, whose idea of the right way to spend a day was to prowl about the Tower of London imploring to be taken into dungeons, smacking his lips over ghastly descriptions of people’s lingering deaths. Her visit had not been a success, unless it was good to have suggested a letter to Uncle John. It was a small thing to have done but you never knew where small things led, particularly with children. It was possible with a child that the right person saying the right thing at the right moment could change their whole outlook. Ruth climbed on to the bus and took a ticket to the railway station. ‘And now Laurel tomorrow,’ she thought. ‘Let’s hope she isn’t in a mess. Queer that the child who seems to be doing nicely is Kim, who was always considered the family problem.’

  Laurel was waiting at the gate of Greenwood House Over the Way. She flung her arms round Ruth.

  ‘Oh darling, darling Foxglove, don’t you look scrumptious in uniform. I’ve met you here because Aunt Dot’s here for the day and she’s gone out with Alice and Maria and she says will we be at The Royal Hotel at half-past four for tea. Do you think we could go on a bus to the next town for our lunch? Because then we needn’t see any of our girls.’

  In the bus Laurel poured out her troubles.

  ‘And it’s getting worse, Foxglove, because I’m becoming a woman and getting a chest, and you must agree it’s worse to bulge in green than to be thin in green. Alice wants me to get it dyed, but I said no, I was going to bring it to fame, and that’s where you come in. You know me better than any one else in the world. What could I shine at so that nobody could ever be better than me?’

  Ruth knew for all its superlatives the question was asked seriously. She answered truthfully.

  ‘You’re what I should have called quite a good all-rounder.’

&nbs
p; Laurel groaned.

  ‘That’s what Dad always said, and he said he liked me like that, but then he never knew about the green uniform and Greenwood House.’

  Ruth was thankful to hear the easy mention of Alex. He had not been spoken of by Tony or Kim.

  ‘That’s quite true, but you can’t be a star or a champion just by wanting to be one.’

  ‘You can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear.’

  ‘I shouldn’t exactly describe you as a sow’s ear, but that’s roughly what I mean.’

  Laurel leant against Ruth and tucked an arm into hers.

  ‘Well, I might be outstanding for goodness.’

  ‘What have you been reading?’

  Laurel nodded.

  ‘You’re quite right. It’s called “Lives of Little Saints”. If only I could see a vision like Bernadette of Lourdes. She wasn’t much older than me when she saw a lady, and where she saw the lady water came up and cured people.’

  ‘I never knew any one who saw visions, but my impression is that they didn’t go about looking for the visions, but the visions sprang upon them unawares.’

  ‘Then there was a child saint who found her dress full of roses at the wrong time of year. Just think, if I could come into the dining-room rather late with something in my tunic and Miss Clegg would say, “What’s that, Laurel?” and I would let my tunic drop and there would be roses in November. In “The Book of Little Saints”, in the pictures, when the miracle happens there’s always a light shining on the person’s face.’

  Ruth held Laurel’s arm more closely to her.

  ‘I think I should cut out miracles if I were you. They don’t happen often.’

  ‘It’s queer the way some people are important. There’s a girl at school whose mother’s an actress, and in the holidays she goes behind the scenes in the theatres, just walking about, going where she likes. It doesn’t matter what that girl does, it wouldn’t matter even if she wore a green uniform, I think it would be rather distinguished really. And then there’s another girl, she’s fat and rather ugly, but she always makes everybody laugh, and there’s one who’s just distinguished by badness. You just take it for granted every week there’s going to be an awful row for her about something.’

  Ruth played with Laurel’s fingers.

  ‘I can’t help thinking that being that sort of distinguished isn’t a good idea, and I believe you’ll think so presently. You’re new now but in no time everybody’ll have got used to your green uniform and, judging by the look of it, you’ll soon have outgrown it and then I expect you’ll have the brown one.’

  ‘Oh no, I won’t. Not ever. Mum says uniforms are a wicked waste of coupons.’

  ‘Well, your mother won’t be the only person to think that. Quite soon half the school will be wearing all kinds of clothes.’

  Laurel spoke earnestly.

  ‘But what you don’t see is that it won’t make any difference to me. I’ve started off by being called The Frog and it’s not meant politely. Well, what I want to do is to make people think of The Frog as a name given in honour.’

  ‘Tell me about the family. There’s one thing at which I know you shine, and that’s at being a good elder sister.’

  Throughout the rest of the bus ride and throughout lunch and on the bus back to The Royal Hotel for tea, Ruth collected news of the family. She heard about the house in Surrey, and Mrs. Oliver and Old Mustard. She heard about the rhododendrons and the azaleas. In a shocked, worried voice Laurel confided to her the story of Tuesday’s enuresis.

  ‘Nannie thought I didn’t know but of course I did. As a matter of fact, soon after we came home, it didn’t happen any more.’

  Ruth looked startled.

  ‘Tuesday! She’s going to be seven next month.’

  Laurel nodded.

  ‘Yes, it’s a terrible disgrace. That’s why Nannie never talks about it. Even Mum doesn’t know. I made Tuesday tell me about it, but she wouldn’t much. She just said it happened and trying didn’t stop it.’

  ‘Is she quite all right now?’

  ‘I hope to goodness she is because she’s coming to school next term. That really would be the worst thing that could happen if she did it at school. We’d simply have to leave, we’d never live down the shame.’

  ‘Poor little Tuesday. She ought to go to a doctor. It’s an illness, not a naughtiness. However, if it goes on, especially if it happens at school, they certainly will take her to a doctor.’

  ‘There’s a very nice doctor in Surrey. He came to look after Tony.’

  ‘What’s the matter with Tony?’

  ‘Nightmares. He screamed and screamed.’

  ‘What did the doctor do about him?’

  ‘Gave him medicine and he had to have milk at night. He got all right again.’

  ‘Well, he still doesn’t look well.’

  ‘Perhaps he had flu’ when you saw him. Lots of our girls have had flu’.’

  ‘Did you think he was well when he was at home?’

  Laurel was evasive.

  ‘I couldn’t see anything wrong and he ate like a horse.’

  Tony wasn’t the only subject on which Laurel dodged Ruth. Each time she asked a question about her mother Laurel edged away.

  ‘Mum’s all right. Why shouldn’t she be?’

  Nothing that Laurel said gave Ruth an inkling into the life inside the house with their mother. Lena seemed to be grappling with her children. In hearing about Mrs. Oliver Ruth heard about the bed making. In hearing about Old Mustard she heard about Tony’s work, but always Lena was left a shadow, there were no warm colourful touches to show that she was, as she must be, the mainspring of her children’s lives. One thing came out clearly from Laurel’s conversation, she had been intensely happy at the Abbey School and had cared so bitterly about being removed that she still could not talk about it. The only redeeming feature of Greenwood House seemed to be Alice.

  ‘She’s still exactly the same and she still has to wear those awful spectacles, but she’s simply marvellous at games. She plays in the second lacrosse team, and she won’t be fourteen until January, and nobody else in the team is younger than fifteen, and she was runner up for the junior tennis cup last term, and she’s the junior champion at gym and none of that makes her the least bit proud. She’s awfully keen to see you again. She’s never forgotten you. She was simply sick that time she came to Gran’s and Grandfather’s and missed you because you were in Devonshire.’

  ‘What does Alice think about your chances of becoming a champion at something?’

  ‘I can’t say that she really sees how desperately it matters, and, if you come to think of it, I can’t think why she should. She’s got uniform and in any case she does most of the things very well, even that awful middle-European dancing, and, of course, she’s got games. She thinks they’re just fun to play and it doesn’t matter being good at them, but that’s because she doesn’t know what it’s like when you’re not good at anything at all.’

  Just before they reached the hotel for tea Ruth told Laurel that Tony and Kim wanted to see Uncle John. She put the onus on to Kim.

  ‘He says nobody in uniform ever comes to see him.’

  Laurel’s eyes shone.

  ‘Uncle John! Next to Dad I always thought he was the nicest man I ever knew, though I can’t say I’ve ever cared for Aunt Lindsey. If he comes I wish he’d come in the holidays. We’ve got a spare room, it would be super. If only he’d come next holidays, it would make something to look forward to.’

  Ruth’s heart contracted. She gave Laurel’s hand that she was holding a squeeze.

  ‘There’s a lot to look forward to, darling, I’m certain of it.’

  Dot and Ruth, having delivered the children at their school, travelled on the same bus back to the station. Dot eyed Ruth with friendliness.

  ‘How d’you find the children?’

  ‘They’ve changed a lot.’

  ‘I suppose they have. Life’s been rather tough for the
m, poor scraps.’

  Ruth thought back to the days before the war, the regulated, graceful existence. Laurel’s lessons, Laurel skipping along on her way to classes, Laurel flying down the stairs as Alex’s car stopped at the front door. Alex’s way of talking about his children. ‘Tony’ll have to go to his preparatory school next summer, though, mind you, that doesn’t mean that you and I will stand easy. I don’t mean to hand over Tony to anybody else to bring up. I shall co-operate with the school, of course, that’s only right, but Tony, and later on Kim, have got to feel that at the back of everything there are their mother and myself, people you can talk anything out with – say what you like....’

  ‘They were an exceptionally united and happy family, weren’t they?’

  Dot clapped her hands together for the wind was cold.

  ‘I never have believed in treating children as though they were climbing plants. Pruning and clipping and fixing down each shoot where you want it.’

  Ruth stared up the road to the bend round which the bus would come. Most of the leaves were off the trees. An occasional dried-up leaf blew off a branch and was tossed up the road making a scratching sound. The clouds hung low and grey. She felt a sadness that was like lethargy after an illness.

  ‘I suppose if Mr. Wiltshire could have seen into the future he might have brought them up differently, but, I don’t know, they were happy and that’s something to have by you.’ She felt she could not pursue the subject. Dot’s children had, from her point of view, practically brought themselves up, but it seemed to be working. Had too much trouble been taken with the Wiltshires? She decided that perhaps Dot could help her about Uncle John. ‘Do you know their Uncle John’s address? Tony asked me for it. Stupidly I forgot I was no longer part of the household and said “send the letter to me and I’ll forward it,” instead of saying “send it to your mother to forward.” ’