Ione was thinking of a small flat in London. The idea was to interest Allegra in materials for curtains. Mentally reflecting that she could always give the stuff away if she felt that she couldn’t bear it, she was preparing for a certain amount of self-immolation. A good deal to her surprise, she found that this would not be necessary. Kenlow’s really had lovely materials, and at not unreasonable prices. Allegra began to sit up and take notice. She pulled off a glove to finger the stuffs, asked to have them held up to the light, and was so much the old Allegra that Ione’s heart was warmed.
“And you know, darling,” Allegra was saying, “I wouldn’t decide anything in a hurry if I were you. Are you sure of the flat?”
“Yes. It is Louisa Blunt’s. She can’t afford to stay on, but she isn’t in a hurry to get out, so I don’t have to make up my mind till I want to.”
Allegra was quite animated.
“Then I’ll tell you what you must do! Go up to town and measure everything properly. They will give you patterns of these lovely stuffs, and you can look at them on the spot, which is always a great help, and then come back and give your order.” She turned to the salesman. “You would let us have the patterns, wouldn’t you?”
Kenlow’s was delighted to do anything that would please the customer.
It was surprising how much time had already passed. It was a quarter to one, and the idea of lunch at the George was pleasant.
As they emerged upon the pavement, Allegra said,
“I’m rather surprised that Jacqueline wanted to come with us.”
“Why?”
“Well, she’s in a fuss you know-about those things of Margot’s that have gone missing.” Her tone was the usual dreamy one. It gave the impression that she really cared nothing at all for what she said.
“Ally, I haven’t the slightest idea what you are talking about.”
Allegra looked at her vaguely.
“Oh-didn’t I tell you? That tiresome girl used to keep some kind of a diary-just now and then, you know, when the fancy took her. I saw a bit of it once, and it might have been written by a child of eight-frightful spelling mistakes and all that. She was writing in it that very afternoon before she went out and fell over the quarry, and Jackie is worried because she doesn’t know what she may have put in it.” Ione said a little contemptuously,
“Why, what could she have put?”
Allegra could not have looked less interested. Her voice was indifference itself.
“Oh, I don’t know. She was very angry with Geoffrey because he took away her rope-she might have put down something frightful about him.” She gave Ione one of those odd sideways looks. “Or about me.”
“What could she possibly say about you, Ally?”
Allegra said angrily,
“She found something I had put away to keep it safe. She was a dreadful child. You don’t know how glad I am that she is dead.”
“I wouldn’t say that to anyone else, Ally.”
Allegra flushed.
“I’m not-I’m saying it to you! And I don’t want to go on talking about it anyhow. And I wouldn’t have said anything about it now if I hadn’t wondered why Jackie didn’t stay at home and go on having a good look for those torn-out pages. You see, she has got an idea that Margot may have hidden them in your room. She was awfully fond of going in there, you know, and of course it would be much easier to have a good look for them if you were out of the way.”
It was things like this that brought it home to Ione how far from normal Allegra still was. She was surprised at her own anger-not against poor Ally, but at just the bare idea of Jacqueline Delauny searching her room. And for what? An abnormal girl’s scribblings. She said quickly,
“You say these were just some torn-out pages at the end. But what about the rest of the diary? Has Geoffrey got it?”
Allegra shook her head.
“Oh, no, Jacqueline and Geoffrey burned it,” she said in a perfectly matter-of-fact kind of way.
They walked on down the sloping pavement in silence.
There is a four-cross-way at the bottom of the High Street which is the centre of all that is busiest and noisiest in Wraydon. A frightful clock-tower rears itself upon an island in the middle. It is supported by symbolic statues. Like most efforts of this kind, the less that is said about them the better. Fortunately, very few people ever notice them. They are too much taken up with getting safely across to the island, and from there to the opposite side of the four-cross-way.
Allegra held Ione tightly by the arm.
“It’s the worst crossing in the world-I really do think so. I can’t ever remember which way the traffic goes when the lights change.” Ione laughed.
“Don’t bother! There’s getting to be quite a crowd. Nobody is going to run us down if we all keep together.”
There really were more people on the island than it was intended to hold. Ione and Allegra, in the front rank, were not only squashed together but in some danger of being pushed off the kerb. But the lights were due to change at any moment, and they would get across. Thinking it over afterwards, Ione was to puzzle over just what the people behind could have seen. They would see that she and Allegra were being pressed together in the crowd, but would they be able to see that it was Allegra who was holding on to her, and not she to Allegra? That was the point which was to keep on coming back. She did not think that the people behind would have noticed Allegra’s clutch on her arm. She was so much smaller, and her hold was so low down. She did not think it would be seen. She did not think-but she was never to be sure.
What happened was violently, bewilderingly sudden. The lights were due to change at any moment and a large double-decker bus came hurrying by. Just before it was level with them Ione felt the impact of a blow. It took her glancingly on the side to which Allegra clung, and it loosened her grip. Whilst Ione braced herself to avoid being dislodged from the kerb Allegra was sent staggering forward right in the path of the bus.
CHAPTER 20
Two women screamed, there was a man’s warning shout, the ranks of the crowd divided, and before Ione could recover her balance a tweed-covered arm shot out and a stick with a large open crook linked itself about Allegra’s outflung arm. It jerked her back. She took a stumbling step or two and went down. The lights changed, people crowded round. Ione sat on the edge of the kerb with Allegra’s head in her lap. The tweed-covered arm and the crooked stick had disappeared. Amongst the murmur of voices one reached her with a note of calm and kind authority.
“Miss Muir, I have managed to procure a taxi. Miss Falconer informs me that the George is a good and quiet hotel. If we could take your sister there we could ascertain whether a doctor should be sent for, but I believe she has only fainted from the shock.”
With feelings of deep gratitude Ione looked up and saw that she was being addressed by the little governessy person whom she knew to be Miss Falconer’s paying guest.
With the assistance of the taxi driver and another man Allegra was lifted into the car. As they drove away, Ione felt no surprise at finding that Miss Silver was still with them. The name had come back to her, though she had not been able to recall it in the first shock. But she remembered it now, and Miss Falconer making the introduction in the village shop-“Miss Silver who is so kind as to come and stay with me at this bleak time of the year. It is nice to have a guest who is not afraid of the winter.”
It came to Ione to wonder whether Miss Silver would be afraid of anything. With everybody else gasping, crowding, and exclaiming, she had not only presented an appearance of perfect calm but she had conjured up a taxi. With her fingers at Allegra’s wrist, she now gave a slight cough as if to command attention and said,