Friends and Relations by Elizabeth Bowen

Author:Elizabeth Bowen
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781473524293
Publisher: Random House

6

‘I know,’ said Janet, and hung up the receiver. She could say nothing more, facts were not in order. Also, Edward came in from the terrace. The position of the telephone here was characteristic: it was for barest communication only, and in the hall.

Edward did not surprise her; she had heard him halt on the gravel; before that twice he had passed a window. He had gone out for a turn, he said; to pace out the interim. As he came up the steps she had him exposed a moment in full sunshine before in irresolute outline he darkened the doorway.

Janet said composedly: ‘Your mother. She’s bringing the children straight back.’

‘Is she? Thank you, Janet … It’s hot out there.’

‘I should think so. But I’m afraid I can’t get them packed in time for the five-thirty-six. Will the seven-five do?’

‘I suppose she thinks I am mad?’ said Edward suddenly, glancing at the telephone.

‘– As it is, some of their things will have to be sent after them. Hermione’s maid is out for the afternoon. Shall I write this to Laurel – she may wonder – or shall you remember to tell her?’

Laurel never expected Edward to control agitation; much had been based on a strong feeling she had for spontaneity. So that he was surprised by the tone of decided reproof in which Janet added: ‘I can’t think why you should go out without your hat.’

Had he suffered? He passed his hand over the top of his head.

She said: ‘Well, shall we come into the library?’ She was so patient, he must be an invalid; so without concern for him, he must be sick from some over-indulgence. As a domestic emergency, he came under control.

‘Won’t Theodora-?’

‘No, I sent her out to find Rodney.’

‘Because I suppose,’ said Edward, looking with horror at the library door, ‘we had better talk.’

‘I suppose so.’

‘Or could we walk somewhere – down to those trees?’

‘I should stay still while you can, Edward; you’ve had a tiring day.’

So he followed her and, with an air of fatality, closed the library door. Standing beside the high mantelpiece she kept her barely ironic formal manner; this was to be an interview. Thus, as a girl, she had enraged him in Trevor Square. Now, more kindly, established, his hostess, she disclaimed her advantage.

For from the terrace he had viewed the whole mass of her trees, at this season in their magnificence; thoughtless great plants vitally embracing the daylight, exercising upon his distraction a physical dominance. He saw the contours of the land in their whole mild power. She possessed the skyline; the sky, the large afternoon were bounded by her and localized. And narrowly pacing her terrace he had measured the whole of his own territory, the barren and pitted territory of emotion.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘to come down like this and disturb you – and everything.’

‘I suppose you felt you must.’

‘But whatever did you expect?’

Though she still did not look his way her repose had an absolute candour. ‘We hoped by now you might let things pass.

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