Gone Away Page 13

  “Of course I don’t mind stopping there for a week,” Kitty replied, “but I do think it was awful of them both to let you go so easily—after all you’ve done for Maimie too!” Kitty said.

  “They think I have to go, and you mustn’t forget that Seymour doesn’t feel he owes me any thanks after the way he believes I’ve behaved. Maimie—well, Maimie is much too engrossed in her wedding preparations to bother much. Why, in a week’s time she’ll be off to Java on her honeymoon!”

  “Neither of them thought of asking you if you had enough money for your fare?” Kitty’s question was more in the form of a statement.

  “Oh, yes, Seymour did,” Patricia broke in quickly. She gave a laugh in which there was little merriment. “I’ve told you he wouldn’t have let anything stand in the way of my leaving.” Her tone became more natural. “I refused. Somehow I couldn’t bear to borrow from him, and I felt sure that either you or Ian would help me,” she stated apologetically.

  “I’m jolly glad you asked us,” Kitty insisted. “Ian doesn’t want you to hurry to pay him back either; he says it’s a loan for just as long as you want it.”

  The return of the shipping clerk terminated the discussion. Yes, there was a berth vacant on the mail-boat leaving in the morning. Should they reserve it, and would madam like to take up her tickets straight away? Patricia nodded. There was no reason to wait; she had made up her mind to leave and nothing would persuade her to alter that intention.

  Patricia felt strangely moved when she saw the clerk fill in the blank form with the necessary particulars. How differently her dream had turned out from the hopes which had filled her heart when she had first set foot on the shores of this country! During the ensuing days she had grown to love it more and more until she felt it was her home.

  “I think you’ll find this in order. Will you kindly make out a cheque for the amount indicated?”

  The young man’s words roused Patricia from her reverie. She took the documents with trembling fingers while she watched Kitty write out the cheque and place it on the counter. A few moments later she was seated again in the car by Kitty’s side. The papers were still held loosely in her hands; she was scarcely aware of the drive home. Such flimsy, unimportant-looking papers, and yet they were changing the whole course of her life. A ticket, a cheque, and tomorrow she would be watching the green coast of Singapore fade away into the horizon as she bade goodbye to its beauty forever.

  “Here you are, then.” Kitty drew the car to a standstill outside Seymour’s bungalow. “I won’t come in, because I expect you’ll be busy with your packing, but don’t forget that we expect you round for dinner tonight. Either Ian or Bob will fetch you, and we’ll all come down to the docks in the morning to see you off.”

  Patricia’s heart warmed to her friend’s kindness and, as she pressed her hand in farewell, she was almost inarticulate.

  “Thank you ... for everything ... and Ian too. I know you must think that I’ve behaved foolishly. I didn’t take your advice ... if I had, everything might have been different.” She leaned more confidently toward Kitty and a flush mounted her pale cheeks. “Something happened ... I didn’t tell you. I came across an old letter and it told me so much I had never known—that if I hadn’t been foolish, I could have had Seymour. He loved me once. Through my own folly I lost him. Now, just because I’ve come to my senses and really understand, it would be hardly fair if I did anything which might take him away from Maimie. I lost my chance of happiness, but I’ve no right to jeopardize hers.”

  “I see, so that’s what happened. I have tried to see your viewpoint, I have really. I think I do in a way. I only wish that Maimie were more worthy of your sacrifice.” Kitty smiled, though her eyes were suffused with tears. “I’m going to miss you terribly. Even in this short time we’ve grown so friendly; it will be lonely without you.”

  “You’ll be married soon, and you know I wish you and Ian all the happiness in the world,” Patricia said fervently. “Now I’d better say au revoir until tonight; as you say, I’ve plenty of packing to get done.”

  Patricia waved until the car was out of sight. Turning round, she slowly walked up the gravelled drive. Maimie’s voice greeted her from the verandah.

  “What happened? Were you able to get a berth?”

  “Yes. Everything is fixed. I sail at nine tomorrow. Now come and help me pack.”

  Maimie jumped to her feet and followed Patricia into her bedroom. “Of course I’ll help you. You fold the things and I’ll put them in your trunk. I’m no good at folding.” She pulled the trunk from beneath the bed and threw back the lid.

  “I’ll do the heavy things first; they can go in the bottom,” Patricia said while she busied herself emptying her cupboard.

  “I can’t really believe you’re going,” Maimie announced somewhat crossly while she slowly piled the folded garments into the box. “It’s an awful shame you couldn’t wait until after my wedding. Most inconvenient of your father, I call it.”

  Patricia bit her lips. It really was rather mean of her to deceive Maimie as to the true reason for her hurried departure; yet, she argued, she could serve little purpose by telling her. “I know it’s a pity, but Kitty is coming here tomorrow, so you won’t miss me too much.”

  “Kitty isn’t you,” Maimie muttered irritably, then, pausing in her packing, she looked up. “If that cable hadn’t come I should have said it was a put-up job.”

  “Oh, the cable came all right,” Patricia agreed noncommitally.

  “I should have imagined that you’d had a row with Seymour last night, and that he’d got the wrong end of the stick and accused you of an intrigue with Claud.”

  Patricia forced a laugh. “Good gracious, no. He certainly imagined that Claud had called to see me, and he was probably shocked, but, after all, Seymour has no control over my affairs; it would hardly have necessitated anything so drastic as flight,” she said with assumed lightness.

  “I thought he seemed thoroughly peeved with you this morning, all the same.” Maimie added another garment to the half-filled trunk. “Why didn’t you accept the fare when he offered to lend it? You told me you hadn’t any money when we came away.”

  “I haven’t. Ian is lending it to me. I have accepted quite enough of Seymour’s hospitality, without accepting his money as well.” Patricia rolled some shoes into paper and threw them on the bed with unnecessary force.

  “That’s absurd. I think you have more call on Seymour than you have on Ian,” Maimie insisted.

  Patricia paused in her packing and turned angrily on her companion. “Why do you keep on badgering me with questions?” She broke off suddenly and regained her control. “I’m sorry. I’m a bit on edge. I suppose you may as well know the truth. I did have a row with Seymour last night. He was quite justly furious when he imagined I entertained Claud in my bedroom at night. I couldn’t very well defend myself without involving you. Directly I came face to face with Seymour at breakfast this morning I realized that it would be sheer misery to spend another week beneath this roof and meet his furious look all the time. The cable was just a heaven-sent gift. It wasn’t to recall me home, but, with a sudden inspiration, I saw my means of escape and pretended it was.”

  Maimie stared in open-eyed astonishment.

  “Goodness ... I didn’t realize ... then it is all my fault...” she stammered.

  “I suppose it is in a way, but I had less to lose than you, so I thought it better to hold my tongue,” Patricia announced briefly.

  “But you want to stay ... you were to have a job with the Wanes ... it was the very thing you hoped for when we left England.”

  “I may as well be truthful about that too. That job was what I wanted, exactly what I had hoped for, but, for reasons which I can’t very well explain, it had lost its attraction. I admit I shouldn’t have returned home yet. So, you see, the sacrifice isn’t quite as drastic as it might appear. I should have taken advantage of Kitty’s hospitality for a while; but later, in any c
ase, I should have looked for a post somewhere else.”

  “I see. I’m sorry all the same. I feel terribly guilty,” Maimie faltered.

  “You needn’t. I should probably have failed to find another position, then it would have been home for me anyway!” Patricia assured her friend. For a few moments there was silence between them, until Patricia spoke again. “Don’t let Seymour know that you suspect any breach between us; he probably thinks you were fast asleep and blissfully unaware of our contretemps last night. It’s far better to let him go on thinking so, and of course you must never let him imagine that the cable wasn’t all I said it was.”

  “Of course I won’t.” Maimie scrambled to her feet and hugged Patricia. “You’ve been an angel to me and I shall never forget it. I hope one day I shall be able to do as much for you. I’d do anything, really I would, to show you my gratitude.”

  “I’m sure you would.” Patricia disengaged herself from Maimie’s embrace. “I don’t expect I’ll ever call on you to do much, but there is one thing you can do.” She pulled Maimie round to face her. “Just one thing! Be good to Seymour. He loves you; don’t let him down. He’s one of the finest men in the world; try and be worthy of him.”

  Maimie’s eyes met Patricia’s unflinchingly. “I know he’s miles too good for me, but perhaps association will make me better too. Anyway, I promise you I’ll try and make him happy, although I really can’t see why you should get so intense about it,” she ended with a laugh.

  “Was I intense? I didn’t mean to be.” Patricia paused. “Isn’t that Seymour back for lunch? We’d better leave the packing for the present.”

  A few minutes later, when they were gathered at the luncheon table, it was Maimie who broke the news to Seymour.

  “Patricia was able to get a berth. She sails in the morning.”

  “I see ... We shall miss you.” Seymour did not lift his eyes from his plate as he spoke. “It is unfortunate that you have to return so suddenly.”

  Patricia was acutely conscious of the lack of sincerity in his tone,. Controlling her chagrin, she answered him. “Unfortunate, but necessary. I have spoken to Kitty. She will willingly come here for the time being in my place.”

  “That’s fine. I shouldn’t have liked Maimie to stay in an hotel, and she couldn’t have remained here alone.”

  Patricia bent low over her plate to hide the smile which curved her lips. Was that rebuke intended for her, an example of his own ideas of decorum? “I shall say goodbye to you after lunch. I’m going to the Wanes tonight, so I shall probably have left before you get back, and in the morning I certainly shall not be up before you go out.”

  “But Maimie and I will see you off,” Seymour protested.

  This time Patricia could see that his concern was genuine, but even then she felt no gratitude, as she had an uneasy conviction that the idea of seeing her off was far more the conventional idea of speeding the parting guest than any real desire to show her any attention. “Please don’t trouble to come to the docks. It means breaking into your morning.”

  “If you’d rather not...” Seymour pushed back his chair and rose from the table. He turned to Maimie. “Darling, I won’t wait for coffee. I’ve got a big job on, I want to rush back.” He walked round to Patricia’s chair with extended hand. “Goodbye, Pat. Bon voyage.”

  Patricia felt the warm clasp of his hand round hers and for a fleeting second was aware of his steely eyes searching hers. Within their blue-grey depths there was an inscrutable expression, wholly puzzling and strangely comforting, as if even now, before it was too late, he longed to hear her condemn his attitude, longed to reach some understanding that would mitigate the inexplicable distress that encompassed him. If Patricia was aware of his appeal, she showed no sign; she dared not even attempt to read the unspoken message in his eyes. Returning the pressure of his hand, she drew hers quickly away and watched him turn on his heel and disappear through the open doorway into the garden beyond.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Patricia leaned her arms on the window sill and stared down into the street below. London in spring ... the words had a poetic sound, but the scene below presented anything but a poet’s inspiration. The first breath of warm air had attracted every child from the neighboring streets of the locality to the small patch of green in the crescent in front of the half-circle of houses. Urchins of all ages shrieked and sang with glee as they scampered in the confined space.

  Patricia drew her knees up beneath her on the window-seat and leaned her head back against the woodwork. Although she had been back in London more than a month she still had moments when this life, familiar as it should have been, seemed unreal, and dreamlike. The picture of that brief journey to the East remained so vivid, recurring so frequently to her mind, that sometimes Singapore was still the real centre of her existence. In some ways she had fallen back into her old life readily enough. Mrs. Jutson had welcomed her warmly, and her shabby bedsitting-room, boasting no successor, was ready and waiting to receive her. A job had miraculously materialized at her first application, and in actual fact she was settled back to her old routine as if she had never left it. Her first duty after her return had been to visit her father’s Vicarage, and as she had anticipated, the cable, typical of her stepmother’s over-anxious attitude toward illness, had been sent wholly unnecessarily. Her father, although he had suffered from a temporary indisposition, was now in perfect health. Even after her absence, her home, ruled by her stepmother, offered little appeal, and she was glad to cut short her visit and return to the solitary comfort of her lodgings.

  No news had followed Patricia from Singapore, but that was her own fault for, being unsure of finding accommodation again in her old quarters, she had left no address. Only when Ian’s loan had been promptly repaid with a cheque from her father had she given anyone in Singapore information of her whereabouts. She did not attempt to hide from herself that she did not want to hear from Singapore, that for the time being she wanted to remain cut off from that episode, until she had had time to readjust her thoughts and sort out her emotions.

  Maimie was no doubt married by now; probably still on her honeymoon. Patricia had only to close her eyes to visualize Maimie’s wedding in every detail. During her stay in Singapore, she had so often visited the cathedral in which the wedding was to take place. She could picture Maimie, clothed in clinging white, standing by Seymour’s side, her head bowed beneath the soft veiling tulle, the sun slanting through the stained-glass windows, weaving zigzag patterns on the sheen of her gown and creating a golden halo for her head.

  Patricia dragged herself away from the window, and, crossing to her mirror, pulled on her hat. It was much too fine a day to remain indoors; she had little enough time for air and exercise while working in an office all day. Picking up her gloves and bag, she left her room and hurrying down the long flight of stairs, let herself out. Directing her steps toward Regent’s Park, she was soon out of the vicinity of the shrieking children and making her way along quiet streets. In a more decorous way Regent’s Park was also suffering from the first promise of warm weather, and nurses, perambulators and children crowded the pathways between the beds of spring flowers and the blossom-laden trees.

  Patricia made her way to the edge of the lake, where, in desultory fashion, she watched the children throwing crumbs of bread to the swans and ducks.

  “Surely it’s Patricia!”

  Patricia swung round at the mention of her name. For a moment she stared as if her eyes were deceiving her. Then, assured that she was not dreaming, she spoke. “Ian! Why, Ian, what on earth are you doing here?” she asked, her voice pitched high with surprise.

  “Yes, it’s me all right. I’ve been in England nearly as long as you ... followed by the next boat, in fact,” Ian responded laughingly.

  “Where’s Kitty ... is she with you?” Patricia’s voice was bubbling with excitement. “Why did you decide to return? I had no idea ... surely it was a very sudden decision?” Her eager questions
tumbled out one after the other.

  Ian slipped his arm beneath hers. “Come somewhere where we can talk quietly and I’ll tell you everything. Perhaps we can find a seat.” He looked toward the bank. “Or how about somewhere for a cup of tea?”

  “Whatever you like. I don’t mind.” Patricia fell into step by Ian’s side. “There is sure to be a vacant seat somewhere, or, if you prefer it, there is a tea place a few minutes away.”

  “Then let’s make for that. I’ll tell you all my news over a cup of tea and, in the meantime, tell me, how are you?”

  Patricia smiled. “I’m fine, thanks ... quite settled down to London and business again. I’ve almost forgotten I ever left it,” she exclaimed, but Ian was quick to detect a note of insincerity in her tone.

  “Poor Pat ... you had a rotten end to your adventure.” He pressed her arm sympathetically. “Kitty told me all about it. You didn’t mind my knowing, did you?” he queried anxiously.

  “Of course not, and I’ve never thanked you for your loan. I hope you received the repayment safely?”

  They turned down the path leading to the tea house. “I did, thanks; it was forwarded to me here. I called at your place this afternoon. It’s the first opportunity I’ve had since I got back. Your landlady told me I’d probably find you by the lake.”

  “Yes, it’s a favorite walk of mine. I’m awfully glad to see you again, and it was very clever of you to find me,” Patricia rejoined with enthusiasm.

  “Yes, I could scarcely believe my eyes; it seemed too good to be true,” he replied boyishly. He stopped speaking as they neared the tea house. “This looks quiet and cosy. Now what about it? Tea in the open or indoors?”