Breakfast is so proverbially dismal, that dismalness becomes good form;
humanity feels silent and liverish, so it grudges Providence its due,
for it cannot return thanks for the precocious blessings of the day.
Such was breakfast at Finchley Road, and Victoria would not have noticed
it on that particular morning had the silence not somehow been eloquent.
She could feel, if not see storm clouds on the horizon.
Mr Holt sat over his eggs and bacon, eating quickly with both hands,
every now and then soiling the napkin tightly tucked into the front of
his low collar. There was nothing abnormal in this, except perhaps that
he kept his eyes more closely glued than usual to the table cloth;
moreover, he had not unfolded the paper. Therefore he had not looked up
the prices of Industrials. This was singular. Mrs Holt never said much
at breakfast, in deference to her husband, but this morning her silence
was somewhat ostentatious. She handed Victoria her tea. Victoria passed
her the toast and hardly heard her 'thank you.'
Jack sat more abstracted than ever. He was feeling very uncomfortable.
He wavered between the severe talking to he had received from Victoria
the previous afternoon and the sulkiness of his parents. Of course he
was feeling depressed, but he could not tell why. Victoria's mere nod of
acceptance when he offered her the salt, and his mother's curt refusal
of the pepper did not contribute to make him easier in his mind. Mrs
Holt cleared her throat: 'Blowing up for rain, Thomas,' she said. Mr
Holt did not move a muscle. He helped himself to marmalade. Stolid
silence once more reigned over the breakfast table. Jack stole a
sidelong glance at Victoria. Her eyes were fixed upon her hands crossed
before her. Jack's eyes dwelled for a moment on their shapely strength,
then upon the firm white nape of her bent neck. An insane desire
possessed him to jump up, seize her in his arms, crush his lips into
that spot where the dark tendrils of her hair began. He repressed it,
and considered the grandfather's clock which had once ticked in a
peasant Holt's kitchen. To-day it ticked with almost horrible
deliberation.
Jack found that he had no appetite. Forebodings were at work with him.
Perhaps Vic had told. Of course not, she couldn't be such a fool. What a
beastly room it was! Sideboard must weigh a ton. And those red curtains!
awful, simply awful. Good God, why couldn't he get out of the damned
place and take Vic with him. Couldn't do that yet of course, but
couldn't stick it much longer. He'd be off to the City now. Simply awful
here. Jack rose to his feet suddenly, so suddenly that his chair tilted
and fell over.
Mrs Holt looked up. 'I wish you wouldn't be so noisy, Jack,' she said.
'Sorry, mater,' said Jack, going round to her and bending down to kiss
her. 'I'm off.'
'You're in a fine hurry,' remarked Mr Holt grimly, looking up and
speaking for the first time.
'Left some work over,' said Jack, in a curt manner, making for the door.
'Hem! you've got work on the brain,' retorted his father in his most
sardonic tone.
Jack opened the door without a word.
'One minute, Jack,' said Mrs Holt placidly, 'you needn't go yet, your
father and I have something to say to you.'
Jack stood rooted to the ground. His knees almost gave way beneath him.
It, it, it was it. They knew. Victoria's face, the profile of which he
could see outlined like a plaster cast against the red wall paper did
not help him. Her face had set, rigid like a mask. Now she knew why the
previous evening had gone by in silence. She rose to her feet, a strange
numb feeling creeping all over her.
'Don't go, Mrs Fulton,' said Mr Holt sharply, 'this concerns you.'
For some seconds the party remained silent. Mr and Mrs Holt had not
moved from the table. Jack and Victoria stood right and left, like
prisoners at the bar.
'Victoria,' said Mrs Holt, 'I'm very sorry to have to say it, but I'm
afraid you know what I'm going to tell you. Of course I don't say I
blame you. It's quite natural at your age and all that.' She stopped,
for a flush was rising in Victoria's face, the cheekbones showing two
little red patches. Mr Holt had clasped his hands together and kept his
eyes fixed on Victoria's with unnatural intensity.
'You see, Victoria,' resumed Mrs Holt, 'it's always difficult when
there's a young man in the house; of course I make allowances, but,
really, you see it's so complicated and things get so annoying. You know
what people are . . .'
'That'll do, Maria,' snarled Mr Holt, jumping to his feet. 'If you don't
know what you have to say, I do. Look here, Mrs Fulton. Last night I saw
Jack kissing you. I know perfectly well you didn't encourage him. You'd
know better. However, there it is. I don't pretend I like what I've got
to do, but this must be stopped. I can't have philandering going on
here. You, Jack, you're going back to the works at Rawsley and don't let
me see anything of you this side of the next three months. As for you,
Mrs Fulton, I'm sorry, but Mrs Holt will have to find another companion.
I know it's hard on you to ask you to leave without notice, but I
propose to give you an indemnity of twenty pounds. I should like to keep
you here, but you see that after what has happened it's impossible. I
suppose you agree to that?'
Victoria stood silent for a moment, her hands tightly clenched. She knew
Holt's short ways, but the manner of the dismissal was brutal.
Everything seemed to revolve round her, she recovered herself with
difficulty.
'Yes,' she said at length, 'you're quite right.'
Jack had not moved. His hands were nervously playing with his watch
chain. Victoria, in the midst of her trouble, remembered Edward's
familiar gesture. They were alike in a way, these two tall weedy men,
both irresolute and undeveloped.
'Very well then,' continued Holt; 'perhaps you'll make your arrangements
at once. Here is the cheque.' He held out a slip of blue paper.
Victoria looked at him for a moment dully. Then revolt surged inside
her. 'I don't want your indemnity,' she said coldly, 'you merely owe me
a month's wages in lieu of notice.'
The shadow of a smile crept into Holt's face. The semi-legal,
semi-commercial phrase pleased him.
Mrs Holt rose from the table and went to Victoria. 'I'm so sorry,' she
said, speaking more gently than she had ever done. 'You must take it.
Things are so hard.'
'Oh, but I say, dad . . .' broke in Jack.
'That will do, do you hear me, sir?' thundered the father violently,
bringing down his fist on the table. 'I'm not asking you for your
opinion! You can stay and look at your work but you just keep a silent
tongue in your head. D'you hear?'
Jack stood cowed and dumb.
'There's nothing more to say, is there?' growled Mr Holt, placing the
cheque on the table before Victoria.
'Not much,' said Victoria. 'I've done no wrong. Oh! I'm not complaining.
But I begin to understand things. Your son has persecuted me. I didn't
want his attentions. You turn me out. Of course it's my fault, I know.'
'My dear Victoria,' interposed Mrs Holt, 'nobody says it's your fault.
We all think . . .'
'Indeed? it's not my fault, but you turn me out.'
Mrs Holt dropped her hands helplessly.
'I see it all now,' continued Victoria. 'You don't blame me, but you're
afraid to have me here. So long as I was a servant all was well. Now I'm
a woman and you're afraid of me.' She walked up and down nervously. 'Now
understand, I've never encouraged your son. If he had asked me to marry
him I wouldn't have done it.' A look of pain passed over Jack's face but
aroused no pity in Victoria. She felt frozen.
'Oh! but there was no question of that,' cried Mrs Holt, plaintively.
'No doubt,' said Victoria ruthlessly. 'You couldn't think of it. Nobody
could think of an officer's widow marrying into the Rawsley Works. From
more than one point of view it would be impossible. Very good. I'll
leave in the course of the morning. As for the cheque, I'll take it. As
you say, Mrs Holt, things are hard. I've learned that and I'm still
learning.'
Victoria took up the blue slip. The flush on her face subsided somewhat.
She picked up her handkerchief, a letter from Molly and a small
anthology lying on the dumb waiter. She made for the door, avoiding
Jack's eyes. She felt through her downcast lids the misery of his looks.
A softer feeling went through her, and she regretted her outburst. As
she placed her hand on the handle she turned round and faced Mrs Holt, a
gentler look in her eyes.
'I'm sorry I was hasty,' she stammered. 'I was taken by surprise. It was
. . . vulgar.'
The door closed softly behind her.