Parents and Children (34 page)

‘What kind of things?'

‘Not little things.'

‘So I forget big things, do I? Would you all say so? Would you, Luce?'

‘No, Mother dear, I should not.'

‘Would you, Daniel?'

‘No, it seems to me an unwarrantable assertion.'

‘Would you, Graham?'

‘No, I should have thought you would have them written on your heart.'

‘Would you, Isabel?'

‘No, I should have thought the opposite.'

‘Would you, Venice?'

‘No, I shouldn't,' said Venice, opening her eyes.

‘Would you, James?'

‘No, I should have thought you would remember them.'

‘Would you, Honor?'

‘No, I shouldn't myself, but Gavin only means you forgot that you saw Father.'

‘He wouldn't either,' said Nevill, excitably. ‘He wouldn't let them say it.'

‘My little boy,' said Eleanor, lifting him to her knee.

‘He would kill them,' said Nevill, sitting compliantly on it.

Gavin appeared to be paying no attention.

‘Are you all going to say your own word to me on my last day?' said Eleanor.

‘You would not think Mother was a person in whom hope would die so hard,' said Graham.

‘I should like to have one from each of you to carry with me.'

‘Surely we have all said one,' said Daniel.

‘And they will be easy to remember, as they are all the same,' said Isabel.

‘It isn't our fault that it is her last day,' said Gavin.

‘The boy is upset in some way,' said Sir Jesse.

‘Yes, of course that is what it is,' said Eleanor.

‘Come, let us all disperse,' said Luce. ‘There is no need to make it a melancholy occasion. Mother has things to do before tomorrow. She and I are going to do them together.'

She left the room with her arm in her mother's. Isabel and Venice and James took the chance to disappear. Sir Jesse withdrew with his grandsons, as was his habit since the loss of his son. Mullet came to fetch the children and led Nevill from the room. Gavin appeared to follow her, but in a moment fell behind and walked up to his grandmother.

‘I saw Father today,' he said.

‘You are thinking of him, because Mother is leaving you. I am thinking of him too. So you and I are feeling the same.'

‘You are not thinking of him because of that, are you?'

Regan laughed, and Gavin's face flushed and his eyes filled with angry tears, but he spoke in a simple, controlled manner.

‘Perhaps he will come to the house.'

‘It would seem quite natural, wouldn't it?'

‘Are you saying what you think is not true?' said Gavin, looking into her face.

‘No, I am not. I shall never get used to being without him.'

‘This house is his home, isn't it?'

‘Yes, of course it is, or was.'

‘It is now,' said Gavin. ‘He hasn't any other. I could tell he hadn't another one, like Mother.'

‘How could you tell?' said Regan.

‘By the way he looked. And by the way he looked at Honor.'

‘Didn't he look at you too?'

‘Not as much. He never does. That is how I first knew it was Father. And then I looked and saw that it was. And I called to Mother, and she went on. And when I looked back, he was gone.'

‘Where did you see him?'

‘In the dark street that goes from the big shops to the little ones. You know there are two inns there. Mother and Honor were in front of me, and Father came out of one of them. And he saw me first, because I was behind, and then he stood and looked at Honor.'

‘Did he know you saw him?' said Regan, feeling it wise to draw out the child's impression.

‘No, I don't think so. If people who are back from the dead, are the same as other people, Mother ought not to marry Mr Ridley. It is against the' law. But perhaps this is different.'

‘People can't come back from the dead, my child.'

‘I think Father has. He looked like that. And he wouldn't be the very first, would he?'

‘How did he look?' said Regan, in a gentle tone.

‘Thin and pale, with a smaller face than he used to have. And his hands were small and pale, coming out of the sleeves of his coat. They looked like Mother's or Luce's. And he must be smaller
himself, because his coat was so large. But I daresay he wouldn't be quite the same. It must have been cold where he was, because the coat had fur on it; and he had worn it often, because it was mended down the front, and one of the fur cuffs was partly gone.'

Regan's eyes were fixed on her grandson, and she kept them on his face as she slowly rose to her feet.

‘Where did you say you saw him?'

Gavin told her again, hardly varying his words, and she suddenly took his hand and hurried to the door. In the hall she snatched the first garment she saw, and almost ran out of the house. She was like a person who feels she must get something over, before she can settle to her life. As they drew near the stables, Gavin dragged at her hand and spoke in a weaker voice.

‘I don't think I need go with you. Father doesn't want to see me the most. Honor would be better, but one person is enough. It is best to be all together, when a person comes back from the dead.'

Regan threw a glance at his face and then at his house clothes, released his hand and pursued her way. He walked back to the house and mounted to the nursery.

‘Grandma has gone to fetch Father. So Mother will know that I saw him. Everyone will.'

‘What are you saying, Master Gavin?' said Mullet.

‘Things will be like they used to be. Father will be here again, even if he isn't the same. And we shall get used to his being different. And I don't think he is so very. I don't know if Mother will be here. She may go with Mr Ridley. But Grandma will love Father, whatever he is like. And one person who really loves him, is enough.'

‘I would rather have a father than a mother,' said Honor. ‘I think all this family would.'

‘He would rather have Father,' said Nevill. ‘But he would rather have poor Mother too. And she won't come every day.'

The carriage was heard to pass the house on its way to the gates.

‘It is Grandma going to the town to find Father,' said Gavin. ‘I told her where I saw him, and what he was like. And she knew it was him.'

‘You did not, Master Gavin!' said Mullet. ‘It was a cruel thing to do. You don't mean her ladyship believed you? That you have sent her by herself to find him? It is a dreadful thing to happen. Whatever can we do?'

‘I didn't send her. She went of her own accord. Children don't send grown-up people. You know that. She was glad that Father had come back. No one could have been more glad. She didn't mind going by herself. She didn't mind even if he was back from the dead.'

‘Grandma loves people, doesn't she?' said Nevill.

‘Well, you must play quietly this afternoon, if you really think what you say,' said Mullet.

‘We ought to be glad he has come back,' said Gavin.

‘Of course you would be. But it would be a solemn occasion.'

‘Why should it? Solemn things are sad. We were solemn when he was dead. We ought not to be the same when it is the opposite. And Nevill is not being quiet.'

‘He is a coachman,' explained the latter, handling imaginary reins and also impersonating the horse. ‘He will drive Grandma to find Father. He will drive her fast.'

‘He is too young to understand,' said Mullet.

‘But if it isn't true, there isn't anything to understand.'

‘And you pretended you thought it was true,' said Mullet, with reproach.

‘He didn't pretend,' said Honor, in a tone that made Hatton turn and look into her face.

‘People only pretend ordinary things,' said Gavin.

‘They can make a mistake about the others,' said Hatton. ‘And the cleverer people are, the sooner they see they have made one. And it is easier to see that out of doors.'

‘I am going to stay in,' said Honor. ‘Then I can go down, if Father comes back and sends for me. He will want to see me, even if he is back from the dead. If he is so very different, he wouldn't remember enough to come home. And I want to see him, whatever he is like. I don't mind if he is a ghost.'

‘He is not a ghost,' said Gavin, in his ordinary voice. ‘He is like he always was. Only he is pale and his face is smaller.'

‘He couldn't be smaller, if he is the same.'

‘He could, if he had got thin.'

‘Would you like to go out, Gavin?' said Hatton, in an easy tone.

‘I don't mind. I can see Father when I come in.'

‘He will stay in,' said Nevill. ‘No, he will go for a walk and hold Mullet's hand. He will find a little nest.'

Honor waited until Mullet and her brothers had gone, and then threw herself into Hatton's arms in a passion of tears.

‘I don't want it to be a mistake. For a minute I thought it was true. I thought Father would come back.'

‘You know he can't do that. You must know, if you think. But you have a great many people to love you.'

‘I haven't. Only Grandma and Luce.'

‘You know how Gavin loves you.'

‘Does he?' said Honor, lifting her head at the idea.

‘More than anyone else in the world. And you know that I love you.'

‘Yes,' said Honor, relaxing her body against Hatton's.

‘And Nevill loves you too.'

‘I don't count Nevill. And James doesn't like people much better than they like him. I don't think people do. And that isn't very much.'

‘You can't think that Isabel does not love you.'

‘She would, if I were as old as she is. But I never shall be, shall I? Because she will get older too. And Venice only loves Isabel.'

‘And there are your big brothers.'

‘Do you mean Daniel and Graham?' said Honor, as if Hatton were hardly likely to mean these.

‘And Mother loves you. You know that.'

‘She feels I belong to her. Gavin is the one she loves. But Mother does her duty by her children.'

‘Would you like me to read to you?'

‘If you read a book I know. Then I can half listen to the reading, and half to hear if Father comes back.'

‘Which is a book that you know?'

‘I know them all,' said Honor. ‘You won't read in a loud voice, will you?'

Hatton read, and Honor divided her attention as she had said, and presently slipped from Hatton's knee and stood with an air of intense listening.

‘Father has come back,' she said, with a sigh of simple and great relief. ‘Gavin did see him. I don't mind if he is back from the dead. I can hear his voice, and it is the same as it used to be. I don't mind anything as long as he is here.'

Hatton went on to the landing, and stood suddenly still, her face growing white.

‘I shall go down,' said Honor. ‘No, I shall wait until they send for me. No, I shall go down now. I have heard his voice, and now I have heard it, I must want to see him, mustn't I? I shall run straight up to him; I don't mind what he is like. He will lift me up as he used to, and if he can't do it like an ordinary man, if it is like a ghost, it will be the ghost of Father.'

She ran down the stairs and broke into the library, where Fulbert was standing with his mother. He turned and came to meet her and lifted and kissed her in his old way, and after the first onset of tears, she subsided in simple content.

‘You are the same,' she said; ‘you are not a ghost; you don't look so very different.'

‘I am grateful for the assurance,' said Fulbert. ‘I hardly know how to explain myself on any other ground. I must be prepared for people's coming to the opposite conclusion.'

‘You will always be here now. It will be like it used to be,' said Honor, as she heard the old note. ‘But if you were alive why didn't you come before?'

‘Father has been ill,' said Regan, who was leaning back in her chair, pale and still but hardly spent. ‘So ill that he could not remember anything. But he will soon be well now.'

‘But that doesn't make him a ghost. He is only like other people who have been ill.'

‘You tell people that,' said Fulbert, ‘if they throw any doubt on my authenticity. I am of flesh and blood like themselves, even if a little less of them.'

‘Do the others know?' said Honor, beginning to jump and quiver in anticipation. ‘I will go and tell them; I am the one to
know first. They won't think it is true at first. Only Gavin will believe it.'

‘Gavin will have his own position in future,' said Fulbert.

Regan smiled as if she were apart from words.

Honor encountered Graham in the hall, and crying the tidings, went on to find Daniel. The young men entered, half-braced for the truth, half-prepared for some travesty of it.

‘Honor should be here with her assurance,' said Fulbert, as he shook hands with his sons and then drew them into his embrace. ‘She protested that I was not a ghost.'

Graham turned aside, white and shaken, and Daniel stood ready to give his support to any who required it. He glanced at his grandmother, but Regan had what she needed.

Luce entered, driven by Honor, started and paled, took some steps towards her father, and threw herself on his breast. Regan surveyed the scene in sympathy, almost at ease. Regan's tears had been shed.

‘Grandma,' said Luce, in a hardly audible tone, as if compelled to the words, ‘does Grandpa know?'

‘Yes, he knows. He has seen your father. He will soon be here.' Regan needed to say no more of Sir Jesse's meeting with his son.

‘Father,' said Luce, in a gentle tone, ‘would it be too much for you to have Isabel and Venice and James ? They are having needless moments of feeling they are fatherless.'

‘It is too much, and it is not enough. Let them all come. It is the healthy and natural way.'