Listening Valley (5 page)

“What can we do?”

“You stood there like a dummy. Why didn't you say something?”

“For the same reason that you said nothing, I suppose.”

“That woman!” repeated Mrs. Melville. “She was at the bottom of it. She arranged the whole thing.”

Mr. Melville was walking up and down the room.

“You'll make me scream,” declared his wife. “Can't you think of something to do instead of prowling about like that?”

“No, I can't,” he replied. “There isn't anything to do. It would make the most frightful stink if we
tried
to do anything. If you take my advice, you'll make the best of it.”

“Make the best of it!”

“The girl is married. I suppose we ought to be thankful for that.”

This silenced Mrs. Melville for a few moments, and her thoughts took a different trend. “The deceitfulness of it!” she said at last. “Where can Lou have met him? She never said a word about it—not a word… Tonia will know, of course,” added Mrs. Melville, rising from the sofa. “Tonia must have been in it from the beginning.”

It seemed strangely quiet when Tonia drifted back into consciousness, when the roaring rushing sound inside her head had died away. She found herself looking at the ceiling. It was the ceiling of her bedroom with the curiously shaped stain in the middle, which Lou had likened to the man in the moon. Tonia turned her head and looked toward Lou's bed. It was empty…everything came back to her with a rush.

A voice said, “She's coming around.” It was Dr. Malcolm's voice.

“Am I ill?” she asked faintly.

“Not very,” replied Dr. Malcolm reassuringly, and his kind, rugged face suddenly appeared above her head.

“Why have you come?” Tonia wanted to know.

“You fainted, that's all,” he replied. “Your mother was a little worried, but you'll be perfectly all right soon. Just lie still and take your time,” added Dr. Malcolm, patting her shoulder.

There was movement in the room. Mother's voice said, “You're sure it's nothing. She looked so dreadful…”

The voices moved away—out onto the landing, but they were still audible to Tonia's sharp ears.

“Light diet and complete rest,” Dr. Malcolm was saying. “I'll look in tomorrow if you like, but it's not really necessary.”

“Please do,” said Mother's voice.

“She mustn't be worried, of course.”

“No, of course not,” said Mother. “But I just wanted to ask her…you see she and Lou…I mean, she must have known…such a shock to us…”

“Can't allow it,” declared Dr. Malcolm. The voices were very faint now, for their owners were going downstairs. “Not now… We'll see in a day or two… No questions at all…”

Tonia lay in bed, and Mother and Maggie looked after her. Mother was very kind and attentive, which was difficult to understand, for Tonia had expected Mother to be angry. In a way Mother had every right to be angry, thought Tonia, watching the shadows move slowly across the ceiling. Mother was rather pathetic, really. She brought Tonia books to read—
The
Daisy
Chain
and
The
Wide, Wide World
—and Tonia pretended to read them while Mother was in the room, but when Mother had gone she put them down and lay quite still and thought about all that had happened and tried to imagine where Lou was
now
and what she was doing.

The fact was Mrs. Melville had received a double shock, for she had no sooner heard from Wanda Halley that she had lost one daughter than she had gone upstairs and found her other daughter in a state of collapse. Tonia was lying in the basket chair looking exactly like death; it was some moments before Mrs. Melville was able to assure herself that the child was still breathing. Mrs. Melville was shaken to the core; her complacency was shattered—though only temporarily.

Presently Tonia rose from her bed and began to go about as usual, but she still felt rather queer. She felt as if she had lost part of herself—an arm or a leg or a piece of her heart. She had depended on Lou for everything, and Lou had gone and there was no savor in life. The days went by, dim and gray. If the sun shone Tonia did not notice it.

Jack and Lou had sailed to India, and from India letters began to arrive. Lou was happy. She was having a marvelous time: there were dances and picnics, and she had learned to ride. The station was full of young people, and they were all nice to Lou. It was difficult to write back to Lou in the same strain, for nothing seemed to happen to Tonia (each day was as dull as the one before), but somehow or other, letters were written and dispatched—loving, cheerful letters.

Tonia's only other correspondent was Nannie, who wrote to her at long intervals and gave very little news. Nannie was getting old now and was finding it difficult to carry on. “If I could get a girl to help me,” wrote Nannie. “But I cannot afford a girl. It is just not easy to make ends meet sometimes.” Tonia could read a good deal between the lines of this carefully phrased epistle, for she knew Nannie to be addicted to understatement, so if Nannie said it was not easy to make ends meet she must be having a bad time. Fortunately Tonia had some money in the Post Office Savings Bank—it was money that had been given to her from time to time and that she had been made to save. The interest had accumulated, and Tonia discovered to her amazement that she possessed nearly two hundred pounds. It was her own money, of course, so she could do what she liked with it, but all the same she felt a trifle guilty as she penned the withdrawal slip, for she was aware that her parents would make all sorts of objections if they knew of her intention. But I don't care, thought Tonia, signing with a firm hand and remembering as she did so a hundred and one things that Nannie had done for her, remembering Nannie's patience when she could not tie her shoes and how Nannie had sat up with her when she was ill.

The money was to be paid in pound notes (all of it, for this would save Nannie a lot of bother), and when Tonia received it, she packed the notes into a chocolate box and dispatched it by registered post. She was very happy now—happier than she had felt for months—and her only regret was that she would not see Nannie's face when the chocolate box was opened.

Nannie's letter arrived a few days later and was so grateful and loving and so incoherent (owing to the shock its writer had received) that Tonia shed tears upon it and carried it about with her for days until it fell to pieces and had to be burned.

“I am wanting to see you so much,” Nannie had written. “Maybe I could tell you a bit of what I feel. I never was much of a hand at letter writing. Would Mrs. Melville let you come and stay with me for a week or two? It would be a nice change and it must be dull without Lou and I would give you old Miss Melville's room that looks out on to the garden at the back and gets the morning sun. I would be so pleased to have you, dear, but you know that.”

Tonia considered the matter. It would be nice to see Nannie again, but was it worth the bother? Mother would be sure to make a fuss—and how Tonia hated fusses! All Tonia wanted was to be left in peace. She decided not to go.

Once Tonia had recovered from her indisposition and Mrs. Melville had recovered from her shock, the relations between them disimproved. Mrs. Melville decided that Tonia was “grown up” now; she must go about, she must come down to the drawing room and take her proper place in the house, but Tonia was a most unsatisfactory sort of daughter; she was silent and dreamy and had no talent for conversation. She disliked shopping and tea parties and escaped from social activities whenever she could. The old nursery was Tonia's refuge; she would sit there for hours, reading or dreaming or thinking about Lou. Sometimes Mrs. Melville would send Maggie to fetch her, not because she enjoyed Tonia's company, but because it was the right thing for Tonia to be there when visitors came to tea, and Tonia would brush her hair and wash her hands and come down to the drawing room, obedient to her mother's command.

“I don't know what to do with her,” complained Mrs. Melville to her husband. “She isn't like other girls, somehow. Lydia says
her
girls enjoy going out with her in the car and shopping and that sort of thing. Lydia's girls have plenty to say for themselves. They're amusing and bright. I wish to goodness Tonia were not so sulky.”

“She isn't sulky,” replied Mr. Melville.

“Well, silent, then,” said Mrs. Melville. “I never know what she's thinking about.”

“It's because you never bothered with them when they were young. They were always in the nursery. I told you at the time you were making a mistake, but you wouldn't listen. You're paying for it now.”

“It isn't that, at all.”

“What is it, then?”

“Tonia is…
queer
,” declared Mrs. Melville.

“Nonsense!”

“It isn't nonsense. There really is something queer about her. Sometimes she behaves as if she weren't all there. She looks absolutely blank.”

“She's dreamy.”

“It's more than that. She must take it from the Melvilles, of course. We were all perfectly normal.”

Mr. Melville rose in his wrath. “She's as normal as you are!” he retorted in violent tones. “In fact, she's a damn sight more normal.
She
isn't crazy about bridge. And let me tell you that my family…” and he proceeded to tell her (in detail and at length) of the excellences of the Melville connection.

It was a first-class row and Mr. and Mrs. Melville both enjoyed it, for the odd thing was that they really
did
enjoy a good row. They were fond of each other in their own way—a peculiar way, perhaps: they depended upon each other's loyalty, and if a third party had entered the lists they would have combined forces immediately and fought for each other tooth and nail, but when they were alone, or when nobody but Tonia was present, they enlivened their existence by quarreling incessantly. Fortunately, although both of them possessed hasty tempers and unruly tongues, neither of them was sensitive, nor sulky, so however fiercely they went for each other they soon came around and resumed their normal relationship and forgot all the hard things that had been said in the heat of battle.

Having failed to turn her daughter into a social success, Mrs. Melville gave up the attempt and returned to her bridge. She was out nearly every afternoon, and it became the usual thing for Tonia to be waiting for her father when he came in from the office after his day's work and for them to have tea together by the fire. She got on quite well with her father, for she took care not to irritate him, and he neither desired nor expected her to talk.

One day Mr. Melville brought a friend home to tea, a tall, good-looking man with gray hair. He was introduced to Tonia as “Mr. Norman” and he smiled at her kindly as he shook her by the hand. Apart from the conventional greeting he took very little notice of her, for he had come to talk business and he was pressed for time. Tonia poured out the tea and listened to the talk of stocks and shares and did not understand a word of it, but although the actual business was beyond her she realized quite soon that Mr. Norman was an important person. Father was slightly in awe of Mr. Norman and anxious to make a good impression upon him—anxious, also, to obtain his advice—it was rather odd to see father playing second fiddle.

“Very sound,” said Mr. Melville when his guest had gone. “Norman knows the ropes. I got a lot of useful information out of him, and you behaved very sensibly, Tonia. Thank heaven you aren't a chatterbox!”

It was a new experience to be commended for silence, and, what was even more surprising, she had evidently gained credit from Mr. Norman, as well, for the next day she received a note from him enclosing four tickets for the New Club Ball, which was to take place shortly at the Assembly Rooms. The note was short and to the point and had evidently been dashed off in a hurry.

To
make
up
for
a
dull
afternoon
—
R
.
K. Norman
.

“I can't go, of course,” said Tonia with conviction.

“You can't go!” exclaimed Mr. Melville. “Of course you can go. Norman would think it very odd if you didn't go. It's dashed good of him to send you the tickets.”

“We'll all go,” declared Mrs. Melville. “I haven't danced for years, and the New Club is always a good ball. Perhaps Frank would like to make up the party. I'll ring him up.”

“I don't want to go,” said Tonia in agonized tones, for the prospect of meeting so many strangers, of dancing with them and trying to talk to them filled her with dismay.

“Nonsense,” replied Mr. Melville. “You'll enjoy it. I'll stand you a new dress.”

“Such a lovely frock!” exclaimed Maggie, slipping the white net ball gown over Tonia's head. “You suit it, too.”

“Do you think so?” asked Tonia. She was looking at herself in the pier glass and she was not particularly pleased with what she saw. Mother had chosen the dress and had insisted on white.

“It's a pity you're so pale and thin,” said Maggie. “You don't eat enough, that's what. Maybe you'll look better when you've had a good dinner.”

Tonia laughed mirthlessly.

“Now then,” said Maggie, trying to be encouraging. “It's no use taking on about it. There's plenty of girls would give their eyes for a figure like you. It's fashionable.”

“I look like a ghost.”

“Not you. Maybe your arms are a bit skinny…and your neck. Will you wear your pink scarf?”

Tonia did not care what she wore, so to please Maggie she took the pink gauze scarf and wound it around her neck.

“Not like that,” said Maggie. “I'll show you…that's a lot better. It gives you a bit of color.”

“I wish I could go to bed instead,” declared Tonia with a sigh.

“Nonsense,” replied Maggie. “It'll be lovely, you'll see. I wish I was going in that lovely frock and everything. Just you make up your mind you're going to enjoy yourself, Miss Tonia. Remember what a fine time Miss Lou had at that dance she went to.”

Tonia had been thinking of it before Maggie spoke. She had been thinking of Lou's appetite for adventure. If Lou had been here to go with her and sustain her, she would not have been so frightened.

Frank Melville was the fourth member of the party. He was a distant cousin and Tonia had only met him once before. She did her best to talk to him at dinner but it was difficult going, for they seemed to have nothing in common. She felt sure that Frank already regretted his acceptance of the invitation and was wondering how often he would have to dance with her.

The taxi was late in coming, and when the Melville party arrived the Assembly Rooms were already crowded. Tonia was dazed by the noise of talk and laughter; she clung to her mother's hand as they pushed their way through the throng. The principal room was enormous to Tonia's eyes. It was high and brilliantly lighted and divided in two by a thick red rope. The band was playing a fox-trot, and the floor was full of couples.

“We're late,” said Mrs. Melville crossly. “I can't see Frank anywhere. Wait here and I'll try to find somebody for you to dance with.”

Tonia was almost sick with fright. She stood in the doorway, but just at that moment the dance ended and she was swept into the vestibule by the crowd of dancers who were looking for seats outside. She found a corner and stood there, watching the people and listening to the snatches of conversation. “Not one left, my dear. You're much too late…” “No, I haven't seen her since we arrived…” “Sonia, how marvelous!” “I've been looking everywhere for you…” “What a crush…” “May I introduce…” “It's no use; she's sure to be booked up…” “Yes, isn't he appalling…” “Oh, I beg your pardon…” “Over near the band, in blue, with a rose in her hair…” “The last extra if you're going to be here…” “She's sweet, isn't she?” “Who told you that?” “Haven't you got one left…” “She wore it last year…”

Tonia's heart had ceased to thump uncomfortably, for she had discovered that she was invisible. Nobody saw her, nobody made the slightest attempt to speak to her, and it was evident that nobody was going to ask her to dance. This being so, she plucked up courage and was able to look about. The floor was covered with red carpets, and there were flowers and palms and mirrors, and among these glories the throng of black-clad men and girls in gaily colored frocks moved backward and forward in a constant stream. The girls interested her more than the men. They were nearly all pretty, but not one of them was as pretty as Lou.

Presently she heard the strains of another band and discovered that it was playing in the music hall and that more people were dancing there. The light was not so glaring in the music hall, and the whole place was decorated to resemble a Malayan village. It was hung with scenery depicting mountains and forests and blue sky, and there were grass huts around the edge of the dancing floor with seats in them. Tonia was quite happy now—if only Lou had been there she would have been completely happy—she sat down on one of the seats, leaning forward with one elbow on her knee and her cheek against her hand. It was like a play, thought Tonia, watching enthralled as the couples passed her talking gaily and suddenly, on reaching the dancing floor, melted together and swam off into a waltz.

She was so intent, so eager to see everything that happened, that she did not notice someone had stopped and was standing beside her and looking down, and as she had made up her mind that she was invisible she was considerably startled when she was addressed by name.

“Miss Melville,” said a voice.

She raised her eyes and found that it was Mr. Norman.

“Oh!” exclaimed Tonia in surprise and alarm.

Mr. Norman looked a trifle taken aback; perhaps he had expected a warmer greeting since it was by his invitation Miss Melville was here. He was not to know that he had rent Miss Melville's comforting illusion that she was wearing an invisible cloak. He was silent for a moment, looking at her, and then he decided to persevere. “Tired of dancing?” he inquired with a kind smile.

Tonia shook her head. “I don't know anyone, that's all.”

“Great Scott! Where is the rest of your party?”

“I don't know. It doesn't matter. I'd rather watch, really.”

“It's amusing to watch,” he agreed, sitting down beside her.

Tonia would much rather have watched alone, but she remembered that he had sent her the tickets, so she smiled at him. He looked very distinguished in his full evening dress with a white carnation in his buttonhole, and Tonia decided that even if she had not known he was “important” she would have guessed it at once from his appearance.

“You watch a good deal, don't you?” Mr. Norman said. “You're an onlooker and you see most of the game. This is a queer game, isn't it—a queer artificial way of enjoyment.”

“It's artificial, of course,” agreed Tonia, discovering to her surprise that she could talk to him quite easily. “It's artificial, but there's a great deal of tradition and history behind it.”

“Why, of course there is! People have always danced since David danced before the Ark of the Lord…but you weren't thinking of that.”

“I was thinking of Waterloo,” admitted Tonia.

“You were! That's odd. I was thinking of it too. They danced while the enemy was approaching, didn't they?”

“Do you mean—”

“Yes.” Mr. Norman nodded. “We're dancing and Germany is making guns. But this is neither the time nor the place to talk of guns. What else were you thinking about?”

“Lou,” replied Tonia. “She's my sister. She's married, you know, and I miss her terribly. If she were here it would be
quite
perfect. Everything is more fun with Lou.”

“There are people like that—people who bring out the colors of life.”

“Oh
yes
!” cried Tonia. “Yes, Lou's like that.”

They looked at each other gravely.

“My mother was like that,” said Mr. Norman. “Perhaps you think I'm too old to have a mother, but she was only eighteen years older than I. She didn't seem old because she understood things so well. She believed in me.”

“Like Lou,” breathed Tonia. “Lou never thinks I'm silly.”

“Are you silly?” inquired Mr. Norman smiling.

“I do silly things.”

“We all do.”

“Yes, sometimes, perhaps, but not all the time like me.”

There had been an interval during their conversation, but now the band began to play “The Blue Danube,” and the floor was suddenly full of dancers.

“Shall we dance?” asked Mr. Norman. “I'm an old-fashioned sort of person, but I can waltz quite passably and I love this tune.”

Tonia loved it too. She rose at once and the next moment he had swept her onto the floor. She had never danced with a man before, only with other girls at the dancing class, so dancing with Mr. Norman was a revelation to her. She felt like thistledown in his strong capable arms. He danced beautifully in a conventional, dignified manner and was able to suit his step to his inexperienced partner, so they got on very well indeed. Tonia's color rose and her eyes sparkled and she began to realize the enchantment of rhythm and synchronized movement—no wonder everybody looked so happy and gay. The band played splendidly and the swish…swish…swish of the dancers' feet provided an exciting accompaniment to the tune. When the dance came to an end, Tonia was eager for more and she clapped as heartily as anybody.

“There's a young fellow over there,” said Mr. Norman as he slipped his arm around Tonia's waist and prepared to resume the dance. “I think he's looking at you. Is he one of your party?”

“It's Frank,” replied Tonia. “Oh dear, I believe this is the one he said he would dance with me. Perhaps we had better stop,” she added, her step faltering a little as she spoke.

Mr. Norman took no notice except to hold her more firmly.

“Doesn't it matter?” she asked.

“Not in the least,” replied her partner. “The young man needs a lesson, I fancy.”

Tonia had no idea what he meant by this enigmatic statement.

By the time the waltz was over Frank had disappeared, so Mr. Norman took her downstairs to the supper room and they sat down at a table in the corner. Mr. Norman seemed to know a good many people (he smiled and bowed to them but did not speak), and he seemed to know the waiters, too, for he obtained instant attention. It's because he's nice, thought Tonia as she listened to him talking to the waiter and ordering the food, and she contrasted his behavior with that of a very bombastic young man at the next table.

Tonia ate lobster and drank champagne, but Mr. Norman contented himself with a glass of beer and some crackers, explaining apologetically that this fare was more suited to his age and constitution.

“I can eat anything,” Tonia replied.

“But you can't
drink
anything,” said Mr. Norman, smiling at her and removing her glass. “It's extremely interfering of me, I know, but unless you have a fairly strong head I would advise you to confine yourself to two glasses of champagne.”

“Oh!” exclaimed Tonia in surprise. “Yes, it's true. I feel a little funny already. What a good thing you thought about that, wasn't it?”

She felt slightly elated; the lights seemed more brilliant, the noise of chatter and laughter seemed to have grown in volume, and it was all tremendous fun. Even the sight of Frank, making his way toward them across the room, had no power to disturb her.

“You cut out my dance,” said Frank, pausing by the table. “I couldn't find you anywhere.”

“I forgot all about it,” replied Tonia, smiling happily.

“You forgot!”

“Yes,” said Tonia, nodding.

Frank Melville was not used to being forgotten. He looked at his cousin in surprise. He had thought her dull and uninteresting and rather plain, but he was forced to change his mind about her. “Oh, I see,” said Frank in a doubtful sort of voice. “Oh well, it doesn't matter. I just came to tell you that your mother is looking for you.”

“Is she?” said Tonia, unperturbed.

“She wants you to come,” urged Frank.

“Well, you might just tell her I'm having supper with Mr. Norman,” said Tonia, nodding at him kindly.

Frank hesitated for a moment and then departed to carry out her behest.

“That's the way to treat him,” declared Mr. Norman, chuckling delightedly. “I said he needed a lesson, didn't I?”

They spent a long time over their supper and nobody disturbed them. Mr. Norman was a keen historian and was particularly interested in the history of Edinburgh. He found to his amazement that Tonia knew almost as much about the subject as he did and had visited various ancient houses that had now degenerated into appalling slums.

“Who took you to Michael Scott's house?” asked Mr. Norman, looking at her with his piercing blue eyes.

“Nobody,” replied Tonia. “Lou and I went together. It was awfully dirty, of course, but the people were very nice to us.”

“Don't go there again,” said Mr. Norman.

Tonia looked at him in surprise. The conversation had re-aroused her interest in Edinburgh's history, and she had just that moment decided to make another visit to the place.

They danced once more when they had finished their supper, and then Mrs. Melville managed to find her daughter and dragged her away. Mrs. Melville was tired and cross, for she was not used to dancing and the evening had not come up to her expectations.

Mr. Melville had passed the time more pleasantly; he had made contact with an old flame who was still very attractive, and he had seen Tonia dancing with Norman and looking gay and pretty. “It was a splendid show,” declared Mr. Melville with complacency as he climbed into the taxi and sat down beside his wife. “They did us well, didn't they? I saw you enjoying yourself, Tonia.”

“It was lovely,” Tonia said.

“I've been looking for you for hours,” said Mrs. Melville. “Do you know it's nearly four o'clock?”

“I was dancing with Mr. Norman,” replied Tonia. “He's nice, isn't he? He asked me to go to tea with him tomorrow. He has a collection of old glass bottles, and he said he would show them to me.”

“What an extraordinary idea!” Mrs. Melville exclaimed.

“There's nothing extraordinary about it,” retorted Mr. Melville. “Why shouldn't Tonia go to tea with him? I saw her dancing with him, and they seemed to be…”