A Daughter’s a Daughter

‘Dame Laura is a great personality, Edith.’

‘I know. I’ve heard her on the radio. Why, just by the look of her you’d always know she was somebody. Managed to get married too, by what I’ve heard. Was it divorce or death that parted them?’

‘Oh, he died.’

‘Best thing for him, I daresay. She’s not the kind any gentleman would find it comfortable to live with—although I won’t deny as there’s some men as actually prefer their wives to wear the trousers.’

Edith moved towards the door, observing as she did so:

‘Now don’t you hurry up, my dear. You just have a nice rest and lay-a-bed and think your pretty thoughts and enjoy your holiday.’

‘Holiday,’ thought Ann, amused. ‘Is that what she calls it?’

And yet in a way it was true enough. It was an interregnum in the patterned fabric of her life. Living with a child that you loved, there was always a faint clawing anxiety at the back of your mind. ‘Is she happy?’ ‘Are A or B or C good friends for her?’ ‘Something must have gone wrong at that dance last night. I wonder what it was?’

She had never interfered or asked questions. Sarah, she realized, must feel free to be silent or to talk—must learn her own lessons from life, must choose her own friends. Yet, because you loved her, you could not banish her problems from your mind. And at any moment you might be needed. If Sarah were to turn to her mother for sympathy or for practical help, her mother must be there, ready …

Sometimes Ann had said to herself: ‘I must be prepared one day to see Sarah unhappy, and even then I must not speak unless she wants me to.’

The thing that had worried her lately was that bitter and querulous young man, Gerald Lloyd, and Sarah’s increasing absorption in him. That fact lay at the back of her relief that Sarah was separated from him for at least three weeks and would be meeting plenty of other young men.

Yes, with Sarah in Switzerland, she could dismiss her happily from her mind and relax. Relax here in her comfortable bed and think about what she should do today. She’d enjoyed herself very much at the party last night. Dear James—so kind—and yet such a bore, too, poor darling! Those endless stories of his! Really, men, when they got to forty-five, should make a vow not to tell any stories or anecdotes at all. Did they even imagine how their friends’ spirits sank when they began: ‘Don’t know whether I ever told you, but rather a curious thing happened once to—’ and so on.

One could say, of course: ‘Yes, James, you’ve told me three times already.’ And then the poor darling would look so hurt. No, one couldn’t do that to James.

That other man, Richard Cauldfield. He was much younger, of course, but probably he would take to repeating long boring stories over and over again one day …

She considered … perhaps … but she didn’t think so. No, he was more likely to lay down the law, to become didactic. He would have prejudices, preconceived ideas. He would have to be teased, gently teased … He might be a little absurd sometimes, but he was a dear really—a lonely man—a very lonely man … She felt sorry for him. He was so adrift in this modern frustrated life of London. She wondered what sort of job he would get … It wasn’t so easy nowadays. He would probably buy his farm or his market garden and settle down in the country.

She wondered whether she would meet him again. She would be asking James to dinner one evening soon. She might suggest he brought Richard Cauldfield with him. It would be a nice thing to do—he was clearly lonely. And she would ask another woman. They might go to a play.

What a noise Edith was making. She was in the sitting-room next door and it sounded as though there were an army of removal men at work. Bangs, bumps, the occasional high whine of the vacuum cleaner. Edith must be enjoying herself.

Presently Edith peeped round the door. Her head was tied up in a duster and she wore the exalted rapt look of a priestess performing a ritual orgy.

‘You wouldn’t be out to lunch, I suppose? I was wrong about the fog. It’s going to be a proper nice day. I don’t mean as I’ve forgotten that bit of plaice. I haven’t. But if it’s kept till now, it’ll keep till this evening. No denying, these fridges do keep things—but it takes the goodness out of them all the same. That’s what I say.’

Ann looked at Edith and laughed.

‘All right, all right, I’ll go out to lunch.’

‘Please yourself, of course, I don’t mind.’

‘Yes, Edith, but don’t kill yourself. Why not get Mrs Hopper in to help you, if you must clean the place from top to toe.’

‘Mrs Hopper, Mrs Hopper! I’ll Hopper her! I let her clean that nice brass fender of your ma’s last time she came. Left it all smeary. Wash down the linoleum, that’s all these women are good for, and anybody can do that. Remember that cut-steel fender and grate we had at Applestream? That took a bit of keeping. I took a pride in that, I can tell you. Ah, well, you’ve some nice pieces of furniture here and they polish up something beautiful. Pity there’s so much built-in stuff.’

‘It makes less work.’

‘Too much like a hotel for my liking. So you’ll be going out? Good. I can get all the rugs up.’

‘Can I come here tonight? Or would you like me to go to a hotel?’

‘Now then, Miss Ann, none of your jokes. By the way, that double saucepan you brought home from the Stores isn’t a mite of good. It’s too big for one thing and it’s a bad shape for stirring inside. I want one like my old one.’

‘I’m afraid they don’t make them any more, Edith.’

‘This government,’ said Edith in disgust. ‘What about those china soufflé dishes I asked about? Miss Sarah likes a soufflé served that way.’

‘I forgot you’d asked me to get them. I daresay I could find some of them all right.’

‘There you are, then. That’s something for you to do.’

‘Really, Edith,’ cried Ann, exasperated. ‘I might be a little girl you’re telling to go out and have a nice bowl of her hoop.’

‘Miss Sarah being away makes you seem younger, I must admit. But I was only suggesting, ma’am—’ Edith drew herself up to her full height and spoke with sour primness—‘if you should happen to be in the neighbourhood of the Army and Navy Stores, or maybe John Barker’s—’

‘All right, Edith. Go and bowl your own hoop in the sitting-room.’

‘Well, really,’ said Edith, outraged, and withdrew.

The bangs and bumps recommenced and presently another sound was added to them, the thin tuneless sound of Edith’s voice upraised in a particularly gloomy hymn tune:

‘This is a land of pain and woe

No joy, no sun, no light.

Oh lave, Oh lave us in Thy blood

That we may mourn aright.’

Ann enjoyed herself in the china department of the Army and Navy Stores. She thought that nowadays when so many things were shoddily and badly made, it was a relief to see what good china and glass and pottery this country could turn out still.

The forbidding notices ‘For Export Only’ did not spoil her appreciation of the wares displayed in their shining rows. She passed on to the tables displaying the export rejects where there were always women shoppers hovering with keen glances to pounce on some attractive piece.

Today, Ann herself was fortunate. There was actually a nearly complete breakfast set, with nice wide round cups in an agreeable brown glazed and patterned pottery. The price was not unreasonable and she purchased it just in time. Another woman came along just as the address was being taken and said excitedly: ‘I’ll have that.’

‘Sorry, madam, I’m afraid it’s sold.’

Ann said insincerely: ‘I’m so sorry,’ and walked away buoyed up with the delight of successful achievement. She had also found some very pleasant soufflé dishes of the right size, but in glass, not china, which she hoped Edith would accept without grumbling too much.

From the china department she went across the street into the gardening department. The window-box outside the flat window was crumbling into disintegration and she wanted to order another.

She was talking to the salesman about it when a voice behind her said:

‘Why, good morning, Mrs Prentice.’

She turned to find Richard Cauldfield. His pleasure at their meeting was so evident that Ann could not help feeling flattered.