‘Of course you’re not. Don’t worry about it. Don’t worry about anything.’
A sense of being looked after came comfortingly in upon Anne. She leaned back in the taxi and closed her eyes. She wasn’t sure whether she dropped off or not, she thought perhaps she had. But all of a sudden she came to with a start. The taxi had pulled up, and Janet’s hand was on her knee.
‘Anne-we’re here.’
She was still a little dazed as she paid the fare and followed Janet up the front steps of a big house in a square. There were names on brass plates. The hall had linoleum down, and there was linoleum on the stairs. Janet put a hand on the handle of the suitcase and said, ‘Come along up. We’re on the second floor. The room you can have is one floor higher up, but you can share our sitting-room if you like. Here, what’s the matter? Are you faint again?’
Artne was leaning against the banisters. She wasn’t holding the bag any more. It had slipped from her hand. Janet let go of the handle and put a firm, strong arm round her.
‘Sit down. Put your head down. I’ll get you up when you’re better. There’s no hurry.’
‘I’m so sorry.’ The words were only just audible. She heard the sound of running steps and fainted away.
When she came to she was on a sofa in what had been the drawing-room of the house, or the front half of it. There were voices in the room. One of them was saying, ‘Well, I think you’re mad.’ To which Janet answered, ‘All right, so I’m mad. And that’s the way I am.’
Anne turned oh to her side and saw the two girls over by the window. As she moved, Janet detached herself and came towards her.
‘Are you better? Don’t try and talk until you’ve had something to eat. You’ve been starving yourself. You’re going to have soup and custard pudding, and there’s an awfully good cheese-Oh, this is my cousin Lizabet.’
Anne began, ‘I’m so dreadfully sorry. You must think-’ Her voice failed her.
Lizabet had remained turned away. Now she swung round.
‘I want to say-’ she began, and Janet interrupted her. ‘You don’t want to say anything at all!’
Anne was conscious of a sharp disagreement. She struggled up on her elbow and said, ‘Oh!’ She looked at Lizabet and Lizabet looked at her. Anne didn’t know herself what she looked like. If she had thought about it she would have said untidy-dishevelled. That wasn’t what came into Janet’s mind, but defenceless-innocent. Anne went on looking at Lizabet as one does in those defenceless moments. ‘Why- why?’ And then, ‘How lovely she is.’
Lizabet said, ‘Why do you look at me like that?’
A little faint colour came into Anne’s face. She said, ‘I’m sorry. You’re so pretty.’
Lizabet turned colour. Janet said, ‘Yes, isn’t she? Come along, Lizabet, and help me with her lunch.’
Lizabet went.
Anne pulled herself up on the sofa and looked about her. She felt weak, and free. She felt that Janet was a tower of strength. And Lizabet-what was she-an enemy? The words came into her mind and she pushed them out again. Why should there be an enemy here?
The room was large and finely proportioned. There was a blue tea-set on the mantelpiece. Spode, blue de roi, lovely and bright. It came to her then that she could recognise a sort of china, and yet she didn’t know her own name. And she hadn’t the slightest doubt about the china-she knew it. Did that mean that she had lived with a set like that, known it intimately? She couldn’t answer that at all.
She went on looking about the room. There were rugs on the floor-oriental rugs, small and good. They didn’t touch each other, and the space between showed polished parquet. There were books-a great many books. There was a dear little walnut writing-table. And over the mantelpiece, where it reflected the blue china, there was a lovely walnut mirror.
She had got back to the mirror, when the door opened and Janet came in with a bowl of thick soup in her hand, Lizabet behind her with bread and butter. She had a rather wary expression. Her eyes darted at Anne and withdrew. At the sight of the food Anne realised how hungry she was. She had come out in the morning with nothing but a cup of tea. Everything in that house had tasted dirty, and the milk was sour. The soup smelled delicious. There was meat in it, and little suet balls. She took it all, Janet sitting beside her, talking just enough to make her feel at home. Lizabet had gone away, but she came back presently with the custard and the cheese. Every time she came into the room she looked at Anne in the same curious way. Anne thought she was like a spoiled child not accustomed to being crossed. She didn’t want to cross her. She only wanted to find a room and to find work. It wouldn’t do for her to come here and make trouble for Janet.
And then Lizabet was putting the custard pudding in front of her and saying in a curious pettish voice, ‘Janet says I have been rude. I’m sorry.’
There was something touching about it. Anne found herself putting out her hand and saying, ‘Don’t think of it. I’m not staying. Your cousin was so kind-but I’m not staying really.’
Janet was behind her. She didn’t move. Anne thought she looked upset, for Lizabet began to twist her fingers.
‘You mustn’t go away because of me. Janet will be so cross if you do.’ She was like a little girl. Anne wondered how old she was.
Janet came forward, and Lizabet ran out of the room. Janet said, ‘Don’t take any notice of her. She’s been spoilt. She’s my cousin, you know, and she had her home with my grandfather. He let her do anything she liked. When he died she had to come to me. I can manage her, but not if everyone else gives in to her. Do you feel better? Would you like to see your room? It’s one flight farther up. Lizabet’s up there too. Yours is the other front room.’
‘But-’ Anne checked herself, coloured, and said, ‘Who does the house belong to? Perhaps she won’t like to take me.’
‘The house belongs to me. That is, it belonged to my parents. When they died, and everything got so expensive, I realised that something would have to be done. Our old cook Mrs Bingham took the basement. Her husband is a watchman in a jeweller’s shop, so he’s out all night. There are two girls on the top floor, you and Lizabet on the next, and an old lady on the two ground floors. I am in the back half of this room. Another cousin of mine has been in the room you are to have, but she went out yesterday. She doesn’t like town, so she’s going down into Dorset to keep chickens with a friend. A frightful life, I should say, but it takes all sorts to make the world, and she hates town. Funny, isn’t it?’
It came on Anne that she didn’t know whether it was funny or not. It came to her that she didn’t know what her life had been. She put the tray down carefully and got up to follow Janet to the room she was to have.
CHAPTER 32
Jim Fancourt walked into Miss Silver’s sitting-room. He could hardly wait for Emma Meadows to shut the door behind him, or for Miss Silver to shake hands, before he said, ‘I’ve been thinking-’
Miss Silver gave a faint reproving cough.
‘Will you not sit down?’
‘Thank you, I’d rather stand.’
Miss Silver seated herself. She took her knitting-bag from the small table beside her chair and began to knit. Jim Fancourt stood before the hearth. When she had knitted about a row and a half, he came out with something between a groan and a cough.
‘You haven’t heard any more?’
Miss Silver was not prepared to tell an untruth. She said, ‘I have heard something, but not from Anne herself.’
He had been turned half away from her, looking down into the fire. He was round in a flash.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Just what I said, Mr Fancourt. I have some news of Anne, but not from herself. I rang up your rooms, but you had already left. I felt sure that you would be very much relieved to have such satisfactory news.’