Sally-Ann, page 5
“Sally what?” His voice was not thin like so many voices
but had warmth behind it. It made his question intimate.
“Just Sally.”
His eyes looked amused.
“Just Sally?” He nodded as if he liked what he saw. “Very well ‘Just Sally.’ We’ll meet presently.”
Somebody called him to sign the register. He turned away. Ann looked after him. She felt better. Much less of a fraud. Here was someone not talking to her as a friend of Mona’s, but just as Sally, somebody with whom he’d laughed over a bridesmaid’s muddle.
“Vous ne jouez pas la sainte nitouche,” said Cora.
Ann stared at her. She had done a little French at school, but she had never been good at it. Anyway it hadn’t been that sort of French. Much more verbs and “Where is the pen of my aunt.”
“Vous ne jouez la sainte nitouche,” Cora repeated.
Ann looked at her rather as a bird is supposed to look at a snake. It was almost certain the absent Sally spoke French like a native. Girls who finished in Paris usually did.
“Yes, it was a pretty wedding, wasn’t it,” she said, hoping for the best.
Cora opened her eyes.
“What are you playing at? You heard what I said.”
Ann nodded.
“I didn’t understand. I’ve forgotten my French.”
Cora opened her eyes.
“There’s something queer about you. You aren’t a bit how Mona always described you. And you can’t have forgotten your French unless you’ve lost your memory. People don’t who are educated entirely in France.”
“All the same I have forgotten.”
“I was just admiring you for not pretending to be a prude.”
This was obviously a lie and Ann would have liked to have said “Oh yeah!” Instead she took advantage of the crush and moved away. But she could feel Cora’s eyes on her, that Cora’s nose was sniffing at a mystery. Anyway “what a cat” she thought. After all it was the custom for the best man to kiss the bridesmaids.
Back at the castle the bridesmaids had to surround the bride and groom while they received. It was three quarters of an hour before they were free to move. At once Ann felt lonely. The other seven girls seemed to know everybody present. She knew nobody. She was tired and wished she could sit but every chair seemed to be taken. Food and drink in vast quantities was being carried round but somehow none of it got to her. Then suddenly her elbow was gripped.
“Hullo, ‘Just Sally.’ I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Mona’s put you in my charge. ‘What,’ I said, ‘giving me “Just Sally” to look after? Well I take that kindly, nothing could suit me better.’”
Ann laughed, and suddenly felt gay and like a person at a wedding.
“Didn’t she look nice.”
Timothy looked round the room and saw a solid gate-legged table in the corner. He steered Ann to it.
“Let’s sit on this. Yes, Mona looked a peach. What about a bite and some champagne?”
Ann was doubtful.
“I’ve never drunk champagne. Do you think it would go to my head?”
He laughed.
“Very nicely acted, but you can’t get away with that, my girl. We all know you nearly broke up Madame Moulin’s school in Paris.”
Ann stared down at her frock. “Gosh,” she thought, “The things I’m learning about Sally.”
“Oh well,” she explained. “I’ve reformed since then.”
Hall was hurrying by with a tray of glasses. Timothy caught him by the shoulder.
“Would you pass a man dying of thirst, Hall?” Hall turned at the sound of the voice, his face slightly unfrozen for a friend of the house, then he saw who else he was expected to serve. He looked even more disdainful then when he had let Ann in that morning.
“I’m sorry, Sir Timothy, I didn’t see you.” His tray was held well away from Ann.
Timothy took two glasses. He handed her one.
“And what shall we bite?”
Ann, absolutely tongue-tied by the presence of Hall, muttered.
“Oh, anything.”
“Anything rubbish.” Timothy held Hall’s sleeve. “Now, Hall, fight your way to the buffet and get us at least a dozen caviar sandwiches. Miss Sally’s hungry.”
“Oh—” Ann protested.
Hall gave her a snubbing glance as if to say “Keep your mouth shut.”
“Very good, Sir Timothy,” he agreed. There was a faint inflexion of the Sir Timothy which entirely excluded Ann.
Timothy took a gulp of champagne.
“Funny old trout, Hall. Got the most disobligin’ manner of any butler I know. I daresay he’s all right really; good to his mother and all that, but I don’t like his mug and never have.”
Ann sipped her champagne. It tasted all right, but she was afraid of it. How much could you drink of it safely? How awful if she got drunk.
Timothy looked at her in amusement.
“It won’t bite.” Then he put his head on one side and studied her. “I believe old Mona’s got you wrong. I’ve always heard such a lot about this tough little South African. You know, the girl from the land where the flowers have no scent, the birds no song, and the women no morals. But you don’t look a bit like that.”
Ann returned his look firmly.
“Why do you know people by what other people say about them? You don’t look like a person who’d do that.”
Timothy laid a hand over hers for a second.
“Quite right, ‘Just Sally.’ I deserved that. Tell me about South Africa. I’ve always wanted to go there.”
Ann swallowed. What on earth did she know about South Africa.
“Well, there are snakes there.”
He laughed.
“Listen to you. All right, if you don’t want to talk about South Africa what shall we talk about?”
Ann was spared an immediate answer by the arrival of Hall. He carried the plate of sandwiches. He put them down by Timothy.
“Your sandwiches, sir.”
Timothy raised his eyebrows.
“Miss Sally’s sandwiches. Pass them to her.”
Hall, as if he were being asked to pick up a red-hot plate, lifted it and presented it to Ann.
Ann felt she was going to laugh. Hall’s face was such a study. After all why should it matter to him if she were a bridesmaid or not?
“Thank you, Hall.” She took a sandwich and in taking it looked up at him for the fraction of a second. It was a “so what?” sort of glance. A little tit for tat for his snubbing manner of the morning.
Hall put the plate between them. As he moved away even his back seemed to say “Things are come to a pretty pass.”
“Well,” said Timothy. “You haven’t answered my question.”
Ann raised her eyes to his. It was an easy face to look at. He was fair, rather long about the jaw, he had very blue eyes. “Sir” Hall had called him. He couldn’t be a knight. People as young as he was didn’t get knighted. He must be a baronet.
“Tell me about you. What d’you do?”
He took another sandwich.
“Don’t you know?”
She shook her head.
“Why should I?”
“Only you can hardly miss it. I’m a ‘Munster.’ You know ‘Munster the dirt away.’ ‘Do you feel Mondayish? Then wash our way and you’ll feel Munsterish.’”
Ann leant against the wall. She had forgotten she had ever felt lonely and out of place at this wedding. She was enjoying herself.
“I know the pictures. Women all over tired lines doing the washing.”
“Ah!” Timothy held up a mock protesting finger. “That’s only part one. Part two shows them listening to the wireless, every care smoothed away while Munster does their work.”
“As a matter of fact it is good, we always use it.”
Timothy opened his eyes.
“No! I wish my Uncle George could hear you. He’s head of the business and very gloomy. It would cheer him up. Aristocratic bridesmaid confesses that she always washes ‘the smalls’ in Munster.”
Ann laughed.
“Aren’t you silly.”
They had been so deep in what they were saying they had forgotten the time. They were startled by the Marchioness’s voice.
“Oh, here you are Timothy, you bad boy. We’ve been looking for you everywhere. It’s time you made your speech. Mona’s going to cut the cake.” Then she looked at Ann. “And you too, dear. All the other bridesmaids are round Mona.” Her voice was quite kind. But as she moved away Ann flushed. There had been no spoken reproof but it was implied. Ann too read into what had not been said.
“You may be acting bridesmaid for the afternoon but that’s no reason why you should sit about in corners with the best man.”
Timothy was unabashed. He put his hand under Ann’s elbow and together they slid off the table. He did not let go of her arm but steered her through the guests.
“Can I have a lot of dances tonight, Sally?”
Ann had forgotten the talk in the car going to the church.
“Tonight! Where?”
“The bridesmaids’ hop. At the Savoy.”
“Oh! That. Well I can’t go.”
He stood still.
“Of course you’re going. All eight of you are booked. I’m putting in to drive you up.”
“I can’t go. Really I can’t.”
“Why?”
Ann searched for a good reason.
“I’ve got to go home.”
“But aren’t your people staying in London?”
“Yes.”
“Well then, what’s the trouble. You can go home after the dance.”
“No. I must go after the wedding.”
“I never heard such talk. I’ll put Mona onto you.”
Timothy did not get a chance to catch Mona alone until after the speeches and cake-cutting. Then he succeeded in engineering himself next to her.
“A very pretty speech you made,” said Mona.
Timothy nodded.
“No question about it, the fellow ought to be in parliament. Listen, duckie. Before you go into the night with that unspeakable cad you’ve married would you do a last good deed?”
Mona took a piece of wedding cake from a passing tray.
“Course.”
“Sally won’t dance tonight. Would you influence her to snap out of such foolishness?”
“Sally!” Mona looked thoughtfully at her piece of cake. “Have you taken a fancy to her?”
“Maybe.”
Mona raised her eyes to his.
“Well, I wouldn’t. I mean don’t go falling for her properly. You’ll be in one hell of a mess if you do.”
“Why?”
“I can’t explain. But honestly it wouldn’t work.”
Timothy eyed her with a question-mark brow.
“Very cryptic these young brides are. I’m not asking to marry the girl. Only to dance with her. Be a pal.”
“I’m not sure if it is being a pal.”
“Now don’t go all matronly. You’ve only been married five minutes. Nip off and tell her she’s going to the Savoy and I’m driving her there.”
Mona ate the last crumb of her cake while she considered.
“All right. But I’m not sure it’s a good deed.”
“There,” said Manners. “Just take a look at yourself.”
Ann spun round to face the long glass. It was very nice what she saw. She caught her breath with pleasure. A little tight bodice, the waistline held in with silver and blue cascades of ribbon. The skirt was practically a crinoline. She turned back to Manners.
“Are you sure her ladyship meant me to wear this?”
“That’s right.” Manners knelt to adjust the lining of the skirt. “‘Put her in my pink, Manners,’ she said. ‘It’ll suit her and there’s those silver shoes that were too small for me she can wear with it.’”
“Fancy her thinking of all that for me on her wedding day.”
“Full of it she was when I was dressing her to go away. ‘Isn’t it lucky, Manners,’ she said,’ that you’re not joining me till tomorrow.’ You can see she’s all right.”
“She is kind.”
“She is that.” Manners’s voice was affectionate. “Never hear her say an unkind thing. Sit down by the dressing-table, dear, while I just turn your curls over my finger.”
Ann sat and looked at Manners in the glass.
“Everyone has been so nice to me. Or at least nearly everyone.”
“Who hasn’t?”
Ann did not answer directly.
“Is Miss Bolt very fond of Sir Timothy Munster?”
Manners made a disparaging sound.
“Her! Might have known it would have been. Yes. They were brought up together. It was kind of understood if you understand me. But when Sir Timothy grew up he had different ideas.”
“You mean he’s fond of somebody else?”
“No. Doesn’t take to anyone in particular. Full of his business he is. He’s not for settling down. When he does it might be Miss Cora after all. You never know.” Manners hesitated. “He’s driving you up isn’t he?”
“Yes.”
“Well you want to take him with a pinch of salt. You won’t be used to his kind. He’s a nice gentleman but friendly with all. Upset a lot of young ladies he has.”
Ann flushed.
“He wouldn’t upset me. I mean of course after tonight I shan’t see him again.”
“No, that’s right.” Manners fixed the last curl. She went over to a cupboard and took out an ermine coat. “Here’s the coat you’re to wear.”
“Oh, no! It’s ermine. I might lose it.”
“No you won’t. The address of the furriers is on the lining. Lady Mona, or rather her ladyship I should say now, said you were to leave it there for her. The other things you can just post back to me.” She helped Ann into the coat.
“Gosh,” said Ann. “Ermine! I never thought I’d wear it.”
“Never know what’s coming to us.” Manners picked up a silver bag. “Here’s your bag. I’ve packed your own in the box with your things, it’s in Sir Timothy’s car. The money in this is for you with her ladyship’s love.”
Ann opened the bag and saw folded in a pocket a five-pound note. She had never owned a five-pound note. She had to unfold it to see what it was. It crackled. It looked gloriously rich. She folded it again and handed it to Manners.
“Will you thank her. Tell her I was grateful, but if she didn’t mind I’d rather not. Today has been lovely, something I’ll never forget. I don’t want it mixed up with tips.”
Manners took the note. She hesitated. Then she put it on the dressing-table.
“There’s some silver in the purse. You must have some on you for the cloakroom and that. You can return it to her ladyship later if you like. I’d meant to put it in your bag anyhow.”
Ann took a last look round the room. She tried to photograph it so that always when things were drab she could call it back. She didn’t envy Mona. Didn’t want to spend her life being dressed by a maid. But it was the first time she had known how it feels to be perfectly turned out all over. It was the first time she had known how it feels to be thought a somebody. The first time she had known how it feels to glow in your heart because you are dancing with a special man.
She turned and flung her arms round Manners.
“Goodbye, Manners. You have been so kind.”
Manners stood looking down the passage after Ann. Then came back into the bedroom. She picked up the five-pound note.
“Poor little girl,” she thought. “Her ladyship meant all right. But I’d bet there’ll be many a wet pillow before she’s through.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Bunny sat in the kitchen while his mother cooked. In front of him was a saucer of water. Floating in the water were flower transfers. His head was bent over a scrapbook. With a handkerchief he was dabbing a transfer dry. In his excitement he breathed heavily through his nose.
“Mum, it’s bluebells. I bet this one comes out well.” Alice looked across from her stove. She smiled at the absorption in every line of him.
“That’ll be something nice to show Ann when she gets in. It was a good idea of hers buying you those.”
“Yes.” Bunny slowly slid the sodden paper from the transfer. “Look, Mum. It’s perfect.”
Alice left the gravy she was making. She leant over his shoulder.
“Splendid, son. Ann’ll like that.”
He nodded.
“I wish she’d come home.”
Alice looked up at the clock. “Won’t be long now. Be ready for her supper. She’ll do with something warm in her on a night like this.” She went back to the stove. Suddenly she raised her head. “Was that the bell, Bunny?”
Bunny pushed a transfer under the water.
“Yes. Must be a new lodger.”
“Haven’t room for any more. I wonder if your father heard it.” They both listened. Then as a door opened and there were steps on the stairs they went on with what they were doing. “That’s the best of having been trained a chemist. No matter what you’re doing you seem to hear bells.”
Alfred opened the door.
“It’s a telegram.”
“For us?”
He nodded.
“Well, open it.”
He gingerly pulled up the flap. Alice watched him nervously. He smiled at her.
“Hate the things. Don’t you?” He opened the form. Then he whistled. “Hark to this. ‘Am dancing tonight. Will not be home till late. Put key usual place. Ann!’” Alice stopped stirring.
“Dancing tonight! She can’t be. Why she had on that dress cousin Jane gave her and those thick shoes I made her buy.”
Alfred went into the passage and called out to the telegraph boy that there was no answer. He came back. “Funny. Wonder who she’s dancing with?”
Alice held out her hand.
“Let’s see it.”
He passed it over.
“You can’t see more than I’ve read.”
“Oh! Look.” She came to him so he could read with her. “See where it’s sent off from. Lewes.”
