That Certain Age by Elizabeth Buchan

That Certain Age by Elizabeth Buchan

Author:Elizabeth Buchan [Buchan, Elizabeth]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780141904139
Publisher: Penguin Books Ltd
Published: 2014-01-02T00:00:00+00:00


CHAPTER FOURTEEN:

Barbara

Amy and I were in the kitchen, hulling a crop of strawberries that, by dint of coaxing and admonishing, Herr Schlinker had brought to triumphant fruition. I worked quickly and more or less neatly, and chose the moment to tell Amy my news. ‘I’m going to work one day a week in the almoner’s office at St Bede’s.’

I swept up a pile of stalks and dropped them into the bin. If I had expected a response, I did not get it. I looked round. Amy was pulling at the fruit, roughly and without care, seemingly absorbed in the destruction she was wreaking and fascinated by it. ‘Are you angry about something, Amy?’

That provoked her into saying furiously, ‘I see. It’s all right for you to have a job now.’

‘Yes, your father’s fine about it.’

‘It suits you now, doesn’t it, Mummy? Didn’t suit you so well when I was growing up and thinking about my future.’

‘I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about. There was no question of me getting a job while I was looking after you two.’

She shook her head. ‘I’m not talking about you. I’m talking about me. You never helped me. You never stuck up for me with Daddy. Daddy can’t help what he is,’ she added, in a kind of maternal way that was both endearing and funny – only it wasn’t, for I was not netted into her mercy. ‘I don’t blame him but I always thought, I always hoped, you’d be sympathetic.’

That stung. ‘Amy, when your father and I made our decisions, we thought that Roy would have to provide for a future family… and you would be provided for by a husband.’

Amy dismembered yet another strawberry and threw it on to the pile. ‘Whenever I hear that sort of argument, I want to commit murder. Didn’t you think about the unfairness? Hadn’t you spotted that times have changed?’

I sat down heavily on a hard chair. ‘Of course times have changed.’

‘That’s not an answer.’ Amy pushed back her hair with a stained hand. ‘You didn’t consider that I’d love to learn all the things my brother learnt about instead of being fobbed off with needlework. Did it never occur to you that I might like to know about all those too, and not feel so stupid all the time?’

It was piteously spoken – an admission of self-doubt and… despair. ‘Is that why you’re so angry? Because you feel stupid?’

‘Oh, I don’t know, Mum. That’s the point, I don’t know. And that does make me feel stupid.’

She attacked another strawberry and I winced at the waste. ‘If you can’t do it properly, please don’t do it.’

‘Fine.’ She stepped back immediately.

I assessed the mangled fruit and supposed I could make a strawberry fool instead of the flan I had planned. Amy swung away from the table, and wiped her hands on her pinafore.

‘Darling, I’ll have to wash that now.’

She sent me a look bordering on contempt. ‘I’ll do it, if it’s a problem.’

‘Amy, could



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