The Garden Party and Other Stories - Katherine Mansfield [34]
‘Darling Laura, how well you look!’
‘What a becoming hat, child!’
‘Laura, you look quite Spanish. I’ve never seen you look so striking.’
And Laura, glowing, answered softly, ‘Have you had tea? Won’t you have an ice? The passion-fruit ices really are rather special.’ She ran to her father and begged him. ‘Daddy darling, can’t the band have something to drink?’
And the perfect afternoon slowly ripened, slowly faded, slowly its petals closed.
‘Never a more delightful garden party…’ ‘The greatest success…’ ‘Quite the most…’
Laura helped her mother with the goodbyes. They stood side by side in the porch till it was all over.
‘All over, all over, thank heaven,’ said Mrs Sheridan. ‘Round up the others, Laura. Let’s go and have some fresh coffee. I’m exhausted. Yes, it’s been very successful. But oh, these parties, these parties! Why will you children insist on giving parties!’ And they all of them sat down in the deserted marquee.
‘Have a sandwich, daddy dear. I wrote the flag.’
‘Thanks.’ Mr Sheridan took a bite and the sandwich was gone. He took another. ‘I suppose you didn’t hear of a beastly accident that happened today?’ he said.
‘My dear,’ said Mrs Sheridan, holding up her hand, ‘we did. It nearly ruined the party. Laura insisted we should put it off.’
‘Oh, mother!’ Laura didn’t want to be teased about it.
‘It was a horrible affair all the same,’ said Mr Sheridan. ‘The chap was married too. Lived just below in the lane, and leaves a wife and half a dozen kiddies, so they say.’
An awkward little silence fell. Mrs Sheridan fidgeted with her cup. Really, it was very tactless of father…
Suddenly she looked up. There on the table were all those sandwiches, cakes, puffs, all uneaten, all going to be wasted. She had one of her brilliant ideas.
‘I know,’ she said. ‘Let’s make up a basket. Let’s send that poor creature some of this perfectly good food. At any rate, it will be the greatest treat for the children. Don’t you agree? And she’s sure to have neighbours calling in and so on. What a point to have it all ready prepared. Laura!’ She jumped up. ‘Get me the big basket out of the stairs cupboard.’
‘But, mother, do you really think it’s a good idea?’ said Laura.
Again, how curious, she seemed to be different from them all. To take scraps from their party. Would the poor woman really like that?
‘Of course! What’s the matter with you today? An hour or two ago you were insisting on us being sympathetic, and now – ’
Oh well! Laura ran for the basket. It was filled, it was heaped by her mother.
‘Take it yourself, darling,’ said she. ‘Run down just as you are. No, wait, take the arum lilies too. People of that class are so impressed by arum lilies.’
‘The stems will ruin her lace frock,’ said practical Jose.
So they would. Just in time. ‘Only the basket, then. And, Laura!’ – her mother followed her out of the marquee – ‘don’t on any account – ‘
‘What mother?’
No, better not put such ideas into the child’s head! ‘Nothing! Run along.’
It was just growing dusky as Laura shut their garden gates. A big dog ran by like a shadow. The road gleamed white, and down below in the hollow the little cottages were in deep shade. How quiet it seemed after the afternoon. Here she was going down the hill to somewhere where a man lay dead, and she couldn’t realize it. Why couldn’t she? She stopped a minute. And it seemed to her that kisses, voices, tinkling spoons, laughter, the smell of crushed grass were somehow inside her. She had no room for anything else. How strange! She looked up at the pale sky, and all she thought was, ‘Yes, it was the most successful party.’
Now the broad road was crossed. The lane began, smoky and dark. Women in shawls and men’s tweed caps hurried by. Men hung over the palings; the children played in the doorways. A low hum came from the mean little cottages. In some of them there was a flicker of light, and a shadow, crab-like, moved across the window. Laura bent her head