bookssland.com Ā» Fiction Ā» The Garden Party - Katherine Mansfield (the beach read .txt) šŸ“—

Book online Ā«The Garden Party - Katherine Mansfield (the beach read .txt) šŸ“—Ā». Author Katherine Mansfield



1 ... 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 ... 29
Go to page:
not very bittah marmalayde.ā€

 

Chapter 3.III.

But, after all, it was not long now, and then sheā€™d be gone for good. And there was no getting over the fact that she had been very kind to father. She had nursed him day and night at the end. Indeed, both Constantia and Josephine felt privately she had rather overdone the not leaving him at the very last. For when they had gone in to say good-bye Nurse Andrews had sat beside his bed the whole time, holding his wrist and pretending to look at her watch. It couldnā€™t have been necessary. It was so tactless, too. Supposing father had wanted to say somethingā€”something private to them. Not that he had. Oh, far from it! He lay there, purple, a dark, angry purple in the face, and never even looked at them when they came in. Then, as they were standing there, wondering what to do, he had suddenly opened one eye. Oh, what a difference it would have made, what a difference to their memory of him, how much easier to tell people about it, if he had only opened both! But noā€”one eye only. It glared at them a moment and thenā€¦went out.

 

Chapter 3.IV.

It had made it very awkward for them when Mr. Farolles, of St. Johnā€™s, called the same afternoon.

ā€œThe end was quite peaceful, I trust?ā€ were the first words he said as he glided towards them through the dark drawing-room.

ā€œQuite,ā€ said Josephine faintly. They both hung their heads. Both of them felt certain that eye wasnā€™t at all a peaceful eye.

ā€œWonā€™t you sit down?ā€ said Josephine.

ā€œThank you, Miss Pinner,ā€ said Mr. Farolles gratefully. He folded his coat-tails and began to lower himself into fatherā€™s arm-chair, but just as he touched it he almost sprang up and slid into the next chair instead.

He coughed. Josephine clasped her hands; Constantia looked vague.

ā€œI want you to feel, Miss Pinner,ā€ said Mr. Farolles, ā€œand you, Miss Constantia, that Iā€™m trying to be helpful. I want to be helpful to you both, if you will let me. These are the times,ā€ said Mr Farolles, very simply and earnestly, ā€œwhen God means us to be helpful to one another.ā€

ā€œThank you very much, Mr. Farolles,ā€ said Josephine and Constantia.

ā€œNot at all,ā€ said Mr. Farolles gently. He drew his kid gloves through his fingers and leaned forward. ā€œAnd if either of you would like a little Communion, either or both of you, here and now, you have only to tell me. A little Communion is often very helpā€”a great comfort,ā€ he added tenderly.

But the idea of a little Communion terrified them. What! In the drawing-room by themselvesā€”with noā€”no altar or anything! The piano would be much too high, thought Constantia, and Mr. Farolles could not possibly lean over it with the chalice. And Kate would be sure to come bursting in and interrupt them, thought Josephine. And supposing the bell rang in the middle? It might be somebody importantā€”about their mourning. Would they get up reverently and go out, or would they have to waitā€¦in torture?

ā€œPerhaps you will send round a note by your good Kate if you would care for it later,ā€ said Mr. Farolles.

ā€œOh yes, thank you very much!ā€ they both said.

Mr. Farolles got up and took his black straw hat from the round table.

ā€œAnd about the funeral,ā€ he said softly. ā€œI may arrange thatā€”as your dear fatherā€™s old friend and yours, Miss Pinnerā€”and Miss Constantia?ā€

Josephine and Constantia got up too.

ā€œI should like it to be quite simple,ā€ said Josephine firmly, ā€œand not too expensive. At the same time, I should likeā€”ā€

ā€œA good one that will last,ā€ thought dreamy Constantia, as if Josephine were buying a nightgown. But, of course, Josephine didnā€™t say that. ā€œOne suitable to our fatherā€™s position.ā€ She was very nervous.

ā€œIā€™ll run round to our good friend Mr. Knight,ā€ said Mr. Farolles soothingly. ā€œI will ask him to come and see you. I am sure you will find him very helpful indeed.ā€

 

Chapter 3.V.

Well, at any rate, all that part of it was over, though neither of them could possibly believe that father was never coming back. Josephine had had a moment of absolute terror at the cemetery, while the coffin was lowered, to think that she and Constantia had done this thing without asking his permission. What would father say when he found out? For he was bound to find out sooner or later. He always did. ā€œBuried. You two girls had me buried!ā€ She heard his stick thumping. Oh, what would they say? What possible excuse could they make? It sounded such an appallingly heartless thing to do. Such a wicked advantage to take of a person because he happened to be helpless at the moment. The other people seemed to treat it all as a matter of course. They were strangers; they couldnā€™t be expected to understand that father was the very last person for such a thing to happen to. No, the entire blame for it all would fall on her and Constantia. And the expense, she thought, stepping into the tight-buttoned cab. When she had to show him the bills. What would he say then?

She heard him absolutely roaring. ā€œAnd do you expect me to pay for this gimcrack excursion of yours?ā€

ā€œOh,ā€ groaned poor Josephine aloud, ā€œwe shouldnā€™t have done it, Con!ā€

And Constantia, pale as a lemon in all that blackness, said in a frightened whisper, ā€œDone what, Jug?ā€

ā€œLet them bu-bury father like that,ā€ said Josephine, breaking down and crying into her new, queer-smelling mourning handkerchief.

ā€œBut what else could we have done?ā€ asked Constantia wonderingly. ā€œWe couldnā€™t have kept him, Jugā€”we couldnā€™t have kept him unburied. At any rate, not in a flat that size.ā€

Josephine blew her nose; the cab was dreadfully stuffy.

ā€œI donā€™t know,ā€ she said forlornly. ā€œIt is all so dreadful. I feel we ought to have tried to, just for a time at least. To make perfectly sure. One thingā€™s certainā€ā€”and her tears sprang out againā€”ā€œfather will never forgive us for thisā€”never!ā€

 

Chapter 3.VI.

Father would never forgive them. That was what they felt more than ever when, two mornings later, they went into his room to go through his things. They had discussed it quite calmly. It was even down on Josephineā€™s list of things to be done. ā€œGo through fatherā€™s things and settle about them.ā€ But that was a very different matter from saying after breakfast:

ā€œWell, are you ready, Con?ā€

ā€œYes, Jugā€”when you are.ā€

ā€œThen I think weā€™d better get it over.ā€

It was dark in the hall. It had been a rule for years never to disturb father in the morning, whatever happened. And now they were going to open the door without knocking evenā€¦Constantiaā€™s eyes were enormous at the idea; Josephine felt weak in the knees.

ā€œYouā€”you go first,ā€ she gasped, pushing Constantia.

But Constantia said, as she always had said on those occasions, ā€œNo, Jug, thatā€™s not fair. Youā€™re the eldest.ā€

Josephine was just going to sayā€”what at other times she wouldnā€™t have owned to for the worldā€”what she kept for her very last weapon, ā€œBut youā€™re the tallest,ā€ when they noticed that the kitchen door was open, and there stood Kateā€¦

ā€œVery stiff,ā€ said Josephine, grasping the doorhandle and doing her best to turn it. As if anything ever deceived Kate!

It couldnā€™t be helped. That girl wasā€¦Then the door was shut behind them, butā€”but they werenā€™t in fatherā€™s room at all. They might have suddenly walked through the wall by mistake into a different flat altogether. Was the door just behind them? They were too frightened to look. Josephine knew that if it was it was holding itself tight shut; Constantia felt that, like the doors in dreams, it hadnā€™t any handle at all. It was the coldness which made it so awful. Or the whitenessā€”which? Everything was covered. The blinds were down, a cloth hung over the mirror, a sheet hid the bed; a huge fan of white paper filled the fireplace. Constantia timidly put out her hand; she almost expected a snowflake to fall. Josephine felt a queer tingling in her nose, as if her nose was freezing. Then a cab klop-klopped over the cobbles below, and the quiet seemed to shake into little pieces.

ā€œI had better pull up a blind,ā€ said Josephine bravely.

ā€œYes, it might be a good idea,ā€ whispered Constantia.

They only gave the blind a touch, but it flew up and the cord flew after, rolling round the blind-stick, and the little tassel tapped as if trying to get free. That was too much for Constantia.

ā€œDonā€™t you thinkā€”donā€™t you think we might put it off for another day?ā€ she whispered.

ā€œWhy?ā€ snapped Josephine, feeling, as usual, much better now that she knew for certain that Constantia was terrified. ā€œItā€™s got to be done. But I do wish you wouldnā€™t whisper, Con.ā€

ā€œI didnā€™t know I was whispering,ā€ whispered Constantia.

ā€œAnd why do you keep staring at the bed?ā€ said Josephine, raising her voice almost defiantly. ā€œThereā€™s nothing on the bed.ā€

ā€œOh, Jug, donā€™t say so!ā€ said poor Connie. ā€œAt any rate, not so loudly.ā€

Josephine felt herself that she had gone too far. She took a wide swerve over to the chest of drawers, put out her hand, but quickly drew it back again.

ā€œConnie!ā€ she gasped, and she wheeled round and leaned with her back against the chest of drawers.

ā€œOh, Jugā€”what?ā€

Josephine could only glare. She had the most extraordinary feeling that she had just escaped something simply awful. But how could she explain to Constantia that father was in the chest of drawers? He was in the top drawer with his handkerchiefs and neckties, or in the next with his shirts and pyjamas, or in the lowest of all with his suits. He was watching there, hidden awayā€”just behind the doorhandleā€”ready to spring.

She pulled a funny old-fashioned face at Constantia, just as she used to in the old days when she was going to cry.

ā€œI canā€™t open,ā€ she nearly wailed.

ā€œNo, donā€™t, Jug,ā€ whispered Constantia earnestly. ā€œItā€™s much better not to. Donā€™t letā€™s open anything. At any rate, not for a long time.ā€

ā€œButā€”but it seems so weak,ā€ said Josephine, breaking down.

ā€œBut why not be weak for once, Jug?ā€ argued Constantia, whispering quite fiercely. ā€œIf it is weak.ā€ And her pale stare flew from the locked writing-tableā€”so safeā€”to the huge glittering wardrobe, and she began to breathe in a queer, panting away. ā€œWhy shouldnā€™t we be weak for once in our lives, Jug? Itā€™s quite excusable. Letā€™s be weakā€”be weak, Jug. Itā€™s much nicer to be weak than to be strong.ā€

And then she did one of those amazingly bold things that sheā€™d done about twice before in their lives: she marched over to the wardrobe, turned the key, and took it out of the lock. Took it out of the lock and held it up to Josephine, showing Josephine by her extraordinary smile that she knew what sheā€™d doneā€”sheā€™d risked deliberately father being in there among his overcoats.

If the huge wardrobe had lurched forward, had crashed down on Constantia, Josephine wouldnā€™t have been surprised. On the contrary, she would have thought it the only suitable thing to happen. But nothing happened. Only the room seemed quieter than ever, and the bigger flakes of cold air fell on Josephineā€™s shoulders and knees. She began to shiver.

ā€œCome, Jug,ā€ said Constantia, still with that awful callous smile, and Josephine followed just as she had that last time, when Constantia had pushed Benny into the round pond.

 

Chapter 3.VII.

But the strain told on them when they were back in the dining-room. They sat down, very shaky, and looked at each other.

ā€œI donā€™t feel I can settle to anything,ā€ said Josephine, ā€œuntil Iā€™ve had something. Do you think we

1 ... 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 ... 29
Go to page:

Free e-book Ā«The Garden Party - Katherine Mansfield (the beach read .txt) šŸ“—Ā» - read online now

Comments (0)

There are no comments yet. You can be the first!
Add a comment