“He kept them because they couldn’t leave him, he owed them so much.”
“But I don’t think Renny’s close. He only has asked questions. Like about the pigs.”
“He has been going over the accounts, reckoning the vet’s bill, the feed bill, wondering why there isn’t feed enough raised on the place for horses and stock.”
“And he home only a week!” cried Adeline. “And with a medal! That ought to be enough for him.”
It made Meg unhappy to hear her best-loved brother criticized. Her face flushed as she defended him. “But he must understand the place. After all, it’s his. He’s got three boys to educate. And Baby coming on.”
“Baby wants more sops,” said Wakefield.
“Yes, my pet,” said Adeline. “This child would never live if I hadn’t an eye to him.” She filled his little mouth.
“It’s quite true,” went on Meg, “that the boys’ clothes have cost a lot. Their tennis rackets, their skates, their camping trips all mount up. Renny says why can’t we give them more stews and fewer cutlets.”
“Has he been into all that?” cried Ernest.
“By the time he’s middle-aged,” said Adeline, “he’ll be a skinflint.”
“Here he comes,” said Meg.
Adeline watched the approach of the tall figure of the Master of Jalna with some uneasiness. She hoped he would not suggest that she might contribute to the family exchequer. She had no intention of doing any such thing. She had her own private fortune and she meant to hang on to it. Her husband had left her a third of his money. The remaining two-thirds he had divided among her three sons, also bequeathing house and land to the youngest and least extravagant. Nicholas and Ernest had made their shares last for twenty years and thought they had done well with it, considering that they had lived in England among people of expensive tastes. They had gone into several ventures to increase their incomes but these had always failed. At the time of their younger brother’s death they had come home to Jalna and were settled down quite happily. They had felt that their presence was more or less necessary there. Now that Renny had come home they had, mingled with their sense of relief at his preservation, a stirring of resentment at his obvious desire to take over the reins.
“Renny has ridden too much,” observed Ernest, “he’s a bit bow-legged.”
“Uncle!” cried Meg, “What nonsense! Renny has beautiful legs.”
“He has the rider’s gait. Back a little bent. Legs slightly bowed. Hard and wiry.”
“He’ll have his hands full,” said Adeline, “if he tries to domineer over this household.”
She pushed out her underlip and watched the approach of her eldest grandson. She bent and whispered into Wakefield’s ear — “Granny’s pet. Mustn’t go to soldier man.”
“What’s he do?” whispered Wakefield.
“Kills people.” Her long arm pressed the little body protectively. “Stay with Granny.”
Renny came, slapping his hands together. “Hello, Wake! Come and have a ride on my shoulder.”
Wakefield burrowed his curly head into his grandmother’s side. She hastily finished the sherry lest it should be spilt.
“Go along, darling,” urged Meg, drawing him upright. “Go to Renny.”
“No. No.” He squirmed and burrowed. Renny’s eyes hardened. He showed his chagrin. He took Wakefield from Adeline’s lap and held him at arm’s length. No one was prepared for the shrieks that came from his squared mouth, as though without his volition. His face turned white. Renny set him down. At once he was quiet.
“What in thunder is the matter with him?”
“He’s shy,” said Meg.
“Shy! He’s utterly spoilt.”
“He thinks you’ll hurt him.”
“So I shall — if he doesn’t behave himself.”
He had been home a fortnight, and to speak so peremptorily! Meg flushed.
“I’m worn out,” said Adeline. “I want to go into the house. Give me your arm, Ernest.” But she was really amused and exhilarated.
“It hasn’t been very restful for you, Mamma,” remarked Ernest as he helped her to her feet.
Piers came round the side of the house wheeling his bicycle. A small case was on the carrier behind.
“I’m off,” he said, kissing Meg.
“Where are you going?” asked Renny.
Piers returned his look with nonchalance.
“With Tom Fennel — camping over the weekend.”
“Who said you might?”
“I told Meg I was going.” There was almost effrontery in his tone, and he fourteen. Now was the time for a lesson.
“You told Meg you were going?”
“Yes.”
“Well — put that bicycle away and next time you want to go off for the weekend, ask me.”
Their eyes, bright blue and fiery brown, held their antagonism in mid-air for a space. Then Piers turned, wheeled his bicycle back to the house, went behind it, out of sight, somehow containing the fury that was in him for that space. The he hurled the bicycle to the ground. The case fell off and he kicked it. It flew open. He kicked it till the clothes inside were scattered on the grass. In his blind anger he kicked the pedal of the bicycle and hurt his toes. He kicked the bicycle in its spokes. Just as he did this Renny came round the corner of the house. They stared at each other, neither wishing that the situation might be different. There was a triumphant light in both faces.
“So that’s the way you behave when you’re thwarted,” said Renny.
“Yes,” answered Piers. He gave the bicycle another kick.
Renny picked up the strap that had fastened the case to the carrier.
Piers backed away from him, his nostrils dilated.
In an instant he was bent forward by an iron hand on his neck. Blows from the strap rained down on him. He twisted and writhed. He reached for Renny’s legs. Renny thought he had never felt a body so resilient. He grinned as he brought the strap down on it.
“Will you do that again?” he asked.
“Yes!” shouted Piers.
Eden, strolling from the cherry orchard, a book in his hand, stood galvanized by the sight. His face had been dreamy but now a look of amused astonishment lighted it.
“Are you going to behave yourself?” demanded Renny.
“Yes.” Piers was breathing hard. He straightened himself, his eyes clouded by tears.
“Gather your things and put them away.”
Piers picked up a sweater, a pair of pyjamas, a toothbrush. He gave a surly look at Eden.
But now Eden was sorry for him. He found his soap and proffered it. But Piers ignored it.
“Let him do it himself,” said Renny.
Piers pushed the bent bicycle before him into a shed.
Eden put the soap to his nose and sniffed it.
“It must have felt lovely,” he said.
“What? To get a licking like that?”
“No. To give it. If you have the guts.”
An