Part 10 (1/2)
”Yes.”
”This is Virginia.”
”Virginia?”
”Virginia Parsons.”
”Oh, yes. Virginia Parsons. What do you want?”
But at this point her courage turned on its heels and fled, and Virginia never crossed the road to the telephone box, but carried on up the hill with the rain in her face and her mother's pills deep in the pocket of her waterproof coat.
As she came in through the front door of Wheal House she heard the telephone ringing, but by the time she had got her Wellingtons off the ringing had stopped, and by the time she burst into the drawing-room, her mother was just putting down the receiver.
She raised her eyebrows at her breathless daughter.
”Whatever's wrong?”
”I ... I thought it might be for me.”
”No. A wrong number. Did you get my pills, darling?”
”Yes,” said Virginia dully.
”Sweet of you. And the walk has done you good. I can tell. Your cheeks are quite pink again.”
The next day Mrs. Parsons announced out of the blue that they must return to London.
Alice was astonished. ”But, Rowena, I thought you were going to stay at least another week.”
”Darling, we'd love to, but you know, we do have a very busy summer to put in, and a lot of arrangements and organization to be seen to. I don't think we can sit here enjoying ourselves for another week. Much as I would adore to.”
”Well, anyway, stay over the week-end.”
Yes, stay over the week-end, Virginia prayed. Please, please, please stay over the weekend.
But it wasn't any use. ”Oh, adore to, but we must go . . . Friday at the latest I'm afraid. I'll have to see about booking seats on the train.”
”Well, it seems a shame, but if you really mean it . . .”
”Yes, darling, I really do mean it”
Let him remember. Let him phone. There wouldn't be time to go out to Penfolda but at least I could say goodbye, I'd know that he'd meant it . . . perhaps I could say I'd write to him, perhaps I could give him my address.
”Darling, I wish you'd get on with your packing. Don't leave anything behind, it would be such a bore for poor Alice to have to parcel it up. Have you put your raincoat in?”
This evening. He'll ring this evening. He'll say, I am sorry but I've been away; I've been so busy I haven't had a moment; I've been ill.
”Virginia! Come and write your name in the visitors' book! There, under mine. Oh, Alice, my dear, what a wonderful holiday you've given us. Sheer delight. We've both adored it, haven't we, Virginia? Can't bear to go.”
They went. Alice drove them to the station, saw them into their first-cla.s.s carriage, the corner seats reserved, the porter being deferential because of Mrs. Parsons's expensive luggage.
”You'll come again soon,” said Alice as Virginia leaned out of the window to kiss her.
”Yes.”
”We've loved having you ...”
It was the last chance. Tell Eustace I had to go. Tell him goodbye for me. The whistle shrilled, the train began to move. Ring him up when you get back.
”Goodbye, Virginia.”
Send him my love. Tell him I love him.
By Truro her misery had become so obvious with sniffs and sobs and br.i.m.m.i.n.g tears that her mother could ignore them no longer.
”Oh, darling.” She put down her newspaper. ”Whatever is the matter?”
”Nothing ...” Virginia stood at the window swollen-faced, unseeing.
”But it has to be something.” She put out a hand and put it, gently, on Virginia's knee. ”Was it that young man?”
”Which young man?”
”The young man in the Land-Rover, Eustace Philips? Did you break your heart over him?” Virginia, weeping, could make no reply. Her mother went on, rea.s.suring, gentle. ”I wouldn't be too unhappy. It's probably the first time you've been hurt by a man, but I a.s.sure you it won't be the last. They're selfish creatures, you know.”
”Eustace wasn't like that.”
”Wasn't he?”
”He was kind. He was the only man I've ever really liked.” She blew her nose l.u.s.tily and gazed at her mother. ”You didn't like him, did you?”
Mrs. Parsons was momentarily taken aback by such unusual directness. ”Well . . . let's say I've never been very fond of his type.”
”You mean, you didn't like him being a farmer?”
”I never said that.”
”No, but that's what you mean. You only like chinless weeds like Mrs. Menheniot's nephew.”
”I never met Mrs. Menheniot's nephew.”
”No. But you would have liked him.”
Mrs. Parsons did not reply to this at once. But after a little she said, ”Forget him, Virginia. Every girl has to have one unhappy love affair before she finally meets the right man and settles down and gets married. And this summer's going to be such fun for us both. It would be a pity to spoil it, yearning for something that probably never even existed.”
”Yes,” said Virginia and wiped her eyes and put her sodden handkerchief away in her pocket.