Come Along with Me (14 page)

“When my brother comes again,” Carla said, “we shall have a musical evening, and perhaps he will take us boating on the river.”

“And my visit?” said Margaret smiling. “Surely there will be an end to my visit?”

Mrs. Rhodes, with one last look at the door from which Mr. Rhodes and the captain had gone, dropped her hand from Margaret's shoulder and said, “I must go to my embroidery. I have neglected it while my son was with us.”

“You will not leave us before my brother comes again?” Carla asked Margaret.

“I have only to put the figures into the foreground,” Mrs. Rhodes said, hesitating on her way to the drawing room. “I shall have you exactly if you sit on the lawn near the river.”

“We shall be models of stillness,” said Carla, laughing. “Margaret, will you come and sit beside me on the lawn?”

[
1950
]

THE ROCK

Being on the water was not precisely a unique, but rather an unusual, experience for Paula Ellison, and for the first few minutes that she sat on the small seat almost too close to the front of the boat, she was perfectly still, afraid not so much of upsetting the boat as of being unprepared when it surely did upset. She had gotten in first, and sat with her back to the island where they were going, watching the young man in the oilskin jacket as he helped first her sister-in-law Virginia, and then her brother Charles, into the more comfortable seats in the center of the boat. Charles, Paula thought, looked tired, and she thought further that she did not grudge him the better seat, or the reassurance of sitting next to Virginia, because Charles had certainly been so very ill, and was still not well, and looked tired after their journey.

“I'm so
excited
,” Virginia said, and bounced in the boat almost like a child. Then she added, in the gentle voice both she and Paula were now using toward Charles, “How do you feel, darling?”

“Very well indeed,” Charles said. “Very much better.”

“It looks so
exciting
,” Virginia said. “Look at it, all dark and rocky against the sky and that
perfect
sunset.”

“What is that picture?” Charles asked. “
You
know the one.”

“Like a pirate stronghold,” Virginia continued ecstatically, “or a prison or some—”

Paula said with amusement, “Charles, do you think it entirely wise to bring Virginia to a place where she can indulge her romantic temperament so fully?”

Charles, without hearing her, said to Virginia, “Actually, I'm afraid it's only a rather ordinary summer resort.” He smiled at his sister. “Do you think we might find one pirate for Virginia?”

Paula, without meaning to, looked over his head to the young man in the oilskin jacket who was running the boat, and found him at that moment looking at her, so that she turned quickly away and said, “It's cold.”

“It
is
cold.” Virginia pulled her coat closer around her.

“We're here so late in the year,” Charles said.

Paula said immediately, “That's
much
better, you know; it means we'll be practically the only people and won't have to bother being sociable.”

Virginia added, almost as quickly, “And I
always
think these early fall days are the best, after all. Relaxing,” she added vaguely.

“Well, at least I didn't keep us from any vacation at all this year,” Charles said.

“I never intended to take any vacation this year,” Virginia said. “I
hate
going away in the summers, and the children are so much better off not going into public resorts.”

“As you know,” Paula said stiffly, “I rarely plan on a vacation at all. If it hadn't been for your insisting that you needed me—”

Charles laughed. “You worry too much,” he said, turning from Virginia to Paula. “You don't have to fuss every time I mention being sick.”

“You're not to think about it,” Paula said.

“We all want to forget it,” Virginia said.

“It's forgotten,” Charles said. “How much longer will it take to reach the island?” From the inflection of his voice everyone immediately assumed that he was speaking to the young man in the oilskin jacket and did not know how otherwise to address him, whether as “driver” or “captain” or “ferryman” or perhaps “boy.”

After a minute the young man said, “Nearly there.”

“Does the island have a name?” Virginia asked.

“People round here call it mostly Rock Island,” the young man said.

“Even
that
is exciting,” Virginia said. She looked first at Charles and then at Paula. “Even that it should be named Rock Island. Like a stronghold, or a fort, or a—”

“Rock,” Paula said.

“We land on the other side,” the young man said, without being asked; it was as though every person whom he carried to the island asked the same series of questions, made the same comments, spoke of pirates and that picture,
you
know, and went on to ask how long now? and what was the name of the island, and as though the next question had to be “Where do we land?” or “Do we dock there?” or “How are you going to get the boat up onto those rocks?” and this time, for once, impatient and perhaps tired of ferrying, he answered the question before it could be asked. Paula, who thought that Virginia was again going to say “How exciting,” said quickly, “Charles, are you tired?”

“No,” he said, surprised. “Not tired at all; I'm feeling very well, really.”

Although she had not intended to view this island, this site of her unexpected holiday, so soon, had meant ever since she stepped into the boat without being allowed a chance of turning around to keep her back steadfastly against the island and not turn, not turn, until she was close enough to touch it, Paula at last forgot her resolution and turned to look; she saw, looming impossibly large over her head and with the red sunset behind, a great black jagged rock, without signs of humanity or sympathy, with only dreadful reaching black rocks and sharp incredible outlines against the sunset and she said (thinking, I can always go back if it's
too
awful), “Charles, how do you feel?”

“I feel
fine
,” he said sharply.

“It's just all
too
exciting,” Virginia said.

As the boat came closer it appeared that the island was composed of a single rock instead of many; there were no pebbles or splinters of rock at the edges of the water in the little cove to which the young man guided the boat, and a series of steps leading up to the house above seemed to be carved out of the rock. The sun had gone by now and only a faint impression of the sunset lay in the sky; it had grown much colder and the coming darkness made the rock look blacker and the steps steep and wet.

“Can we get up there at all?” Paula said, leaning from the boat to look at the steps; realizing that she was expected to stand and move from the boat onto the steps she hesitated and then reflected that she could hardly stay on in the boat unless she chose to go back with the ferryman. I wish for once Virginia would move first, she thought, or Charles, and then rebuked herself with the recollection that after all Virginia could hardly climb over Paula in the end seat to get out, and Charles was ill. The young man stepped easily from the boat onto the rock and held out his hand to Paula, and she remembered that he had helped Virginia into the boat earlier, and took his hand and found herself with less grace than usual almost scrambling onto the rock steps. They were not wet, after all, or slippery, but seemed actually to press back against her feet as though holding firmly against her.

I like it here, she thought, surprising herself, and found the steps irresistible; before Virginia was even out of the boat Paula had turned and begun to climb. At first she only enjoyed the pressure of the steps under her feet, and then she raised her head and saw the house above her and she began to climb faster.

“Look at Paula, so far ahead,” she heard Charles saying below her; he sounded cross, and she thought that perhaps he was annoyed with her for having spoken so much of his illness. Ahead of her the windows of the house showed light and then the door opened and someone came into the doorway, looking down and seeming to peer through the darkness.

“Who is it?” the woman in the doorway called.

Required to identify herself suddenly, Paula hesitated on the steps and then turned and looked behind her. Charles and Virginia were following her slowly, helping one another, and Paula felt first a small pang that she had not stayed with them, but had gone on so easily herself. Then, past the curve of the rock below her, she saw the boat going back, and was suddenly very frightened when she realized that the boat and the ferryman had never intended to stay with them; how will we ever get back? she wondered, and then smiled at herself, thinking that surely the ferryman must come back several times a day.

“Are you all right?” she called down to Charles and Virginia. “Shall I come back and help you?”

“We're all right,” Virginia called up to her. “The steps are just a little steep for Charles.”

Paula turned and climbed on up to the house while the woman in the doorway stood watching her. “So you've come,” said the woman in the doorway when Paula was close enough for her to speak. “I'd almost given up expecting you.”

Not a very gracious hostess, Paula thought. “We've been late for everything all day,” she explained. “Trains, busses, meals, everything.”

“You'll have to take what you can get here tonight,” the woman said. “Dinner's been done with for an hour, and the dishes washed and put away.”

“I'm sure we won't want much,” Paula said. She was displeased, and as she came up onto the last, wider steps which led to the doorway she did not stop to look at the woman, but brushed past her and went inside. The room into which she came seemed to be made of the rock of the island, and for a minute she stood staring, forgetting the landlady behind her. A great fire burned on the far side of the huge room, and flickered against the walls in lines that might have been reflecting mica in rock, ran in light up and down the wide dark walls on which no pictures hung, and shattered itself oddly across and along the floor on which no rug lay. The furniture was huge and wooden, a great trestle table with benches on either side, and a long wooden bench with back and arms which brought the word “settle” to Paula's mind, and huge square wooden chairs, worn and smooth with use. There were no ornaments of any kind and no light except from the great fire.

Paula heard the landlady, still behind her in the doorway, calling down to Charles and Virginia that it was only a bit more to come, and then the landlady added very quietly, “You'll want to put in curtains and such, I daresay.”

“Were you speaking to me?” Paula asked; there seemed no one else around.

“And flowers, I suppose.”

Paula advanced to the fire and stood warming her hands. “It's a most unusual room,” she said. She was trying to identify her own feelings; over and above everything else was a great despair and impulsive dislike of this house, this woman, this room; she tried to tell herself that it was the usual reaction to finishing a long journey and finding less comfort than she had been dreaming of since she left home. More than this, however, she was discouraged; this did not seem at all the sort of place in which to spend a belated vacation and she was anxious over how Charles and Virginia would feel about it. It'll be better in the morning when the sun is out, she told herself, and heard Charles and Virginia greeting the landlady.

“Did our suitcases come?” Charles was asking immediately; he had overseen their departure.

“This morning,” said the landlady. “They're in your rooms.”

“Splendid,” said Charles. He came over to the fire and stood beside Paula. “Chill in the air,” he said.

“It gets cold nights, this time of year,” the landlady said.

“This is an extraordinary room,” Virginia said. “It looks as though it's made out of rock.”

“It
is
rock, as a matter of fact,” said the landlady. “Most unusual. The greater part of the house is made of rock; I have a small booklet describing it for tourists, and I have put copies in your rooms. It is regarded as a most unusual house.”

“It is
most
unusual,” said Charles. “You are Mrs. Carter, of course?”

“Mrs. Carter,” said the landlady, nodding. “Mr. and Mrs. Ellison.”

“And Miss Ellison,” said Charles, indicating Paula.

“Of course,” said the landlady. “I have your rooms ready.”

“Splendid,” Charles said; he had taken command again now that there was no physical exertion required, and he looked patronizingly over Paula to say to the landlady, “Any chance of our having something to eat?”

The landlady waved her head back and forth sadly. “You came so late, you know,” she said. “I can give you cheese, and beer, and perhaps, if you wanted to wait for a broiled chicken . . .”

“Just some tea for me, thanks,” said Virginia.

“I should like some tea,” Paula said.

“Whatever you can find, then, in a minute or so,” Charles said. “Nothing that means any trouble.”

The landlady nodded politely and went out of the room, and Charles, looking around with an odd smile, said “Well.”

“Isn't it wonderful?” said Virginia. “That marvelous old woman, and this house . . .” she gestured at the walls and then, remembering, laughed and turned to Paula. “You know what she said to me, that funny old woman?” she demanded. “When I was just coming in the door, she whispered to me, was the tall woman with our party?” She laughed again. “Meaning
you
,” she said to Paula.

“She didn't seem to like me,” Paula said.

“These women are unaccountable,” Charles said. “Remember she lives practically alone on this island.”

“In this
wonderful
house,” Virginia said.

 * * * 

It was substantially better in the daylight. They had slept in rooms adjoining one another, Charles and Virginia in a huge fourposter bed with curtains, and Paula in a small room with windows overlooking the water almost directly, and in the morning, lying awake in her bed, Paula was for a minute surprised at the moving reflections on the ceiling of her room before she realized that it was only the reflection of the sun on the water, reflected again through her windows. She rose from the bed and went to look out on the water and was shocked to see the steep and immediate fall of the island below her; this was the side of the island away from the steps they had come up the night before, and all this part of the house almost hung over the water. Looking down, Paula thought how in many ways this might be extraordinarily good for Charles after his illness, and good for Virginia and Paula too, since the whole aspect of the island lacked that cloying servitude which they all three hated by now, Charles from receiving it for so long, and she and Virginia from giving it; there was here no sense of heavy luxury and overrich surroundings, but only a very clear and distinct effect of an island out of sight of the mainland, sharp and strong alone on the water, and nothing below but solid rock and nothing more to do, perhaps, than endure the constant and incessant triumphs of water over rock, rock over water.