Free The Innocents by Margery Sharp Page A

“ I , a qualified doctor, watched your daughter for two years, she is developing absolutely as fast as can be hoped, I warn you any sudden change of treatment or circumstances will be disastrous for her,” then, I felt, Cecilia must have been influenced—especially if (in these imaginary conversations) I let Doctor Alice employ the curt, almost hectoring tone of voice she used to intimidate overweight pregnant mothers or anti-vivisectionists. But there was no one now with sufficient authority to intimidate Cecilia. The new (old) doctor had never set eyes on Antoinette.
    So I suggested to Cecilia that after coming back amongst us after so long an absence, and obviously giving everyone so much pleasure at seeing her again, she should stay at least two or three weeks longer, and then have another word with the airline.
    â€œAs I shall in any case!” said Cecilia, suddenly abstracted and frowning. “Somewhere on the way across they lost me a spray of orchids from the freezer!”
    With sudden hindsight I realized what of course had been the one thing lacking to complete Cecilia’s image the day before. (Indeed I learned afterwards from Miss Holmes that Mrs. Cook, always an iconoclast, had actually exclaimed, “Wot, no orchids?”—but fortunately not loudly enough to be generally heard.)
    â€œBesides,” I went on, “though Antoinette obviously adores you already—” I was glad Antoinette wasn’t present, to fix me with her searching eye again, but I was only doing my best for both of us—“for any child it’s a very sudden change.”
    â€œYou mean she should come and stay a little with me at Woolmers first?” responded Cecilia, quite reasonably.
    â€œAnd have her cot in your room,” said I.—It was by night Antoinette most needed the reassurance of familiarity, and her cot at least would be familiar, while she learned familiarity with a mother.
    â€œBut of course!” exclaimed Cecilia, seeming rather taken by the idea; and added that she’d just love to see Tony say her prayers, in her nightdress.—It was obviously no moment to explain the futility of such expectations, Cecilia not yet being conditioned, as I was, to equate “vermin” with Amen; however by reminding her how exhausted she must still be after her flight, and how much in need of some further nights’ unbroken rest, which with a small child in the same room was scarcely possible, I succeeded in postponing Antoinette’s transference to Woolmers for a day or two more, even if it meant Cecilia’s staying on a whole week.
    â€œAnd even if I’m to be bored to death by that old sailor-man?” grimaced Cecilia—obviously referring to the Admiral, who’d apparently managed to bore her to death over a first breakfast at separate tables.
    Then naturally she wanted to see Antoinette. I knew the child was back, and now in fact felt glad of it; I did not wish Cecilia to fancy any dog-in-the-mangerishness on my part. However as we went into the garden I remarked that the child was probably hiding—she often hid, and it sometimes took quite a while to find her. “Hide-and-seek? But that’s perfect!” cried Cecilia. “Isn’t it just what we must do, play together, while we make friends?—Count up to ten, Tony,” she called lovingly, “then Mummy’ll come and find you!”
    That Antoinette couldn’t count up to three was immaterial—though again I was dismayed by the scope of Cecilia’s expectations—since she certainly knew how to hide. After several fruitless darts and dashes, however methodically Cecilia quartered the ground her quarry remained unflushed. The artichokes stirred again, but only at Cecilia’s investigation, as so did the saplings on the terrace above, whence only a pigeon clattered out. With more patience, I dare say Cecilia might have discovered the secret route