‘Really, the things I think of!’ said Shirley to herself, and running up to the open front door, she went in.
The hall was in semi-twilight. From the floor above, Laura called down the well of the staircase in her soft, rather husky voice:
“Is that you, Shirley?”
“Yes, I’m afraid I’m frightfully late, Laura.”
“It doesn’t matter at all. It’s only macaroni-the au gratin kind. Ethel has got it in the oven.”
Laura Franklin came round the bend of the staircase, a slim fragile creature, with an almost colourless face and deep brown eyes set at an unusual angle that made them, in some curious way, look tragic.
She came down, smiling at Shirley.
“Enjoy yourself?”
“Oh yes,” said Shirley.
“Good tennis?”
“Not bad.”
“Anybody exciting? Or just Bellbury?”
“Mostly Bellbury.”
Funny how when people asked you questions, you didn’t want to answer them. And yet the answers were so harmless. Naturally Laura liked to know how she’d enjoyed herself.
If people were fond of you, they always wanted to know-
Would Henry’s people want to know? She tried to visualize Henry at home, but failed. It sounded ridiculous, but she couldn’t somehow see Henry in a hone. And yet he must have one!
A nebulous picture swam before her eyes. Henry strolling into a room where his mother, a platinum blonde just back from the South of France, was carefully painting her mouth a rather surprising colour. “Hullo, Mother, so you’re back?”-“Yes, have you been playing tennis?”-“Yes.” There would be no curiosity, practically no interest. Henry and his mother would both be quite indifferent to what the other had been doing.
Laura asked curiously:
“What are you saying to yourself, Shirley? Your lips are moving, and your eyebrows are going up and down.”
Shirley laughed:
“Oh, just an imaginary conversation.”
Laura raised delicate eyebrows.
“It seemed to please you.”
“It was quite ridiculous really.”
The faithful Ethel put her head round the dining-room door and said:
“Supper’s in.”
Shirley cried: “I must wash,” and ran upstairs.
After supper, as they sat in the drawing-room, Laura said: “I got the prospectus from the St. Katherine’s Secretarial College to-day. I gather it’s one of the best of its kind. What do you feel about it, Shirley?”
A grimace marred the loveliness of Shirley’s young face.
“Learn shorthand and typing and then go and take a job?”
“Why not?”
Shirley sighed, and then laughed.
“Because I’m a lazy devil. I’d much rather stay at home and do nothing. Laura darling, I’ve been at school for years! Can’t I have a bit of a break?”
“I wish there was something you really wished to train for, or were keen about.” A frown showed itself for a moment on Laura’s forehead.
“I’m a throw-back,” said Shirley. “I just want to sit at home and dream of a big handsome husband, and plenty of family allowances for a growing family.”
Laura did not respond. She was still looking worried.
“If you do a course at St. Katherine’s, it’s a question, really, of where you should live in London. Would you like to be a P.G.-with Cousin Angels, perhaps-”
“Not Cousin Angela. Have a heart, Laura.”
“Not Angela then, but with some family or other. Or there are hostels, I believe. Later, you could share a flat with another girl.”
“Why can’t I share a flat with you?” demanded Shirley.
Laura shook her head.
“I’d stay here.”
“Stay here? Not come to London with me?”
Shirley sounded indignant and incredulous.
Laura said simply: “I don’t want to be bad for you, darling.”
“Bad for me? How could you be?”
“Well-possessive, you know.”
“Like the kind of mother who eats her young? Laura, you’re never possessive.”
Laura said dubiously: “I hope I’m not, but one never knows.” She added with a frown: “One doesn’t know in the least what one is really like….”
“Well, I really don’t think you need have qualms, Laura. You’re not in the least the domineering kind – at least not to me. You don’t boss or bully, or try to arrange my life for me.”
“Well, actually, that is exactly what I am doing-arranging for you to take a secretarial course in London when you don’t in the least want to!”