Joliffe would make sure that he was home that day.
Soon after twelve the cab came jingling up and I was at the door to greet her.
We flew into each other’s arms and then she withdrew that she might have a look at me. I could see she was pleased with what she saw.
“Come in, Mother,” I said. “Come and see the house. It’s rather nice.”
She said, “It’s you I’ve come to see, Janey love. So you’re happy, eh?”
“Blissfully,” I answered.
“Thank God.”
I took her into our bedroom and myself removed her bonnet and cloak. “You’re getting thinner,” I said.
“Oh, I’m all right, dear. There’s no harm in that. There was a bit too much of me before.”
Her cheeks were reddish, her eyes brilliant. I put this down to her pleasure in seeing me.
She brought out a bottle of sloe gin. Mrs. Couch had sent it, believing that it was Joliffe’s favorite beverage.
“She’ll want to hear all about you both when I get back,” said my mother. “I am so happy to see you settled.”
Joliffe came in and warmly greeted her, and soon Annie was announcing that luncheon was served.
It was a happy meal, though my mother ate very little. I was amazed because in the old days my father had laughed at the size of her appetite.
I told her about our honeymoon in Paris and asked how everyone was at Roland’s Croft. Mr. Sylvester was away at the moment. All the servants were well. Amy and the under gardener were making plans for their wedding and would be married at Christmas. She was worried about Jess because she was still far too friendly with Jeffers and Mrs. Jeffers was getting really militant.
“Of course,” said my mother, “Jeffers is like that and if it wasn’t Jess it would be someone else.”
“Poor Mrs. Jeffers!” I sighed. “I’d hate it if Joliffe paid attention to someone else.”
“You’re safe,” said Joliffe, “for two reasons. First, who could possibly compare with you? Secondly I’m far too virtuous to indulge in such folly.”
My mother’s eyes filled with tears. I knew she was thinking of my father.
We talked long over the meal and then we went back to the drawing room and there was more talk.
At four o’clock she had to leave to catch her train, for she must return to Roland’s Croft that day. Albert brought the carriage round and we went to the station to put my mother on her train; we embraced fondly and she wept a little.
“I’m so happy that you are settled,” she whispered. “It is what I’ve always wanted. Bless you, Janey. Be happy always as you are now.”
We waved goodbye to her and then came home.
It was a happy enough evening. Joliffe said we must have a quiet one just ourselves and we sat by the fire and saw pictures in it and his arm was about me as the twilight settled in the room.
“How peaceful it is,” I said. “Joliffe, life’s wonderful, isn’t it?”
He stroked my hair and said: “Yes, Jane, while we have each other.”
A few days after my mother’s visit I went to the Round Pond and there was the red-haired woman. She was sitting on a seat as though waiting for someone.
When I saw her I felt an odd tingling in my spine and the thought entered my head: She is waiting for me.
I felt a ridiculous impulse then to turn and run. It was absurd. Why should I? What had I to fear from a stranger on a seat in a park?
It is only that she seems to be following me, I thought.
I went straight past her and took a turn into the pleached alley. I paused and sure enough on the other side of the garden looking straight at me through the gap on that side was the red-haired woman. She must have risen from her seat when she saw me and followed me.
I wondered whether to wait there for her and if she came round ask her if she wanted something of me. My heart began to beat fast. How could I accuse her of such a thing when I was not sure. But I was sure that she was following me.
She had moved from the gap now. I knew that she was coming round towards me. If I turned she would follow me.
What could she want of me?
I started to walk. Then I saw her turn the bend. She was coming straight towards me.
I steeled myself to speak to her. We were almost level now and as she looked straight at me, I felt hideously repelled and my great desire was to get away from her as soon as possible.
No words came. I was walking past her, subconsciously quickening my pace. I came out of the alley. Unless she had turned and followed me it would be some minutes before she made the journey round.
I started to hurry out into the open, towards the pond. When I was there I paused and saw her. She was walking slowly in the direction I had taken.
I crossed the road and let myself into the house with my latchkey.
As I turned to shut the door I saw the red-haired woman crossing the road.
I was in the drawing room when Annie came in. She said there was a “person” below asking to see me.
“What sort of a person, Annie?”
Annie repeated, “A person,” with a little sniff, which meant that she did not entirely approve of our visitor.
“What does she want?”
“She said she wanted to speak to you.”
“A lady then.”
“A person” insisted Annie emphatically.
“What name did she say?”
“She said you’d know her when you saw her.”
“That’s odd,” I said. “Perhaps you’d better show her up.”
I heard them coming up the stairs. Then Annie tapped at the door and threw it open.
I stood up in astonishment for the red-haired woman was coming into the room.
“We’ve met before,” I said. Annie who had looked very suspiciously at the visitor seemed then to think all was well. She shut the door on us.
“In the Gardens,” she answered with a slow smile.
“I… I saw you several times.”
“Yes, I was never far behind, was I?”
“Did you want something?”
“I think we’d better sit down,” she said, as though I were the visitor.
“Who are you?” I asked.
She smiled wryly as she said: “I might be saying the same to you.”
“This is rather mysterious,” I said coldly. “I am Mrs. Joliffe Milner. If you have come here to see me…”
She interrupted: “You are not Mrs. Joliffe Milner,” she said slowly. “There is only one of those. It’ll surprise you to learn that one is not you. I am Mrs. Joliffe Milner.”
“I don’t understand you.”
“You will fast enough. You can call yourself Mrs. Joliffe Milner if you like, but the fact remains you’re not. How can you be when Joliffe was married to me six years ago?”
“I don’t believe it.”
“I thought you wouldn’t. I’d have spoken to you before, but I thought you’d want proof. And what better proof than the marriage lines, eh?”
I felt faint.
“You are lying. It isn’t possible,” I said.
“I knew you’d say that. But there’s no denying what’s down in black and white, is there? Just look at this. We were married six years ago in Oxford.”
I looked at the paper she thrust into my hand and read what was written there.
If this document was a true one she had indeed been married to a Joliffe Milner six years ago.
It was like a nightmare. She crossed her legs, lifting up skirts beneath which were flounces of pink petticoat; her black stockings had openwork decorations up the sides.