Latter End

Julia in red-a nice dark red, like damask roses-a jolly sort of colour-very becoming. And Ellie in blue. She looked tired, poor girl. Fretting about Ro

Pity poor Marcia couldn’t be here too. He looked past Lois to the portrait on the far wall-Marcia Vane in a red dress, very much like the one her daughter Julia was wearing. Julia was like her-oh, decidedly. But of course not beautiful like Marcia. Pity about that. And Ellie wasn’t like her at all. Very good-looking woman, Marcia-very nice woman. Didn’t have much of a show, being left a widow twice and dying so young herself. He had been very fond of Marcia. She ought to have been here. Quite simply and regretfully he pictured Marcia and Lois living happily side by side at Latter End. And then, of course, Julia wouldn’t have gone away, and they’d all have been one happy family. But of course they had a great deal to be thankful for. And he had Lois too. He beamed at her down the table and received a charming smile in return.

On the surface the party was quite a gay one. Lois and Antony saw to that. They kept the ball rolling, with Jimmy skipping lightly in and out of the game. Julia, if rather silent, was behaving very well. She neither frowned nor glowered, had a few things to say and said them, was polite to Lois, and affectionate to Jimmy.

It was not at all difficult to be affectionate to Jimmy. At fifteen he had been a lighthearted, curly-headed boy. At fifty-one the description would still do very well. He was no taller, no more important. The curly hair was receding a little on the temples, but it was as fair, and there was very little grey in it.

Mrs. Maniple had cooked them an excellent di

“No-please, everyone-I’d like to.”

It was like old times, only it should have been Mummie sitting there at the end of the table, warm and beautiful and kind, instead of Lois in that slinky white dress which showed just what her figure was like, and how much better it was than anyone else’s. “I’m a cat about her, and that’s a fact. I don’t mind how good her figure is. Oh yes, I do, I do, I do! And she might just as well be wearing a bathing-dress! If that’s all Antony cares about, she can have him and welcome. No, she can’t-not when she’s Jimmy’s wife- Antony wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t come here if he hadn’t got over her.” Her spirits rocketed up-a long dizzy swoop with a burst of rainbow lights at the end of it.

Mrs. Maniple, handing her a dish of eggs and mushrooms, looked at her with admiration.

“Well, my dear, you’ve a nice colour and no mistake. Anyone ’ud think Miss Ellie was the town mouse and you was the country one. And it’s all your own too-I can see that. If those that puts it on knew half the truth there’s few that’s taken in by it. Now, Miss Ellie my dear, mind these plates, for they’re piping hot.”

When they got back into the dining-room Jimmy was off on one of his interminable stories.

“So I said to Haversham-not the Haversham you remember, Antony -he died, poor chap-this is a nephew, son of the brother who went up North. Now what did he go in for- blest if I can remember. It couldn’t have been engineering, because he wasn’t any good at figures. I think it must have been a shipping-office or-well, it doesn’t matter, but this Haversham is his son. Not a bad young fellow, but of course he don’t know the first thing about farming. Started to tell me about olive crops in Italy -he was there with the Eighth Army-and what he had to say about the climate! And I said to him, ‘Well, you know, Haversham, olives are olives, and all very well for the Eyeties, but they won’t grow here, and that’s that…’ ” The story flowed along. It entertained Jimmy tremendously, and it never got anywhere.

Instead of being bored, Antony found himself at his ease as he had not been for years. It was all so much the stuff of which he had been shaped and made-the family party, the girls coming and going, Jimmy so pleased that you couldn’t help being pleased, too. What did it matter if his stories never got anywhere? People who could tell a good story are three a pe

In the middle of this he turned his head and caught a glance from Lois. It was as bright and hard as a diamond. It despised Jimmy. It beckoned Antony to despise him, too. Suddenly and fiercely he hated her for an alien.

When di

Out in the pantry she turned to Ellie.

“How many take coffee? I don’t, for one, so it’s no use putting on a cup for me. Which are you using?”

“The old Worcester. Mi

“How like Lois! Well, Antony won’t drink Turkish. And he likes milk.”

“Ma

Julia made a face.

“What muck!”

The others were out on the terrace. Beyond a grey retaining wall the level turf took the shadow of the cedar which was Jimmy’s pride. It had cones on it this year, like flocks of little owls roosting on the great spreading branches. On the other side of the lawn a wide herbaceous border displayed a glowing pattern of every lovely tint, enriched by the evening sun. One of those perfect windless evenings when a sky without a cloud has lost the heat which veiled its delicate blue.

They came in reluctantly, first one, and then another. Antony ’s mood of contentment deepened. His momentary anger had passed. He felt at peace with all the world.

It was when Mi

Mi

Shocked and distressed beyond measure, Mi

“I’m all right now.”

“Shall I help you upstairs?”