Part 8 (1/2)
Edward turned in through the grimy desert of the ball-room and they followed him across it and up an unfamiliar staircase, seldom used, to judge by the spiders' webs which garnished the banister. As they climbed the twins pestered Edward with questions: what were these clothes? Had he been to Dublin to the shops? Was it Switzer's, or Pim's, or Brown Thomas's, or what was it? How did he know their size and did he realize that Faith was a bit bigger in her bosom? Edward made no reply; he was short of breath and flushed. As they struck off down a corridor he murmured to the Major: ”Getting old. Must take it easy these days.”
The twins had run ahead; every step they took raised a puff of dust from the carpet, so that their footprints appeared like smoke, glittering in the stripes of afternoon sunlight that filtered through half-open doors. Underfoot loose floorboards creaked and s.h.i.+fted ominously.
”If I get dry rot I'm done for,” Edward continued as if still discussing his health.
”Oh?”
”Bally place'll fall about m'ears.”
One hundred and twenty-one, one hundred and twenty-two, one hundred and twenty-three...The next room had no bra.s.s number screwed to the door but once there had been one; its darker shadow remained on the varnished wood. It was at this door that Edward halted. He took a key from his pocket and unlocked it.
”In there there?” exclaimed Charity, mystified. It was dark inside. Edward crossed to the window and threw open the closed shutters. Abruptly everything took on shape, colour and meaning. Although he had never been here before, everything he saw was perfectly familiar to the Major. He knew whose room this had been. His heart sank.
The twins had not been in here before. The room seemed to be occupied. They peered around curiously but already their excitement was melting into suspicion. They looked at the unmade bed, sheets and eiderdown roughly pulled up as if the chambermaid had not had time to make it properly. They wrinkled their noses at the pitcher and bowl, the sponge dried as hard as the pumice-stone beside it. They eyed their lovely reflections in the mirror and looked at the dressing-table with its silver hairbrushes and the silver frame containing a photograph of, well...the truth had dawned on them now but for a moment they were speechless with disbelief.
”Now let's see...where...?” Edward said quietly. As he spoke the Major glimpsed a shadow of pain, as if he had been hurt behind the eyes (but why did he have to bring me me? he wondered bitterly). Edward stepped over to the wardrobe and opened it experimentally. It was empty. A large white moth flew wearily out for a little way until it vanished from the air under a vicious downward smash of Faith's tennis racket. A puff of powder from its wings hung in the room.
”Daddy, how could could you?” cried Charity. ”You surely don't mean us to wear you?” cried Charity. ”You surely don't mean us to wear Angela's Angela's things!” Edward said nothing, but his face darkened as he turned away and looked round the room. His eye came to rest on a chest of dark polished oak which, to the Major's excited imagination, looked remarkably like a coffin. In fact it was an old dower chest which had probably belonged to the Spencers for generations. Edward had dug up the old metal clasp and lifted the lid; inside it was lined with another kind of wood, lighter and fragrant, cedar-wood perhaps. Another lid was lifted. In a moment Edward was scooping piles of neatly folded clothing on to the carpet. things!” Edward said nothing, but his face darkened as he turned away and looked round the room. His eye came to rest on a chest of dark polished oak which, to the Major's excited imagination, looked remarkably like a coffin. In fact it was an old dower chest which had probably belonged to the Spencers for generations. Edward had dug up the old metal clasp and lifted the lid; inside it was lined with another kind of wood, lighter and fragrant, cedar-wood perhaps. Another lid was lifted. In a moment Edward was scooping piles of neatly folded clothing on to the carpet.
”We can't, can't, Daddy, it's too creepy,” insisted Faith, wiping the strings of the tennis racket on the bedclothes to clean off the minced remains of the moth. Daddy, it's too creepy,” insisted Faith, wiping the strings of the tennis racket on the bedclothes to clean off the minced remains of the moth.
”Not a corpse's corpse's clothes,” pleaded Charity. ”It's awful. Just the thought of it makes me feel funny.” clothes,” pleaded Charity. ”It's awful. Just the thought of it makes me feel funny.”
”We must save money, my dear. Now be a good girl and take your dress off so we can try them on. If they don't fit we'll have to get the cook to work with her needle and thread-they tell me she's very handy at that sort of thing. Besides, you'd do well to take a few lessons from her while you have the chance since you don't seem to have learned much at school...One of these days you'll have homes of your own and maybe, I don't know, the way things are going you'll not always have servants to look after you...in any case,” he added weakly, ”a bit of sewing never did anyone any harm.”
”I think I'm going to faint,” Faith said grimly and sat down heavily on the bed, making its springs creak.
”Ugh! That's the corpse's death-bed you're sitting on, Faithy.”
”You'll speak of Angela with respect,” snapped Edward, ”or you'll both get a hiding and be sent to your rooms.”
”Why me me? It was Catty that said it,” Faith said grumpily. ”And what's more I am am feeling sick and will probably start spewing any moment.” feeling sick and will probably start spewing any moment.”
”Faith, don't be disgusting,” Charity said, grinning in spite of herself. ”You've started me feeling peculiar too.”
”Shut up, both of you, and pick one of these dresses before I lose my patience. They're as good as new and some of them were never worn.”
”Which ones?” asked Faith dubiously, poking at the heap of clothing with her tennis racket.
The Major had lit his pipe and was watching the twins as they rummaged in the pile of clothing, holding dresses up to see what they looked like. It was clear (one of the countless things the Major had never known about her) that Angela had dressed extravagantly. Almost all her dresses had tucks in descending horizontal tiers; there was a heavy afternoon dress of velvet embossed with chrysanthemums which reached to the ground and trailed in a swallow-tail behind; there were heavy woollen dresses with overdresses, all with a great deal of frogging and embroidery; there was a blue satin evening dress with a band of black velvet that trailed as a sash behind; there was a dress of black taffeta or chine silk with a vast amount of braid; and there was a moleskin cape and m.u.f.f.
”It's all so horribly old-lady!”
”Come on, we haven't got all day,” Edward told them. ”Make up your minds. If you don't pick one of these dresses each within thirty seconds I'll pick them for you.”
Under this threat the twins reluctantly made their selections: Charity a simple blue linen morning dress with a white organdie collar, Faith a silk jersey afternoon dress with a belt of gold cord and ta.s.sels to the ankles.
”I feel a bit sick, Daddy...”
But Edward's patience was now clearly at an end and the twins retired sullenly to change.
Slumped in an armchair, the Major was wondering whether he might ask Edward for the photograph of himself which stood on the dressing-table (a picture taken in Brighton in 1916 showing a relatively carefree youth who bore little resemblance to the stoically grim head which these days accompanied him to the mirror). He wanted this picture merely to remove it from the room, from the neighbouring hairbrushes and other relics, to destroy it...he did not know why he wanted to do this. In any case, he was afraid that Edward might look askance at such a request.
Edward was kneeling among the bundles of clothing and rummaging through them abstractedly.
”Poor Angie! There's lots more somewhere: petticoats and knickers and corsets and so forth...she liked clothes, used to buy things n.o.body'd ever wear out here in the country.”
He held up a dress of black velvet that billowed emptily in his hands, empty of Angela.
”Wore this the day she was presented at the Viceregal Lodge. For a joke we went out to Phoenix Park on the tram instead of hiring a carriage, both of us dressed up like dog's dinners. How people stared at us! Bit of fun we had, you know, pretending to be Socialists. Angie said she was ashamed to be seen arriving on the tram, but she laughed about it afterwards like a good sport.” He stood up and went to stare at himself moodily in the mirror, picking up one of the silver brushes (tarnished blue-grey by months of neglect) and rubbing his thumb over the bristles.
”They're only kids and it doesn't really matter what they wear so long as it keeps them warm,” he added defensively. ”Got to get hold of a bit of spare cash one way or another if I'm to give that blighter Ripon a helping hand.”
”Is that the reason?”
”Well, you said yourself that with a wife to support he'd be needing some cash to set himself up.”
The Major could remember saying no such thing but could see no point in denying it.
”But don't you think his wife will have something?”
”I doubt it. Anyway, Ripon's not the sort to accept charity, whatever his faults. In some ways, you know, he's a chip off the old block. I suppose I should sell off these brushes and things as well. They're not much good to poor Angie now. These trinkets might fetch something. Hate to do it, though.”
They lapsed into a lugubrious silence. Presently, with a sigh, Edward began: ”You know, the one time in my life when I was really happy...” But at this moment the twins entered.
”My! Don't they look smart?” cried Edward in genuine admiration. ”Well, what d'you think of that, Brendan? Aren't they lovely?”
The Major had to agree with him. The twins looked more lovely than ever standing there, identical, outraged, each holding up her skirts in small clenched fists. They uttered a simultaneous gasp.
”But we look like freaks, freaks, Daddy!” Daddy!”
”We can't wear things like this. People will laugh themselves sick at us.”
”Nonsense, you look absolutely charming, you can take it from me. Young ladies knew how to dress themselves before the war.”
”Daddy, you surely don't want us to look like freaks,” pleaded Faith, close to tears.
”That's going too far! I refuse, I simply refuse!”
”Faith, I warned you! Charity! You'll go to your rooms this instant,” shouted Edward, losing his temper. His anger impressed the twins sufficiently to quell them. They glared at him tearfully for a moment and then stamped out.
The soft-hearted Major hurried out after them and handed each a bar of chocolate (he had recently taken to carrying chocolate in his pockets to give to the ragged, famished children he encountered on his walks). They looked at the chocolate, sniffed, but finally accepted it.
The following day the Major came upon the twins in a deserted sitting-room sifting through a mountain of hats, m.u.f.fs, boas and shoes. The hats were hopelessly lush and exotic, they told him peevishly. Who could possibly wear such things?
”Look at this!” Faith showed him a broad-brimmed felt hat swathed in yards of orange satin with a bird clinging to the back.