The Garden Party and Other Stories

lines on them. Their first words always were as they ran to greet him, “What have you got for me, daddy?” and he had nothing. He would have to buy them some swe

“I had red ribbing

“It’s always pink o

them something in five minutes. But nowadays they had Russian toys, French toys, Serbian toys — toys from God knows where. It was over a year since Isabe

y beginning. It saves so much time later on. Really, if the poor pets have to spend their infant years

to the Royal Academy was certain

. “When I was their age I used to go to b

at him, her eyes nar

ure you did!” She la

nge for the taxi-man. And he saw the kiddies handing the boxes round — they were awfully gen

apple, for Pad, and a melon for Johnny? Isabel’s friends could hardly go sneaking up to the nursery at the children’s meal-times. All the same,

ame such a loud hissing from the engine that people looked dazed as they scurried to and fro. William made straight for a first-class smoker,

illiam pressed back his flattened hair and stretched his legs across the carriage floor. The familiar dull gnawing i

iam glanced up and saw the hot, bright station slipping away. A red-faced girl raced along by the carriages, there was something strained and almost desperate in the way she waved and called. “

trees. A wide river, with naked children splashing in the shallows, glided into sight and

e, and the fields, the sky, the sailing bird, the water, all said, “Isabel.” The same thing happened every Saturday afternoon. When he was on his way to meet Isabel there began those countless imaginary meetings.

m,” or “Hillo, William!” or “So William has c

bush over him. Isabel was that rose-bush, petal-soft, sparkling and cool. And he was still that little boy. But there was no running into the garden n

eir bedroom in the new house. Isabel sat on a painted stool before

he bent forward, and her fine

the room and he felt a stranger. At that I

’ve changed. Just because I’ve got to know really congenial people, and go about more, and am frightfully keen on — on everything, you behave as though I’d —” Isabel tossed back h

abe

I feel it,” she said softly, “every time you come up the stairs. But we couldn’t have gone on living in that

ard skin thrown over the sofa back, or they were playing shops with Isabel’s desk for a counter, or Pad was sitting on the hearthrug rowing away for dear life wi

e curtains and a window-box of petunias. William met their friends at the

that inconvenient little house, that she thought the fat Nanny was ruining the babies, that she was desperately lonely, pining for new people and new music and pictures and so on. If they hadn’t gone to that studio part

g since disappeared. Now the other two got out. The late afternoon sun shone on women in cotton frocks and little sunburnt, barefoot children. It blazed on a silky yellow flower

air in a plait; she looked about fourteen. Lord! how his nose used to peel! And the amount they ate, and the amount they slept in that immense feather bed

*

standing just as he had imagined, apart from the o

ught she looked so beautiful that he ha

xi’s outside.” She put her hand lightly on his arm as they passed the ticket collector. “We’ve

It was all he coul

wling on one side, their hats tilted over their faces, while on the othe

e! No ice!” sh

under his hat. “Only to be

rging, added, “Wit

een chasing round the town for ice while she waited for him. “Simply everythi

with butter,” said Dennis. “May thy

how are we going to sit? I’d

u’re to sit between Moira and me.” The taxi starte

” said Bill Hunt, shud

pleased. “Wise William! A melon

ling. But he really was anxious. “I

be rolling in agonies if they were to eat them. No”— she patted his hand —“

lung her arms across William appealingly. “Oh!” The s

taxi drew up before a little shop with a striped blin

re some round things which really look too divine. And just look at this nou

ed. Isabel gave the shopman a note, and Bobby was radiant again. “Hallo, William! I’m sitting by the driver.” And ba

who had one very short arm and one very long, thin one. Over the chairs and sofa there hung strips of black material, covered with big splashes like broken eggs, and everywhere one looked there seemed to be an ash-tray full of cigarette ends. William sat down in one of the arm-chairs. Nowadays, when one felt with one hand down the sides, it wasn’t to come upon a sheep with three legs or a cow that had lost one horn, or a very fat dove out of the Noah’s Ark. One fished up yet another little paper-covered book

Moira to use her li

moan fr

e for the weekends that playe

not fair to William. Be nice to him, my childr

obby Kane. “I’m awfully go

d Bobby Kane, flapping his towel, began to leap and pirouette on the parched lawn. “Pity you didn’t

, Isabel,” called Bobby, “would you like

e’re all starving. William’s starving, too. Co

Moira, and she ran into the hall

x of Sardines,” s

n?” asked Bill Hunt, drawing th

t much changed,”

id Bobby, very hearty

. Moira Morrison began wondering what co

alest, palest m

and changed plates, and found matches, smiling blissfully.

ill loudly, stuffing

table. It would be so fascin

g,” he said rudely, “far too much yellow”; and wen

d they could do nothing but yawn until

he brought his suit-case down into the hall, Isabel left the others and went over to him. She stooped down and pick

said William. “Of cour

t to, really.” They walked together silently

t’s so short, isn’t it? I feel you’ve only just come. Next time —” The taxi came into sight. “I hope they look after you properly in London. I’m so sorry the babies have been out

k through the empty, blind-looking little to

o the corner, but this time he let the papers alone. He folded his arms against

*

airs under coloured parasols. Only Bobby Kane lay on the turf at

l be Mondays in Heaven?

d, “Heaven will be

to the salmon they had for supper last night. She had

scovery. “It’s so wonderful. One simply shut

ong the sandy road on his tricycle one fel

and they all waited. But, heartless postman — O malignant worl

rom William,” said

lliam —

k your marriage lines

iage lines? I thought the

at her! A Lady reading

. . .? How extraordinary it was . . . What could have made him . . .? She felt confused, more and more excited, even frightened. It was just like William. Was it? It was

said the others. “

d the letter, and waved it at them. “Gather round,” s

, precious Isabel.” But she had hardly be

abel, it’s

most marve

go on,

g, that I should be a

oh!

sh!

the end they were hysterical: Bobby

entire, for my new book,” said Dennis fi

, “that wonderful bit abou

s in divorce cases were made u

me read it, mine own

he was laughing no longer. She glanced quickly at them all; she

knuckles and rocked to and fro. And again she saw them, but not four, more like forty, laughing, sneering, jeering, stretching out their hands while she read them William’s letter. Oh, what a loathsome thing to have done. How could

he garden below

all going for a

ou wife o

before you go,

stay here and write to William. Which, which should it be? “I must make up my mind.

a!” pip

a-b

write to William later. Some other time. Later. Not now

the new way, she r