I'll Never Marry! (21 page)

The doctor
’
s report—he came in the early afternoon—was satisfactory so far as it went, but it contained a grave
w
arning. A repetition of the shock she had endured that morning might have a permanently disastrous effect on the child, causing serious mental trouble. No stone must be left unturned to prevent a recurrence of the incident. If Matron wished, he would be glad to put this considered opinion in writing.

“
We shall have no more trouble over that woman; I
’
m sure of that,
”
Matron told Catherine a little later, finding her alone in the kitchen sorting the clean laundry.
“
But I must say I
’
m not too happy over your leaving Maureen—after all she
’
s been through.
”

“
Neither am
I
,
”
Catherine returned bluntly; and she told Matron how aptly the child had applied
the little homily she had given her on her unheeding desertion of her kitten.

Matron frowned.
“
I shall mention this matter in the report which I
’
m sending off to the authorities today,
”
she said.
“
I shall suggest that they let you stay where you are until the New Year, and that when you go, Maureen accompanies you. They are very understanding people, and will do all they can to help you, I
’
m sure. It
’
s a very painful and difficult case, and can
’
t be handled simply in a routine way.
”

A feeling of relief swept over Catherine; how could she have borne to tell Maureen that she was leaving her? But Matron said, rather sadly:
“
This problem is one that is always coming up in the course of our work. For one reason or another— very often because she very naturally wants to marry and have little ones of her own—a foster
-
mother leaves, and then the children have to start all over again. That
’
s why we try to plan things so that all the foster-mothers belong to all the children.
”

Catherine looked anxious.
“
I never meant to monopolize Maureen
’
s affection,
”
she said quickly.

That familiar and kindly smile spread itself over Matron
’
s homely, weather-beaten features.
“
My dear, you
’
ve done well by Maureen,
”
she said.
“
The case, as I said just now, is quite out of the ordinary; I
’
ve no reproaches for you—nothing but praise.
”
She paused, and that troubled
frown returned.
“
The child
’
s father has told us, more than once, that he intends going back to Belfast, where he originally came from; and he
’
s continually whining for us either to return Maureen to him, or take her off his hands altogether.
”

Catherine shrugged her shoulders.
“
I suppose if he once leaves this country, it will be no end of a job getting him to contribute towards Maureen
’
s keep.
”

Matron gave a short laugh.
“
It
’
s no end
o
f a job now, I gather! Of course,
”
and her face grew grave and thoughtful again,
“
the ideal solution would be to get her adopted
i
nto a nice family. But people
n
aturally prefer small babies to leggy schoolgirls; and in any case, even to leave here would be too much of a wrench for her just at present. She
’
s too weedy to be transplanted into fresh surroundings yet.
”

This characteristic gardening simile made Catherine smile, and Matron went on briskly:
“
Now we mustn
’
t, in all this fuss over Maureen, forget the other children. Miss Playdle and Miss Osworth were to go down to the school this afternoon to talk about the Nativity Play,
and
there will be great excitement when our little contingent comes back for tea.
”

Catherine nodded, repressing firmly the sharp jealousy which clamored for admission at her heart at the thought that Beryl, secure in her position as Andrew
’
s future wife, was once again staying at the Manor. This morning, dependent on Andrew for help and advice, she had almost forgotten Beryl
’
s existence; it had been like having a wound temporarily numbed. Now all the feeling was returning.

“
I
’
ll be as enthusiastic as you please,
”
she told Matron, with an effort at gaiety which would have passed muster with anyone less keen-eyed than Matron.
“
It would be a shame to let them down, poor kids.
”

“
Of course it
w
ould.
”
Matron
’
s tone was brisk.
“
They would be terribly flat and disappointed if we didn
’
t show the keenest interest. Besides,
”
she added soberly,
“
I
’
m only too glad for them to have a distraction. The less they think and talk, about this morning
’
s events, the better for everyone.
”

And when the children came running home from school, their faces flushed by the keen air of the December afternoon, it was plain that the affair of Maureen
’
s stepmother—the knowledge of which it had been impossible to keep from them—had already taken a back place.

Vera Feldick, the eldest girl at the school, had been chosen to play the part of Mary, and a boy of about the same age was to be Joseph. Sturdy Ruth had been granted her wish, and was to figure among the shepherds—most of whom were boys—but Cecily had, it seemed, suggested that since Friday was rather young and might be scared by the bright lights and by all the people, a quiet old collie from the farm might appear on the stage instead. Several of the children from the Home, including Maureen, had been cast as angels, but a special part had been reserved for Nicola, whose voice was as sweet and true as a bird
’
s. She was to be Gabriel, and she, alone of the whole cast, had a solo to sing; an old carol with a sixteenth-century setting which, in its simplicity, exactly suited her light, effortless tones.

The chatter at the tea-table was almost deafening, and when the practical Hilda called for silence, and asked, a shade ruefully, how many costumes she was expected to make between now and Christmas Eve, it rose to a fresh climax. As the play was to be given for a charity, Askworth
’
s, the big drapers
’
in Great Garsford, where Winnie and one or two other girls from the Home were apprenticed, had promised to make the costumes at cost price. Hilda, to whom most of the dressmaking at the Home fell, because of her talent in that direction, would be asked to supervise the designing, but would be freed from all the donkey-work.

Even Hilda could find nothing to grumble at over this arrangement, particularly since Ruth suddenly remembered to deliver a very polite and cordial personal message sent to her by Cecily, mentioning that she would be ringing up that evening to fix a time and place for
a meeting with herself and other members of the committee.

And from that day onward
“
the play
”
was the main topic of conversation at Garsford House. All except the very tiniest were swept up into the excitement of singing practices and rehearsals, and when, as Christmas approached, the costumes began to
arrive in batches from Great Garsford, the sense of thrill became even keener.

Behind the scenes, of course, more important matters had to be dealt with. Matron
had to be interviewed by sundry of
fi
cial visitors in connection with Maureen
’
s alarming experience, and with her own strongly expressed request, sympathetically received, that the child should not, for some time to come, be separated from Catherine. And she had, moreover, to cope with the Christmas catering for her numerous family.

She was adept, however, in thrusting these preoccupations aside, when the children hung about her, eager to discuss what was to them the Great Event; and though her interests
w
ere always practical rather than aesthetic, her encouragement of the children
’
s efforts, and her praise when they did well, was unstinted.

Catherine,
busy with extra chores—for Hilda was giving a considerable amount of time and energy to the designing of attractive costumes—tried hard to share the youngsters
’
enthusiasm, and to shake off the unhappiness she felt over Andrew. The children, she soon discovered, liked Beryl no better for seeing m
ore
of her; their affection was all for Cecily. But this by no means comforted Catherine. She believed that Andrew, loving no one—certainly not herself!—had allowed himself to be rushed into an engagement with Beryl; and that even if he realized he was making a mistake, he would go through with it, and hope for the best.

The days, cold and wintry now, sped by with everything, so far as the play was concerned, going remarkably smoothly, when something happened which threatened to cast a gloom over the whole show, if not to spoil it entirely.

Askworth
’
s were late with the last of the costumes, so that the dress rehearsal w
as
a patchy affair. And when, the very afternoon before the performance,
after a minor blizzard, the final parcel turned up, it was found that Nicola
’
s costume, which had been designed in the style of a Botticelli angel, and which was one of the most important and beautiful of all, was missing.

“
Nicola, for goodness
’
sake
,
stop crying.
”
Hilda, as upset by the mischance as the child herself, and tired
w
ith her recent exertions, sounded thoroughly irritable.
“
Help Miss Emberley with the other children
’
s clothes—everything must be tried on carefully—and I
’
ll telephone and ask Askworth
’
s to put your dress in the post right away.
”

But Fate was against her. When she returned to the playroom a few minutes later it was to tell Catherine shortly that it
w
as impossible to get through to Great Garsford by telephone at all. The snow and the wind had played havoc with the service.

Catherine
’
s heart sank as she saw the dismayed expression on the children
’
s faces. Nicola
’
s solo was to be the star turn of the performance; by it she was to bring shining honor to everyone at the Home. How
c
ould she perform without the lovely dress which had
been specially made for her?

“
It
’
s very tactless of Hilda to come out with the news in that abrupt fashion,
”
she thought; and then was ashamed of her unspoken criticism, for Hilda said, with that characteristic curtness
o
f hers:
“
If you
’
ll get the children to bed on their own this evening—they
’
ll help you as much as they can, I
’
m sure—I
’
ll run over on my bicycle and fetch Nicola
’
s costume. The shop doesn
’
t shut until six, so there
’
ll be plenty of time.
”

“
But what about the snow?
”
Catherine exclaimed.

“
It
’
s thawing already, and the wind seems to have dropped,
”
Hilda told her confidently.
“
Matron thinks I
’
m crazy; but I
’
ve explained to her that I
’
m
used to cycling in all weathers, and that I
’
ve excellent lights.
”