Love from Elizabeth by Mary Fitt

Author:Mary Fitt [Fitt, Mary]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-09-20T00:00:00+00:00

6

Jane sat on a high stool at the end of the rose-garden. She was painting, vigorously as she did everything, and with hideous grimaces.

Veronica approached her from behind, along the yew wall. She peered curiously over Jane’s shoulder, but what she saw on the canvas had no relation to the scene, nor to any reality known to Veronica.

“I thought you were a portrait-painter,” she said, shocked and annoyed.

“I am, my dear,” said Jane without turning round. “Portrait-painting is my serious work. This is a holiday. Nevertheless it is a portrait, if you know how to look at it.” She leaned back, pouting out her lips like a Plate woman’s. “It’s a portrait of the present situation as I see it.”

“It seems rather confused,” said Veronica doubtfully.

Jane laughed loudly.

“Isn’t that exactly what it is? What profound remarks you non-intellectuals make sometimes unawares! It’s when you try to be clever you get everything wrong. Now look quickly and tell me what you see. Don’t stop to think: just blurt it out.”

“I see an eye,” said Veronica, “in the corner.”

“Quite right: the police, of course—or the eye of God, who sees all: whichever you prefer.”

“And this thing looks to me like a harp with broken strings. Oh, yes—and on the top of the column here you’ve put a head. I see now, it’s a snake coiled among the strings—but the head—surely—yes, it is: it’s Elizabeth!”

“Well, serpents are soothed by music,” said Jane, “so what’s wrong with that?”

“That reminds me,” said Veronica. She lowered her voice. “The boys have just told me they heard the sound of the harp on Sunday night, after they saw Palin. I’ve been wondering what to do about it. Did you hear anything?”

“Not I!” said Jane, squeezing a crimson tube on to her palette. “When Briggs chivvied me off the balcony, I went to bed. I’d been watching Palin and Augusta sailing on the creek and envying them. I meant to leave a window unlatched for them, poor things, so that they could get in without any fuss, the way I used to when I was here, but Briggs forestalled me. So I went to bed. And when I lie down I fall asleep automatically, like a doll with eyes that shut. I don’t even dream. When I sleep I sleep. I do everything, including dreaming, while I’m awake.”

Veronica was not interested in Jane’s mental processes. She sat down on a rustic seat and said:

“What do you think I should do about it?”

“Do about it? About what?” Jane came across to the seat and confronted Veronica. “What are you up to now?”

“I’m not ‘up to’ anything,” said Veronica. “But—do you think I ought to tell the police?”

“Tell them what?”

“Tell them my boys say they heard the harp that night.”

“Look here,” said Jane, “how big are your boys? Do you have to be their mouthpiece?”

“Of course not. I meant, how should I advise them?”

Jane nodded at her slowly.

“So when I paint your boys’ portraits it’ll do if I just put

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