Listening Valley (4 page)

Mrs. Halley was somewhat surprised to find two complete strangers in her lounge, and even more surprised when they greeted her like a long-lost friend. They were extremely pretty girls, however, and Mrs. Halley liked pretty things, so she was quite pleased to see them—and said so.

“Jack said we were to come back,” explained Lou. “Of course it's a
long
time, but we couldn't come before.”

“It's ages,” agreed Mrs. Halley, trying to think who on earth they could be. “It's simply ages. What have you been doing with yourselves?” she added, playing for safety.

“Lessons, mostly,” replied Tonia, who had made up her mind to be as conversational as possible and not leave everything to Lou. “But of course we've finished with lessons now. We just have classes.”

“And parties, I suppose,” said Mrs. Halley, smiling. “Lots of parties. Did you go to the New Club ball the other night?”

“No,” replied Lou. “No, we don't—I mean, we don't seem to know many people.”

“We shall have to do something about that.” Mrs. Halley laughed. “We often have parties.”

Lou hesitated and looked at Tonia.

“You
must
,” declared Mrs. Halley. “It will be lovely to have you. Jack is home on leave from India and he wants some young people to play about with. I can't think where he is at the moment.”

“I'm here,” said Jack, walking in through the French windows. “Do you want me, Mother? I was just having a look at the car—Great Scott, it's the Alices!”

“The Alisons!” repeated Mrs. Halley in perplexed tones.

“The Alices in Wonderland,” said Jack. “And they're grown up! Good Lord, how amazing! You called them mice, and they sat on the edge of the pool and ate chocolate cookies—”

“Éclairs,” said Tonia.

“Éclairs it was,” agreed Jack, shaking hands with them. “What fun this is! You're staying to tea, of course.”

“Of course they are,” put in Mrs. Halley.

Tea was a very cheerful meal, and everybody enjoyed it. When it was over, Jack suggested that Lou might like to see his den and carried her off in a masterful manner. Both girls were attractive and unusual, but he had admired Lou more than her sister, and he preferred one girl at a time.

“You'll come and talk to me, won't you?” said Mrs. Halley to Tonia. “We'll sit by the fire and have a chat. I like a log fire, don't you?”

“It's lovely,” agreed Tonia. “But everything is lovely here.”

“You'll come back often, won't you?”

“We'll try,” said Tonia doubtfully.

Mrs. Halley laughed. “Don't tell your mother you've been here. She doesn't approve of me. I'm supposed to be a wicked woman, you know.”

“I don't think you're wicked,” declared Tonia stoutly.

“Not really wicked,” agreed Mrs. Halley, laughing again. “Just unfortunate. You see, I married the wrong man. I was eighteen when I married Edmund Skene, and I knew nothing about life.”

“Maggie said you were divorced,” said Tonia, who, knowing nothing of social conventions, rushed in where angels might have feared to tread.

“Maggie was perfectly right,” replied Mrs. Halley. “I don't know who Maggie is, but she put the whole thing in a nutshell. I suppose you're shocked.”

“No,” said Tonia thoughtfully. “I may not know very much about it, but I've read
Anna
Karenina
.”

“Without Mother's permission, I suppose.”

“Oh, yes. At least if Mother had known what it was
about
she wouldn't have let me.”

“Mother doesn't read.”

“She plays bridge,” explained Tonia.

Mrs. Halley nodded understandingly.

There was a short silence, and then Tonia said, “Anna had a dreadful time, didn't she?”

“I was a good deal more fortunate,” replied Mrs. Halley, who felt that if Antonia Melville had the run of Tolstoy, there was little need to beat about the bush. “My husband wasn't an ogre. In fact, he was a very good, kind creature and he knew I couldn't help falling in love with Philip. He divorced me, and Philip and I were married. We were very happy indeed. Then poor old Edmund died and Jack came to live with us, which made it all quite perfect. Jack is my son by my first marriage.”

Tonia had followed all this very carefully. She sighed and said, “I wish Mother knew you. If Mother knew you, she wouldn't mind us coming here.”

“Oh, but she does know me,” declared Mrs. Halley, smiling. “That's the whole trouble, really. Ella and I were at school together and hated each other like poison. I could have married Tiddles Melville if I had wanted, but instead I married Edmund, and—”

“Tiddles?”

“Your father,” said Mrs. Halley, laughing heartily. “We always called him Tiddles. It's
very
naughty of me to tell you all this, but it's such fun—and really Ella deserves it. Ella ought to look after you properly. If I had two pretty daughters I would give up bridge and take them to dances. What fun it would be!”

Tonia was inclined to agree. She was fascinated by Mrs. Halley.

Lou and Tonia had a lot to talk about as they walked home together.

“Jack's name is really Skene,” said Lou eagerly. “He's a captain in the Indian Army. He was telling me all about India, and he showed me photographs of his bungalow.”

“Mrs. Halley used to know Father,” returned Tonia with a chuckle. “She called him Tiddles. Isn't it extraordinary?”

“Extraordinary,” agreed Lou. “I can't imagine Father
young
, can you?”

“Tonia, I want to tell you something!”

Tonia came back slowly from her dreams and pronounced herself awake and ready to listen, for she could tell by Lou's voice that it was extremely important. They were in bed; it was the place where their most intimate confidences were exchanged, for the two beds were so conveniently placed that if Lou lay upon her right side and Tonia upon her left their heads were very close together.

“Listen, Tonia,” said Lou—quite unnecessarily, of course, for by this time Tonia was listening most intently. “Listen, Tonia, I've been there again—at Mrs. Halley's. I've been there several times.”

“Lou! How?” asked Tonia in amazement, for she knew the hours of Lou's classes, which fitted in like pieces in a jigsaw puzzle.

“On my way back from singing. If I leave the class early and take a tram, I can go there quite easily. And why shouldn't I?” said Lou defiantly. “Why shouldn't I go and see my friends? They like me. I feel quite different when I go there—they
like
me, Tonia.”

“But, Lou…”

“Mother doesn't do anything,” continued Lou in an earnest whisper. “I'm eighteen now, and I ought to be going to dances.
They
are having a dance tomorrow night, and they have asked me to go.”

“Lou darling…” began Tonia, and then she stopped, for she did not know how to go on. It was all true, of course. Lou was grown up. Lou ought to be going about and enjoying herself, going to dances like other girls. Beautiful, brilliant Lou.

“I wish you could come too,” said Lou with a sigh.

“But you can't go!” exclaimed Tonia. “Mother wouldn't let you—not
there.
Mother wouldn't
hear
of it.”

“She won't,” said Lou grimly.

“But, Lou…”

“Listen, Tonia, I
must
go. I want to go most frightfully. Jack will fetch me and bring me back in his car. Nobody will know.”

Tonia was silent. She was appalled, for, unlike Lou, she was not of an adventurous disposition. She could not imagine wanting a thing so much that she would be willing—nay, eager—to take such risks to obtain it. And it
was
risky. Tonia envisaged a thousand calamities; she was shaking all over at the mere idea.

“Don't, darling,” said Lou, stroking her arm. “Don't worry about it. Everything will be perfectly all right. And even if something went wrong and they found out, they couldn't do anything to me. It isn't fair,” said Lou, vehemently. “It isn't fair to keep me at home and never take me anywhere. Other girls go to dances and have a good time—”

“Mrs. Halley said that.”

“Yes, she did, and why shouldn't she say it when it's perfectly true?”

“I don't like it.”

“But you'll help,” said Lou confidently.

Of course Tonia would help. She would have died for Lou quite happily, and, when she saw Lou dressed for the dance in the pale pink frock, which Maggie had altered for her, she was bound to admit that Lou was really and truly grown up and ready for the fray.

“Darling, you're beautiful,” she declared, kissing Lou very carefully so that she would not disarrange her golden curls. “There won't be anybody there as beautiful as you.”

Lou slipped out of the house at ten o'clock (while her parents were listening to the wireless), and she was back at four. Her plans had been well laid, and she had carried them out successfully. Of course Tonia had not slept a wink. She had died a thousand deaths in six hours, but her fears and anxieties were all forgotten at the sight of Lou, and they hugged each other ecstatically.

“Oh, Tonia, it was marvelous!” declared Lou in an excited whisper. “Oh, how I wish you could have been there! I danced and danced. Jack dances beautifully. He introduced some of his friends to me. We went out into the garden between the dances. It was quite warm, and the moon was shining, and the garden was full of flowers. They had put out the swing seat; you remember the swing seat with the striped awning? I thought of the first time we went there—two little mice! Jack remembered it, too. He said we were the sweetest things he had ever seen.”

“Mrs. Halley?” whispered Tonia.

“She looked lovely,” replied Lou. “Black velvet and diamonds. Jack said, ‘Mother is prettier than any of the girls—except one.'”

“He meant you.”

“I expect so,” said Lou, smiling.

“What else?” asked Tonia.

“They had cleared the lounge, of course. The floor was splendid. There was champagne for supper…and cold ham and tongue and salad and ices… Jack said…” She hesitated and then went on, “Jack wants me to go to tea tomorrow—it's today, really—and I can manage it if I miss my singing. Mrs. Halley wants you to come, too.”

It was easy enough for Tonia to go to the tea party, for she did not have singing lessons; she had cooking classes instead, and nobody seemed to mind if you slipped out before the end. Mrs. Halley was waiting for her in the garden and greeted her very cordially, putting her arm through Tonia's and leading her to the swing seat.

“I wanted to see you particularly,” declared Mrs. Halley. “I wanted to talk to you. I suppose you know what's happened?”

“What's happened!” repeated Tonia in alarm.

“A very natural thing, my dear. Those two have fallen in love with each other…yes, Jack and Lou.”

Tonia gazed at her, wide eyed.

“I've seen it coming,” continued Mrs. Halley. “As a matter of fact, Jack fell in love with Lou the first time he saw her, only of course she was too young. But she isn't too young now. She knows her own mind, does Lou, and I think all the better of her. I'm delighted, of course,” said Mrs. Halley, nodding. “I love Lou. Who could help it? She's young and beautiful and gay and she's made of the right stuff…and Jack is a dear (why shouldn't I say it?). Jack will make her a very good husband.”

“But, Mrs. Halley—”

“I know. That's the trouble. That's why I wanted to see you. What about the parents?”

“It's—they'll be—furious,” said Tonia in a dazed voice.

“We've got to think,” said Mrs. Halley seriously. “We must manage it somehow, you and I. What are we to do?”

Tonia did not know what they could do; the thing seemed hopeless, but Mrs. Halley was determined that somehow or other the course of love must be smoothed. Jack and Lou loved each other and nothing else mattered. She herself had given up a good deal for love's sake and had never regretted it—never once in twenty years.

“I wish I were respectable,” said Mrs. Halley with a smile and a sigh. “I've never minded until now whether people wanted to know me or not. I've had a good time and enjoyed myself and I've made Philip happy.”

Lou was as sweet as ever and even more beautiful, but she drifted away from Tonia; they were not quite so close together now. There was another interest in Lou's life. Lou was in love. She talked about Jack incessantly and Tonia listened. Tonia was a little puzzled about it, because, although she liked Jack very much, she could not see him as Lou saw him. He was friendly and kind, but he was not particularly good-looking; he was not the paragon that Lou imagined him. Sometimes Lou was as happy as a bird, and sometimes she would sit and dream with shadows in her eyes.

“Tell me what to do,” she would say, seizing Tonia's hand. “I've never been frightened before, but I'm frightened now. I can't let Jack go back to India without me. I shall die if I can't marry Jack. Honestly, Tonia, I shall die.”

Tonia believed her.

“Jack wants to speak to Father,” continued Lou. “He wants to be properly engaged, but I'm too afraid. I don't mind a row, but if they stopped us seeing each other—”

“They would,” said Tonia with conviction.

“It's so
silly
,” declared Lou. “It's like
Romeo and Juliet
. Just because they don't like Mrs. Halley—”

“When you're twenty-one—” began Tonia, who had taken the trouble to look up the law of the land in her father's encyclopedia.

“But we can't wait all that time!” cried Lou, aghast.

There seemed no solution to the problem. Tonia considered it in all its aspects and indulged in a good deal of wishful thinking. She envisaged Jack rescuing Lou from a burning house—their own house, of course. The crowd cheered as Jack staggered out, bearing the unconscious form of Lou over his broad shoulders. Mother was in tears, and Father strode forward and cried, “My boy, you have saved her life! How can I reward you?” Sometimes it was Mr. Melville himself who was in peril and was rescued by Jack. He fell into Duddingston Loch and was almost drowned, but Jack, who happened to be passing, rushed to his aid and brought him safely to shore. Mr. Melville was saved from runaway horses, as well, and from railway accidents. He had no idea of it, of course; to him life seemed much as usual. He noticed, once or twice, that his younger daughter was staring at him with a strangely intent gaze, but Tonia was always dreaming.

August came and Jack's leave was nearly over, but oddly enough Lou seemed more cheerful. “It can't be helped,” she said, when Tonia tried to question her.

“It can't be helped!” repeated Tonia. “Whatever do you mean?”

“I've tried to talk to Mother,” replied Lou. “I asked her about Mrs. Halley, and she simply went off the deep end.” This was one of Jack's expressions, of course.

“I mean, what are you going to
do
?” Tonia inquired.

“What can we do?” asked Lou.

“I wish I could think of something.”

“Don't worry, darling,” said Lou, taking up her music case, which looked oddly bulky. “Don't worry at all. Just give me a big hug.”

“You'll be back to tea,” said Tonia, but Lou had gone.

Tonia thought about this conversation all the afternoon. It was unsatisfactory, and there was something odd about it. It wasn't like Lou to take things lying down, to accept the fact that she couldn't have what she wanted without making a proper fight for it…and why had she said not to worry? Of course Tonia was worrying.

When teatime came Tonia took up her position on the window seat to watch for Lou's return (she was determined to get to the bottom of the mystery, for that was what it was), and while she was still watching a car drove up to the door and Mrs. Halley got out and came up the steps and vanished into the house.

Mrs. Halley! What had
she
come for? Why had Mrs. Halley come
here?
Tonia hesitated for a moment and then ran out onto the landing and leaned over the banisters. She saw Mrs. Halley come up the stairs (escorted by Maggie) and disappear into the drawing room. There was silence. She was talking to Mother and Father. Now—they were both at home—what could she be saying?

Tonia was shaking all over. She felt so ill that she went back into the nursery and sat down in the basket chair. Lou had gone. She knew it as surely as if Lou had told her the whole thing. Lou had not told her because she did not want to implicate Tonia in the trouble that would ensue… What an appalling row there would be! Lou had gone. Perhaps she was married now; perhaps she was already on her way to London…with Jack. Tonia leaned back, her head against the cushion; the world seemed to crash about her ears.

***

Meantime Mrs. Halley was enjoying herself in the drawing room. She was full of righteous wrath, and having decided that it was her duty to vent it upon the Melvilles she did not mince her words. She was in the enviable position of having nothing to lose, for Ella was her enemy already and Tiddles had never counted for much. The sound and fury of Tiddles signified practically nothing. She had discovered this interesting fact thirty years ago. Mrs. Halley informed her hearers that Jack and Lou had been married that afternoon and were on their way to London. Mr. Melville could go after them if he liked (she did not call him Tiddles). He could go after them and make a scene and have the marriage annulled. Lou was underage, so of course she had no right to be married without the consent of her parents. Mrs. Halley knew that, but it had not worried her in the least. She had helped them—aided and abetted was the term. She had helped to arrange the whole thing and would do the same thing again, for she was on the side of youth and love and romance. She had always been a rebel and gloried in the fact.

The Melvilles were so stricken that they found very little to say, and, drawing a long breath, Mrs. Halley continued. She told them they were stodgy and old-fashioned and selfish. They had neglected the girls, and they were lucky that nothing worse had happened. She told them this several times in slightly different language so that there should be no mistake about it. She finished by repeating that Mr. Melville could take any action he liked—he could go after his daughter and bring her home. It would be a juicy piece of scandal and lots of people would enjoy it. She didn't care what Mr. Melville did. Not a scrap. Why should she? She wasn't respectable, thank heaven.

Having said her say Mrs. Halley departed, leaving behind her a faint scent of violets.

Mr. and Mrs. Melville were speechless for a few moments. Mrs. Melville because she was so furiously angry and Mr. Melville because he could not help realizing that there was some truth in what had been said…and this was partly due to the fact that it was Wanda who had said it. He had always admired Wanda, and she was still a beautiful woman…and no less beautiful when she was angry and her fine eyes were flashing fire. He recovered from his daze to hear his wife's voice.

“That woman!” cried Mrs. Melville. “I would rather Lou had married the butcher's boy—”

“Why didn't you arrange a marriage with the butcher's boy?”

“It's no use talking like that. We must
do
something—”