“But… how?”

“My dear Jane I have known Roland’s Croft for years. I have stayed with my uncle. At one time he was training me to work with him.”

“He gave you a key?”

“Let us say I acquired one.”

“How?”

“By seizing my opportunity, taking it from its secret place and getting another cut. Now I have access to his room whenever I wish as long as I choose the opportunity.”

“Oh Joliffe!”

“Now you’re shocked. You have to grow up, Jane, if you are going to be in this business. We are rivals… we must know what goes on in the enemy’s camp; all’s fair in love and war. This is a kind of war.”

“Oh no.”

He drew me to him and kissed me but I did not respond.

“I’m tired of Kuan Yin, Jane.”

“I want to know what happened.”

“Oh darling, haven’t you got it? I came down when my uncle was away. I went by stealth in the dead of night to that room, removed the Kuan Yin, took her to be tested and then brought her back. In the act of replacing her my very inquisitive wife-to-be discovered me and we met by moonlight—no there wasn’t a moon. Pity, it would have been so fitting. Never mind, the starlight had to do and there took place that enchanting, tender interlude which must have made all the gods jealous of me. Jane, I love you.”

“But it was wrong,” I said.

“What do you mean… wrong?”

“To go to that room, like that. It was like stealing.”

“Nonsense. Nothing was removed which was not returned.”

“Why didn’t you come when your uncle was there? Why didn’t you ask him…?”

“There are trade secrets. You have to understand this. For all we know some rival may have the original Kuan Yin. He may be holding it, biding the moment to sell. This is business, Jane.”

“To come there, and go into his private room, and take it away…”

“I knew it was safe. He was away and I knew where he’d gone. I knew there was time to get it out and back again. Oh, enough of this. I’m tired of the subject.”

But I could not get it out of my mind. I felt cheated in some way although it was Mr. Sylvester Milner who had been cheated.

I did not like these methods of business.

It made me see Joliffe differently. I loved him as deeply as ever but it was not the same. Apprehension had crept into my beautiful existence. It was the fear of what I might discover next.

II

A few days later we crossed the Channel.

I was delighted with Joliffe’s house in Kensington. It was tall, rather slender in a terrace of such houses which all displayed the graceful elegance of the period. There were four stories, on each of which were two large rooms, and Annie and Albert, who were waiting to greet us, lived over the stables in the mews which was situated at the back of the terrace. Annie was the topical ex-nanny who doted on Joliffe and now and then forgot that he was a grown man. She called him Master Jo and scolded him in a manner which he loved, for quite clearly she adored him, and Joliffe, I was discovering, looked upon feminine adulation as his due. Albert, pale and wiry, was a handy man who looked after the carriage and horses and had very little to say.

I took to the establishment immediately. Our room was on the third floor. Its windows opened onto a balcony with a view of the tiny garden and the stables. The garden could hardly be called such by Roland’s Croft standards. It was a square of crazy paving with a border of earth in which grew a few evergreen shrubs. There was a solitary pear tree though which gave fruit rather reluctantly—little green hard pears which Annie said were only good for stewing.

From the drawing room on the first floor I could watch the horse cabs clopping by and look across the road to the trees of Kensington Gardens. I was soon delighting in those gardens and often took a morning walk there.

Now that we were in London and our honeymoon was over I saw less of Joliffe. He had an office in the city and he was often there. This left me to my own devices. I would stroll down the flower walk where the nannies sat with their charges and sometimes I sat with them and listened to their discussions about their children’s characteristics and those of their employers. I wandered along by the Serpentine and explored the Orangerie of the Palace with its William and Mary façade; I walked past the windows behind which our Queen had once played with her dolls though it was hard to imagine as a little girl the blackclad widow she had become. I saw the summer flowers replaced by the hardier blooms of autumn in the pond garden and the thick leaves of summer gradually turn russet and drop. I liked to sit by the Round Pond and watch the children with their boats and I would take bread with which to feed the swans and the birds.

It was at the Round Pond that I first noticed the woman. She was in a way not the sort of person one would miss. She was tall—buxom almost and she had abundant red hair which escaped from her hat in ringlets. With her hourglass figure she was beautiful in an over-ripe rather coarse way.

I made a habit of going straight to the pond to feed the swans and I saw her again. It was the third time I saw her that I noticed she was aware of me. I had bent forward to throw a piece of bread to a swan and when I turned my head I saw that she was standing quite close to me. Her eyes were large, very light blue; and there could be no doubt whatever that they were fixed upon me.

I walked quickly towards the palace and went to the pond garden. This was a replica of the one made by Henry VIII at Hampton Court; it was shut in by railings and the path round it was the pleached alley where the trees had been trained to meet overhead—thick and heavy in summer, bare branches in winter. There were gaps in the trees on each side of the garden to enable people to look over the low railings at the flowers and pond.

I went into the alley and after walking a little way, I paused to look at the garden through one of the gaps. At the opening opposite was the red-haired woman.

I stepped backwards and made as though to turn to my left; and when she could no longer see me because of the trees in the alley I made a sharp right turn and walked swiftly out round the alley and out to the avenue of elms. Then I went home.

I told myself I had imagined she had followed me. Why I should have felt so uncomfortable I could not imagine; except that it gives one an uneasy feeling to think oneself followed.

When I arrived home there was a letter from my mother. She was coming up to London to see me. She was longing for a glimpse of me in my home.

I was delighted and when Joliffe came in he shared my pleasure.

“I’ll have to show her what a good husband you have,” he said.


* * *

I filled the house with flowers—chrysanthemums, asters, dahlias, and starry Michaelmas daisies. I had consulted with Annie. I wanted a very special luncheon on this day and Annie was determined that this should be a meal my mother would never forget.

Joliffe would make sure that he was home that day.

Soon after twelve the cab came jingling up and I was at the door to greet her.

We flew into each other’s arms and then she withdrew that she might have a look at me. I could see she was pleased with what she saw.

“Come in, Mother,” I said. “Come and see the house. It’s rather nice.”

She said, “It’s you I’ve come to see, Janey love. So you’re happy, eh?”

“Blissfully,” I answered.

“Thank God.”

I took her into our bedroom and myself removed her bonnet and cloak. “You’re getting thinner,” I said.

“Oh, I’m all right, dear. There’s no harm in that. There was a bit too much of me before.”

Her cheeks were reddish, her eyes brilliant. I put this down to her pleasure in seeing me.

She brought out a bottle of sloe gin. Mrs. Couch had sent it, believing that it was Joliffe’s favorite beverage.

“She’ll want to hear all about you both when I get back,” said my mother. “I am so happy to see you settled.”

Joliffe came in and warmly greeted her, and soon Annie was announcing that luncheon was served.

It was a happy meal, though my mother ate very little. I was amazed because in the old days my father had laughed at the size of her appetite.

I told her about our honeymoon in Paris and asked how everyone was at Roland’s Croft. Mr. Sylvester was away at the moment. All the servants were well. Amy and the under gardener were making plans for their wedding and would be married at Christmas. She was worried about Jess because she was still far too friendly with Jeffers and Mrs. Jeffers was getting really militant.

“Of course,” said my mother, “Jeffers is like that and if it wasn’t Jess it would be someone else.”

“Poor Mrs. Jeffers!” I sighed. “I’d hate it if Joliffe paid attention to someone else.”

“You’re safe,” said Joliffe, “for two reasons. First, who could possibly compare with you? Secondly I’m far too virtuous to indulge in such folly.”

My mother’s eyes filled with tears. I knew she was thinking of my father.

We talked long over the meal and then we went back to the drawing room and there was more talk.

At four o’clock she had to leave to catch her train, for she must return to Roland’s Croft that day. Albert brought the carriage round and we went to the station to put my mother on her train; we embraced fondly and she wept a little.

“I’m so happy that you are settled,” she whispered. “It is what I’ve always wanted. Bless you, Janey. Be happy always as you are now.”

We waved goodbye to her and then came home.

It was a happy enough evening. Joliffe said we must have a quiet one just ourselves and we sat by the fire and saw pictures in it and his arm was about me as the twilight settled in the room.

“How peaceful it is,” I said. “Joliffe, life’s wonderful, isn’t it?”

He stroked my hair and said: “Yes, Jane, while we have each other.”


* * *

A few days after my mother’s visit I went to the Round Pond and there was the red-haired woman. She was sitting on a seat as though waiting for someone.

When I saw her I felt an odd tingling in my spine and the thought entered my head: She is waiting for me.

I felt a ridiculous impulse then to turn and run. It was absurd. Why should I? What had I to fear from a stranger on a seat in a park?

It is only that she seems to be following me, I thought.

I went straight past her and took a turn into the pleached alley. I paused and sure enough on the other side of the garden looking straight at me through the gap on that side was the red-haired woman. She must have risen from her seat when she saw me and followed me.

I wondered whether to wait there for her and if she came round ask her if she wanted something of me. My heart began to beat fast. How could I accuse her of such a thing when I was not sure. But I was sure that she was following me.

She had moved from the gap now. I knew that she was coming round towards me. If I turned she would follow me.

What could she want of me?

I started to walk. Then I saw her turn the bend. She was coming straight towards me.

I steeled myself to speak to her. We were almost level now and as she looked straight at me, I felt hideously repelled and my great desire was to get away from her as soon as possible.

No words came. I was walking past her, subconsciously quickening my pace. I came out of the alley. Unless she had turned and followed me it would be some minutes before she made the journey round.

I started to hurry out into the open, towards the pond. When I was there I paused and saw her. She was walking slowly in the direction I had taken.

I crossed the road and let myself into the house with my latchkey.

As I turned to shut the door I saw the red-haired woman crossing the road.


* * *

I was in the drawing room when Annie came in. She said there was a “person” below asking to see me.

“What sort of a person, Annie?”

Annie repeated, “A person,” with a little sniff, which meant that she did not entirely approve of our visitor.

“What does she want?”

“She said she wanted to speak to you.”

“A lady then.”

“A person” insisted Annie emphatically.