My Sister Celia Read online

  “You are, yourself, Mr. Vanner?” Freda looked up quickly.

  “Yes. The first suggestion was that Celia should accompany her. But, in her present condition, I think my wife would be altogether too much responsibility for Celia. Brian will look after things at the office, of course—and I may fly home for an odd day or two, if required.”

  He paused, and Freda said politely, “It sounds a very good arrangement.” But she could not help wondering what it really had to do with her.

  “The only thing which worried me was the idea that Celia would be left far too much alone. She is used to having both her mother and me in the home all the time. It would obviously be a most melancholy position for her unless I found her a suitable companion. I thought,” said Mr. Vanner, smiling slightly as he saw the colour rush into Freda’s cheeks, “that I could not possibly find her a better companion than her own sister.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  “MR. VANNER! But how—how wonderful,” stammered Freda. “You mean you really want—it would help you all—if I stayed here for some weeks?” Two months at least,” amplified Celia, coming over to hug her ecstatically. “Isn’t it a gorgeous idea?

  “It’s breathtaking,” Freda said. “I can’t quite believe it. You mean that I’m to make this lovely place more or less my home for two months? Go backwards and forwards to the office from here?”

  Mr. Vanner glanced at her curiously and smiled. “You very much want to stay on at your present office, Brian tells me. You didn’t much care for the idea of coming to work in our office?”

  “Oh, Freda, you’d love it!” interjected Celia. Why ever not?”

  “Let her speak for herself.” Mr. Vanner good-humouredly quelled his adopted daughter with a slight gesture of his hand.

  “I expect Brian has told you, Mr. Vanner.” Freda smiled half apologetically. “I feel I might be in a—a rather equivocal position there. As it is, I’m completely independent in my present job—and really perfectly happy there. It seems unnecessary, to say the least of it, to make any change.”

  “You’re probably right.” Mr. Vanner was, Freda saw, not displeased with her decision.

  “I don’t see—” began Celia.

  “You wouldn’t, darling. And there’s no reason why you should,” her father said indulgently. “But Freda is perfectly at liberty to make her own decisions. She will stay on at her present office if she wishes and, as she says, make this place more or less her home for a couple of months.”

  “It doesn’t seem to me that I’m going to have a great deal of her company that way,” grumbled Celia, though she could not help smiling too at the thought of even this modified form of what she wanted.

  “Oh, yes, you will,” Freda assured her. “And, in any case”—she, too, smiled brilliantly as she suddenly recalled a delightful circumstance—“I start my summer holiday in about three weeks’ time.”

  “That’s better! We’ll really have fun,” declared Celia. “How long do you have?”

  “Two weeks now. And then another week in the autumn.”

  Celia brushed aside the autumn week, since it had nothing to do with her immediate plans.

  “Two weeks? We can do quite a lot in that time. We’ll go down to your cottage—”

  “Oh, yes! It should be ready for furnishing and final arranging then,” Freda agreed. “It will be wonderful planning things together. When I first had the cottage, I thought—I wished—” She broke off, both startled and moved to realize how completely her heart’s desire had been granted to her.

  “It was before I—knew about you,” she went on slowly. “I was very grateful and happy to have the cottage, of course. But when I first went in, I couldn’t help thinking how wonderful it would have been if I could have had someone to share all the thrill with me. And I thought—if only my sister had lived. And all the time—she was living, and just waiting for us to meet up together.”

  “Oh, darling, how touching! It almost makes me want to cry,” Celia declared.

  “Me too,” Freda nodded solemnly.

  But Brian laughed at this point—though quite kindly—and said they had better not do that or he and his father might join in, by sheer force of example.

  That cheered Freda immensely, and she smiled brilliantly at him. For, all at once, there had come to her the delicious and subtly exciting thought that not only would she be sharing Celia’s company for two months but that Brian would be there too.

  After this, a belated tea was brought in, and further details were discussed with considerable zest. Freda could not help noting, a trifle remorsefully, that everything seemed to arrange itself with greater ease now that Mrs. Vanner was not there.

  She hoped vaguely that this did not mean they were doing something which would meet with her disapproval later. But the whole prospect was too charming to admit of really anxious doubts. And by the time Freda went home—after having stayed for dinner and the greater part of the evening—everything had been settled.

  There was, of course, no question of her giving up her bed-sitting-room, since this represented home in London. But, within the next few days, she was to pack up her personal belongings and Brian was to come and fetch her away by car.

  Freda had suggested that perhaps the new arrangements should begin after Mrs. Vanner and her husband had started on their journey of recuperation. But no one had seemed to think this a particularly good idea and, since Mr. Vanner was obviously anxious to see her settled in the house, she had willingly given way.

  There was singularly little to arrange, really. For, if one has to confine one’s life within one room, at least this has the advantage of placing everything within easy reach and forcing one to be orderly. Apart from her actual packing, and the necessity of telephoning or writing to her few friends to let them know of her changed address, Freda had little to do.

  It was while attending to the matter of letting her friends know where to find her during the next two months that she realized suddenly that she had no knowledge of Laurence Clumber’s London address.

  “I don’t have to let him know, of course,” she murmured, as she ran her finger down the few Clumbers in the telephone book and discovered that he was not among them. “I shall see him eventually down at Crowmain, no doubt.”

  But that might not be for some while, she knew, and she found that she very much disliked the idea of his telephoning to her and always finding her not at home. She could, she supposed, write to him at Crowmain Court, or even get Celia to find out his London telephone number through their mutual friends, the Ronaldsons. But this, she assured herself would be making heavy weather of something which was not really important.

  She was therefore disproportionately delighted when the telephone bell rang, just as she was waiting for Brian to come and fetch her, and, on her answering, Laurence Clumber’s unmistakable voice asked, “How’s my next-door neighbour?”

  “Oh, Laurence!—Larry, I mean—I am glad to hear from you.”

  “Are you, indeed?” He sounded pleased. “Feeling remorseful about giving me the brush-off the other day?”

  “I didn’t give you the brush-off!”

  “Well, you indicated pretty clearly that no car run with me could compare to a telephone conversation with the fellow whose call you were awaiting.”

  “Don’t be silly. It wasn’t a fellow. I was waiting for a call from Celia.”

  “You don’t say! I hardly know whether to be relieved or offended.”

  “You haven’t any special right to be either,” Freda pointed out to him briskly. “But anyway, I’m awfully glad you rang, because I’m going away and—”

  “Going away? Where? To Crowmain?” In spite of her pointed remark about rights, he seemed to think he was entitled to ask after her exact movements.

  “Oh, no.” Freda explained briefly about the arrangement for her to go and stay with Celia while the older Vanners were away. “It’s wonderful, isn’t it?”

  “It sounds all right to me, so lon
g as followers are allowed.”

  Freda laughed, in spite of herself.

  “I’m sure Mrs. Vanner would deprecate the word, even in its most casual meaning,” she said. “But if you mean can you ring me up there sometimes, you can.”

  “I wasn’t thinking of limiting our contact to the telephone,” he replied drily.

  “Well, I don’t know that I was,” retorted Freda demurely. “I just thought the new phone number might be useful.”

  “I have my pencil and notebook ready,” he told her.

  So she gave him the Vanners’ telephone number, but added warningly, “Celia will have first call on my time, though.”

  “Don’t make me dislike an otherwise charming girl,” he retorted. “What about Vanner?—does he have second call on your time?”

  “Brian? N-no. I shouldn’t think so. But if I’m staying there almost as one of the family, I shall naturally fall in with their arrangements.”

  “But you’ll have some time of your own?”

  “Why, of course!”

  “And what about the cottage?” he enquired. “Will you be going down there next weekend?”

  “I don’t know. Celia and I plan to go there during my holiday.”

  “Oh—I see.”

  He sounded rather discontented, which made Freda feel indignant on Celia’s behalf.

  “Celia is my sister, you know,” she reminded him.

  “Yes, I know. But don’t let her monopolize your life.”

  “She hasn’t any intention of doing such a thing. And I haven’t any intention of letting her do so,” Freda replied coolly. “You’re being a bit unreasonable, aren’t you?”

  “No. Just faintly disappointed,” he replied, and she knew from his tone that he was smiling ruefully. This softened her heart in a most extraordinary way, and she heard herself saying consolingly,

  “I shall be going to the cottage sometimes on my own. Celia leads quite a busy life and she won’t always want to come with me, especially when I’m getting the place into order.”

  “Good!” he said ungallantly. “Let me know any time I can be of service driving you down to Crowmain.”

  “Thank you. You’re very kind.”

  “Not really,” he assured her. “You’d be surprised how often I do what I want to do. I don’t imagine that’s being particularly kind.”

  And then she heard the doorbell.

  “Oh, I must go! That’s Brian,” she exclaimed.

  “Let him wait,” growled Laurence ungraciously “What’s he doing, ringing your door-bell?”

  “He’s very kindly come to collect me and my luggage,” replied Freda indignantly. “And I’m not letting him wait. Good-bye!”

  She didn’t exactly slam down the receiver, but she replaced it very quickly, and rushed to the door.

  It was annoying, after that, to find a man outside trying to sell her a special kind of household brush, and not Brian at all. By the time she had got rid of him, she realized that she was still without Laurence’s telephone number.

  “But he knows where to find me now,” she told herself, with a particularly satisfied feeling. And then Brian arrived, and in the pleasure of actually setting out at last to spend two months with Celia, she forgot about Laurence Clumber.

  Life in the Vanner household, from the very first evening, proved to be even more delightful than Freda had expected.

  That Celia should welcome her with truly sisterly warmth was to be expected. But that there should be a touch of brotherly indulgence in Brian’s attitude was something wholly novel and enchanting. In addition, Mr. Vanner, having once capitulated, treated her with marked kindness.

  “Do you like your room?” demanded a bright-eyed Celia, as she ushered Freda into a large, pleasantly furnished room which looked over the garden. “Aren’t they pretty chintz curtains? I chose them for you. And that’s your bathroom, next door. And my room’s just across the passage, so that we can come in and talk to each other whenever we want. Do you like it, Freda?”

  “I love it. It’s the most beautiful room I’ve ever had,” Freda said with truth. “I can’t believe I’m going to be here for weeks.”

  Downstairs, she discovered that Mrs. Vanner had made unexpected progress in the last few days and that she and Mr. Vanner proposed to leave for Switzerland the following Saturday.

  “Mother is coming home here for a few hours,” Celia explained. “Just to collect her things and see our housekeeper, Mrs. Mawl. Then she and Daddy go off by the evening plane.”

  “Then I think,” said Freda firmly, “that I’ll go down to my cottage on Saturday. It will be much nicer for you all to have a quiet day together, without anyone else there. And it’s time I went to Crowmain, in any case. I don’t want to leave the decorators to their own devices for too long.”

  There was no possible objection to this plan. Indeed, Freda would not have been offended if they had all looked relieved. For they must know, as well she did, that Mrs. Vanner could only be irritated at such a time by the presence of someone she had not exactly taken to her heart.

  To make the arrangements doubly satisfactory, Laurence Clumber telephoned on the Friday evening to know her weekend plans, and, on hearing that Freda wanted to go to Crowmain, he offered to drive her down there.

  “Can you fetch me fairly early?” she asked. “I’d really rather be out of the house before Mrs. Vanner comes from hospital. She’s evidently in a nervous state still, and I don’t think the appearance of a virtual stranger in her home is going to make her feel any better.”

  “Yes, of course. What time shall I come?”

  “I’m not quite sure when she is coming home,” Freda explained. “They’re all at the hospital now, seeing her. But I can’t imagine she’ll be brought home before ten. Could we start about nine?”

  “We could,” he assured her cheerfully. “I’ll be there on the stroke of nine.”

  “Thank you so much, Larry. You’re not making this journey on purpose for me, I hope?”

  “It would be as good a reason as any,” he told her gallantly. “But, in point of fact, I have to go on business in any case.”

  Very well satisfied with the arrangement, Freda rang off and went up to her own lovely room, to change for dinner. Here, ten minutes later, a rather dejected Celia came to her.

  It was the first time Freda had seen her sister look depressed and unhappy, and she was distressed to see how completely her radiance was quenched.

  “Why, darling—what’s the matter?” She took Celia’s hand anxiously.

  “Oh, it was really quite harrowing at the hospital this evening,” Celia explained, with a sigh. “At the last minute Mother wanted me to go to Switzerland too, and was a good deal upset because I wouldn’t. Couldn’t, I mean.”

  ‘You—you could, I suppose,” said Freda, her heart sinking.

  But Celia shook her head.

  “No. There was no question of it. Both Daddy and the doctors were against it. They seem to think that, in this queer nervous state, she’d lean on me for everything, and that, once having got that way, she would find it almost impossible to reassert herself or make decisions for herself again.”

  Freda tried to imagine the forceful Mrs. Vanner in such a state, and failed.

  “I’m very sorry,” she said—inadequately, she felt.

  “It can’t be helped.” Celia sighed again. “One can only do what the doctors advise. So, in order to avoid another—scene, I said good-bye this evening, and I’m to be out of the house when she comes here for a short while to-morrow. Can I come down to the cottage with you, Freda?”

  “Why—of course, my dear.” Freda could not imagine why she allowed even that faintest pause in her eager agreement. “There’s nothing much there, you know. No furniture or anything.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I’d rather like to see it in the raw first,” declared Celia, beginning to cheer up at the prospect. “Then I’ll have a better idea of it when we go to buy furniture and things.”
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  “Well, then, most certainly you shall come.”

  “Do we get quite an early train?”

  “Oh—no. We’re not going by train. I—we, I mean—are being driven down by Laurence Clumber.”

  “Laurence Clumber? The handsome fellow you don’t like?”

  Freda cleared her throat.

  “I don’t know that I’d describe him just like that,” she said. “Anyway, the new owner of Crowmain Court. He’s been kind to me in—in some ways.”

  “Coming round, you mean?” suggested Celia, with insensitive cheerfulness. “Well, that’s fine. It will make quite a nice expedition of the whole trip. Oh, Freda, I’m so glad I’ve got you.” She brushed a careless but warm kiss across Freda’s cheek. “I’d have been absolutely miserable otherwise.”

  Freda felt indescribably touched and pleased, and wondered then how she could, for even half a second, have been taken aback at the thought that Celia should share to-morrow’s expedition.

  Mr. Vanner approved the arrangement heartily when he heard of it later that evening, and both he and Brian looked less strained and anxious.

  “Thank you, my dear. That’s a very good solution,” he said to Freda, and she felt glad that there was even so small a way in which she could return some of the kindness he had shown her.

  The next morning there was, inevitably, a far from cheerful atmosphere at breakfast. Mr. Vanner was obviously worried about his wife and depressed at having to leave his daughter. But both Brian and Freda strove to impart an air of optimism to the scene. It was hard going, however, and Freda was profoundly relieved when she heard Laurence’s car draw up outside.

  Without waiting for Essie, the maid, to open the door, Freda ran out to greet him.

  “Hello.” He climbed out of the driving seat and stood smiling down at her in the sunshine. “All ready and waiting?”

  “Not exactly. At least—yes, I’m practically ready. But I must explain, Larry. Celia is coming too. You see—” she hastily recapitulated the events which had led up to Celia’s joining the party.