XVIII
A fortnight later Hannah walked across the downs to pay her call on Lilla. Robert Corder had again reminded her of this duty and she was willing enough to perform it. The shadow cast by Mr. Pilgrim had receded, and though she could still see it like a storm-cloud that might, or might not, break, the sky immediately above her was clear and she felt lighthearted. She had found something very whimsical in the comparative indifference of the family towards a visit which, to her, had been so portentous. At breakfast, the next morning, Robert Corder had made some of those kindly, disparaging remarks of which he was a master. He hoped Mr. Pilgrim would not find city life too much for him after the less exacting demands of the country: fortunately for him, the chapel was a small one, with a congregation of simple-minded people and no intellectual influence there, or in the wider interests of Radstowe, would be expected of him. In other words, though he did not use them, Mr. Pilgrim was not likely to sit on any committees with Robert Corder.
Wilfrid’s glance at Hannah was a comment on these bland remarks and a description of the evening’s entertainment. Ethel looked thoughtful and subdued and Ruth was occupied with a letter which was spread out on her knee and sheltered by the table.
When she looked up her face was radiant. “Uncle Jim’s coming for Christmas!” she cried.
“Indeed?” Robert Corder said coldly.
“Good man,” Wilfrid muttered, and Ethel, whose pleasure was spoilt by the fact that Ruth conveyed it, turned to him sharply, saying, “He’s no relation of yours!”
“That’s why I like him,” Wilfrid retorted.
This little flurry passed unnoticed by Robert Corder. He was looking hurt. “I have heard nothing about this visit,” he said.
“Oh, but you will. He’s going to write to you.”
“Is that a letter from him?”
“Yes,” said Ruth, ready to protect it.
“I never ask to see your letters, as you know,” her father said, and waited unsuccessfully for a moment. “But I think it would have been better if he had written to me first, and I don’t know that it will be convenient to have him. You must remember that we have a room less than we had last time he came, and there will be Howard at home, too. There will be extra mouths to cook for and I think Miss Mole ought to be considered in this matter.”
“Oh, Moley—!” Ruth exclaimed, and turned scarlet.
Here was another annoyance for Robert Corder. “That is not the way to address Miss Mole,” he said. “Miss Mole, I would rather you did not allow it.”
“But she doesn’t! I mean—it just slipped out. Miss Mole, two people wouldn’t make such a terrible lot of difference, would they?”
“With due notice, I can feed a regiment,” Hannah said grandly.
“There!” said Ruth, looking at her father boldly.
“Of course she can,” said Ethel, less in support of Ruth than in depreciation of Miss Mole. “I’ve done it myself and nobody thought anything of it.”
“Yes, we did. We thought a lot, because we couldn’t eat the Christmas puddings. You didn’t fill the basins and the water got in. Don’t you remember?”
“Ruthie, Ruthie, that isn’t kind. Ethel did her best. Now don’t get excited, but run off to school or you’ll be late.”
“But I am excited and there’s plenty of time. And Wilfrid will be away for the Christmas days and you know you always make him and Howard share a room when they’re here together, and what difference will Uncle Jim make? You can’t not have him, when it’s the first Christmas he’s had at home for years. But it won’t be the last! He’s left the sea!”
“Left the sea?” Robert Corder repeated, and he looked towards the letter which Ruth was putting in her pocket.
“Retired,” said Ruth, enjoying her private information. “He says he thinks he’ll buy a little farm,” and she disappeared before her father could make it difficult for her to keep her letter to herself.
“Well, well,” he said, tolerantly, “I suppose we must forgive a bluff sailor for his rough and ready manners. No doubt I shall hear from him before long.”
“And you’ll let him come, won’t you?” Ethel begged.
Robert Corder decided to become the indulgent father. “I see I shall have an unhappy Christmas if I don’t,” he said playfully and Hannah made a mental note of this weakness which, in anyone else, she might have called amiability.
It was plain that he did not care for Uncle Jim, who was Mrs. Corder’s brother and, with Mr. Blenkinsop’s affairs already developing in her mind, Hannah began busying herself with Uncle Jim, his sister and her husband, and seeking any information she could get, though she could manage very well without it.
While she crossed the downs, keeping to the paths for the sake of Lilla’s carpets, thinking that a grey sky was lovelier than a blue one, that the bare trees were exquisite against it and that the proper place for leaves was the ground, she was imagining little past scenes between Uncle Jim and Robert Corder, and clumsily tender ones between Mr. Blenkinsop and Mrs. Ridding. She did not trouble about the construction of her dramas: she saw pictures and framed sentences; she saw Uncle Jim with a protective arm round his sister’s waist and heard Mr. Blenkinsop saying solemnly, “Yes, since that very first evening—” She imagined Uncle Jim as a modern buccaneer, bronzed and bearded, and though she feared he would not actually have rings in his ears, it would be surprising not to see them there, and suddenly, the actors in her little scenes became Uncle Jim and herself. Those flashing eyes of his pierced below her plain exterior and recognised a kindred spirit, and he would carry her off to sea, for really, it was absurd for a sailor to think he could turn farmer, but, if he persisted, she would be there to help him, and they would adopt Ruth and live happy ever after.
“H’m,” Hannah said in self-derision. She had arrived at Lilla’s chains and posts, and the windows of the red and white house were looking at her with coldly-practical eyes. Her fancies could not live under that gaze. The bold buccaneer would choose a buxom wench for partner; Miss Mole must continue to trust in the rich old gentleman, and she was wondering whether Lilla knew anything about Mr. Samson, when the severe parlourmaid opened the door and, making no mistake this time, took Hannah to the drawing-room.
“You’re looking very well, Hannah,” Lilla said, taking the credit to herself.
“And you’re looking more like a robin than ever, dear,” Hannah said, making the usual peck at her cousin’s cheek. “It’s nice to see you in your natural habitat, or whatever they call it. You have such an exalted expression in chapel that I hardly know you, though of course, I’m proud of our slight acquaintance.”
“Now, don’t begin your nonsense, but tell me how you’re getting on.”
“I shouldn’t like to boast,” Hannah said, “until I hear what Mr. Corder has told you.”
“Very little. Naturally, as I recommended you, he wouldn’t like to make any complaints to me. And, perhaps, there are none to make,” she added generously. “How do you think you are managing yourself?”
“Splendidly! Almost too well, I’m sometimes afraid. I’m glad to have you to confide in, Lilla. I’m rather worried and I want your advice.”
“Then it’s the first time you’ve wanted anybody’s,” Lilla said drily, and her bright eyes hardened with suspicion.
“Thank God, I’ve never had the same need to!” Hannah exclaimed. “You’ll hardly believe me, Lilla—”
“You may be sure of that, but, whatever it is, just talk about something else till the tea has come in.”
“Yes,” said Hannah, “that’s the kind of thing it is. And I hope it’s a good tea, because I’ve been rather mean with ours lately. Saving up for Christmas. We’re going to have Mrs. Corder’s brother with us. Do you know anything about him?”
“I believe he’s a sailor of some sort. I think he calls himself a captain, but not, of course, in the Navy.”
“No, if he had been, I should have heard of it. I don’t much mind about his profession. It’s his character, his impressionability, his income, I’m after. And his age. That’s rather important, but he can hardly be a stripling.”
“Really, Hannah—Now, let me show you these little bags I’m making for Christmas presents,” she said brightly as the maid came in. “Pretty, aren’t they?”
“Very pretty,” Hannah said, wondering which one she would get. Lilla’s presents to people like herself would be of the hashed-mutton variety, and Hannah was glad. A handsome present from Lilla would have been difficult to accept and, so far, she had not been put to that inconvenience.
“I thought one of these would do very well for Ethel Corder.”
“She’d love it, but give her a gaudy one, and put a modest little cheque inside.”
“I don’t think I need reminding of that,” Lilla said coldly. “First and last, I do a good deal for the Corders.”
“And Ethel’s devoted to you. If I wasn’t devoted to you myself, I should get rather tired of hearing your name. And little does she suspect that you and I were practically fed at the same bosom. Figuratively speaking, Lilla, figuratively speaking! And I’ve heard Mr. Corder use that expression himself.”
“Not about human beings,” Lilla said, “and I don’t like it.”
“But between us girls!” Hannah protested mildly. “You must give me a little licence, and that reminds me of another thing I want to ask you. Do you know an old man called Samson, who lives next door to us in Beresford Road? Keeps a parrot and dozens of cats.”
“I’ve heard the parrot and a very objectionable noise it makes. Isn’t he a common old man with a red face?”
“Yes, gloriously common,” Hannah said. “That’s why I like him. I’m common myself. There’s no need to think before you speak, with him. It does me good. I’ve made friends with him, Lilla, you won’t be surprised to hear. He’s had bronchitis lately, and I’ve been doing his shopping for him, and if there are any coppers in his change he lets me keep them for my trouble, on condition that I don’t put them in the plate on Sunday.”
“Then, if that’s the truth, and I don’t suppose it is, I think you’re very unwise. Isn’t there anybody else to do it for him?”
“Not a soul, poor old dear. He looks after the house himself, and very neat and clean it is, in spite of the cats.”
“Then it’s still more unwise, but, of course, I don’t really believe you’d take the man’s money.”
“That the truest part of a perfectly true tale. Funny, isn’t it? It pleases him and I don’t mind a bit. It doesn’t often come to more than twopence halfpenny, because I do some juggling with sixpences and threepenny-bits.”
“Well, you’d better be careful. You were not engaged to look after the neighbours and, from what I remember of the man, I don’t think Mr. Corder would approve of the acquaintance.”
“Ah,” said Hannah, “that’s where I score. I happen to have a trump card up my sleeve and out it will come when it’s wanted, I confess I’m looking forward to the moment.”
“Oh, well,” Lilla sighed, “it’s no good talking to you. You’ll go your own way and you’ll come to grief and it will be most unpleasant for me.”
“We have to bear each other’s burdens, dear,” Hannah said quietly. “And I’ll have another crumpet, if I may. They’re so beautifully buttery.”
“Very indigestible, I’m afraid. I daren’t touch them.”
“And a crumpet that isn’t swimming in butter is about as much use as a ship in dry dock. I’ll try that little aphorism on Uncle Jim—if it is an aphorism. I’ll look it up. If you want to give me a Christmas present, Lilla, give me a dictionary.”
“Mr. Corder must have dozens of dictionaries.”
“Well, they’re not mine—yet,” Hannah said.
Lilla pretended not to hear this remark. “I’m going to give you one of these little bags. And now,” Hannah was waiting for this, “what do you want my advice about?”
“No, no, I’m not going to worry you, but,” she leaned forward eagerly, “I must just ask you one question. Have you ever heard that Mr. Corder walks in his sleep? That’s my one hope, Lilla. Did Mrs. Corder ever complain of that, among other things?”
“Mrs. Corder never complained of anything. Why should she?”
“There’s a skeleton in every cupboard. Now I wonder how that saying arose. We go on, using these expressions, part of our common heritage, Lilla—”
“I wish you wouldn’t harp so much on being common, but just keep the fact to yourself.”
Hannah put down her cup with a shaking hand. “You shouldn’t make me laugh when I’m drinking. Oh, Lilla, what a treasure you are! All right, I won’t. But it’s part of our heritage, all the same, and neither you nor I know where it comes from. Now, the kind of dictionary I want is the kind that will tell me things like that. I’m afraid it will be rather expensive.”
“I don’t see what you want with a dictionary, and I haven’t a skeleton in my cupboard and I don’t believe there’s one in Robert Corder’s. You’d better speak plainly, Hannah.”
“I’ll speak as plainly as I can without being improper, though, really it wasn’t so very improper because I pretended to be asleep, as any nice woman would, but imagine my horror when Mr. Corder opened my bedroom door and came and had a look at me. It wasn’t a long look, and I don’t wonder, but a look it was! Now, how can you explain that?”
“I can’t,” Lilla said slowly, “but I’m sure you can. It’s no good trying those tricks on me, Hannah, and if it had really happened you wouldn’t have told me. I hope you won’t try them on anyone else. In the first place, they’re vulgar and, in the second, they’re not funny.”
Hannah looked disappointed. “I thought it was very funny at the time. I must have told it badly. I haven’t been very successful with my stories lately. And it would have been funnier still if I’d just opened an eye and winked at him. I meant to put that in when I told you and I forgot. Well, I must go back and call on Mr. Samson. He would have seen the joke. The good jokes, Lilla, are the ones in which character and circumstances conflict humorously and Mr. Samson would appreciate this one.”
“For goodness sake, don’t tell him!” Lilla exclaimed. “If he thinks you’re that kind of woman—”
“He knows exactly what kind of woman I am, which is more than you do, Lilla dear.”
“But what’s the real explanation?” Lilla asked, almost wistfully.
“Family secrets, family secrets!” Hannah said. “I’ve kept yours and I’m going to keep the Corders’.”