The English Tutor (13 page)

Read The English Tutor Online

Authors: Sara Seale

BOOK: The English Tutor
11.75Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub


Hello!

Conn said, including them all in a vague salute.

I just looked in to tell you, Clancy, that Sunrise has foaled and it

s a filly.


A filly!

Clancy ran up to him.

Oh, Conn, that

s wonderful! When did it happen? Why wasn

t I there?


Yesterday afternoon. I thought you were coming over.

Clancy

s look of anguish was out of all proportion to the occasion.


He
kept me,

she cried, jerking her head in Mark

s direction.

He kept me in the whole afternoon when I should have been helping you with the mare. I

ll never forgive him.

Conn gave her a careless pat.


Don

t fuss yourself. We got on very well without you,

he said, and crossed over to Mark, holding out a hand.

You, I suppose, are this English monster I

ve been hearing so much about. I

m Conn Driscoll.

The two men shook hands, and Conn said:


Is the poor child in your bad books already, to be kept in on a fine summer

s afternoon?


It was Clancy

s own fault,

said Mark.

She cut her morning

s work, and it had to be done in her free time.

Conn scratched his red head.


I see what you mean, Clancy, my dear,

he said with a grin.

It

s the English way, you know. Everything laid down for you—British discipline.

Clancy grinned, scenting an ally.


He

ll learn, won

t he, Conn?

she said gaily.

Mark sat down at the table again.


No, Clancy, I think it

s you who will learn,

he said.

Sit down please, and get on with your work.

She hung on to Conn

s arm.


Oh, but it

s nearly lunch-time,

she said.

I must go and see the filly at once. What will you call her, Conn?


Well, now, I thought you

d find a name for her,

he said, preparing to sit on the edge of the table and discuss the matter.


I

m sorry, Mr. Driscoll, but I must ask you to go,

Mark said quietly.

I can

t have my classes interrupted. Sit down Clancy, and we

ll go on with the lesson.

Conn grimaced, ruffled Clancy

s hair and strolled to the door.


The good old days are gone, my fine girl,

he said.

Sit down and do your lessons, and perhaps this afternoon your English gaoler will let you off the chain.


As long as she does her work this morning,

said Mark imperturbably.


What do you think, Conn?

asked Brian gleefully,

we

re going to do Oliver Cromwell for history.


That,

said Conn, before he shut the door,

should prove to be a battle rather than a lesson.

Clancy turned on Mark.


If you try and come between me and Conn
—”
she
cried, but he barely gave her a glance.


My dear child, don

t be so silly,

he replied.

I

ve no desire to come between you and anybody, as you so dramatically put it. I

m simply here to teach you, and working hours are working hours, and that

s all there is to it. Now sit down and don

t hold up the lesson any longer.

Mark became fond of the tower room. It was pleasant to be able to get right away from the rest of the house and know that he would not be disturbed. Here at the top of his own undisputed staircase he could shut himself away and forget them all: Kevin with his changeable moods; Aunt Bea, self-effacing and vague; Agnes with her resentful distrust; and Clancy, touchy, withdrawn, and always ready to flare out at him.

There were times when their indifference to world affairs irritated him profoundly.

Once Kevin said to him:


You think us a very self-centred race, don

t you, Cromwell? You resent our immunity from world affairs—perhaps even despise us a little. And yet, you know, we fought for our independence, for our right to immunity.


Has anyone the right to immunity these days?

Mark answered gently, and Kevin smiled.


I don

t know,

he said.

I don

t know. The great days of Ireland are past—the days Clancy would have return—and we

ve fallen into a decay perhaps—I don

t know. But isn

t it good to find peace in some little unimportant country—peace in Ireland where never peace was known?


Yes,

Mark said,

perhaps you

re right. I find it hard to adjust myself yet. You

re all so young, so uncaring. Take Clancy, for instance. So many of the girls I

ve known in England were only a year or so older, but they were mature compared to her, self-reliant intelligent young women with little time for tantrums.

But the subject of Clancy held no interest for Kevin.

Ah, she

ll grow up one of these days,

he said carelessly.

Irish girls are different. They marry early unless they

re like my poor sister, and in either case their job is to look after a home and some man. Are your English girls any better for their freedom? Look at my niece, Clodagh, now. As pretty a little piece as you could wish to find, but twenty-two and not married yet. That

s what comes of gadding around and picking and choosing, as I tell my sister, Kate. I

ll not have that nonsense when it

s Clancy

s turn. Settle the women of your family, my dear Cromwell, and you

ll save yourself a deal of trouble.

Mark smiled.


The French used to have the same point of view,

he said.

Quite often it worked. Don

t you believe in love, then, Mr. O

Shane? Or do you hold that marriage can get on quite well without it?


You speak with reproof. Were you ever in love?

There was a little silence, then Mark answered quietly:

Yes, I was in love, in my own meaning of the term.


And she let you down—threw you over for a man with more to offer. Love! Women!


No,

said Mark politely,

she was killed in a plane crash a few years ago.

He liked Kevin despite his obvious failings. He drank too much, was a bad father, and had doubtless been a bad husband, but there was a charm and a certain honesty about him which compelled liking.

With Clancy Mark made little progress. He tried letting her alone, and he tried drawing her out, but neither method produced any marked result in her attitude towards him. She had learned to observe his few rules because it was clearly foolish to punish herself for the sake of a gesture, but she showed her dislike in countless other ways. She refused to be friendly with him during leisure hours avoiding his company whenever possible, and she contrived to make her studies with him into a ste
rn
test for patience.

One morning, Mark closed his books at half-past twelve and to
l
d Brian he could go out in the garden for half an hour before lunch.


No, not you, Clancy,

he said, as she jumped up thankfully.

I want to have a talk with you. Sit down, and pay attention.

He looked at her thoughtfully and when Brian had gone, said quietly:


I

ve had enough.

Her face lit up with expectation.


You mean you

ve decided to go—you

ve thrown your hand in?

she said quite affably.

He did not smile, but continued to regard her steadily.

Certainly not,

he replied.

When I said I

d had enough, I meant I

d had enough of your present behaviour and it

s got to stop.


I don

t do anything,

she said.


Exactly—you don

t do anything. You don

t attempt to show any normal intelligence, let alone do any work.

He clasped his hands on the table before him and leant forward.

Now, listen to me, Clancy. I

ve stood a good deal from you for your family

s sake and also because I wanted to give you time to settle down, but I

m not going to put up with things as they are any longer. If you have no inclination to learn that

s your affair, and I can perfectly well arrange matters so that you won

t hold up my classes with idiotic questions, but I

m not going to have Brian

s studies upset in this fashion any longer. He wants to learn and he at least is entitled to some consideration. In future, when you deliberately obstruct a lesson it will be counted as impertinence and will be punished by an appropriate number of lines in the usual manner. You will write these lines in the afternoon and that will effectively put a stop to things you would much rather be doing. Do I make myself clear?

A slow flush stained her cheeks.


You can

t punish me for asking questions,

she said.


Oh yes I can, when the questions and your general attitude are simply designed to upset my classes. I seem to remember telling you before that I

m quite used to the ways of tiresome pupils and quite capable of dealing with them accordingly. You don

t want to force me to speak to your father, do you? He might put a stop to these visits to Slievaun if I told him they unsettled your work.

Other books

All That Remains by Michele G Miller, Samantha Eaton-Roberts
Sweet Backlash by Violet Heart
The Attic by John K. Cox
Live Bait by P. J. Tracy
Finest Years by Max Hastings
Redemption by Denise Grover Swank
The Arms Maker of Berlin by Dan Fesperman
The Obsession and the Fury by Nancy Barone Wythe