Anne of Windy Poplars - L. M. Montgomery [51]
‘I think you’re very, very tired after all these weeks of preparation and strain, and that things which were always hard have become too hard all at once.’
‘You understand. Oh, yes, I always knew you would. I’ve wanted to be friends with you, Anne Shirley. I like the way you laugh. I’ve always wished I could laugh like that. I’m not as sulky as I look. It’s these eyebrows. I really think they’re what scare the men away. I never had a real girl friend in my life. But, of course, I always had Jim. We’ve been – friends ever since we were kids. Why, I used to put a light up in that little window in the attic whenever I wanted him over particularly, and he’d sail across at once. We went everywhere together. No other boy ever had a chance. Not that anyone wanted it, I suppose. And now it’s all over. He was just tired of me, and was glad of the excuse of a quarrel to get free. Oh, won’t I hate you tomorrow because I’ve told you this!’
‘Why?’
‘We always hate people who surprise our secrets, I suppose,’ said Nora drearily. ‘But there’s something gets into you at a wedding. And I just don’t care. I don’t care for anything. Oh, Anne Shirley, I’m so miserable! Just let me have a good cry on your shoulder. I’ve got to smile and look happy all day tomorrow. Sally thinks it’s because I’m superstitious that I wouldn’t be her bridesmaid. “Three times a bridesmaid never a bride” – you know. ’Tisn’t! I just couldn’t endure to stand there and hear her saying “I will” and know I’d never have a chance to say it for Jim. I’d fling back my head and howl. I want to be a bride – and have a trousseau – and monogrammed linen – and lovely presents. Even Aunt Mouser’s silver butter-dish. She always gives a butter-dish to every bride. Awful things with tops like the dome of St Peter’s. We could have had it on the breakfast-table just for Jim to make fun of… Anne, I think I’m going crazy.’
The dance was over when the girls went back to the house hand in hand. People were being stowed away for the night. Tommy Nelson was taking Barnabas and Saul to the barn. Aunt Mouser was still sitting on a sofa, thinking of all the dreadful things she hoped wouldn’t happen on the morrow.
‘I hope nobody will get up and give a reason why they shouldn’t be joined together. That happened at Tillie Hatfield’s wedding.’
‘No such good luck for Gordon as that,’ said the groomsman.
Aunt Mouser fixed him with a stony brown eye. ‘Young man, marriage isn’t exactly a joke.’
‘You bet it isn’t,’ said the unrepentant one. ‘Hello, Nora! When are we going to have a chance to dance at your wedding?’
Nora did not answer in words. She went close up to him and deliberately slapped him, first on one side of his face and then on the other. The slaps were not make-believe ones. Then she went upstairs without looking behind her.
‘That girl,’ said Aunt Mouser, ‘is overwrought.’
17
The forenoon of Saturday passed in a whirl of last-minute things. Anne, shrouded in one of Mrs Nelson’s aprons, spent it in the kitchen helping Nora with the salads. Nora was all prickles, evidently repenting, as she had foretold, her confidences of the night before.
‘We’ll be all tired out for a month,’ she snapped. ‘And Father can’t really afford all this splurge. But Sally was set on having what she calls a “pretty wedding”, and Father gave in. He’s always spoiled her.’
‘Spite and jealousy,’ said Aunt Mouser, suddenly popping her head out of the pantry, where she was driving Mrs Nelson frantic with her hopings against hope.
‘She’s right,’ said Nora bitterly to Anne. ‘Quite right. I am spiteful and jealous. I hate the very look of happy people. But, all the same, I’m not sorry I slapped Jud Taylor’s face last night. I’m only sorry I didn’t tweak his nose into the bargain… Well, that finishes the salads. They do look pretty. I love fussing things up when I’m normal. Oh, after all, I hope everything will go off nicely for Sally’s sake. I suppose I do love her underneath everything, though just now I feel as if I hated everyone, and