The Death of the Heart - Elizabeth Bowen [122]
"If I may be allowed to say so," said Major Brutt, "it sounds to me the most unheard of, infernal cheek on his part. And that is to put it mildly. I must say I really never—"
"He always is cheeky, the little bastard," she said, reflectively tapping the mantelpiece. "But it is Portia that I'm worried about. It all sounds so unlike her. Major Brutt, you know us fairly well as a family: do you think Portia's happy?"
"Allowing, poor kid, for having just lost her mother, it never struck me she could be anything else. She seemed to fit in as though she'd been born here. As girls go, she has quite the ideal life."
"Or is that the nice way you see things? We do give her more freedom than most girls of sixteen, but she seemed old enough for it: she took care of her mother. But I see now that a girl has to be older before she can choose her friends—especially young men."
"You mean, there's been a bit much of that little chap?"
"It looks rather like that now. Of course, I blame myself rather. He has always been a good deal at this house—he's lonely, and we've tried to be nice to him. Except for that, I do think during the winter Portia got on very happily here. She seemed to be settling down. Then, as you know, she went away to the seaside, and I'm afraid some trouble may have begun there. My old governess is an angel, but I'm afraid her step-children are not up to much, and they may have upset Portia. She has not been quite the same since she came home. Even our old housemaid notices it. She isn't nearly so shy, but at the same time she is less spontaneous. No, I suppose we were wrong in ever making that break—in going away, I mean—while she was settling down with us. That came too soon; it unsettled her; it was silly. But Thomas really needed a holiday; he's had a fairly hard winter in the office."
"She's such a dear girl. She is a sweet little kid."
"If you were me, then, you'd just tell Eddie to go to the devil?"
"Well, more or less—Yes, I certainly would."
"And just have a word with Portia?"
"I'm sure you could manage that."
"Do you know, Major Brutt, I'm most stupidly shy?"
"I feel certain," he said with vigour, "she'd be most upset if she thought she's upset you. I'd be ready to swear she hasn't the least idea."
"She hasn't any idea how Eddie talks," Anna said with a sharpness she simply couldn't control. "Major Brutt, this has been a wretched afternoon for you: first those dreadful people at lunch, and now my family worries. But it cheers me up to feel you feel Portia's happy. You must come back soon and we'll have a much nicer time. You will come again soon?"
"There's nothing I'd like better. Of course, as you know, my plans are rather unsettled still. I shall have to take up whatever may come along, and the Lord only knows where that might involve being sent."
"Not right away, I do hope. I am so glad, at any rate, that you're not going to Shropshire. Thomas and I were mad to consider that idea; I see now that it would not have done at all. Well, thank you for listening: you have been an angel. It's fatal," she concluded, holding her hand out, "to be such a good friend to a selfish woman like me." With her hand in his, being wrung, she went on smiling, then not only smiled but laughed, looking out of the window as though she saw something funny in the park.
Upon which he took his leave. She, not giving herself a moment, sat down to dash off that little letter to Eddie.
Dear Eddie,
Of course I could not say so at lunch but I should, if I were you, be rather more careful about using the office telephone. It must be hard to know when is the once too often, but I'm afraid the once too often may have been passed. The fact is, I hear that Thomas and Mr. Merrett are going to have a drive about all these personal calls that get put through and taken. The girl at the switchboard must have ratted, or something. You must not think this unkind of Thomas and Mr. Merrett; they seem to feel it is a matter of principle. Even though you are getting on so well at the office, I should be a little careful, just for a week or two. I feel it is more considerate to tell you: you know I do want you to get on well.