Marriage in Heaven by Bloom Ursula

Author:Bloom, Ursula
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Wyndham Books
Published: 2023-02-17T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWELVE

Dream that the lips once breathless

Might quicken if they would;

Say that the soul is deathless,

Dream that the gods are good;

Say March may wed September

And time divorce regret;

But not that you remember,

And not that I forget.

Swinburne.

That Christmas was quieter than the last, and full of preparations and thoughts of a year ahead, when there would be a stocking to fill and a tree to trim for a small child to enjoy.

These days Charles did not mention superstition because he had learnt that she disliked it; she hoped that perhaps he was getting over it. Neither of them referred to the robins that winter, and were happier for it.

The spring broke early, astonishingly mild, and early in February Doreen brought a bowl of snowdrops to her room and stood them on her writing-desk in moss.

Charles saw them. He was coming in to ask her about some payments when he stopped dead and stared at them as though he had seen death.

‘What is the matter?’ she asked.

‘Snowdrops. They are the unluckiest flowers to bring into a house, worse than may.’

‘But they are so pretty. They seem to fit into this room with the mauve and greenness. I thought you’d like them.’

He was obviously very worried.

‘They bring death into the house,’ he said.

She was irritated that he should suggest anything so foolish. ‘Surely, Charles you do realise that is idiotic. How can any particular flower bring death into the house? Just the same as some people think may is wrong. May has never yet harmed anybody, it never will.’

‘I wish you’d throw those snowdrops away.’

She wheeled round sharply.

‘I won’t. I refuse to pander to your silly superstitions. There is nothing in it at all, and it is quite wrong to allow such absurd ideas to have a hold on you.’

‘It isn’t a silly idea.’

‘There is nothing in it at all. How could a flower bring death into a house?’

Then she knew that Hilda Neale had come into the room, walking very quietly as she always did, and standing now on the threshold, where she had probably heard every word. Charles turned to go, and then saw her.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Miss Neale. And then, as though she were offering to help: ‘Shall I take the snowdrops away?’

‘No,’ said Doreen, ‘I refuse to part with them. It is quite idiotic the way you two think out these silly, thready old superstitions. The snowdrops are to stay.’

Hilda Neale said: ‘You may be very sorry, Mrs. Fayre; you may regret it very much one day.’

‘Then I will regret it, but the snowdrops stay where they are.’ She was definitely insistent.

Afterwards she wondered if she had done right in being so persistent. She felt young and helpless over it, and even wondered if there might be anything in their story, hastily condemning herself for such weakness. She knew that Charles had not forgotten the snowdrops, and promised herself that she would be more careful when the may came along. Then the baby would be born, of course.

Easter fell

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