We remained there until we could see him no more.
Life had become monotonous. The days seemed long and now that they were drawing in, rather depressing. When I was in the garden I often looked up at the new window which had been put in and sometimes I fancied I saw a face there. One gets fanciful on dark afternoons in a big house which has become full of shadows.
Christmas came. I was longing for it to be over. It wasn't the same without Philip and at such times it was brought home more vividly how we missed him.
We tried to be enthusiastic. We discussed presents and such things. The only Christmas present I wanted was to see Philip walk in.
The Fentons came to us and we visited the Gal tons; we dined with the vicar and his ineffectual wife. We had the village children's Christmas party the day after Boxing Day in the Manor, all just as we always had had. We tried to make it a normal Christmas.
"Time is passing," said Granny M. "He'll be home soon. He just wants to look at the place ... and satisfy himself that it is there ... then he'll come home."
I wasn't sure. He had always wanted to go to sea. He would become fascinated sailing the ocean, hoping that he was going to make discoveries... just as I should if I had been with him.
In February we had a letter from him. What excitement that was! I read it. Granny M read it: I read it aloud to her and she read it aloud to me, for reading it was like having Philip with us.
"Dear Granny and Annalice, Sydney
"Here I am! I can't believe I have really arrived and that you two are on the other side of the world.
"We had a fairly smooth journey—at least I was told it was smooth. It was hardly how I should have described it. There are some amusing fellows in the botanical party. They are here in Sydney at the moment and they are leaving tomorrow. I shall be on my own then.
"I am planning to explore the islands some hundreds of miles off the coast here. There is a ship that goes every Wednesday. That is the day after tomorrow ... so I shall get this off to you before I leave.
"I hope it reaches you. It has a long way to go, but they assure me that letters do get safely home and four hundred mail bags leave Australia for England every week.
"I wish you were here. Then everything would be fine. I've seen several people in Sydney but none of them so far has given me any information about Paradise Island. I studied several maps but it is not marked on any of them. It really is rather mysterious.
"As soon as there are any developments, I'll write again.
"I am fit and well. Never felt better and am raring to go.
"Perhaps you will be seeing me soon.
"Your devoted grandson and brother,
"Philip."
"He seems as though he is finding the life amusing and interesting," said Granny M.
"Philip usually finds life amusing and interesting."
"He always had the urge to wander. Perhaps having had a taste of it he'll long for the comforts of home."
I wondered.
One day merged into another. Each day I watched for a letter from Philip.
"Of course mail coming from such a long way would be uncertain " said Granny M. "I daresay a number of letters get lost."
I agreed with her: but how I longed for news!
The shop had lost its charm for me. Every time I went in I thought of Philip. When I looked at the maps with those far-off seas, I would think of the terrible things that could happen on them. I remembered the account of storms in Ann Alice's journal. Where was Philip? and how would he be faring on those treacherous seas? He had talked of taking a boat to the islands. Was he still there?
Talking to Benjamin brought little comfort. He made a great effort to be cheerful and optimistic, but he was merely depressing.
Granny M was anxious to lift us out of our melancholy and with characteristic good sense made up her mind that we must stop torturing ourselves with possibilities. It would be wonderful to hear from Philip but if we did not, we must consider the difficulties of communication and not think the worst. In any event we must get on with our own lives.
When she heard there was to be a conference of cartographers in London she declared her intention of going. Benjamin and I should go with her. "It will be of the utmost interest," she declared.
My first thought was: How exciting it would have been if Philip were going with us. Then I tried to be sensible and gave myself up to preparations.
It was to last three days and Benjamin was instructed to book us in to Blake's Hotel, where the family had always stayed on its visits to London. It was highly respectable and what was called an "old-fashioned" hotel situated not far from Piccadilly. I had stayed there before and been impressed by the hushed atmosphere which I believed was created by the heavy curtains and thick carpets, by porters in liveries of dark blue lightened only by shining brass buttons, silent-footed waiters and discreet chambermaids.
There were to be several meetings and a ball at one of the more florid hotels.
Preparations ensued. We must have new ball dresses. There was bustle throughout the house, which in spite of myself I found exciting, and it did take our minds temporarily from our anxieties about Philip.
It was always thrilling to be in London and it was impossible for one's spirits not to be lifted a little to contemplate all that bustle and vitality which we lacked on our village Green. I was fascinated by the street traders and the German bands and the people dashing to and fro across the roads which they seemed to do so recklessly that I thought they were going right under the horses which were drawing the hansom cabs, the broughams and the landaus that filled the streets.
One could not help being caught up in the excitement. I liked the shops too and made up my mind that I was going to spend many an hour browsing through the goods displayed there before I returned home.
The conference was interesting. It was held in a big room at one of the grander hotels. There were lectures on various aspects, and coloured lithography was widely discussed.
Benjamin had gone on ahead of us because Granny M and I wanted to look in at one of the shops. Granny M had said: "Don't worry about us. We'll see you after the lecture. Don't attempt to save seats for us. We'll look after ourselves."
Our hansom was held up in the traffic and, as it happened, when Granny M and I arrived, the lecture was just about to start.
We were a little abashed when we entered the hall to find it full, and it seemed as though there were no seats available. I suppose we
looked a little bewildered for a young man who was seated in the back row saw us and immediately rose and offered his seat to Granny M.
She was hesitating when an attendant came along with two extra chairs which were set down behind the back row, so the young man and I sat down behind Granny M.
I said: "Thank you very much. That was most kind of you."
"It was a pleasure," he replied with one of the most disarming smiles I have ever seen.
I found the lecture of great interest. So apparently did he, but I noticed that every now and then he was glancing sideways at me. I had to admit that I took a few looks at him too. He was of medium height—slightly taller than I, but then I was tall; he had light brown hair and eyes of a slightly darker brown, good, though undistinguished features, but what was so pleasant about him was his frank engaging smile.
The lecture over, Granny M turned to thank him again and he repeated that it was a pleasure. He added that he believed there was some sort of refreshment which was being served. Would we care to join him? He was alone.
Granny M said: "We have a friend here. He went on ahead. I daresay he is down at the front somewhere."
"Perhaps we could find him. I believe there are tables for four."