In Pursuit of the English - Doris Lessing [39]
‘Don’t be silly,’ I said.
She laughed and said. ‘Then you say.’
‘Two pounds,’ I said.
‘Ah, my Lord, are you laughing at me?’
‘You say,’ I said.
‘Four pounds fifteen.’
‘Two pounds ten.’
‘Darling, sweetheart, you’re laughing at your poor Flo.’
‘You say, then.’
At last we settled for three-ten, a sum which caused Rose to be angry with me. ‘You could have got it for three-five,’ she said, ‘You make me cross, you really do.’
‘Well, I shall be next to you, and Peter will be very happy that we’re staying.’
‘All the same, why throw five bob a week into the dust-can? Well, you make Flo clean your room for you, then.’
‘Is it likely?’
‘Well, I’m not going to, and someone must – where was you dragged up. I’d like to know, you don’t even know how to clean a floor?’
‘We were spoiled. We had servants.’
‘You had something. Because to watch you sweeping is enough to make a cat laugh.’
Flo and Dan and Rose and I stood in the empty big room that evening, ‘It’s such a lovely room,’ said Flo, ‘And you can hardly notice them cracks.’
‘What we’re here for, is furniture,’ said Rose.
‘You can have that lovely bed from upstairs.’
‘She’ll want somewhere for her clothes,’ said Rose.
‘You can have that lovely cupboard from the landing.’
Rose said: ‘You make me sick.’
‘But we want to furnish her nice, dear.’
‘You do, do you? Then I’ll show you how.’ With which Rose ran all over the house, marking out pieces to be put in my room. Dan did her bidding, silently: while Flo stood, unconsciously wringing her hands as one bit of furniture after another came to rest in my room, and the little room downstairs. Rose told me afterwards that she had said in the basement that if they didn’t treat me right, she’d be so ashamed she’d leave. Since Rose did half of Flo’s work for her, this was effective. When the rooms were ready. Rose said: ‘That’s a bit more like.’ Dan gave her a grudging look of admiration. By this time we were all in good humour. Flo saw Dan looking, and said sharply, but laughing: ‘And you keep your eyes off poor Rose. I know what you’re thinking. Can’t look at a woman without thinking of it!’ Dan gave her his bared-teeth grin. Rose said: ‘Oh, shut up. And now I’ll help you get the supper. Flo.’
‘I should think so,’ said Flo. ‘Dear me, oh, dear me, life is so hard these days.’
Rose gave me a wink as she went out, and whispered, ‘Now you settle yourself, and don’t you let Flo take any of this stuff back tomorrow. I’m telling you for your own good, I’ll be in after supper for a nice chat.’
Now I was in the heart of the house. Immediately above me, in two large rooms, were the Skeffingtons. I had not yet seen them. He was away most of the time. She left for work before I did, and once she was in her rooms, seldom came out. I knew about them from Flo, through a succession of nods, winks, and hoarse whispers. Her: ‘She’s ever such a sweet woman’ – made, as these remarks always were, as if a sweet tenant were something I was getting extra, thrown in, for the rent, was sometimes: ‘Poor thing, she’s brave, and she pays her rent so regular.’ And sometimes: ‘What she has to put up with, no one would believe. Men are all the same, beasts, every one.’ On the other hand, she often observed with lip-licking smile that Mr Skeffington was just like a film star, and Mrs Skeffington didn’t appreciate him. These two states of mind were determined by whether we got a good night’s sleep or not. Usually not. There were few nights I was not woken by the persistent frightened crying of a child in nightmare. The words ‘I’m not naughty, I’m not naughty’, were wailed over and over again. I heard the sharp release of bedsprings, bare feet sliding on the floor, then several loud slaps. ‘You’re naughty. You’re a naughty girl.’ The voice was high and hysterical. This duet might keep up for an hour or more. At last the child would fall asleep; soon afterwards an alarm clock