“I say you know, really, I shouldn't take that line about it.”
“It isn't the first time it's happened … always, anywhere, I am hunted down … without remorse. O God,” said Jenny Abdul Akbar. “What have I done to deserve it?”
She rose to leave him; there was nowhere she could go except the bathroom. Jock said, through the door, “Well I must go along to Polly's and see Brenda.”
“Wait a minute and I'll come too.” She had brightened a little when she emerged. “Have you got a car here,” she asked, “or shall I ring up a taxi?”
After tea Mr. Tendril called. Tony saw him in his study and was away half an hour. When he returned he went to the tray, which, on Mrs. Rattery's instructions, had been left in the library, and poured himself out whisky and ginger ale. Mrs. Rattery had resumed her patience. “Bad interview?” she asked without looking up.
“Awful.” He drank the whisky quickly and poured out some more.
“Bring me one too, will you?”
Tony. said, “I only wanted to see him about arrangements. He tried to be comforting. It was very painful … after all the last thing one wants to talk about at a time like this is religion.”
“Some like it,” said Mrs. Rattery.
“Of course,” Tony began, after a pause, “when you haven't got children yourself — ”
“I've got two sons,” said Mrs. Rattery.
“Have you? I'm so sorry. I didn't realize … we know each other so little. How very impertinent of me.”
“That's all right, People are always surprised. I don't see them often. They're at school somewhere. I took them to the cinema last summer. They're getting quite big. One's going to be good looking I think. His father is.”
“Quarter past six,” said Tony. “He's bound to have told her by now.”
There was a little party at Lady Cockpurse's, Veronica and Daisy and Sybil, Souki de Foucauld-Esterhazy, and four or five others, all women. They were there to consult a new fortune-teller called Mrs. Northcote. Mrs. Beaver had discovered her and for every five guineas that she earned at her introduction Mrs. Beaver took a commission of two pounds twelve and sixpence. She told fortunes in a new way, by reading the soles of the feet. They waited their turn impatiently. “What a time she is taking over Daisy.”
“She is very thorough,” said Polly, “and it tickles rather.”
Presently Daisy emerged. “What was she like?” they asked.
“I mustn't tell or it spoils it all,” said Daisy.
They had dealt cards for precedence. It was Brenda's turn now. She went next door to Mrs. Northcote, who was sitting at a stool beside an armchair. She was a dowdy, middle-aged woman with a slightly genteel accent. Brenda sat down and took off her shoe and stocking. Mrs. Northcote laid the foot on her knee and gazed at it with great solemnity; then she picked it up and began tracing the small creases of the sole with the point of a silver pencil case. Brenda wriggled her toes luxuriously and settled down to listen.
Next door they said, “Where's her Mr. Beaver today?”
“He's flown over to France with his mother to see some new wall papers. She's been worrying all day thinking he's had an accident.”
“It's all very touching, isn't it? Though I can't see his point myself …”
“You must never do anything on Thursdays,” said Mrs. Northcote.
“Nothing?”
“Nothing important. You are intellectual, imaginative, sympathetic, easily led by others, impulsive, affectionate. You are highly artistic and are not giving full scope to your capabilities.”
“Isn't there anything about love?”
“I am coming to love. All these lines from the great toe to the instep represent lovers.”
“Yes, go on some more about that …”
Princess Abdul Akbar was announced.
“Where's Brenda?” she said. “I thought she'd be here.”
“Mrs. Northcote's doing her now.”
“Jock Grant-Menzies wants to see her. He's downstairs.”
“Darling Jock … Why on earth didn't you bring him up.”
“No, it's something terribly important. He's got to see Brenda alone.”
“My dear, how mysterious. Well she won't be long now. We can't disturb them. It would upset Mrs. Northcote.”
Jenny told them her news.
On the other side of the door, Brenda's leg was beginning to feel slightly chilly. “Four men dominate your fate,” Mrs, Northcote was saying, “one is loyal and tender but he has not yet disclosed his love, one is passionate and overpowering, you are a little afraid of him.”
“Dear me,” said Brenda. “How very exciting. Who can they be?”
“One you must avoid; he bodes no good for you, he is steely hearted and rapacious.”
“I bet that's my Mr. Beaver, bless him.”
Downstairs Jock sat waiting in the small front room where Polly's guests usually assembled before luncheon. It was five past six.
Soon Brenda pulled on her stocking, stepped into her shoe, and joined the ladies. “Most enjoyable,” she pronounced. “Why how odd you all look.”
“Jock Grant-Menzies wants to see you downstairs.”
“Jock? How very extraordinary. It isn't anything awful is it?”
“You better go and see him.”
Suddenly, Brenda became frightened by the strange air of the room and the unfamiliar expression in her friends' faces. She ran downstairs to the room where Jock was waiting.
“What is it, Jock? Tell me quickly, I'm scared. It's nothing awful is it?”
“I'm afraid it is. There's been a very serious accident.”
“John?”
“Yes.”
“Dead?” He nodded.
She sat down on a hard little Empire chair against the wall, perfectly still with her hands folded in her lap, like a small well-brought-up child introduced into a room full of grown-ups. She said, “Tell me what happened? Why do you know about it first?”
“I've been down at Hetton since the week-end.”
“Hetton?”
“Don't you remember? John was going hunting today.”
She frowned, not at once taking in what he was saying. “John … John Andrew … I … Oh thank God …” Then she burst into tears.
She wept helplessly, turning round in the chair and pressing her forehead against its gilt back.
Upstairs Mrs. Northcote had Souki de Foucauld-Esterhazy by the foot and was saying, “There are four men dominating your fate. One is loyal and tender but has not yet disclosed his love …”
In the silence of Hetton, the telephone rang near the housekeeper's room and was switched through to the library. Tony answered it.
“This is Jock speaking. I've just seen Brenda. She's coming down by the seven o'clock train.”
“Is she terribly upset?”
“Yes, naturally.”
“Where is she now?”
“She's with me. I'm speaking from Polly's.”
“Shall I talk to her?”
“Better not.”
“All right … I'll meet that train. Are you coming too?”
“No.”
“Well you've been wonderful. I don't know what I should have done without you and Mrs. Rattery.”
“Oh, that's all right. I'll see Brenda off.”
She had stopped crying and sat crouched in the chair. She did not look up while Jock telephoned. Then she said, “Yes, I'll go by that train.”
“We ought to start. I suppose you will have to get some things from the flat.”
“My bag … upstairs. You get it. I can't go in there again.”