Friends and Lovers (11 page)

“I always think this room is so bare, so masculine,” Mrs. Lorrimer said, walking quickly through Penelope’s bedroom.

David thought it wise not to contradict, even politely. The colours were not those any man would have dared to use together. The amazing thing was that they made a quiet room and gave it a feeling of space.

It would be pleasant to live in a room like that.

“Your house is charming,” he said to Mrs. Lorrimer, as they went downstairs, and his remark won a real smile. It also involved a quick visit to a dark, book-lined room, all very leather-and-mahogany, with silver cups on the high carved mantelpiece.

“This is my husband’s study,” Mrs. Lorrimer said.

“Most impressive,” he said, and nodded to the silver cups.

Tor tennis,” Mrs. Lorrimer said.

“He used to win everything. He hasn’t much time now, of course.”

“Of course.”

In the drawing-room the coffee-tray was waiting on a low table in front of the couch. As Mrs. Lorrimer poured coffee and hot milk in equal proportions into the cups she went on talking about her husband.

“He enjoys the tennis at North Berwick, you know. We have gone there every August for years. If you had arrived here next weekend I am afraid you would have found a closed house.”

David, whose chief worry during the last week had been that he might not discover Penny’s address before the Lorrimers left for North Berwick, said, “Then I should have been a very lost stranger in Edinburgh.”

“I should have thought you would have stayed on for the Twelfth,” Mrs. Lorrimer said.

“You are missing the chief excitement in the Highlands, you know.”

Perhaps she was wishing that he had stayed at the Lodge for the Twelfth.

David felt some of the concealed regret in her voice, accepted a shortbread biscuit, and said quickly, “I wonder if you and your daughter would lunch with me today?” Thank Heaven he had his ticket for London already in his pocket, but he wondered if his remaining thirty shillings would be adequate. Less than thirty bob now: haircut and shave, suitcase in the left-luggage place, tips, bus fare out to the Crescent. He made the calculation quickly. He set down the fine cup on the silver tray, almost letting it fall in relief as he heard her refuse.

Politely, sweetly, but definitely. She was already engaged for luncheon.

She was so sorry.

“I am too,” he said, now beginning to worry whether Penny was already booked up in this same party or not. Stupidly he had not thought of that before.

He had been so damned sure that she would be free. He looked so dejected that Mrs. Lorrimer was suddenly friendly. Perhaps, too, her little subterfuge troubled her. Anyway, she began to talk very pleasantly about Edinburgh.

Then Penny appeared at last. Mrs. Lorrimer’s quick glance | took in her daughter’s newest suit, which normally was worn, in the first six months of its existence, only for the most special occasions. That wasn’t all, either.

Penelope was wearing her smartest high-heeled shoes, and that expensive blouse which had been bought only last week.

“Well!” Mrs. Lorrimer said.

“We wondered what was keeping you.” David said, “Are you going out to lunch too?”

“Why, no,” Penny said, in surprise. She looked at her mother’s startled face.

“Then I hope you’ll have it with me. You won’t object, will you, Mrs. Lorrimer?”

Mrs. Lorrimer found she was helpless in face of the direct attack. If he had said, “May she?” Mrs. Lorrimer could have said, “I’m sorry, but Penelope can’t manage that to-day. Perhaps on your next visit.” But now she would seem rude if she said, “Yes.” And she had no real reason for objecting. Except there was just the little feeling that things were moving much too quickly out of her control.

She looked at her daughter’s happy smile and at the young man’s face as he waited for her reply.

“Of course not,” she said.

Penny said quickly, “I’ll get my hat.”

“What about your work? I thought you did not want to be disturbed to-day?” Mrs. Lorrimer asked.

“Oh, that’s all right. Mother. I wasn’t making much headway really.

Tomorrow will do.”

“Tomorrow–-” Mrs. Lorrimer began, but Penelope was already halfway up the staircase.

David Bosworth rose.

“You’ve been awfully kind, Mrs. Lorrimer. Thank you for taking pity on the stranger within your gates.”

Mrs. Lorrimer smiled faintly. There wasn’t anything else she could have done, she thought worriedly. Only she did not wish that this young man wasn’t quite such a stranger. All she knew was that he was poor, clever (this she had learned from questioning her father), and thoroughly determined. Quite admirable qualities, no doubt, if you hadn’t a most marriageable daughter.

She wondered if there was still time to say that her engagement for luncheon did not matter, and that she would be delighted to accept his invitation.

But Penelope came downstairs at that moment.

She was wearing that new hat, with the rakish tilt, which she had insisted on buying. And her smartest handbag, her best gloves. And David Bosworth was saying that he hoped Mrs. Lorrimer would have lunch with him and Mr. Chaundler on her next visit to Oxford. And somehow Mrs. Lorrimer found herself walking into the hall with them and saying goodbye with a smile.

She stood for a moment at the open door, watched them almost run down the white steps and then start walking in the direction of the bus-stop. They didn’t look back. They were already talking as if they had forgotten all about her. And they looked so exactly right together, Penelope just a head shorter than the man and taking three steps to two of his, Bosworth with his straight shoulders half turned towards the girl as he talked, that Mrs. Lorrimer found herself thinking for a moment how pleasant it was to be young and walk so confidently.

She closed the door, deciding that this wretched morning was all Penelope’s fault. Her father would have to talk seriously to her. If she behaved with such indiscretion in London goodness knew what would happen to her.

Mrs. Lorrimer, returning to the drawing-room, stared at her three daughters over the mantelpiece. If only they were boys, she thought, if only they could take care of themselves, then she would not have to behave like some old tyrant. She looked at their portrait gloomily, as a fruiterer might look at a window-display of highly expensive, highly, perishable peaches.

Chapter Nine.

AND THE CASTLE IS TAKEN.

David took a deep breath of relief when they reached the pavement and he still found Penny walking along beside him. Until the very last moment he hadn’t been quite sure that he was going to manage it. He felt as if he had scaled the rocks of Edinburgh Castle itself and flouted every gaoler.

“Now what do you want to see first of all?” Penny asked.

“Nothing.

Everything. It doesn’t matter,” he answered. You, his eyes said. She pretended to laugh, but the colour in her cheeks told him that she knew quite well what he wanted to see. He became conscious that he was hurrying her along the Crescent with obvious haste, and slackened his pace.

“Sorry,” he said.

“I was making quite sure that your mother would have no afterthoughts, and leave me walking along this crescent by myself. Tell me, does every man who wants to take you out find it as difficult as I did?” The idea, applied to others, seemed rather an attractive one.

“Well, you are sort of unexpected, aren’t you? I mean, Mother knows who the others are. She doesn’t know you. That was the main trouble, I think.”

“And what troubles do the others have to face?” He made a good pretence of joking about it, but he was wondering, with a sudden sharp annoyance, just how many men made the attempt. Looking at Penny, he knew there must be plenty of them, like bees round honey.

“Actually you avoided the main one.”

And what’s that?”

“You didn’t ‘phone. You called at our house.”

“Is there a ban against ‘phoning?”

“Not exactly. But there’s a kind of opposition …” She paused in embarrassment: he must be finding her very amusing, and in the wrong way.

“It really is much better to call at our house.”

“That makes us respectable?”

“It helps.”

He smiled broadly.

“Well, I very nearly wasn’t respectable.”

“We’ve passed the bus-stop,” she said quickly.

“Shall we go back?”

“No, let’s walk. Do you mind. Penny?” They couldn’t talk on a bus, and it was a pity to waste any of the few hours he could have with her. Besides, walking helped talking.

“I’d love to walk, David.”

They were both conscious of the strange sound of their first names.

“Good,” David said, with enthusiasm.

“Let’s head for the Castle.

That’s the place to see, isn’t it? We can find a spot to admire the view, and you can point out all attractions round about.”

“You won’t see much of Edinburgh that way, I’m afraid.”

“I’ll buy a guide-book at the station and do some memorizing on the train.

Then I’ll be able to give a good account of I

what I didn’t see to-day, if you insist. You look startled. ‘: What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She tried to look natural. And then she laughed suddenly and said, “Do you always behave like this?”

He didn’t answer that. He had never behaved like this before, he thought, as he took her arm to guide her across a street. He didn’t let go either until another fifty yards had been covered and two elderly ladies, in knitted suits, straight-set hats, and chamois gloves, smiled and bowed to a most confused Penny.

David lifted his hat with great politeness.

“Sorry, that was my fault,” he said.

“I didn’t quite like the sudden gleam of interest in their eyes. Will it cause any trouble?”

“It will be all right,” Penny said, looking at him curiously.

“They are rather sweet old ladies—not like some we might have met.” She gave him the warmest smile that had yet come his way.

After that David found himself forcing a passage for her through the increasingly crowded pavements. He felt the impulse to punch every man between the eyes who looked a ; moment longer than necessary at the girl walking beside him. I I’m sunk, he suddenly thought, as he made some small remark and waited to see the answering smile on her face: I’m sunk, completely and absolutely, and I don’t care if I am. He began talking as amusingly as he could. He might groan afterwards at this display of sheer exhibitionism, but each smile and laugh and comment won now was well worth it. And when they had at last passed through Princes Street, broad, welcoming in the morning sunshine, with its fashionable shops along one side and its formal gardens on the other, and then entered a steep street which looked as if it might lead them towards the Castle, he had his reward.

“Why, here we are!” Penny said, with considerable surprise. She looked at her shoes, now lightly coated with fine white dust.

“It usually takes an hour to reach the Castle from our house. At least an hour if you are walking.” ‘ David glanced at his wrist-watch. They had been walking for more than an hour.

“What about some food first? Is there a restaurant near here? I expect we passed several decent places in Princes Street. You should have told me, you know. I’m a stranger here.”

Penny smiled and shook her head. Decent restaurants were expensive.

“There’s bound to be a restaurant near here,” she said, ‘if you don’t mind something simple.”

David wondered if he were hearing correctly.

“Isn’t there some place you’d like especially for lunch?” All the girls he had ever met before chose the best restaurant as a matter of course.

Penny shook her head again, and felt some surprise herself. She had thought, when she had dressed so carefully, that she would make a very smart appearance at one of the well-known places. (Who is the girl with that distinguished man? No doubt one of these foreigners who are now visiting the city. An American? No, probably Parisian—you can always tell by the hat.

But now it didn’t matter.

Anywhere at all seemed marvelous, wonderful. He is the most extraordinary man I’ve ever met, she thought, as she looked up at him.

“I don’t suppose you have ever missed a meal in your life?” he said, with a strange little smile.

“You make me sound greedy. But actually I don’t believe I ever have.

Have you?”

“Sometimes. When I’m busy and can’t be bothered.”

“Frankly I am not very hungry now. Perhaps we shouldn’t bother. We can have something to eat later on.” “Good Lord, no!” he said vehemently, and flushed. God, did she think he had no money at all? And that remark of his about missing meals—what a stupid kind of thing to let slip! He had passed so many well-fed, healthy faces in Edinburgh streets that he had begun to think of it as a city of good restaurants, if only he knew where to look for them. One was always inefficient about restaurants in strange places: in Oxford or London he would have known where to take her to eat.

Hell, he thought angrily, and looked about him in desperation. He grabbed her arm suddenly and led her towards a sign.

“This looks a restaurant of sorts. Seems all right. Is it?”

“Yes,” she said. But she was relieved that there was no one in the street who could recognize her as they entered its door, for her mother would have been horrified. A tavern would have been Mrs. Lorrimer’s name for it. But there were white tablecloths and the appetizing smell of roast beef and Yorkshire pudding, as well as the tobacco smoke and the clusters of bowler hats on the racks which stood beside each row of tables.

“Are you sure it is all right?” David repeated. This seemed a restaurant mostly for men. Probably the food would be excellent.

“Of course,” she said. Why, she thought, with some disappointment, it really looks very respectable!

David was saying, “We might get some decent food here. What chases away my appetite is the tearoom.”

Penny seemed intent on drawing off her gloves. She had always thought tearooms, especially the ones in Princes Street, rather pleasant places with excellent cakes. But obviously they weren’t held in such high regard in Oxford. She felt suddenly very naive about her ideas on food.