Portrait of a Family by Richmal Crompton

Author:Richmal Crompton [Crompton, Richmal]
Language: eng
Format: epub

Chapter Thirteen

“WHAT are we going to do?” said Olivia.

She looked away as she spoke, as if she dare not meet Stephen’s eyes.

It was their first meeting since the one that had been interrupted by the sound of Derek’s key in the lock. Stephen had rung her up, and asked her to meet him at the Henton ’bus terminus. She had known why he had suggested that. What they had to discuss could not be discussed in Derek’s house or in his.

He had been waiting for her when she got down from the ’bus, and they had walked quickly, without speaking, along the road that ran across the highest point of the common, past the war memorial on one side, and the old windmill on the other. From the road a riot of golden bracken, silver birches, and beeches gilded by the first touch of frost, spread down the hill-side to a pond that gleamed blue and motionless through the branches.

There was a sharp tang in the air, a faint luminous mist over the horizon. They came to the main road that joined the road from the common, crossed it, and climbed a stile that led to a public pathway through a private estate. On Sunday afternoon this pathway was a favourite haunt of courting couples, family parties, and children. To-day it was empty but for Olivia and Stephen. It wound in and out of the trees till it reached a massive oak tree that blocked the way, making it swerve sharply to either side. The tree was enormous, prehistoric, iron girt. A seat ran round it, and on to the trunk of the tree was affixed a notice, announcing that here two famous statesmen had once sat to discuss England’s policy at a crucial moment of her affairs.

They sat down on the seat, just below the notice, and Olivia spoke for the first time.

“What are we going to do?”

Stephen looked at her. He was pale, and the furrows on his cheeks showed deeply.

“There isn’t any question of what we’re going to do,” he said, shortly. “You must come away with me.”

Olivia still stared fixedly into the distance. Her breast was rising and falling quickly.

“What about Wanda?” she said.

“Wanda and I are nothing to each other. We haven’t lived together for years.”

“You haven’t told her?”

“No. . . . The only question is, of course, whether she’ll divorce me.”

She turned and looked at him.

“Does that make any difference?”

“It makes a little.” He laid his hand over hers on the seat. “Things won’t be too pleasant at first, but once the break’s made, it’s made for ever.”

The forced calm left his voice. “Olivia . . . tell me you’ll come with me.”

She took her hand away from his, and pressed it against the other in her lap.

“I don’t know what to say, Stephen. Ever since I’ve known, I’ve gone over and over things in my mind till I feel insane. I’ve not slept. I’ve hardly known what I’m doing. Going away seems so—impossible somehow.

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