‘And, if I may ask you-what is the position with regard to the house at Haleycott?’
Jim said slowly, ‘My grandfather left it to me, but-I wouldn’t have turned them out. They’d lived there always. They were the second family. It wouldn’t have been right to turn them out.’
‘Did they know that?’
‘I suppose they knew what my grandfather’s will was. Look here, Miss Silver, you can’t think-’
She fixed her eyes upon his face.
‘I think that no avenue must be unexplored.’
He got up from his chair. It was as if he pushed the whole thing away.
‘Look here, we can’t go into that. If Lilian wanted to do anything, what could she do? Besides, she isn’t like that. She’s a fussy, silly woman. I don’t mind telling you a little of her goes a long way with me. But when all’s said and done, what could she do?’
‘Mr Fancourt, did this man who came see her?’
‘See Lilian? Yes, he did. But I don’t know that he asked for her. Thomasina wasn’t sure whether he said Mrs Fancourt or Miss Fancourt.’
‘And was he with her long?’
‘Thomasina didn’t know. She went back to her pantry. She left him with Lilian.’
They went on talking, and got nowhere.
CHAPTER 28
The train got into the terminus. Anne left it. She did not know where she was going. She did not know what she was going to do. She went and sat down in the waiting-room and tried to think. For a long time nothing came to her. Then she began to think.
She got up and walked out of the station. She had to buy a suitcase, and she had to find a room. She got the suitcase almost at once, and then bought herself a cheap nightgown, brush and comb, a cake of soap, and a towel. It was terrifying how much things cost, but no one would take her in without luggage. A curious feeling pushed up through her consciousness. These were not the sort of things she had ever bought before. She could do a sum in her head. She could know that she mustn’t spend more than the least possible, but all the time she knew in her own mind that these were not the sort of things she had ever bought before. It was all new to her, this considering of prices, this taking the cheapest thing that was offered.
In the first shop she went into she began to give her name. She got as far as Miss Anne, and stopped dead and bit her lip.
‘No, I’ll pay for it,’ she said.
The girl who was serving her with the nightdress looked up at her with a quick fleeting glance.
When she had got as much as she dared, she turned her attention to the question of a room. There was a policeman at the next crossing. She made her way to him, waited till he was disengaged from the traffic, and then put her request.
‘Can you tell me where I can get a room?’
The policeman was comfortable-looking. Ten years before, he had come up to London. The country burr still lingered in his voice. He said, ‘What kind of a room, miss?’
And Anne said, ‘A very cheap one.’
He directed her to a Young Woman’s Christian, and it sounded frightfully respectable and safe. She went on her way feeling very clever and encouraged. Nothing happened to you if you were sensible.
Nothing could possibly happen to you at a Young Woman’s Christian. It sounded too utterly respectable and safe. She would deposit her luggage-how safe and respectable to have luggage-and she would ask them about jobs. They would know. The mere fact that there was going to be someone whom she could ask was like light in a dark place-the dark place of her ignorance, of her not knowing.
But the Young Woman’s Christian was full. They gave her one or two addresses and said they might be able to take her in next week. She embarked on a long and weary hunt for a room. At last, too tired to be particular, she took what was offered by a woman whom she would have turned down flat at the beginning of her search, a little carneying person with untidy hair and a smooth ingratiating way of speech. She didn’t know how long she would want the room for, and she would leave her things there and go out and get something to eat. She was tired to the very bones of her, and she was so discouraged that there seemed to be no place left for her either to fall or to rise. The world was an empty place. There was no one who cared whether she was alive or dead. ‘Let us eat and drink; for tomorrow we die.’
She ate and drank in a dirty little shop, and then she went back to her room and undressed and went to bed. The day had begun early and there had not been much of the night. She put on her clean nightgown and lay down in the doubtful bed wondering if she would sleep, and that was the last thing she knew until the morning. She slept and slept, and when she woke she was conscious of nothing. The hours of sleep had passed over her and were gone.
Her depression was gone too. She must find a job. And she must write to Jim and Miss Silver. It wasn’t fair to leave them without a word. She had got away, and now that she was quite on her own she could see them again. It was a very heartening thought. She put on her coat and hat, considered whether she could ask Jim to get hold of her bag and her money from Chantreys, and set out first on a quest for a roll. and butter and a cup of tea, and then to look for a job.
CHAPTER 29
Miss Silver got the letter with her breakfast next day. It was the second in a pile of letters. She opened it first. She read:
Dear Miss Silver,
I am writing to tell you that I had to come away. I couldn’t help it. When I see you I will tell you, but I don’t know when that will be. I’ve got to get work before I do anything else. I thought I must write to you because of Jim. I meant to write to him, but I couldn’t. He will be so very angry with me for coming away, and I don’t know whether I could tell him why. I must think it well over first. But if you see him, or if he comes to you, will you please tell him not to worry. He was so very good to me-as you were. It would be a bad return if I did anything that would make things difficult for him. I will send you an address when I have got one. This is only temporary. Dear Miss Silver, I feel so grateful to you. I can’t explain, but please, please do believe that I don’t mean to be ungrateful, and that I am all right.
The letter was signed ‘Anne’.
Miss Silver read it through twice, then she left the breakfast-table, went into her sitting-room, and rang up Jim Fancourt.
‘Mr Fancourt-’
‘Yes-who is it?’
‘It is Miss Silver. I have a letter from Anne.’
She read it aloud to him, and he received it in silence. After a moment she said, ‘Mr Fancourt, are you there?’
She got an angry laugh.
‘Oh, yes, I’m here-and a lot of use that seems to be! She says she writes from London?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why does she not write to me?’
Miss Silver looked at the letter again. She said, ‘I think there has been trouble with your aunt.’
‘What makes you think that?’
‘It is an impression.’
‘Something must have caused it.’
‘Yes. She says she had to come away, she could not help it. Then what she says of you-“He will be so very angry with me for coming away, and I don’t know whether I could tell him why. I must think it well over first.” ’ She read on to the end of the letter, and then returned to the sentence which said, ‘It would be a bad return if I did anything that would make things more difficult for him.’
‘That appears to me to be her motive-not to make things difficult for you.’
‘Damned little fool!’
Miss Silver turned a deaf ear. She could not approve of ‘language’, but she could ignore it. She said, ‘I will send you a copy of this letter. It will, I think, be a satisfaction to you to have it, and I will let you know at once when I hear from her again.’