‘I’m Janet Johnstone.’
The child was the child of the photograph. She showed no sign of having just emerged from a screaming fit. The dark straight fringe was neat, the fine pale skin unmarked by tears. The beautiful deep-set eyes were fixed in an appraising stare.
‘Are you Star’s Janet?’
‘I am.’
‘That played with her and Ninian at Darnach?’
‘Of course.’
‘You mightn’t have been. I know three other people called Janet. Ninian plays lovely games – doesn’t he?’
Janet said ‘Yes’ again.
The eyes looked through and through her. They were of so dark a grey that they might almost have been black. Janet wondered what they saw. The thought went through her mind, and as it passed, Stella put out a hand and said,
‘Come along and see my room. Yours is next door. It’s Nanny’s really, but she’s gone away on a holiday. I screamed for two hours.’
The little hand was cold in hers. Janet said,
‘Why?’
‘I didn’t want her to go.’
‘Do you always scream when you don’t want things and they happen?’
With simple determination Stella said, ‘Yes.’
‘It sounds very unpleasant.’
The dark head was vigorously shaken.
‘No, I like it. Everyone else puts their hands to their ears. Aunt Edna says it goes through and through her. But I don’t mind how much noise I make. I was screaming when you came.’
Janet said, ‘I heard you. Why? Why did you scream?’
They had reached the top of the stairs. Passages ran away to the right and to the left. Stella tugged at her hand.
‘We go this way.’ They took the right-hand passage. ‘I didn’t want you to come.’
‘Why?’
The child caught her breath.
‘I wanted to go with Star in an aeroplane. It would be fun. So I screamed. Sometimes if I scream long enough I get what I want-’ Her voice trailed away, the clasp on Janet’s hand tightened, the dark brows drew together. ‘I don’t always, but sometimes I do. And it’s no good trying to stop me. Joan slapped me just before you came, but it only made me worse.’
‘Was that Joan who let me in?’
Stella nodded vigorously.
‘Joan Cuttle. Aunt Edna says she’s such a nice girl, but I think she’s a sissy. She can’t even slap properly. She just flaps with her hand – it doesn’t hurt a bit. Anyhow I oughtn’t to be slapped – it’s bad for me. Star would be very angry if she knew. Do you think I am a problem child? Uncle Geoffrey says I am.’
Janet said, ‘I’m sure I hope not.’
They had arrived at what was evidently the nursery. It had a lovely view over green lawns that went down to a stream, but after the merest glance her hand was tugged again.
‘Why did you say you hoped not? I think it’s intresting.’
Janet shook her head.
‘It sounds very uncomfortable, and you wouldn’t be happy.’
The dark eyes were lifted to hers in an odd deep stare. Stella said mournfully,
‘But I don’t scream when I’m happy.’ Then she jerked her hand away. ‘Come and see my room! Star had it done for me. It’s got flowers on the curtains and blue birds flying, and there’s a blue carpet and a blue eiderdown, and a picture with a hill.’
It was a pretty child’s room. The hill in the picture was the hill that stood over Darnach with the Rutherfords ’ house at the foot. The name of the hill was Darnach Law, and she and Star and Ninian had climbed over every foot of it.
Nanny’s room, which was to be hers, opened out of Stella’s. It had the same outlook, but a good deal of heavy mahogany furniture made it dark. There were pictures of Nanny’s relations on the mantelpiece, and a many times enlarged photograph above it. Stella could tell her who everyone was. The young man in uniform was Nanny’s brother Bert, and the girl next to him was his wife Daisy. The picture over the mantelpiece was done from quite a little one of Nanny’s father and mother on their wedding day.
Stella knew everything about the people in the photographs. She was in the middle of a most exciting story of how Bert’s youngest was in a ship that was blown up in the war – ‘and he swam for miles and miles and miles, and it got dark and he thought he was going to be drowned’ – when the door opened and Edna Ford came in. Stella finished the story in a gabbling hurry – ‘and an aeroplane came and he wasn’t, and Bert and Daisy were ever so glad.’
Edna Ford shook hands in the rather limp manner in which she did most things. She had a washed-out, faded look, and she wore the least flattering of clothes. Her tweed skirt hesitated between brown and grey and dipped at the back. The jumper, of an indeterminate mauve, clung closely about stooping shoulders and a singularly flat chest. Nothing more trying to face and figure could have been devised. The sallow skin, the light dry hair, were cruelly emphasized. She said in a complaining tone,
‘Really, Miss Johnstone, I don’t know what you must think. Stella had no business to bring you up like this. But of course with no proper staff this is the sort of thing that happens. A small convenient house would be so much better, but it is out of the question. Someone has to look after my aunt. Simmons does what he can, but he is not strong, and we spare him as much as possible. I don’t know what we should do without Joan Cuttle. I believe she let you in. So helpful and good-natured, but of course not really trained. Such a nice girl though. The Simmons are old servants of my aunt’s, and Mrs Simmons is a very good cook. And then, of course, there is a woman from the village, so I suppose it might be worse. Now let me see, Joan will bring up your case – she said you only have the one. And then perhaps Stella ought to go to bed. Star said she would ring up at seven – there’s an extension in your room. And I only hope she will be punctual, because we dine at half past, and it does put Mrs Simmons out if anyone is late.’
Chapter Eight
Star rang up at half past six, which was better than being late. The call must have cost pounds, because she went on talking in a perfectly care-free manner while the pips kept mounting up. Janet and Stella made a game of it. They sat side by side on the bed and played snatch-the-microphone, so that at one moment Star found herself impressing upon Stella that she was an exceptionally sensitive child and mustn’t be crossed, and in the next blowing kisses along the wire to Janet. As this had the fortunate result of making Stella laugh, nothing could have been more reassuring for Star. The good-byes were said in a much happier atmosphere than anyone would have thought possible, and it was only at the last that there was a sob in the high, pretty voice.
‘Janet – are you there?’
Janet said, ‘Yes.’
‘You will keep her safe, won’t you? I’ve got the most dreadful cold feet.’
‘Star, you’re just being silly!’
Stella bounced on the bed beside her.
‘Me – me – it’s my turn!’ She butted Janet out of the way. ‘Star, it’s me! You are being silly! Janet says so, and so do I!’
‘Darling, are you all right – are you happy?’
‘Of course! Janet is going to tell me about going up Darnach Law and getting lost in the mist. You didn’t tell me about that-’
‘Janet will,’ said Star.
‘And when I’m quite grown up I shall go there, and I shall climb all over the hill! And I shall come with you in an aeroplane when you go to New York, and I shall sit up all night and see you act!’
They were still talking ten minutes later when Janet took the receiver.
‘Better ring off now, Star. Have a good time, and send us all your notices.’
Stella bounced and echoed her.
‘Send me every single picture – promise!’
In her packed-up flat Star felt cold and cut off. They were going to do very well without her. Not that she wanted Stella to miss her – she didn’t, she really didn’t. But that cold feeling persisted, and the Atlantic was dreadfully wide.