Free The Heroes' Welcome by Louisa Young Page B

thought:
I should have made him go to Switzerland, I should have made Dr Tayle send her on a rest cure. Mrs Joyce and I are the only sane people here. I should have sent them off, anywhere with blankets over their laps, on deckchairs. Beef tea. Chicken broth.
)
    Upstairs, Julia felt strange to be standing up.
    ‘Has he gone?’ she said. ‘Has he left?’
    ‘Well, he’s gone somewhere,’ Rose replied. ‘I—’
    ‘Good,’ said Julia.
    ‘Oh Julia—’ Rose blurted, and Julia said, quite politely, ‘Don’t you hate it Rose, when someone says, “You don’t mean that,” as if they knew better than you what you mean?’
    ‘Yes, I do,’ said Rose, honestly.
    Silence.
    ‘But Julia, why …?’ Rose blurted, and Julia snapped: ‘I have no idea, Rose. Who ever has any idea why Peter does or doesn’t do anything? He doesn’t know himself. And even if he did, I’d be the last person he’d tell.’ They stared at each other for a moment and then Julia said ‘Sorry,’ rather abruptly. She stood on the landing, like a lost lighthouse, her silky dressing gown pooling round her feet. ‘I’m trying to hate him,’ she said. ‘Obviously it’s difficult, but loving him has done us no good at all and I can’t think of anything else.’ She stared around her. ‘And of course it’s rather undignified, you know, when one has made promises and – one’s married – and so forth. It seems I’m letting the side down again after all.’
    Rose’s eyes were full of understanding – of how Julia was by nature loving, and her love had at some stage been true and natural; of how she had loved Peter so very conciously, so much and in the face of so much provocation, during the war, that stopping now must involve a considerable wound to her dignity and the investment she had made. Her expression filled Julia with fury.
    ‘Don’t gaze at me,’ she snapped. ‘You look like some kind of large mammal.’
    Rose blinked.
    *
    Tom was squatting quietly behind the drawing-room door.
    *
    The next day Julia was sitting on the white iron chair on the lawn, not saying anything to Tom, who was throwing stones at the walls, the cows across the ha-ha, and finally at his mother’s feet.
    Rose came across, looking important. Julia glanced up. ‘Gosh,’ she said. ‘You’ve something to say, haven’t you? Tommy, stop that. Is it news from my errant husband?’
    ‘In a way,’ said Rose. ‘Blakeman rang up.’ Blakeman was Peter’s mother’s butler,
currently
in situ
at Chester Square.
    ‘Blakeman! We’re honoured. No word from Peter himself, then?’
    Tom wandered over and stood by them, dropping stones one by one on to his own feet.
    ‘He’s staying at Chester Square,’ Rose said.
    ‘And is he all right?’
    ‘Apparently.’
    Relief and disappointment curdled in Julia’s breast. Relief that he was all right, disappointment that he had no good reason for his neglect. If he’d been murdered, he’d have an excuse.
    ‘No message from him?’ she asked.
    ‘Apparently not,’ said Rose.
    Tom was picking up the pebbles again, and suddenly threw them up into the air, like a cloud of midges, and ran into the middle of them.
    ‘Stop that!’ Julia shouted, and Tom ran away across the lawn, not even turning to look at her. The last stones fell behind him. Julia made a face, and turned back to Rose.
    ‘No … news of his plans?’ she said.
    ‘No,’ said Rose.
    Relief and disappointment retreated; fury and pity battled for a moment. Fury won.
    ‘How charming of him,’ Julia said. ‘Ask Millie to come and help me pack, would you?’
    ‘Where are you going?’ Rose said, alarmed.
    ‘Elsewhere,’ Julia said. ‘Else. Where.’ She flashed her eyes at Rose, and stood up.
    ‘Oh,’ said Rose. ‘What about Tom?’
    ‘Tom doesn’t like me,’ Julia said, heading for the house. ‘You know that. He doesn’t need me. He can go to school.’ She was almost marching now – through the hall, up the stairs. ‘Honestly, Rose