She took her time brushing her hair. It was her best feature, and she needed to make the most of it. I ought to take more trouble over how I look, she thought. She had never cared much until now, but suddenly it seemed to matter. I ought to have dresses that show off my figure, and smart shoes to call attention to my long legs; and wear colors that look good with red hair and green eyes. The dress she had on if was all right: it was a sort of brick red. But it was rather loose and shapeless, and now, looking in the mirror, she wished it had squarer shoulders and a belt at the waist. Mother would never let her wear makeup, of course, so she would have to be satisfied with her pale complexion. At least she had good teeth.
“I’m ready,” she said brightly.
Mother was still in the same position. “I suppose you’re going back to talk to Mr. Vandenpost.”
“I suppose I am, since there’s no one else there and you’re still redecorating your face.”
“Don’t be fresh. There’s a look of the Jew about him.”
Well, he isn’t circumcised, Margaret thought, and she almost said it out of sheer devilment; but instead she started to giggle.
Mother was offended. “There’s nothing to laugh at. I want you to know that I will not permit you to see that young man again after we get off this plane.”
“You’ll be happy to know that I don’t care tuppence.” It was true: she was going to leave her parents, so it no longer mattered what they would or would not permit.
Mother threw her a suspicious look. “Why do I think you’re not being quite sincere?”
“Because tyrants can never trust anyone,” Margaret said.
That was quite a good exit line, she thought, and she went to the door; but Mother called her back.
“Don’t go away, dear,” Mother said, and her eyes filled with tears.
Did she mean Don’t leave the room or Don’t leave the family? Could she possibly have guessed what Margaret was planning? She had always had good intuition. Margaret said nothing.
“I’ve already lost Elizabeth. I couldn’t bear to lose you, too.”
“But it’s Father’s fault!” Margaret burst out, and suddenly she wanted to cry. “Can’t you stop him being so horrid?”
“Don’t you think I try?”
Margaret was shocked: Mother had never before admitted that Father might be at fault. “But I can’t help it if he’s that way,” she said miserably.
“You could try not to provoke him,” Mother said.
“Give in to him all the time, you mean.”
“Why not? It’s only until you’re married.”
“If
you
would stand up to him, he might not be this way.”
Mother shook her head sadly. “I can’t take your side against him, dear. He’s my husband.”
“But he’s so wrong!”
“It makes no difference. You’ll know that when you’re married.”
Margaret felt cornered. “It’s not fair.”
“It’s not for long. I’m just asking you to tolerate him a little while longer. As soon as you’re twenty-one he’ll be different, I promise you, even if you’re not married. I know it’s hard. But I don’t want you to be banished, like poor Elizabeth....”
Margaret realized that she would be as upset as Mother if they became estranged. “I don’t want that either, Mother,” she said. She took a step closer to the stool. Mother opened her arms. They embraced awkwardly, Margaret standing and Mother sitting.
“Promise me you won’t quarrel with him,” Mother said.
She sounded so sad that Margaret wanted with all her heart to give the promise; but something held held back, and all she would say was: “I’ll try, Mother. I really will.”
Mother let her go and looked at her, and Margaret read bleak resignation in her face. “Thank you for that, anyway,” Mother said.
There was nothing more to say.
Margaret went out.
Harry stood up when she entered the compartment. She felt so upset that she completely lost all sense of propriety and threw her arms around him. After a moment’s startled hesitation he hugged her and kissed the top of her head. She began to feel better right away.
Opening her eyes, she caught an astonished look from Mr. Membury, who was back in his seat. She hardly cared, but she detached herself from Harry and they sat down on the other side of the compartment.
“We’ve got to make plans,” Harry said. “This could be our last chance to talk privately.”
Margaret realized that Mother would be back soon, and Father and Percy would return with the other passengers, and after that she and Harry might not be alone again. She was seized by a near-panic as she saw a vision of the two of them parting company at Port Washington and never finding one another again. “Where can I contact you—tell me quick!” she said.
“I don’t know—I haven’t fixed anything. But don’t worry. I’ll get in touch with you. What hotel will you be staying at?”
“The Waldorf. Will you telephone me tonight? You must!”
“Calm down. Of course I will. I’ll call myself Mr. Marks.”
Harry’s relaxed tone made Margaret realize she was being silly ... and a little selfish, too. She should think of him as well as herself. “Where will you spend the night?”
“I’ll find a cheap hotel.”
She was struck by an idea. “Would you like to sneak into my room at the Waldorf?”
He grinned. “Are you serious? You know I would!”
She was happy to have pleased him. “Normally I’d share with my sister, but now I’ll be on my own.”
“Oh, boy. I can’t wait.”
She knew how he loved the high life, and she so wanted to make him happy. What else would he like? “We’ll order scrambled eggs and champagne from room service.”
“I’ll want to stay there forever.”
That brought her back to reality. “My parents will be moving to my grandfather’s place in Connecticut after a few days. Then I’ll have to find somewhere to to live.”
‘We’ll look together,” he said. “Maybe get rooms in the same building, or something.”
“Really?” She was thrilled. They would have rooms in the same building! It was exactly what she wanted. She had been half afraid that he would go over the top and ask her to marry him, and half afraid he would not want to see her again; but this was ideal: she could stay close to him and get to know him better without making a foolishly hasty commitment. And she would be able to sleep with him. But there was a snag. “If I work for Nancy Lenehan, I’ll be in Boston.”
“Maybe I’ll go to Boston too.”
“Would you?” She could hardly believe what she was hearing.
“It’s as good a place as any. Where is it, anyway?”
“New England.”
“Is that like old England?”
“Well, I’ve heard that the people are snobbish.”
“It’ll be just like home.”
“What sort of rooms will we get?” she said excitedly. “I mean, how many, and so on?”
He smiled. “You won’t have more than one room, and you’ll find it a struggle to pay even for that. If it’s anything like the English equivalent, it will have cheap furniture and one window. With luck there might be a gas ring or a hot plate for you to make coffee. You’ll share the bathroom with the rest of the house.”
“And the kitchen?”
He shook his head. “You can’t afford a kitchen. Your lunch will be the only hot meal of the day. When you come home you can have a cup of tea and a piece of cake, or you could make toast if you’ve got an electric fire.”
She knew that he was trying to prepare her for what he saw as unpleasant reality, but she found the whole thing wonderfully romantic. To think of being able to make tea and toast yourself, anytime you liked, in a little room of your own, with no parents to worry about and no servants to grumble at you.... It sounded heavenly. “Do the owners of these places generally live there?”
“Sometimes. It’s good if they do, because then they keep the place nice; although they poke their noses into your private life, too. But if the owner lives elsewhere, the building often gets run down: broken plumbing, peeling paint, leaking roofs, that sort of thing.”
Margaret realized she had an awful lot to learn, but nothing Harry said could dismay her: it was all too exhilarating. Before she could ask any more questions, the passengers and crew who had disembarked arrived back, and at the same moment Mother returned from the ladies’ room, looking pale but beautiful. Margaret’s elation was punctured. Recalling her conversation with Mother, she realized that the thrill of escaping with Harry would be mingled with heartache.
She did not normally eat a lot in the morning, but today she was ravenous. “I’d like some bacon and eggs,” she said. “Quite a lot, in fact.” She caught Harry’s eye and realized that she was hungry because she had been making love to him all night. She smothered a grin. He read her mind and looked away hastily.
The plane took off a few minutes later. Margaret found it no less exciting even though this was the third time she had experienced it. She no longer felt afraid, though.
She mulled over her conversation with Harry. He wanted to go to Boston with her! Although he was so handsome and charming, and must have had lots of chances with girls just like herself, he seemed to have fallen for her in a special way. It was terribly sudden, but he was being very sensible: not making extravagant vows, but ready to do just about anything to stay with her.
That commitment erased all doubt from her mind. Until now she had not allowed herself to think of a future with Harry, but suddenly she felt completely confident in him. She was going to have everything she wanted: freedom, independence and love.
As soon as the plane leveled out they were invited to help themselves from the breakfast buffet, and Margaret did so with alacrity. They all had strawberries and cream except for Percy, who preferred cornflakes. Father had champagne with his strawberries. Margaret also took hot rolls and butter.
As Margaret was about to return to the compartment, she caught the eye of Nancy Lenehan, who was hovering over the hot porridge. Nancy was as trim and smart as ever, with a navy silk blouse in place of the gray one she had worn yesterday. She beckoned to Margaret and said in a low voice: “I got a very important phone call in Botwood. I’m going to win today. You can take it that you have a job.”
Margaret beamed with pleasure. “Oh, thank you!”
Nancy put a small white business card on Margaret’s bread plate. “Just call me when you’re ready.”
“I will! In just a few days! Thank you!”
Nancy put a finger to her lips and winked.
Margaret returned to her compartment elated. She hoped Father had not seen the business card: she did not want him asking questions. Fortunately, he was too intent on his food to notice anything else.
But as she ate, she realized that he had to be told sooner or later. Mother had begged her to avoid a confrontation, but it could not be done. She had tried to sneak away the last time, and it had not worked. This time she had to announce openly that she was leaving, so that the world would know. There must be no secret about it, no excuse to call the police. She must make it clear to him that she had a place to go and friends to support her.
And this plane was surely the place to confront him. Elizabeth had done it on a train, and that had worked because Father had been obliged to behave himself. Later, in their hotel rooms, he could do anything he liked.
When should she tell him? Sooner rather than later: he would be in his best mood of the day after breakfast, full of champagne and food. Later, as the day wore on and he had a cocktail or two and some wine, he would become more irascible.
Percy stood up and said: “I’m going to get some more cornflakes.”
“Sit down,” Father said. “There’s bacon coming. You’ve had enough of that rubbish.” For some reason he was against cornflakes.
“I’m still hungry,” Percy said; and to Margaret’s astonishment he went out.
Father was dumbfounded. Percy had never openly defied him. Mother just stared. Everyone waited for Percy to return. He came back with a bowl full of cornflakes. They all watched. He sat down and began to eat.
Father said: “I told you not to take more of those.”
Percy said: “It’s not your stomach.” He continued to eat.
Father looked as if he was about to get up, but at that moment Nicky came in from the galley and handed him a plate of sausages, bacon and poached eggs. For a second Margaret thought Father might throw the plate at Percy; but he was too hungry. He picked up the knife and fork and said: “Bring me some English mustard.”
“I’m afraid we don’t carry mustard, sir.”
“No mustard?” Father said furiously. “How can I eat sausages without mustard?”
Nicky looked scared. “I’m sorry, sir—no one has ever asked before. I’ll make sure we have some on the next flight.”
“That’s not much use to me now, is it?”
“I guess not. I’m sorry.”
Father grunted and began to eat. He had taken out his anger on the steward, and Percy had got away with it. Margaret was amazed. This had never happened before.
Nicky brought her bacon and eggs and she tucked in heartily. Could it really be that Father was softening at last? The end of his political hopes, the beginning of the war, his exile, and the rebellion of his elder daughter might have combined to crush his ego and weaken his will.
There would never be a better moment to tell him.
She finished her breakfast, and waited for the others to finish theirs. Then she waited for the steward to take away the plates; then she waited while Father got more coffee. Finally there was nothing left to wait for.
She moved to the middle seat of the divan, next to Mother and almost opposite Father. She took a deep breath and began. “I’ve got something to tell you, Father, and I hope you won’t be cross.”
Mother murmured: “Oh, no ...”
Father said: “What now?”
“I’m nineteen years old and I’ve never done a stroke of work in my life. It’s time I began.”