“Who’s that?” Kelsey screamed. “Who came in?”
“Alice,” Philip said dully.
Alice came toward them, tossing her gloves casually on the tea table, pretending the scene was too ordinary to notice.
“Hello,” she said cheerfully. “What did I miss at tea? Cucumber sandwiches! Wait till I get Maurice!”
“Where have you been?” Kelsey said. “You should have been here. Leaving me to fight alone...”
Alice put her hands over Kelsey’s to quiet them.
Philip remained doubled up in the chair with the two women behind him. He did not turn his head or listen to them, as if by shutting them out of his ears and eyes he could leave them there forever, behind him.
But what could you do about the touch of Alice’s hand on your shoulder, coaxing you to recognize her, asking to come to life again?
“No, Alice,” he said. “It’s no use. No.”
“Such children,” Alice said, “both of you. And do you know who was listening with all ears to the row? Ida.”
“Ida’s on my side,” Kelsey said. “I asked her to be on my side when she came.”
“What did you say to her, Kelsey?” Alice said sharply. “You shouldn’t confide in the servants, especially Ida. She’s sly, you can’t trust her.”
“I can’t trust anyone,” Kelsey said. “Can I, Philip? Can I?”
Underneath the cold irony a plea fluttered like a baby bird, unfeathered, defenseless. Philip heard the plea and shut his ears.
“No, better not trust anyone,” he said.
“Children,” Alice said again, but Kelsey had slipped her hands away and was feeling her way to the door, stumbling once, regaining her balance with a little cry of rage. The door opened and closed. They could hear her going up the steps, the banister creaking under the weight of her hand.
“You’re worse than she is,” Alice said in a small cold voice.
For a long time he didn’t answer, didn’t move his eyes to follow her when she walked from behind his chair and sat down opposite him. She was so quiet that he raised his eyes finally and looked at her. Quiet dead Alice. No emotion at all, like a corpse.
“Don’t look at me,” he said, almost whining. “You’re so still.”
“I’m not looking at you,” she said in a surprised voice. “Not at all.”
“I know. I want you not to.”
“Very well.” She turned her head and looked out of the window. “Is that better?”
“Yes. I’m going away.”
“Oh?” She didn’t turn.
“Tomorrow.”
“Why not tonight? Tomorrow Kelsey may change her mind.”
“Kelsey has nothing to do with it,” he said savagely. “I’m just going. It has nothing to do with what Kelsey said, or anyone, or anything.”
“I see,” Alice said dryly. “Entirely your own idea.” She turned and glanced at him. “Well, good luck to you, Philip. Have you told Johnny?”
“No. He’s out.”
“Johnny will miss you. We all will.”
“You don’t believe I’m going?”
“I’d like to believe it,” Alice said. “I want you to go.”
“Well, I’m going. Tomorrow. Tomorrow night.”
“Why not tomorrow morning?”
“Stop repeating that,” he said hoarsely. “You don’t have to be afraid I’ll change my mind. You heard what she said. She doesn’t trust me. She wants me to leave. After eight years she...”
“Don’t waste your energy in words,” Alice said grimly. “You’ve done that before. Save some for actually going away.”
He stared at her bitterly. “Thank you for your sympathy.”
“I think you’ve had your share of sympathy,” she said, flushing. “All of you have had your share. Maybe I’m tired of being an unmarried mother!”
“You were never...”
“I’ve known for some time that Kelsey would never marry you. She doesn’t need a husband, only a good strong nurse like me whose feelings are not easily hurt. Go away for a while, Philip. Forget this house and these years for a time. Go back to where you were before.”
Go back. He said the words silently to himself. Forget these years. Roll them up and throw them over your shoulder and start hiking.
“I haven’t any place to go back to,” he said, “no place, and nobody. You picked me out of a vacuum. My mother died when I was small and I ran away...”
“I know,” she said, impatient not that he should repeat himself but that he should be trying to change the subject. “Will you go by train?”
“Train? Oh. I hadn’t thought of that.”
“Where will you go?”
“I... New York, perhaps.”
She got up and began to switch on the lamps.
“You despise me,” Philip said.
“That’s nonsense. I’m very fond of you.”
“You’ve never been fond of anybody.”
“Haven’t I?” She walked over to the fireplace, smiling slightly. She was always flattered when people commented on her coldness. She liked to think that the coldness was of her own making, that she could step out from behind her self-constructed refrigerating coils any time she liked, or step back in if she found the warmth too much for her.
Maurice came in for the tea tray. He packed the dishes slowly. Alice saw that his lips were moving silently as they did when he was planning to say something to her. He stood straight with the tray held high across his chest and cleared his throat.
“I beg your pardon, Miss Alice.”
“Yes?”
“Ida...”
“Oh, yes. She was eavesdropping again. You’d better confine her to upstairs work.”
Maurice coughed again. “Yes, ma’am. But I thought of letting her go. She is unsatisfactory in every respect.”
“Give her another chance, Maurice,” Alice said. “It isn’t easy to get help now.”
He turned away uncertainly, a frown flickering through his eyes.
“Kelsey has taken a fancy to the girl,” Alice added.
His face relaxed. “In that case, ma’am...”
“Yes,” Alice said, unsmiling, “in that case, yes”
At the door he stepped aside to let Johnny come in. Johnny brushed past him and shouted directly at Philip, “I thought everything went all right! Didn’t you? Did you think Kelsey snubbed her? She said Kelsey snubbed her. I no sooner got her outside than she began to bawl.”
He hurled his hat across the room. “And bawl and bawl and bawl! Oh, hello, Alice. Goddamn women anyway!”
“Who bawled?” Alice said. “I missed the first instalment.”
Johnny scowled at her. “Marcie. You know. I told you. You should have been here. Why weren’t you?”
“Business. Sorry.”
“I thought everything was fine and then she started bawling. I don’t understand. I thought Kelsey was all right, better than usual.”
“And that didn’t make you suspicious?” Philip asked dryly.
“Then there was something... something I didn’t catch?”
“Always,” Philip said. “It’s practically a rule of thumb that there should be something you don’t...”
Alice said hastily, “Philip is leaving tomorrow, Johnny.”
“Leaving?” Johnny stood in front of Philip’s chair and looked down at him, grinning. “Again?”
Philip saw that there was no trace of uncertainty in the grin. It said, Good old Phil, he’ll never leave.
“Oh, hell,” Johnny said; “Cut the comedy, you two. I’ve got enough trouble.”
“There’s no comedy,” Alice said. “Philip is leaving here tomorrow. It was his own suggestion and I approve.”
“Approve being the mildest word for it,” Philip said with a wry smile. “Alice thinks it’s time I went out into the world and stood on my own two feet. And when I’ve made good and proven my worth, I have her permission to come back and recapture the Heaths. You’ll all be here when I come back, just as you are. Nothing will be changed, least of all Alice, sane, sensible, know-it-all Alice. If in doubt, ask Alice.”