‘That’s grand, honey. That’s just grand. I’m glad you like it.’
‘Like it? I adore it. Don’t you adore it too?’
‘Sure,’ said Jason Rudd. ‘Sure.’
It wasn’t too bad, he reflected to himself. Good, solidly built, rather ugly Victorian. It had, he admitted, a feeling of solidity and security. Now that the worst of its fantastic inconveniences had been ironed out, it would be quite reasonably comfortable to live in. Not a bad place to come back to from time to time. With luck, he thought, Marina wouldn’t start taking a dislike to it for perhaps two years to two years and a half. It all depended.
Marina said, sighing softly:
‘It’s so wonderful to feel well again. Well and strong. Able to cope with things.’
And he said again: ‘Sure, honey, sure.’
And it was at that moment that the door opened and the Italian butler had ushered in Mrs Bantry.
Marina Gregg’s welcome was all that was charming. She came forward, hands outstretched, saying how delightful it was to meet Mrs Bantry again. And what a coincidence that they should have met that time in San Francisco and that two years later she and Jinks should actually buy the house that had once belonged to Mrs Bantry. And she did hope, she really did hope that Mrs Bantry wouldn’t mind terribly the way they’d pulled the house about and done things to it and she hoped she wouldn’t feel that they were terrible intruders living here.
‘Your coming to live here is one of the most exciting things that has ever happened to this place,’ said Mrs Bantry cheerfully and she looked towards the mantelpiece. Whereupon, almost as an afterthought, Marina Gregg said:
‘You don’t know my husband, do you? Jason, this is Mrs Bantry.’
Mrs Bantry looked at Jason Rudd with some interest. Her first impression that this was one of the ugliest men she had ever seen became qualified. He had interesting eyes. They were, she thought, more deeply sunk in his head than any eyes she had seen. Deep quiet pools, said Mrs Bantry to herself, and felt like a romantic lady novelist. The rest of his face was distinctly craggy, almost ludicrously out of proportion. His nose jutted upwards and a little red paint would have transformed it into the nose of a clown very easily. He had, too, a clown’s big sad mouth. Whether he was at this moment in a furious temper or whether he always looked as though he were in a furious temper she did not quite know. His voice when he spoke was unexpectedly pleasant. Deep and slow.
‘A husband,’ he said, ‘is always an afterthought. But let me say with my wife that we’re very glad to welcome you here. I hope you don’t feel that it ought to be the other way about.’
‘You must get it out of your head,’ said Mrs Bantry, ‘that I’ve been driven forth from my old home. It never was my old home. I’ve been congratulating myself ever since I sold it. It was a most inconvenient house to run. I liked the garden but the house became more and more of a worry. I’ve had a perfectly splendid time ever since, travelling abroad and going and seeing my married daughters and my grandchildren and my friends in all different parts of the world.’
‘Daughters,’ said Marina Gregg, ‘you have daughters and sons?’
‘Two sons and two daughters,’ said Mrs Bantry, ‘and pretty widely spaced. One in Kenya, one in South Africa. One near Texas and the other, thank goodness, in London.’
‘Four,’ said Marina Gregg. ‘Four—and grandchildren?’
‘Nine up to date,’ said Mrs Bantry. ‘It’s great fun being a grandmother. You don’t have any of the worry of parental responsibility. You can spoil them in the most unbridled way—’
Jason Rudd interrupted her. ‘I’m afraid the sun catches your eyes,’ he said, and went to a window to adjust the blind. ‘You must tell us all about this delightful village,’ he said as he came back.
He handed her a cup of tea.
‘Will you have a hot scone or a sandwich, or this cake? We have an Italian cook and she makes quite good pastry and cakes. You see we have quite taken to your English afternoon tea.’
‘Delicious tea too,’ said Mrs Bantry, sipping the fragrant beverage.
Marina Gregg smiled and looked pleased. The sudden nervous movement of her fingers which Jason Rudd’s eyes had noticed a minute or two previously, was stilled again. Mrs Bantry looked at her hostess with great admiration. Marina Gregg’s heyday had been before the rise to supreme importance of vital statistics. She could not have been described as Sex Incarnate, or ‘The Bust’ or ‘The Torso’. She had been long and slim and willowy. The bones of her face and head had had some of the beauty associated with those of Garbo. She had brought personality to her pictures rather than mere sex. The sudden turn of her head, the opening of the deep lovely eyes, the faint quiver of her mouth, all these were what brought to one suddenly that feeling of breath-taking loveliness that comes not from regularity of feature but from some sudden magic of the flesh that catches the onlooker unawares. She still had this quality though it was not now so easily apparent. Like many film and stage actresses she had what seemed to be a habit of turning off personality at will. She could retire into herself, be quiet, gentle, aloof, disappointing to an eager fan. And then suddenly the turn of the head, the movement of the hands, the sudden smile and the magic was there.
One of her greatest pictures had been Mary, Queen of Scots, and it was of her performance in that picture that Mrs Bantry was reminded now as she watched her. Mrs Bantry’s eye switched to the husband. He too was watching Marina. Off guard for a moment, his face expressed clearly his feelings. ‘Good Lord,’ said Mrs Bantry to herself, ‘the man adores her.’
She didn’t know why she should feel so surprised. Perhaps because film stars and their love affairs and their devotion were so written up in the Press that one never expected to see the real thing with one’s own eyes. On an impulse she said:
‘I do hope you’ll enjoy it here and that you’ll be able to stay here some time. Do you expect to have the house for long?’
Marina opened wide surprised eyes as she turned her head. ‘I want to stay here always,’ she said. ‘Oh, I don’t mean that I shan’t have to go away a lot. I shall, of course. There’s a possibility of making a film in North Africa next year although nothing’s settled yet. No, but this will be my home. I shall come back here. I shall always be able to come back here.’ She sighed. ‘That’s what’s so wonderful. To have found a home at last.’
‘I see,’ said Mrs Bantry, but at the same time she thought to herself, ‘All the same I don’t believe for a moment that it will be like that. I don’t believe you’re the kind that can ever settle down.’
Again she shot a quick surreptitious glance at Jason Rudd. He was not scowling now. Instead he was smiling, a sudden very sweet and unexpected smile, but it was a sad smile. ‘He knows it too,’ thought Mrs Bantry.
The door opened and a woman came in. ‘Bartletts want you on the telephone, Jason,’ she said.
‘Tell them to call back.’
‘They said it was urgent.’
He sighed and rose. ‘Let me introduce you to Mrs Bantry,’ he said. ‘Ella Zielinsky, my secretary.’
‘Have a cup of tea, Ella,’ said Marina as Ella Zielinsky acknowledged the introduction with a smiling ‘Pleased to meet you.’
‘I’ll have a sandwich,’ said Ella. ‘I don’t go for China tea.’
Ella Zielinsky was at a guess