The Hollow

She took now her own newly discovered way southwest, turning and twisting through intricate mazes of suburban streets.

When she came finally to the long ridge of Shovel Down it was half-past twelve. Henrietta had always loved the view from that particular place. She paused now just at the point where the road began to descend. All around and below her were trees, trees whose leaves were turning from gold to brown. It was a world incredibly golden and splendid in the strong autumn sunlight.

Henrietta thought, ‘I love autumn. It’s so much richer than spring.’

And suddenly one of those moments of intense happiness came to her—a sense of the loveliness of the world—of her own intense enjoyment of that world.

She thought, ‘I shall never be as happy again as I am now—never.’

She stayed there a minute, gazing out over that golden world that seemed to swim and dissolve into itself, hazy and blurred with its own beauty.

Then she came down over the crest of the hill, down through the woods, down the long steep road to The Hollow.

When Henrietta drove in, Midge was sitting on the low wall of the terrace, and waved to her cheerfully. Henrietta was pleased to see Midge, whom she liked.

Lady Angkatell came out of the house and said:

‘Oh, there you are, Henrietta. When you’ve taken your car into the stables and given it a bran mash, lunch will be ready.’

‘What a penetrating remark of Lucy’s,’ said Henrietta as she drove round the house, Midge accompanying her on the step. ‘You know, I always prided myself on having completely escaped the horsy taint of my Irish forebears. When you’ve been brought up amongst people who talk nothing but horse, you go all superior about not caring for them. And now Lucy has just shown me that I treat my car exactly like a horse. It’s quite true. I do.’

‘I know,’ said Midge. ‘Lucy is quite devastating. She told me this morning that I was to be as rude as I liked whilst I was here.’

Henrietta considered this for a moment and then nodded.

‘Of course,’ she said. ‘The shop!’

‘Yes. When one has to spend every day of one’s life in a damnable little box being polite to rude women, calling them Madam, pulling frocks over their heads, smiling and swallowing their damned cheek whatever they like to say to one—well, one does want to cuss! You know, Henrietta, I always wonder why people think it’s so humiliating to go “into service” and that it’s grand and independent to be in a shop. One puts up with far more insolence in a shop than Gudgeon or Simmons or any decent domestic does.’

‘It must be foul, darling. I wish you weren’t so grand and proud and insistent on earning your own living.’

‘Anyway, Lucy’s an angel. I shall be gloriously rude to everyone this weekend.’

‘Who’s here?’ said Henrietta as she got out of the car.

‘The Christows are coming.’ Midge paused and then went on, ‘Edward’s just arrived.’

‘Edward? How nice. I haven’t seen Edward for ages. Anybody else?’

‘David Angkatell. That, according to Lucy, is where you are going to come in useful. You’re going to stop him biting his nails.’

‘It sounds very unlike me,’ said Henrietta. ‘I hate interfering with people, and I wouldn’t dream of checking their personal habits. What did Lucy really say?’

‘It amounted to that! He’s got an Adam’s apple, too!’

‘I’m not expected to do anything about that, am I?’ asked Henrietta, alarmed.

‘And you’re to be kind to Gerda.’

‘How I should hate Lucy if I were Gerda!’

‘And someone who solves crimes is coming to lunch tomorrow.’

‘We’re not going to play the Murder Game, are we?’

‘I don’t think so. I think it is just neighbourly hospitality.’

Midge’s voice changed a little.

‘Here’s Edward coming out to meet us.’

‘Dear Edward,’ thought Henrietta with a sudden rush of warm affection.

Edward Angkatell was very tall and thin. He was smiling now as he came towards the two young women.

‘Hallo, Henrietta, I haven’t seen you for over a year.’

‘Hallo, Edward.’

How nice Edward was! That gentle smile of his, the little creases at the corners of his eyes. And all his nice knobbly bones. ‘I believe it’s his bones I like so much,’ thought Henrietta. The warmth of her affection for Edward startled her. She had forgotten that she liked Edward so much.

After lunch Edward said: ‘Come for a walk, Henrietta.’

It was Edward’s kind of walk—a stroll.

They went up behind the house, taking a path that zigzagged up through the trees. Like the woods at Ainswick, thought Henrietta. Dear Ainswick, what fun they had had there! She began to talk to Edward about Ainswick. They revived old memories.

‘Do you remember our squirrel? The one with the broken paw. And we kept it in a cage and it got well?’

‘Of course. It had a ridiculous name—what was it now?’

‘Cholmondeley-Marjoribanks!’

‘That’s it.’

They both laughed.

‘And old Mrs Bondy, the housekeeper—she always said it would go up the chimney one day.’

‘And we were so indignant.’

‘And then it did.’

‘She made it,’ said Henrietta positively. ‘She put the thought into the squirrel’s head.’

She went on:

‘Is it all the same, Edward? Or is it changed? I always imagine it just the same.’