The spring rain pelted at the small windows of the dining room, and even the brightly colored curtains looked drab. It was my turn to scrub the tables after lunch. The afternoon felt as dull as the day outside.
Suddenly the door to the dining room burst open, and Bazz stepped in dripping wet, but with a grin on his face. “I’ve just come from the canteen. It’s too wet to fly and a bunch of us were just hanging around in there. Guess what?”
I was still annoyed with him, but I felt my annoyance begin to melt. Bazz was at his best. Handsome, boyish, his face swept clean of the rebellion that had clouded it for the last few weeks.
In spite of myself I was drawn to him. “What?”
“You are going to have the afternoon off. I overheard Miss Farleigh telling Rosie. Three of you get tomorrow off and three Friday.”
“I don’t believe it. I’ve heard nothing about it. Whatever gave Miss Farleigh the idea to give us a day off after all this time?”
Bazz shrugged. “What does it matter? Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Three of the girls have spoken up for tomorrow so you get Friday.” He smiled his most engaging grin. “By chance I seem to be free on Friday as well.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Chance?”
“I always believe in making my own luck. Anyway, let’s go for a walk. The weather is supposed to clear by then, and we can go down by Field Seven and look at the wildflowers.”
Outside in the fresh air, no tables, no smell of cooking or tobacco smoke. It sounded wonderful. Suddenly I very much wanted to go. “I’d love to,” I said throwing caution to the wind.
“Good. I’ll finally get to be with you away from this place. I’ll meet you here around two.”
It wasn’t until that evening when Miss Farleigh spoke to me about my day off that I found out that Mathew was the one who had arranged it. Miss Farleigh said he felt strongly that the canteen workers should have some time off once in a while. He was going to Bourges on business and would take Thursday’s girls with him. Good. I would not want to spend my rare day off with that overbearing man. My afternoon with Bazz suddenly seemed much more to my liking. Yet in unguarded moments it was Matthew’s stricken face would rise before my eyes and it bothered me. And if I were totally honest about Bazz, I had to wonder about his interest. I knew him, knew his type. I had gone to dancing class and parties with the Bazzes of the world my whole life, and they had not given me and my red hair and my freckles a second glance. And yet here I was in France being subtly pursued by him and I had the feeling that I was of interest because I was some sort of challenge. I would walk with him, but keep up my guard against his undeniable charm.
I found my sleep was restless that night. I tossed and turned and sometime before dawn, I decided it would be more profitable to get up and start my day rather than to stay in bed with my tumbled thoughts. I slipped out of bed, dressing in the dark, making sure not to disturb the lump of covers in Rosie’s bed. I stole into the kitchen and lit the fires. Once they were going well, I headed for the boiler house to get a marmite. With our increased need for hot water, Miss Farleigh had finally given into this limited use of outside help.
At the boiler house door, I stopped to savor the tag-end of night. The sky and the blackened world seemed to be trying to resist the dawn. The only light was a distant twinkle of a star that soon would pale before the rising sun. I took a deep breath. The loneliness of the sleeping world crept into me. It was comforting to hear the rumble of voices in the boiler house ---- to know that there were two other people awake in the world.
I pushed open the door, and in the sudden light I realized that there were three people not two. They stood immobilized, frozen in place in a silence so empty that the soft hissing of the marmite was a noise. Fort, his partner August, and Rosie. Rosie was wearing a fancy dress, a flower in her hair, one leg crossed over the other, puffing on a cigarette. With sudden clarity little events sprang into focus. Rosie gone from her bed in the middle of the night --- saying she had been to the latrine. Rosie hastily stuffing something back into her suitcase --- this dress no doubt. The ease with which she sat in the boiler room and chatted with Fort and August meant this had not been her first time. How many times has she sneaked out? The eternal lure of the night. Rosie felt it just as Trixie had. I had never understood my sister and I did not understand Rosie now. I just knew it led to things I did not want to think about.
For a long moment we were all frozen in a tableau as they fought back their surprise, and I fought back memories. Then I found my voice. Rosie would have called it my lady of the manor voice. And I used it with full force.
“Fort. August.”
The men sprang to their feet.
I must act as if this were all in a day’s work. “I’m earlier than usual, but I see the marmite is ready. Thank you so much. Miss Bennett and I can carry it over, so we don’t need to bother you.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Fort in a small voice.
I stepped toward Rosie, holding out a potholder. Her face was white, but her eyes were bright with fury. A minute went by, and the potholder began to feel heavy in my hand. After what seemed an age, she slowly stood up, took the proffered potholder, and moved to the stove. The kettle was full, the water boiling.
“It’s very heavy,” I said just to fill the silence.
We both reached for the handles and in silence eased the container down from the stove, carried it out, across to the canteen and into the building. When it was finally on the stove Rosie turned to me throwing the potholder to the floor. She was so angry she could hardly speak.
“You ….you spy. You informer.”
I was stung. “Hardly. It was an accident. I couldn’t sleep so I got up. Anyway, I thought you were in your cot.”
“I don’t believe it. You have been out to get me ever since we got here. First, you took Bazz away from me and now this. Miss Farleigh and you, her little pet. The two of you have made my life a misery. Rules, rules, rules until I am ready to scream. I’ll bet you can hardly wait to run to her and tell her about this. I’ll bet….
“Stop, stop, stop,” I said cutting off her stream of invective. “I’m not going to tell anyone. I have no desire to run to anyone with tales. And what’s more I don’t want to know what you were doing. In any case you had better stop yelling at me and get back to our room before anyone else sees you. Gabrielle could get here at any minute, and I don’t want to be found here with you dressed like that.”
“I know better than you when Gabrielle gets up. I’d have been back in bed by now if not for you.”
“Go Rosie,” I said, suddenly weary. I just did not want to hear any more.
“I suppose you think I had a date with those two clods.”
“It may surprise you that I don’t want to think about it at all.”
Rosie continued as if I had not spoken. “I’m higher than that, a lot higher. You’d be surprised.” Then with a glance out the window, she was gone, the smell of her perfume lingering in the air.
Perfume. The smell of lilacs, vibrantly green and drooping with blossoms. A summer night and Trixie. It was the summer that James had come home from college for good. His friends were thick around the house, coming and going, telephoning and sometimes driving up to the door in their automobiles. Jack Gates had his own Locomobile. He would come for James in the evenings, but as James was not allowed to go out every night, the two would sit on the porch and talk about college and girls. Sometimes other boys would join them, and the wide stone porch would echo with their laughter. Almost every evening in that early part of June, Jack asked James to get Trixie. Nanny did not want Trixie to go, but since she could not give a reason, Trixie went. The terrible part was that I had to go too even though we were all aware that I had not been sent for.
But Nanny was adamant, “Both or neither,” she told James. He shrugged, not meeting my eyes. I felt like dying, but Nanny had her way, saying as we left, “Remember, Valerie, you are responsible for your sister.” Filled with resentment and humiliation in equal parts I went, feet dragging.
That night --- just two days before we were to leave for Lake Geneva for the summer --- Mamma and Papa had gone to spend the evening with our grandparents. Jack came as usual and brought two strange Yale men with him, Jim Somebody and Todd Somebody, neither of whom I cared for at all. It just so happened that Florrie and Cynthia came to make an evening call on Trixie and me. Florrie sat down beside James to tell him how she hadn’t dreamed of there being so many guests on the front porch, although I knew she came as often as she could with just that hope. Cynthia took the chair next to Jim, who was a little less awful that Todd. In the dark, she stumbled over his foot and lost her shoe. He helped put it on, and they laughed and laughed. I just sat in the shadows in the back of the porch and sighed, waiting for the evening to be over. I was supposed to be talking to Todd, but after years of experience I did not even try. I had nothing I wanted to say to him, and he certainly had no interest in me. He was leaning forward trying to get in on the conversation between Jack and Trixie, the two central suns of this porch universe.
These two were talking with animation. “I’ll come to see you every day at the lake,” Jack said. “My father gave me a catboat for graduation. It’s up at the lake now. I can sail to your place in half an hour, easy as anything.”
“I’ll bet you can’t,” Trixie said. “You’ll capsize in the middle, and we’ll have to fish you out.”
There Trixie sat, her dark curls shining in the light from the library window, at ease and enjoying herself, everyone basking in her liveliness.
Florrie cut in. “All this talk about lakes makes me thirsty. Val, couldn’t Josie bring us some water?”
Before I could answer, James was on his feet. “Let’s go to Barr’s for a soda.”
Everyone agreed, and two by two we trooped down the steps. Todd and I were the last to get up out of our chairs. If only I did not have to go. Three long dreadful blocks to Barr’s and the same back again, to say nothing of the stay in the drugstore with everyone knowing what to say but me.
Most of the way over, Todd walked on Jack’s heels in an effort to participate in the conversation with Trixie. I trailed along like a caboose.
When we reached the drugstore, James took orders. Cynthia lost her shoe again, and as all the stools were occupied, she had to stand on one foot supported by Todd while Jim knelt to replace it. Florrie sauntered to the far end of the store, and from that isolated position signaled James to join her on an inspection of something very fascinating in the showcase. Jack having claimed the only vacant stool for Trixie, stood over her talking eagerly.
Alone, in the middle of all this animation, I withdrew into the corner between the L-shaped counter and the window to find myself face to face with a huge mirror that reflected the whole store. It was as though I had suddenly left my body, and could look back on it and its surroundings. I saw laughing couples absorbed in each other. The ease and confidence that surrounded them was like a protecting aura. Then I saw myself – a sore thumb – standing alone, silent and unwanted, my freckles like copper flecks on my white skin. Even my dress which was the same material as Trixie’s looked less stylish on me than on her, and the red-gold braids around my head seemed hideously plain compared with her curls and puffs.
In the mirror I watched James and Florrie walk back to the counter, the three boys handing sodas to their respective partners. I watched my partner, Todd, raise his glass in a toast to Trixie. On the counter remained one unclaimed soda. Mine. And I would have to drink it. With clenched hands I turned, moved to the counter, and drank the soda as rapidly as possible. It seemed an eternity before Trixie’s voice brought relief.
“Let’s not stay her any longer. Our sodas are all finished.”
We moved into the street, into the welcome darkness. It did not matter now that Todd completely ignored me, walking with Trixie and Jack. One block, two blocks. We were in the last block now, a quarter through, half --- the back gate loomed up beside me. Swiftly, softly, I slipped through it, stood until the rest had turned the corner, and then hurried toward the house.
At the side entrance I would have to ring for Josie to let me in. The back door would be open, but the servants would be sitting on the porch. No --- in the light streaming from the kitchen window, the back porch was deserted. I climbed the steps, softly, intending to go up the backstairs to my room. But Nanny would ask questions. Better to stay out until Trixie was ready to go in too. The cool dark porch was a wonderful place to think, to get back my self-esteem. Before sitting down on the top step, I peeped through the window.
The kitchen was tidied up for the night except for a coffee pot steaming on the stove. Just beyond, a corner of the servants’ dining room was visible. I could see the familiar profile of the local policeman. At that moment he took a large bite of something that looked like Emma’s coconut cake. They must be having a party. There was John’s voice and Josie’s. They all seemed to be talking at once, and the policeman’s jolly, rumbling laugh rose above the chatter.
I sat down and leaned my head contentedly against the brick pillar, looking up at the stars. Those stars were looking down on everyone --- the party in the servants’ dining room, the party on the front steps, on people all over the world. Somewhere out in that wide world, in the hills and valleys and endless plains, there must be a place for me. A place where I could feel at home and free.
Faint but unmistakable, the chime of the grandfather clock sounded. I listened, counting the four quarters and the strokes. Ten. I could go in now. Trixie would too, and arriving together would prevent questions. I got up, went quietly through the back door and up the stairs. As I made my way along the back hall, I could see Nanny standing at the top of the front stairs. When she saw me, she relaxed, and then stiffened again, as she realized I was alone.
“Where is Trixie?”
“I left her on the front porch.”
“You shouldn’t have,” Nanny said. “Didn’t I tell you that you are responsible? Where are they?”
“Still on the front porch, I guess.”
“Go back there at once and get your sister. This is no time of the night for proper people to be sitting around in the dark.”
It would have been easier to do anything than to rejoin that self-satisfied, laughing group on the porch. Fighting a desire to run away, I went slowly down the stairs, through the drawing room, and entrance hall to the front door. There, as I paused to get up my courage, I suddenly noticed that the porch was quiet. What had happened? I rushed out and down the steps. At the end of the walk, the Locomobile was chugging with Jack at the wheel and the two other boys beside him, saying a bantering goodnight to James. I called out to him, “Where are the girls?”
“Gone home,” he answered, not turning.
“But Trixie --- where---?”
“She went in,” he said, “a long time ago.”
“Too long ago,” Jack called with a laugh.
I could not go back in the house, and face Nanny with the fact that I did not know where my sister was. I began to be filled with an unnamed dread. Where would she be at this hour? I circled aimlessly around the house on the side away from the street, and then stopped a moment to think. Something began to grow in my mind. The other day I had suddenly come upon Trixie, reading a crumpled piece of paper. She had hidden it, and had even seemed embarrassed. She had had a secret, the first I had ever known her to want to hide from me. I had been too hurt at the time to pursue what it was. But now I wondered. I must find Trixie ---- now, at once. I walked on, around the hedge, into the garden, and stopped stock still, staring.
At the back of the garden, where the stone wall and the lilac hedge met, two figures stood, outlined by the moonlight. They were in each other’s arms and, as I recognized Trixie, the man turned her face up to his and kissed her.
“Trixie.” The two fell apart as though the sound of my voice had pushed them. “Trixie,” I called again expecting her to run to me.
But Trixie just stood still as the man turned and fled, vanishing out the back gate.
I stepped close to the still figure by the wall. “Trixie who----?”
“I’m not telling, not even you, Val.”
“But Trixie --- I thought we had no secrets. You don’t have to tell me, but just tell me that you won’t do it again.”
Trixie laughed her eyes bright in the moonlight. “Oh, it will happen again. Lots of times.”
“Oh, no Trixie. At least let’s keep it a secret between the two of us.”
“Well, they will have to know sometime, but not until I’m ready.”
“Ready ----ready for what?”
“To choose the one I like best, and marry him.”
“But that is not the way ---- I mean you can’t kiss them all. Mamma says you only kiss the one you are going to marry.”
“And you believed that? Do you want to end up with someone like Papa? Don’t be as dumb as they want to make you. Kissing is how you find the right one.”
“Trixie,” I said helplessly my voice trailing off. I did not know what to say as I had not the least idea how one found the ‘right’ one. I just felt in my bones that Trixie was heading down a dangerous path, blindfolded by the house in which we had grown up. We both knew only one thing, we did not want what our parents had. But while I was not sure any man was the answer, Trixie was pursuing with a single-mindedness marriage and the release and status she thought it would bring. If I had sensed the disaster ahead…. But then I never would have, for I was as ignorant as she was.
Trixie leaned close, and even in the night I could see her eyes gleaming. “You can do as they say if you like, but I won’t. I’m not going through life obeying all the little rules laid down to keep us from ever experiencing anything real. I’m going to live and live and live and I’ll take the first good way out.”
“Valerie, Valerie,” It was Nanny.
“Coming,” I said. “Trixie is here with me and we were just coming in.”
“As we came around the house, Nanny met us and escorted us to the front door. Under the porch light her face was deathly pale, and she looked from one of us to the other. Trixie looked defiantly back, but I could not meet her eyes.
“Trixie, your father and mother are waiting for you in the library. Valerie, go to your room.”
“Nanny, please let me go with her,” I said as Trixie walked down the hall, her head still high but her steps slow.
Nanny shook her head. “It’s too late now. You should never have left her.” As if to emphasize her words, the library door closed behind Trixie with a snap of finality.
I leaned against the wall, suddenly weary with all the emotions of the evening. “Please let me go ----They’ll----“ I stopped not knowing what I wanted to protect Trixie from.
Nanny turned to me. “Don’t try and shelter her. We have known about her goings on for some time now. Notes from boys, sneaking off to meet this one and that. It’s got to be stopped before --- “ Nanny’s voice petered out.
I felt a surge of anger at everything and everybody. I now understood that I had been nothing but a pawn in everyone’s calculations. Nanny and my parents had made me into a human caboose trailing after Trixie with no regard for my desires or comfort. And Trixie had gone behind my back, conducting a life of which I had not had an inkling. And no one had trusted me with the truth about any of it. If Trixie and I had been more honest about our feelings, she would have known that I felt as trapped as she did. My resentment faded as the shared years in the pink and green bedroom flowed into my mind diluting my anger. I made one last try on her behalf.
“After this, I’ll stay with her. I promise. Anyway in two days we’ll be at the lake.”
“Do you think there are no boys at the lake?” said Nanny. “No, this year it’s not the lake. It’s Europe and we’ll be gone for a year.”
With one last look at the closed library door, I turned to go upstairs to my room. But, I wanted to cry back at Nanny, and do you think there are no boys in Europe?