“I don’t even remember my father. I mean, it’s all a vague kind of blur.” “Of course — Halliday’s first wife came from New Zealand — I remember his telling me so. A fine country, I should think.” “It’s the loveliest country in the world — but I’m quite fond of England, too.” “On a visit–or settling down here?” He rang the bell. “We must have tea.” When the tall woman came, he said, “Tea, please–and–er–hot buttered toast, or — or cake, or something.” The respectable housekeeper looked venomous, but said, “Yes, sir,” and went out.
“I don’t usually go in for tea,” said Dr. Kennedy vaguely. “But we must celebrate.” “It’s very nice of you,55 said Gwenda. “No, we’re not on a visit. We’ve bought a house.” She paused and added, “Hillside.”
Dr. Kennedy said vaguely, “Oh yes.
In Dillmouth. You wrote from there.” “It’s the most extraordinary coincidence,” said Gwenda. “Isn’t it, Giles?” “I should say so,” said Giles. “Really quite staggering.” “It was for sale, you see,” said Gwenda, and added in face of Dr. Kennedy’s apparent non-comprehension, “It’s the same house where we used to live long ago.” Dr. Kennedy frowned. “Hillside? But surely– Oh yes, I did hear they’d changed the name. Used to be St. Something or other — if I’m thinking of the right house — on the Leahampton road, coming down into the town, on the right-hand side?” “Yes.” “That’s the one. Funny how names go out of your head. Wait a minute. St.
Catherine’s–that’s what it used to be called.” “And I did live there, didn’t I?” Gwenda said.
“Yes, of course you did.” He stared at her, amused. “Why did you want to come back there? You can’t remember much about it, surely?” “No. But somehow — it felt like home.” “It felt like home,” the doctor repeated.
There was no expression in the words, but Giles wondered suddenly what he was thinking about.
“So you see,” said Gwenda, “I hoped you’d tell me about it all–about my father and Helen and –” she ended lamely — “and everything…” He looked at her reflectively.
“I suppose they didn’t know very much — out in New Zealand. Why should they?
Well, there isn’t much to tell. Helen– my sister–was coming back from India on the same boat with your father. He was a widower with a small daughter. Helen was sorry for him or fell in love with him.
He was lonely, or fell in love with her.
Difficult to know just the way things happen.
They were married in London on arrival, and came down to Dillmouth to me. I was in practice there, then. Kelvin Halliday seemed a nice chap, rather nervy and run down–but they seemed happy enough together — then.” He was silent for a moment before he said, “However, in less than a year, she ran away with someone else. You probably know that?” “Who did she run away with?” asked Gwenda.
He bent his shrewd eyes upon her.
“She didn’t tell me,” he said. “I wasn’t in her confidence. I’d seen–couldn’t help seeing — that there was friction between her and Kelvin. I didn’t know why.
I was always a strait-laced sort of fellow — a believer in marital fidelity. Helen wouldn’t have wanted me to know what was going on. I’d heard rumours — one does — but there was no mention of any particular name. They often had guests staying with them who came from London, or from other parts of England. I imagined it was one of them.” “There wasn’t a divorce, then?” “Helen didn’t want a divorce. Kelvin told me that. That’s why I imagined, perhaps wrongly, that it was a case of some married man. Someone whose wife was an RC perhaps.” “And my father?” “He didn’t want a divorce, either.” Dr. Kennedy spoke rather shortly.
“Tell me about my father,” said Gwenda.
“Why did he decide suddenly to send me out to New Zealand?” Kennedy paused a moment before saying, “I gather your people out there had been pressing him. After the break-up of his second marriage, he probably thought it was the best thing.” “Why didn’t he take me out there himself?39