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The Death of the Heart - Elizabeth Bowen [65]

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popped the last piece of macaroon into her mouth, wiped her fingers correctly on a crepe-de-chine handkerchief and shook hands, though still without saying anything. She gave the impression that she would not speak till she had thought of something striking to say. She was a fine upstanding girl, rather tall; her close-fitting dark blue knitted dress showed off her large limbs. She wore her hair in a mop, but the mop was in an iron pattern of curls, burnished with brilliantine. She had a high colour, and used tangerinelipstick. Pending having something to say to Portia, she said over her shoulder to Mrs. Heccomb: "None of them will be coming in tonight."

"Oh, thank you, Daphne."

"Oh, don't thank me."

"Daphne has so many friends," Mrs. Heccomb explained to Portia. "But she says that none of them will be coming in tonight."

Daphne gave the rest of the cakes a rather scornful once-over, then bumped into an armchair. Portia, as unostentatiously as possible, edged round the room to stand beside Mrs. Heccomb, who worked with her tray of painting materials drawn up under a special lamp. Though all this was alarming, she did not feel so alarmed as she did at Windsor Terrace, where St. Quentin and all those other friends of Anna's always tacitly watched. On the lamp shade she saw delphiniums and marble cupids being painted in against a salmon pink sky. "Oh, how pretty!" she said.

"It will look better varnished. I think the idea is pretty. This is an order, for a wedding present, but later I hope to do one for Anna, as a surprise—Daphne dear, I'm sure Portia wouldn't mind the music."

Daphne groaned, but got up and restarted the wireless. Then she kicked off her court shoes and lighted a cigarette. "You know," she said, "I feel spring in my bones today."

"I know, dear; isn't it nice?"

"Not in my bones." Daphne looked with a certain interest at Portia. "Well," she said, "so they didn't take you abroad."

"They couldn't, you see, dear," said Mrs. Heccomb quickly. "They are going to stay with people who havea villa. And also, Portia comes from abroad."

"Oh! And what do you think of our English policemen, then?"

"I don't think I—"

"Daphne, don't always joke, dear. Be a good girl and tell Doris to clear tea."

Daphne put her head back and bellowed "Doris!" and Doris gave her a look as she nimbled in with the tray. Portia realised later that the tomblike hush of Smoot's library, where she had to sit all day, dealing out hated books, was not only antipathetic but even dangerous to Daphne. So, once home, she kept fit by making a loud noise. Daphne never simply touched objects, she slapped down her hand on them; she made up her mouth with the gesture of someone cutting their throat. Even when the wireless was not on full blast, Daphne often shouted as though it were. So, when Daphne's homecoming step was heard on the esplanade, Mrs. Heccomb had learned to draw a shutter over her nerves. So much of her own working life had been spent in intercepting noise that might annoy others, in saying "Quietly, please, dear," to young people, that she may even have got a sort of holiday pleasure from letting Daphne rip. The degree of blare and glare she permitted Daphne may even have been Mrs. Heccomb's own tribute to the life force it had for so long been her business to check. So much did she identify noise with Daphne's presence that if the wireless stopped or there were a pause in the shouting, Mrs. Heccomb would get up from her painting and either close a window or poke the fire—any lack felt by any one of her senses always made her imagine she felt Cold. She had given up hoping Daphne might grow like Anna. But it was firmly fixed in her mind now that she would not wish Portia to return to London and Anna having picked up any of Daphne's ways.

When tea had been cleared, and the lace cloth folded by Doris and put away in the bookcase drawer, Mrs. Heccomb uncorked a bottle of varnish and with a tense air applied the first coat. This done, she returned to the world and said: "Doris seems to be coming on quite well."

"She ought to," said Daphne.

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