This did not suit Grace. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s all go to the movies.” She jumped to her feet. “I’m going to put on a skirt. Shall I lend you one, June? Come along upstairs and try it on.” She took June’s hand, pulled her to her feet and whisked her out of the room, calling: “Get ready, boys. We’ll be down in a minute.”
Stevens felt a sensation new to him and thought it to be happiness. Yet perhaps it was excitement, admiration or even that ultimate emotion. ‘If only this could be love!’ he said to himself in a sort of prayer.
June did not want to go upstairs at all. In her burning hand whose edges seemed undefined, dissolved in fever, that other hand was sharp and cool. Those alien fingers curling around into hers were like supple knives and June fancied that they pierced the lines of her palm, that they marred her destiny. And how strong that sharp hand was! It lifted her to her feet, or one must suppose so, because June could no longer associate her feet with herself.
‘Am I really drunk?’ she wondered with a thrill. ‘How wicked and daring I must be!’ She stumbled on the first step. ‘I am not one to be afraid of vice,’ she thought. ‘I knew I wouldn’t be, since one must, after all, experience everything. One must drink life to the lees.’
“Don’t you think, Mrs. Villars,” she said as they went upstairs, “that one must drink life to the lees?” There! Surely after such a profound and courageous phrase, this blond mother of Ronny would treat her as a friend and equal.
“And what of the lees?” asked Grace; “Must one drink them, too? They’re bitter you know.”
“Yes, them too.” June shook her head wisely and all of a sudden felt sick. The stairs curving up into the darkness were interminable and in the niche of them was a monster. It was a stone gargoyle which Walsh had brought back from Europe because he said it reminded him of his mother. Once it had stretched its stone neck to frighten the enemies of God. Now, with its protruding tongue and small, vicious eyes, it made June retch. She swallowed frantically. For a while the poison turned like a great wheel cold as ice between the feverish walls of her chest. She gulped back a sour mouthful which stung her throat. Then the wheel dissolved and sank slowly down again into her stomach. She was left grateful and almost sobered by her escape.
They reached Grace’s room, and Grace, having opened her closet, had taken out a length of flowered linen and was twisting it around her hips. It became a skirt as if by magic, although one could still see a glimpse of her leg and the pink shorts on one side.
“Now let’s see,” said Grace, looking at June.
The young girl, too, looked down at herself, as though viewing her figure through Grace’s eyes. She experienced at once that acute sense of unattractiveness which stains the adolescent’s pride. It was hopeless, she thought looking down at her marvelous body, at the tender, eager, unviolated curves of her youth. Hopeless! She was going to be fat and ugly.
June’s feelings must have been understood by the older woman, for Grace smiled. “Here,” she said, “this is the biggest thing I have. I’m sure it would fit anyone.” She handed June a peasant skirt dotted with small farm animals. While June put it on, Grace sat down at the old-fashioned dressing table and remade her face. She did this in a sketchy, happy-go-lucky way that was really meticulous. She spat into the mascara and rubbed her finger in the wake of her lipstick. Then she powdered her nose with a big, swansdown hoop and the powder scented the room.
June watched and admired her. Grace grinned in the mirror and then, half turning said: “Come here.”
“Come on,” she urged as the girl hesitated and she put out once again her small, sinewed hand. This time she grasped June’s arm and pulled her around to sit beside her on the wicker-covered bench. When June was seated, Grace tightened her grasp.
“Look there, June,” she commanded in a peculiar voice whose lightness could hide neither cruelty nor anxiety. Then, as June seemed to be gazing stupidly at nothing, Grace released her arm and twisted the girl’s chin around to face the mirror. “Just look,” she cried, “at the difference between you and me!”
For an instant that stretched for both of them out of actual time, they sat there hip to hip and stared steadfastly at the two reflected heads set so mistakenly together. Beside the older woman’s vivid face, June’s appeared sallow, troubled and pale. She saw that her nose shone, that there was a red spot on her chin and that the scrolls of Grace’s platinum curls made her own hair colourless and dank. Oh to have small features, pink cheeks, and those blond curls!
Grace was laughing. All traces of anxiety had left her. “Isn’t it funny?” she trilled, and letting go of June’s chin she clapped her hands together. “How funny you look!”
It was the kind of thing a brother might say and one would forget it at once, thought June. Why then did she feel that she would never forget it now? She did not dare ask to borrow powder so she simply sat there smiling in a cowardly way until Grace got tired of the joke. Or perhaps Grace realized that the joke would not bear too lengthy an inspection. Anyway, she rose and they both went back downstairs.
Stevens was wondering why Grace insisted on bringing Ronny and June along to the theater. But that was her way. She liked crowds and she liked situations, especially if she were mistress of them. Also, she did not relish the idea of Stevens alone. To Grace it would be an insult were he not to make an attempt of some sort. Even Stevens would feel that. Yet with a man such as he, it was far too soon. It would be like eating a green apple. As a malicious stroke she said:
“I’m going to sit with my Roddy in the back.” She flashed into the car, showing her leg and shimmying around like a fish to sit in the seat. Ronny followed her, silent and preoccupied. He had a dreamy expression and he clanked in his pocket the metal ring on which he had been working. June climbed in drearily and could not bear to look at Stevens as he started the car. Her fever which had flared up with her drunkenness turned now into chill. She shivered as the soft night breeze blew into the window. Against her neck the collar of her blouse felt cold.
They left the peninsula and the lights of Star Harbour appeared ahead. They had difficulty parking because it was Bingo night and everybody was at the movies, nor when they arrived could they all sit together although they were too late for the game.
Grace took Stevens’ arm as they went up the ramp and they were placed almost in the front row, with two enormous faces looking down at them from the screen. Stevens was spurred on by the darkness and by the other couples around them. He let his arm, which was resting in back of Grace’s chair, slip onto her shoulder. Did she move into it? He thought so, but it might have been a shake of dislike at his temerity. He pretended to have meant nothing and put his arm back down at his side. Then, at one of the climaxes of the film, Grace clutched him and, with a feeling of do or die, Stevens took her hand. With a slow, lazy movement, strange to such a nervous piece of sinew and bone, the hand turned upwards and unfolded its palm towards his.
Stevens almost mistook a thrill of excitement for desire. Soon, however, he began to worry about when their palms got warm. How would he remove his own gracefully and without lack of chivalry? And what if their hands actually became wet? Grace, as though guessing his preoccupation, released herself quite soon with a little squeeze and nestled close to him in such a way that he once more put his arm around her shoulders.
In no time at all the lights went up and whatever the story had been, it was over. Stevens became painfully aware of Lucy Philmore sitting with another young woman quite near them. He might have known that the whole town would be here tonight. The pain in those unguarded eyes made him self-conscious.
“Good evening, James,” said Lucy when they were in the aisle. “What a bad picture. They always seem worse on Bingo night and I never win.” Lucy gulped and blushed furiously because she had been about to say something about unlucky at cards. She hurried on with a strangled farewell. But she had taken in Grace Villars to the last detail.
“Never mind!” said Grace, looking up at Stevens roguishly. “We can’t all love whenever we are loved,” and she added: “My, you seem to have found a heart to break even in Star Harbour!”
Stevens, as she meant him to be, was pleased.
At the doorway they met June and Ronny coming out. Eddie was with them, showing his gold teeth, his head to the side. “Hello, beautiful,” he was saying quite clearly to June and his accent made of this cheap address something more poignant. June gave a smile of pure relief. After the events of the evening those words were like a balm.
Eddie caught sight of Grace and Stevens. “Well, I guess you’re with company. We’ll move on.”
“They’re not company,” protested Ronny. “They’re just Mother and our teacher.” Grace laughed her special laugh for Ronny’s childish sayings. “Introduce us, Ronny dear,” she begged.
“This is Eddie and this is Mr. Flo.”
“Oh yes, the famous Flo,” said Grace, looking at the little man who had been almost hidden behind his friend. “It’s you who are the tattoo artist, isn’t it?”
Flo shuffled his feet and eyed Grace’s bright hair as though he were really seeing gold. Stevens took a step forward.
“Do you think it was an ethical thing to do, marking a child for life like that?”
“Oh Stevy,” coaxed Grace, showing a new intimacy in her babyish tones, “don’t be stuffy—remember?”
“Well,” muttered Flo, “the kid wanted it.”
“Sure,” said Eddie, stepping forward with his hands in his pockets and speaking with a hard geniality. “That kid’s so crazy about June here he wanted it put down.” He added. “A man’ll do a lot for a good-looking girl.”
“They don’t think she’s good-looking,” said Ronny, and he stole a look at June to see who was right. But when you had chosen a person you couldn’t tell anymore.
The scene was finished as far as Eddie was concerned. He had nothing more to add. Turning on his heel, he went off and Flo veered like a ship’s wake and followed after.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Ronny woke up all of a piece, his eyes bursting open, fiery and dreamless. Outside his window the sun was wrapped in haze and threw a faint rainbow across the water. It was sure to be another hot day. Already all his body was moist and, as he thrust them from the bed, his legs shone beneath their childish down.
