Susan in America by Jane Aiken Hodge

Author:Jane Aiken Hodge [Aiken Hodge, Jane]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Agora Books
Published: 2020-09-22T18:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

“Just the same, David,” Julia said, “I wish you’d hear from Josephine.”

Susan stirred unhappily on the sofa, but David sounded unconcerned:

“Oh, I’m not worrying,” he said. “She was always hopeless about writing letters. She’ll answer when she gets around to it. I’m not sure it isn’t a good sign she’s taking so long. It probably means they’re off somewhere with their vacuum cleaners and the further she’s away from her family the better. She’d have agreed to a divorce ages ago if it hadn’t been for them.”

Julia looked at Susan’s worried face. “I expect you’re right, and of course no one’s very business-like around Christmas time. David, now we’ve waked the child, you’d better take her for a walk. It’s too nice to stay indoors, and besides I have to write ‘thank you’ letters and I’ll never get it done with the two of you here distracting me.”

“So much for us,” David laughed. “Come on, Sue, up you get. And never tell me women aren’t worse bullies than men. What were you dreaming about there, anyway?”

“Just about how nice it all is. Think of having a whole week.”

Susan was wearing the ski suit Julia had given her for Christmas and they went straight out into the snow.

“You mean you weren’t daydreaming at all?” David asked. “Not even a ghost of a fairy prince?”

Susan picked up a handful of snow. “I’m going to be sorry I ever told you about that. I said I was a reformed character these days.”

“And a good thing, too. It’s very humiliating to be jealous of a daydream, I’ll have you know.” He put a firm hand on the collar of her jacket. “If you are entertaining any idea of throwing that snowball at me, I’d get it out of my head at once. I’m a dangerous man when roused.”

Susan looked up at him. “I bet you are. What a disconcerting thought. Will you beat me when we’re married?”

“Of course.” He took the snowball from her, aimed it carefully at a tree, and missed. “Every night at eight, regular as clockwork. I can hardly wait. Have you told your mother yet, by the way?”

She frowned into the bright sunlight. “No, I haven’t actually. I’m awfully superstitious, David, and I’m scared to. I know it’s silly.”

“It certainly is. Do you mean to say she doesn’t know anything about me at all?”

Susan blushed. “Isn’t it awful?”

“It’s going to be when you do tell her and serve you right. I can just see you sitting down one fine Sunday for your weekly letter. Let’s see, how would it go: ‘My dear Mother: you know my tutor that I told you was such a slave-driver? Well, I’ve been sleeping with him all winter and I’m going to marry him just as soon as he gets his divorce.’ That’ll start a fine family scene. It’s lucky I’ve got you safe over here.”

She was blushing harder than ever. “You make it sound so awful.”

“Oh, no I don’t. It’s the beating around the bush that makes it sound awful, and you know it.

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