The Burden Page 7

  "Why all this thirst for information?" asked Henry.

  "Well-one likes to know about people," Shirley spoke almost apologetically.

  "Does one?" Henry seemed genuinely surprised.

  "Anyway," he decided, "you'd better come and meet my aunt. Put it all on a proper footing with Laura."

  "Laura?"

  "Well, Laura's the conventional type, isn't she? Satisfy her that I'm respectable and all that."

  And very shortly afterwards, a polite note arrived from Lady Muriel, inviting Shirley to lunch, and saying Henry would call for her in the car.

  2

  Henry's aunt bore a strong resemblance to the White Queen. Her costume was a jumble of different and brightly-coloured wool garments, she knitted assiduously, and she had a bun of faded-brown hair, streaked with grey, from which untidy wisps descended in all directions.

  She managed to combine the qualities of briskness and vagueness.

  "So nice you could come, my dear," she said warmly, shaking Shirley by the hand and dropping a ball of wool. "Pick it up, Henry, there's a good boy. Now tell me, when were you born?"

  Shirley said that she was born on September 18th, 1928.

  "Ah yes. Virgo-I thought so. And the time?"

  "I'm afraid I don't know."

  "Tck! How annoying! You must find out and let me know. It's most important. Where are my other needles-the number eights? I'm knitting for the Navy-a pullover with a high neck."

  She held out the garment.

  "It will have to be for a very large sailor," said Henry.

  "Well, I expect they have all sizes in the Navy," said Lady Muriel comfortably. "And in the Army, too," she added inconsequently. "I remember Major Tug Murray-sixteen stone-special polo ponies to be up to his weight-and when he rode anyone off there was nothing they could do about it. Broke his neck when he was out with the Pytchley," she added cheerfully.

  A very old and shaky butler opened the door and announced that luncheon was served.

  They went into the dining-room. The meal was an indifferent one, and the table silver was tarnished.

  "Poor old Melsham," said Lady Muriel when the butler was out of the room. "He really can't see at all. And he shakes so when he hands things, that I'm never sure if he'll get round the table safely. I've told him again and again to put things on the sideboard, but he won't. And he won't let any of the silver be put away, though of course he can't see to clean it. And he quarrels with all the queer girls which are all one gets nowadays-not what he's been accustomed to, he says. Well, I mean, what is? With the war and all."

  They returned to the drawing-room, and Lady Muriel conducted a brisk conversation on biblical prophecies, the measurements of the Pyramids, how much one should pay for illicit clothing coupons, and the difficulties of herbaceous borders.

  After which she rolled up her knitting with great suddenness, and announced that she was going to take Shirley round the garden and dispatched Henry with a message to the chauffeur.

  "He's a dear boy, Henry," she said as she and Shirley set forth. "Very selfish, of course, and frightfully extravagant. But what can you expect-brought up as he has been?"

  "Does he-take after his mother?" Shirley felt her way cautiously.

  "Oh dear me, no. Poor Mildred was always most economical. It was quite a passion with her. I can't think why my brother ever married her-she wasn't even a pretty girl, and deadly dull. I believe she was very happy when they were out on a farm in Kenya among the serious farming kind. Later, of course, they got into the gay set, which didn't suit her nearly as well."

  "Henry's father-" Shirley paused.

  "Poor dear Ned. He went through the Bankruptcy Court three times. But such good company. Henry reminds me of him sometimes. That's a very special kind of alstroemeria-it doesn't do everywhere. I've had a lot of success with it."

  She tweaked off a dead bloom and glanced sideways at Shirley.

  "How pretty you are, my dear-you mustn't mind my saying so. And very young, too."

  "I'm nearly nineteen."

  "Yes… I see… Do you do things-like all these clever girls nowadays?"

  "I'm not clever," said Shirley. "My sister wants me to take a secretarial course."

  "I'm sure that would be very nice. Secretary to an M.P. perhaps. Everyone says that's so interesting; I've never seen why. But I don't suppose you'll do anything long-you'll get married."

  She sighed.

  "Such an odd world nowadays. I've just had a letter from one of my oldest friends. Her girl has just married a dentist. A dentist. In my young days, girls didn't marry dentists. Doctors, yes, but not dentists."

  She turned her head.

  "Ah, here comes Henry. Well, Henry, I suppose you're going to take Miss-Miss-"

  "Franklin."

  "Miss Franklin away from me."

  "I thought we'd run over to Bury Heath."

  "Have you been getting petrol out of Harman?"

  "Just a couple of gallons, Aunt Muriel."

  "Well, I won't have it, do you hear? You must wangle your own petrol. I have trouble enough getting mine."

  "You don't really mind, darling. Come now."

  "Well-just this once. Good-bye, my dear. Now mind you send me those particulars about time of birth-don't forget-then I can get your horoscope worked out properly. You should wear green, dear-all Virgo people should wear green."

  "I'm Aquarius," said Henry. "January 20th."

  "Unstable," snapped his aunt, "remember that, my dear. All Aquariuses-most undependable."

  "I hope you weren't too bored," said Henry as they drove away.

  "I wasn't bored at all. I think your aunt's sweet."

  "Oh, I wouldn't go as far as that. But she's not too bad"

  "She's very fond of you."

  "Oh, not really. She doesn't mind having me about."

  He added: "My leave's nearly over. I ought to be demobbed soon."

  "What are you going to do then?"

  "I don't really know. I thought of the Bar."

  "Yes?"

  "But that's rather a sweat. I think perhaps I might go into a business of some kind."

  "What kind?"

  "Well, it rather depends where one has a pal to give one a start. I've got one or two banking connections. And I know a couple of tycoons who'd graciously allow me to start at the bottom." He added: "I've not got much money, you know. Three hundred a year to be exact. Of my own, I mean. Most of my relations are as mean as hell-no good for a touch. Good old Muriel comes to the rescue now and again, but she's a bit straitened herself nowadays. I've got a godmother who's reasonably generous if one puts it to her the right way. It's all a bit unsatisfactory, I know…"

  "Why," said Shirley, puzzled by this sudden flood of information, "are you telling me all this?"

  Henry blushed. The car wobbled in a drunken manner.

  He spoke in an indistinct mumble.

  "Thought you knew… Darling-you're so lovely… I want to marry you… You must marry meyou must-you must…"

  3

  Laura looked at Henry with a kind of desperation.

  It was exactly, she thought, like climbing up a steep hill on an icy day-you slipped back as fast as you advanced.

  "Shirley is too young," she said, "far too young."

  "Come now, Laura, she's nineteen. One of my grandmothers was married at sixteen, and had twins before she was eighteen."

  "That was a long time ago."

  "And lots of people have married young in the war."

  "And have already lived to regret it."

  "Don't you think you're taking rather a gloomy view? Shirley and I shan't regret."

  "You don't know that."

  "Oh, but I do," he grinned at her. "I'm positive. I do really love Shirley madly. And I shall do everything I can to make her happy."

  He looked at her hopefully. He said again:

  "I really do love her."

  As before, his patent sincerity disarmed Laura. He did love Shirley.r />
  "I know, of course, that I'm not particularly well off-"

  There again he was disarming. For it wasn't the financial angle that worried Laura. She had no ambition for Shirley to make what is called a 'good match.' Henry and Shirley would not have a large income to start life on, but they would have enough, if they were careful. Henry's prospects were no worse than those of hundreds of other young men released from the services with their way to make. He had good health, good brains, great charm of manner. Yes, perhaps that was it. It was his charm that made Laura mistrust him. No one had any right to have as much charm as Henry had.

  She spoke again, a tone of authority in her voice.

  "No, Henry. There can be no question of marriage as yet. A year's engagement, at least. That gives you both time to be sure you know your own minds."

  "Really, Laura dear, you might be at least fifty. A heavy Victorian father rather than a sister."

  "I have to stand in the place of a father to Shirley. That gives time for you to find a job and get yourself established."

  "How depressing it all sounds." His smile was still charming. "I don't believe you want Shirley to marry anybody."

  Laura flushed.

  "Nonsense."

  Henry was pleased with the success of his stray shaft. He went away to find Shirley.

  "Laura," he said, "is being tiresome. Why shouldn't we get married? I don't want to wait. I hate waiting for things. Don't you? If one waits too long for anything, one loses interest. Of course we could go off and get quietly married at a registry office somewhere. How about it? It would save a lot of fuss."

  "Oh no, Henry, we couldn't do that."

  "I don't see why not? As I say, it would save a lot of fuss all round."

  "I'm under age. Wouldn't we have to have Laura's consent?"

  "Yes, I suppose you would. She's your legal guardian, isn't she? Or is it old what's his name?"

  "I don't believe I actually know. Baldy is my trustee."

  "The trouble is," said Henry, "that Laura doesn't like me."

  "Oh, she does, Henry. I'm sure she does."

  "No, she doesn't. She's jealous, of course."

  Shirley looked troubled.

  "Do you really think so?"

  "She never has liked me-from the beginning. And I've taken a lot of trouble to be nice to her." Henry sounded injured.

  "I know. You're sweet to her. But after all, Henry, we have sprung this rather suddenly on her. We've only known each other-what?-three weeks. I suppose it doesn't really matter if we have to wait a year."

  "Darling, I don't want to wait a year. I want to marry you now-next week-to-morrow. Don't you want to marry me?"

  "Oh, Henry, I do-I do."

  4

  Mr. Baldock had duly been asked to dinner to meet Henry. Afterwards Laura had demanded breathlessly:

  "Well, what do you think of him?"

  "Now, now, slowly. How can I judge across a dinner-table! Nice manners, doesn't treat me as an old fogey. Listens to me deferentially."

  "Is that all you've got to say? Is he good enough for Shirley?"

  "Nobody, my dear Laura, will ever be good enough for Shirley in your eyes."

  "No, perhaps that's true… But do you like him?"

  "Yes, I like him. What I'd call an agreeable fellow."

  "You think he'll make her a good husband."

  "Oh, I wouldn't go as far as that. I should strongly suspect that as a husband he might prove unsatisfactory in more ways than one."

  "Then we can't let her marry him."

  "We can't stop her marrying him, if she wants to. And I dare say he won't prove much more unsatisfactory than any other husband she might choose. I shouldn't think he'd beat her, or put arsenic in her coffee, or be rude to her in public. There's a lot to be said, Laura, for having a husband who's agreeable and got good manners."

  "Do you know what I think about him? I think he's utterly selfish and-and ruthless."

  Mr. Baldock raised his eyebrows.

  "I shouldn't wonder if you weren't right."

  "Well, then?"

  "Yes, but she likes the fellow, Laura. She likes him very much. In fact, she's crazy about him. Young Henry mayn't be your cup of tea, and strictly speaking, he isn't my cup of tea, but there's no doubt that he is Shirley's cup of tea."

  "If she could only see what he's really like!" cried Laura.

  "Well, she'll find out," prophesied Mr. Baldock.

  "When it's too late! I want her to see what he's like now!"

  "Dare say it wouldn't make any difference. She means to have him, you know."

  "If she could go away somewhere… On a cruise or to Switzerland-but everything's so difficult now since the war."

  "If you ask me," said Mr. Baldock, "it's never any good trying to stop people marrying each other. Mind you, I'd have a try if there were some serious reason; if he had a wife and five children, or epileptic fits, or was wanted for embezzlement. But shall I tell you exactly what would happen if you did succeed in separating them and sending Shirley off on a cruise or to Switzerland or to a South Sea island?"

  "Well?"

  Mr. Baldock wagged an emphatic forefinger at her.

  "She'd come back having teamed up with another young man of exactly the same kind. People know what they want. Shirley wants Henry, and if she can't get Henry, she'll look around until she finds a young man as like Henry as possible. I've seen it happen again and again. My very best friend was married to a woman who made his life hell on earth, nagged at him, bullied him, ordered him around, never a moment's peace, everybody wondering why he didn't take a hatchet to her. Then he had a bit of luck! She got double pneumonia and died! Six months later, he was looking like a new man. Several really nice women taking an interest in him. Eighteen months later, what has he done? Married a woman who was even a worse bitch than the first one. Human nature's a mystery."

  He took a deep breath.

  "So stop walking up and down looking like a tragedy queen, Laura. I've told you already you take life too seriously. You can't run other people's lives for them. Young Shirley has got her own row to hoe. And if you ask me, she can take care of herself a good deal better than you can. It's you I'm worried about, Laura. I always have been…"

  Chapter Four

  1

  Henry surrendered as charmingly as he did everything else.

  "All right, Laura. If it must be a year's engagement… We're in your hands. I dare say it would be very hard on you to part with Shirley without having time to get used to the idea."

  "It isn't that-"

  "Isn't it?" His eyebrows rose, his smile was faintly ironical. "Shirley's your ewe lamb, isn't she?"

  His words left Laura with an uneasy sensation.

  The days after Henry had left were not easy to get through.

  Shirley was not hostile, but aloof. She was moody, unsettled, and though not openly resentful, a faint air of reproach hung about her. She lived for the arrival of the post, but the post, when it did come, proved unsatisfactory. Henry was not a letter-writer. His letters were brief scrawls.

  "Darling, how's everything? I miss you a lot. I rode in a point-to-point yesterday. Didn't do any good. How's the dragon? Yours always, Henry."

  Sometimes a whole week passed without a letter.

  Once Shirley went up to London and they had a short and unsatisfactory meeting.

  He refused the invitation she brought him from Laura.

  "I don't want to come down and stay for the week-end! I want to marry you, and have you to myself for always. not come down and 'walk out' with you under Laura's censorious eye. Don't forget, Laura will turn you against me if she possibly can."

  "Oh, Henry, she'd never do anything like that. Never-she hardly ever mentions you."

  "Hopes you'll forget about me, I expect."

  "As if I should!"

  "Jealous old cat."

  "Oh, Henry, Laura's a darling."

  "Not to me."

  Shirley went back home u
nhappy and restless.

  In spite of herself, Laura began to feel worn down.

  "Why don't you ask Henry down for a week-end?"

  Shirley said sullenly:

  "He doesn't want to come."

  "Not want to come? How extraordinary."

  "I don't think it's so extraordinary. He knows you don't like him."

  "I do like him." Laura tried to make her voice convincing.

  "Oh, Laura, you don't!"

  "I think Henry's a very attractive person."

  "But you don't want me to marry him."

  "Shirley-that isn't true, I only want you to be quite, quite sure."

  "I am sure."

  Laura cried desperately:

  "It's only because I love you so much. I don't want you to make any mistake."

  "Well, don't love me so much. I don't want to be eternally loved!" She added: "The truth is, you're jealous."

  "Jealous?"

  "Jealous of Henry. You don't want me to love anyone but you."

  "Shirley!"

  Laura turned away, her face white.

  "You'll never want me to marry anyone."

  Then, as Laura moved away, walking stiffly, Shirley rushed after her in warm-hearted apology.

  "Darling, I didn't mean it, I didn't mean it. I'm a beast. But you always seem so against-Henry."

  "It's because I feel he's selfish." Laura repeated the words she had used to Mr. Baldock. "He isn't-he isn't-kind. I can't help feeling that in some ways he could be-ruthless."

  "Ruthless," Shirley repeated the word thoughtfully without any symptom of distress. "Yes, Laura, in a way you're right. Henry could be ruthless."

  She added: "It's one of those things that attracts me in him."

  "But think-if you were ill-in trouble-would he look after you?"

  "I don't know that I'm so keen on being looked after. I can look after myself. And don't worry about Henry. He loves me." 'Love?' thought Laura. 'What is love? A young man's thoughtless greedy passion? Is Henry's love for her anything more than that? Or is it true, and am I jealous?'

  She disengaged herself gently from Shirley's clinging arms and walked away deeply disturbed.