The Brontes Went to Woolworths (25 page)

‘A very happy Christmas to you and your lady,’ from Katrine.

Sir Herbert bowed stiffly. ‘You are very good. May I, in turn, proffer you the compliments of the season. (Do I know this lady, Sheil?’)

‘Yes. Sir Herbert Toddington – Miss Carne.’

Katrine and Sir Herbert shook hands.

At dinner, Helen Ainslie found herself next Sir Herbert, who took the foot of the table and carved, very neatly, but surely Mrs Carne should have done it? Still, of course, he was the only man present . . . no host . . . an old family friend.

Miss Ainslie realised, with surprise, that Deirdre was beautiful, to-night. Commonly, one would select the dark and ivory regularitics of Katy, or the bronze elfery of Sheil . . . Deirdre’s looks, decided Helen Ainslie, were contingent upon her expression, and settled to her dinner.

As she looked round the table while the turkey was put on, she also realised what was the matter with the party.

The other guests had not arrived.

She turned to Katrine. ‘The Miss Bells aren’t here.’

Katrine drained her glass. ‘Are you sure?’ and giggled. Miss Ainslie hesitated; it was Christmas, but still

‘Would you have any more burgundy, Katy? It’s rather apt to go to one’s head, you know.’

‘I don’t mind being called a dipsomaniac, but I
do
mind Katy. Miss Ainslie says I’m soused,’ announced Katrine to the table. ‘
Am
I soused, Deiry? On one glass?’

‘Not if you can say, “Are you copper-bottoming the bottom of that boat, boy? No, I’m aluminiuming it, mum,” ’ responded Deirdre. ‘Say it
quickly
, Miss Ainslie.’

A little pink, Helen Ainslie obeyed, and subsided amidst general laughter. She turned to Sir Herbert. ‘I am so sorry that Mr Mathewson and Mr Nicholls were unable to come to-night.’

He put down the carvers courteously. ‘Ah . . . was he invited?’

‘Oh, yes. They both were.’

‘Um
’

‘But perhaps you have no objection to being the only man!’

‘Not in the slightest.’

Something in the tone of his voice made Miss Ainslie drop a salted almond. Crellie ate it instantly and audibly.

‘Toddy-my-love,’ Sheil shrilled, ‘what did you give Ethel and Cook?
We
said dress-lengths from Lady Mildred and one pound each from you.’

‘Both wrong,’ answered Lady Toddington. ‘I gave’em each a jumper-suit and Toddy gave them both ten shillings.’

‘And dear Mr Nicholls?’

(‘
Sheil, it isn’t quite-quite to ask
’)

‘My dear, we aren’t on present-giving terms, I’m afraid.’ There was, at this, a concerted wail from the Carne girls.

‘Bang go the golf-clubs,’ said Deirdre.

‘You see, at Christmas, we judges pay into a general fund for the officials, besides a number of legal charities.’

‘Like the Browbeaten Barristers?’ implored Sheil.

‘Something of that nature. I have been Treasurer of the – ah – Browbeaten Barristers’ Fund.’

As the dinner moved to its climax of almonds and raisins and crystallised fruit, Miss Ainslie’s efforts to catch the ball of conversation became more fevered. It almost seemed, at times, that the evening was going to degenerate into an effort to cut in anywhere. And yet, one was freely, constantly addressed . . .

She turned again to Sir Herbert, indicating Sheil.

‘We are a little over-excited, to-night. But we’re rather killing, aren’t we?’

‘We? Oh, you allude to Sheil. But the festival of the children, you know
’

Katrine heard, and usurped him. ‘Dear Sir Herbert, what a bromide!’ she drawled.

‘Come, may I not offer you the sugarplums?’ He proffered the dish.

Light broke, and Miss Ainslie turned eagerly, again. ‘
Is
it a mock quarrel? Oh, how too priceless!’

In the silence that fell, she rather believed that she had made a
gaffe
. Katy was looking coldly at Sir Herbert, and he was returning the gaze with a well-bred smile. Miss Ainslie bent her head to her raisins. One could, at least, listen. Deirdre, opposite, her arm on the table, was saying, ‘ do you know what I – mean, Toddy? It isn’t that there’s anti-climax about Christmas Day, but there’s a definite sadness . . . not being able to be in two or three places at once to see what one’s friends are doing in their homes . . . and the way the face of the house falls if one leaves it to go out for the evening. It’s a sort of betrayal
’

‘Age is a shield, Deirdre. It “larns one” to take things as they come. It’s I don’t speak personally typical of youngness – – to grab
’

Katrine to Lady Toddington: ‘I do so awfully hope that in spite of my complex with Sir Toddy, you’re going to adopt me, too.’

‘My dear, I’d adore to. Run in whenever your lovers throw you down and we’ll see if we can’t spike their guns, between us. I’ve no end of nice young men up my sleeve, only waiting to tumble all over themselves about you and Deirdre. Only, try not to marry them all too soon, because
I
want to be noticed, too!’

‘You dear! . . . but I’m only just over a low comedian
’

‘You mean that what’s-his-name we saw in your revue the other night?’

‘Yes. Am I a cad to give it away? Somehow, I feel one could out with things, to you. Deiry and mother and I understand each other too well; but with you, one would get a new slant on life
’

Incredulous, Miss Ainslie, cautiously raising her head, saw the eyes of Lady Toddington become unmistakably wet. She jazzed it off.

‘Herbert! I’ve just had the compliment of my life.’

‘Good, dear. May we hear it?’

‘No. Eat your almonds.’

(‘
And yet, it’s a very cheerful party
,’ Helen Ainslie told herself. ‘
All the ingredients are here
’)