GOOD DAUGHTERS Read online

  ‘And you know Alice, of course, Louise’s sister,’ Ellen said.

  Mrs Immingham looked more reproachful than ever. Guy greeted Alice with warmth to make up for his parents’ lack of response.

  ‘And this is Ben. He is staying with us before he goes to London University,’ Ellen said proudly.

  Mrs Immingham responded to this as though it was a claim on her own private territory. ‘London? That’s just institutes, surely? Guy’s headmaster said he would certainly have gained a place at Oxford.’ The word Oxford invoked an upward lift in her otherwise flat voice.

  Alice, who was sitting beside Ben, looked at him, half expecting he would say something awful. His face had a raw, startled look; he blinked rapidly as though his eyes were stinging. Alice thought perhaps he was remembering his mother, who had scrimped and saved to give him a good education. She hated Mrs Immingham.

  Guy intervened awkwardly, ‘Anyway, I’m not going to university.’

  ‘But you could have gone to Oxford; the headmaster said so.’ She turned to Ellen and announced, much as a biologist might have introduced a new strain in the human species, ‘Guy is going to be an accountant.’

  ‘I’m going to have six months in America before I get down to swotting,’ Guy said, trying to change the subject. ‘We have relatives in Tennessee.’

  ‘Ben’s great-great-uncle led the march through Georgia!’ Alice said breathlessly before Mrs Immingham could tell them about Tennessee.

  Ellen, who had no intention of taking an interest in Guy’s plans now that Ben’s achievement had been dismissed, said to Mrs Immingham, ‘I’m going to prepare a good Cornish tea for you. Alice says you’re staying at the Cotters’ guest house and I know they don’t feed you very well there. He’s a dry old stick twice her age. Every so often they have a row and she goes off to her mother for a few days. Then he has to do the cooking as well as everything else, poor man.’

  Mrs Immingham said, ‘They have never had a row while we have been staying there.’

  ‘She’ll break out one of these days and then there’ll be blood in that house.’ Ellen spoke in the dry, matter-of-fact tone which she reserved for such pronouncements and then, being unwilling to draw the veil of the future further aside, departed for the kitchen accompanied by Alice, who was too disturbed to stay behind.

  Mr Immingham took advantage of his wife’s affronted silence to say to Joseph, ‘You were with the Hain Steamship Company, I understand?’

  ‘Nigh on fifty years.’

  ‘Ship’s engineer, I believe? A cousin of mine was first mate with the Ellerman Lines. I wonder if you ever came across him – Jasper Immingham?’

  Mrs Immingham found voice to correct this. ‘Your cousin was in the Merchant Navy.’

  Mr Immingham said mildly, ‘The Hain Steamship Company is Merchant Navy, my dear.’

  Mrs Immingham shook her head. ‘There’s some difference, I do know that. They were big boats your cousin was on, and they went to the Far East.’

  Ben, who had been looking at her with increasing contempt, gave a snort of laughter.

  Guy said to Joseph, ‘It must have been a wonderful life. I have always wanted to go to sea.’

  ‘You’ve never said that before.’ There was distress in Mrs Immingham’s eyes. ‘It’s not the kind of life which would have suited you at all.’

  ‘In the age of sail, I meant,’ Guy amended.

  ‘Oh, that’s different.’ She was mollified; even so, her eyes strayed momentarily to the window, where a few sailing boats could be seen bobbing about in the harbour.

  Ben got up and strolled to the window.

  Mr Immingham and Joseph began to talk about the way in which the sailor’s life had changed since the coming of steam, and Guy listened to them, only occasionally contributing a remark. From time to time he glanced at Ben. He knew he had made a bad impression, and wanted a chance to redeem himself. Eventually, he got up and joined Ben at the window. ‘We come to St Mawes every year,’ he said. ‘Have you found the good places to swim from?’

  Ben, whose time had been occupied with the tribe and the cinema, had to admit he had not.

  ‘We must have a day out together,’ Guy said. ‘I assume you are a swimmer.’

  The challenge was unmistakable and was duly accepted. By the time Ellen and Alice came in carrying trays, it had been agreed that they would meet next day.

  Mrs Immingham ate hardly anything, which necessitated her husband and son eating more than was good for them. Her conversation centred on the affairs of the family, which she appeared to regard as of unique interest. When she spoke of her husband as ‘an accountant and he works in Holborn’, one might have supposed this to be the only coming together of Holborn and accountancy; while the possession of a house in Maple Road, Shepherd’s Bush, was something to which few could aspire. Ben sat silent and dour.

  When they left, Mr Immingham courteously praised Ellen’s saffron cake, and she insisted on packing a substantial wedge for him to take with him. Guy reminded Ben of their engagement for the next day and Ellen, who was annoyed with the Imminghams for being so superior, said, ‘And you can take Alice with you. She is a splendid swimmer; I wouldn’t be surprised if she wasn’t better than the pair of you.’

  The next day the three of them set out together. They walked to the far end of the beach where there were few people. The sun was shining in a cloudless sky, and the sand was hot beneath their feet. Alice felt less at ease than usual. She found it difficult to know what to say to Guy, who seemed to her to be very ‘deep’ because he did not talk a lot.

  Once they had settled themselves, they did not go into the sea immediately but sunbathed. Divested of his smart flannels and blazer, Guy looked rather defenceless: his long, thin body was white, like a plant deprived of sunlight. Ben was more muscular, his body hard and hairy. After they had been sitting for half an hour, Guy had to put his towel around his shoulders. ‘I burn easily,’ he said apologetically. The two young men talked. Guy was at a loss as to how to strike the right note with Ben, while Ben was indifferent to the impression he made on Guy.

  When eventually they decided to swim, Guy said loftily to Alice, ‘You can sit and guard our clothes.’

  ‘I’m not Badger,’ she protested. ‘I’m coming in, too.’

  ‘You’re not to swim out too far,’ Guy told her, and looked to Ben for support. He had little idea how to behave with people younger than himself.

  Ben said, ‘If you get into trouble, we shall leave you to drown.’

  ‘Granny says I’ll be as good as either of you and I bet I am,’ she retorted, and to prove it she ran into the water, not stopping until it was up to her waist. They followed slowly, seeming reluctant to commit themselves. She plunged in and came up gasping at the shock of the water on her burning shoulders. ‘It’s lovely!’ Ben waded in until he was breast high in water, then lashed out in a fierce crawl which sent up showers of spray. Guy began a leisurely breaststroke. For a time, Alice kept at Guy’s side, then she turned over and began to do backstroke. After a while she floated, staring up at the blue sky, feeling happier than she had ever felt in her life. Before, there had always been anxious people on the shore shouting at her not to go too far. She had, however, a strong sense of self-preservation and kept a weather eye on the coast; at the moment when she judged she had reached her limit, she raised herself, treading water, and shouted, ‘I’m going back now.’ It was Ben who was swimming close to her; Guy was a long way ahead.

  Alice towelled and changed into her frock. How good life was! She felt the warm, salt goodness of it across her shoulderblades, tingling on her legs; the wonder and mystery of it whispered across the sand, and she felt it welling between her toes as she walked to the sea’s edge to rinse the sand out of her bathing costume.

  Soon, Ben came wading towards her, breathing with difficulty. ‘Wasn’t that lovely?’ she said. ‘I feel tingly all over.’

  He walked past her without replying and, snatching up his towel,
buried his face in it. Alice though he was not well, but when eventually he began to dry himself, still refusing to speak, she realized he was angry.

  Guy returned a quarter of an hour later. ‘Good old Alice!’ he said, a shade too boisterously. ‘You’re a remarkably good swimmer for your age.’

  Ben turned over, propping his face on his folded arms. Guy stretched out in the sun. He did not seem at all winded. Alice thought now nice he was, innocently enjoying his triumph but not really crowing.

  They were all tired and lay for a time without speaking, listening to the waves hissing on the sand. It was very peaceful. A motor launch moved slowly across the bay, white patterns of spray forming in its wake, lethargic as marshmallow.

  After another half-hour, Ben sat up and said cheerfully, ‘Who’s for ice cream? State your preferences.’

  ‘Get a paper, too,’ Guy called after him when he went away to fetch their orders. ‘I want to see who has won the Davis Cup.’

  Guy and Alice watched him walk away. ‘He started off so well,’ Alice said. ‘Did you think he would win?’

  ‘Not thrashing about and sending up all that spray.’

  ‘I’m sorry he was such a bad sport; burying his face in the sand.’

  ‘Literally biting the dust.’ Guy sounded happy. But as he watched Ben returning, there was a certain wistfulness in his eyes. He would have been very distressed had he lost the contest, but he would never have shown it, and he was a little envious of Ben’s ability to show his feelings, and more than a little envious of his ability to shake off his defeat so soon.

  ‘It has to be the News Chronicle,’ Ben said, handing the paper to Guy. ‘Alice has to check up on Lobby Lud.’

  ‘ “Perry beats Merlin!” ’ Guy read. ‘We’ve won. Hurray!’

  ‘Listen to this!’ Ben exclaimed. In a side paragraph it was reported that the Nazis had established the first Institute of Racial Hygiene, which was to be consulted by engaged couples to see whether their choice of partner was favourable in the racial hygiene sense. Married couples would be advised before deciding to have children. Dr Karl Astel, in opening the Institute, said that responsibility towards race, and not love, should be the guiding motive for marriage. Ben read the paragraph aloud. ‘How’s that for romance, Alice?’

  ‘Two of my friends are on holiday in Germany now.’

  ‘I don’t suppose the Institute of Racial Hygiene would worry about them; they’re racially pure.’

  ‘Katia’s half-Jewish.’

  ‘Poor Katia! No Gary Cooper for a husband!’

  ‘I’ve been thinking about that film, and the lovers being divided by the war.’

  ‘You have?’

  ‘My ancestors were in the packet service, and perhaps your ancestors on the American side were privateers. We should have been on different sides then.’

  ‘My maternal great-grandmother was in service,’ Guy said cheerfully, and then looked uneasy, feeling he had let his mother down.

  ‘That’s great!’ Ben said. ‘She works up at the big house and the wicked squire takes advantage of her; and her hotblooded lover kills him and has to flee the country, so he signs aboard the Falmouth brig (smuggling her aboard) and somewhere off Newfoundland an American privateer attacks them . . . Are you getting this down, Alice? You’re the one that’s going to write it. Where does Gary Cooper come in?’

  ‘Not as a privateer.’

  ‘No? Well, we’ll have to get them all shipwrecked. Then, outlined against the skyline, this lean, lanky figure appears on horseback . . .’

  ‘The Virginian!’ Alice exclaimed.

  ‘And it all ends happily,’ Ben said.

  They stayed until the sun went down. Ben had recovered his good humour completely by this time. The green hills beyond the bay were darkening as they walked beside the sea singing.

  ‘ “Sherman’s dashing Yankee boys will never reach the coast . . .” ’

  Chapter Eight

  The Summer came to an end. Katia and Daphne returned from Germany where their paths had not crossed. There seemed even less likelihood of their becoming friendly. Katia reported that the Germans were being asked to boycott Jewish-owned department stores; this was very bad for her grandparents, who owned a chain of shoe shops.

  ‘The Germans are jealous of anyone who makes money,’ she said. ‘They are too stupid to make it themselves.’

  Her grandparents’ wealth meant a lot to Katia, who spent most of the year in straitened circumstances which must on no account be acknowledged. Jacov had found his way of dealing with this and the twins lived in a world of their own, hut Katia was confused and angered by the contradictions in her life.

  Daphne dismissed Katia’s fears. ‘My father says Hitler has a lot of sound ideas,’ she told Alice as they walked home after a game of tennis in Acton Park. ‘He heard him speak at an open air rally.’ She stopped and pointed at a greengrocer’s stall. ‘Pomegranates! We must have one.’

  When they had bought a pomegranate each. Daphne said, ‘Why do you take so much notice of Katia?’

  ‘It’s not just Katia,’ Alice said. ‘My father thinks Hitler is bad.’

  ‘Why?’ Daphne bit into her pomegranate.

  ‘He wants to get rid of people.’

  ‘Only gypsies and useless people like that.’

  Alice could not think what to say in the face of this lack of sensitivity. Then she noticed that Daphne was throwing away the seeds of the pomegranate. ‘Daphne, what are you doing?’

  ‘I don’t like the pips.’

  ‘But there’s nothing else.’

  ‘I can’t help it; I don’t like them.’

  Alice, who didn’t like anything about a pomegranate except its name and the fact that she never had one at home, munched in silence. She wished the people she loved could get on with one another better.

  Claire was having the same problem in a more extreme form. She had made a bosom friend at Crusader camp. Alice was able to sustain several friendships at the same time; but Claire could not do this. Each friendship was exclusive and tended as a result to break down, since few could equal her capacity for singleminded devotion. Judith warned her about this tendency, but to little avail – it was as much a part of Claire’s make-up as red hair and freckles. In answer to her complaints that her friends were unfaithful, Judith would say, ‘You ask too much of your friends, Claire. You mustn’t always expect them to behave and feel like you.’

  ‘But I do expect that.’

  It seemed she had found what she expected in Maisie Richards. Maisie, a scholarship girl, was a form higher than Claire, and they had not been friendly until they met at Crusader camp.

  Maisie had told Claire about her working-class family, who had no time for religion. ‘It’s the same as voting Conservative to my Dad.’ They had talked a lot about this, and prayed for the conversion of Maisie’s family. Claire had told Maisie how upset she was because Alice no longer wanted her, and they had prayed about that, too.

  When they returned to Shepherd’s Bush, Claire visited Maisie and was distressed by what she saw. The house was small, and Claire felt frightened by the proximity of people and furniture in the tiny overcrowded rooms. The garden in her own home was treated as another room in the house, used and tended; but here it was a waste area in which wood and coke, the handlebars of a bicycle, a broken handcart and other mechanical failures, had been dumped. Mr Richards, who was unemployed, sat in his shirtsleeves staring at the empty kitchen grate, and did not raise his head when Maisie and Claire came into the room.

  Maisie took Claire up to the room which she shared with her younger sister and which, to Claire, seemed little more than a cupboard. ‘The beds weren’t made,’ she told Alice later. ‘And the chamber-pot was full of number two. I thought I was going to be sick.’

  The stairs were uncarpeted. There were no pictures on any of the walls, and there were no flowers about the house. Flowers were very important to the Fairleys. Every Friday Claire saw her father come home with
a bunch of flowers, which he presented to her mother with a joke about its being his ‘peace offering’. It was hard to imagine what peace offering would be acceptable to Mrs Richards, who raised her voice whenever she spoke, and always seemed to be angry.

  Judith disapproved of the intensity of this new friendship. She hoped the attraction would pass, but as the autumn term wore on it seemed that Claire had found a friend whose devotion equalled her own.

  There were arguments at Christmas. Claire painted a desolate picture of the way in which Maisie would have to pass Christmas Day. ‘They won’t go to chapel, and there won’t be any decorations or turkey or . . .’

  Judith was adamant. Alice and Louise could not have friends on Christmas Day and neither could Claire. Christmas Day was given over to the family – including Grandmother Fairley, Aunt May and Ben – and six of the old folk from the chapel.

  Louise took Claire’s part. ‘If Maisie can’t come, I don’t see why we have to have Ben.’

  Since he came to London, Ben had been a welcome visitor at the Fairleys’ home. Stanley Fairley enjoyed having masculine company about the house, and Judith had suggested that Ben might like to live with them. He preferred, however, to remain in his digs in Camden.

  ‘I’ll be better off on my own,’ he had told Judith. ‘I’ve got to study.’

  ‘Don’t overdo it. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.’

  ‘All the Jacks I know are going to be dull because they were content to stay where they were and play.’ University acceptance was the second great achievement of Ben’s life: getting his scholarship had been the first. He was moving well ahead of his contemporaries at a home, and he wasn’t fool enough to slacken his pace when he had a commanding lead.

  ‘He means to make people take account of him,’ Judith thought, and liked him for it. Louise disliked him for the same reason.