Read Return to Fourwinds for Free Online Page B

undone, the nails uneven and nibbled.

    Following a letter from England Mama was suddenly taut and busy and anxious, getting everything ready for a visit from Mr Gardiner’s son.
    â€˜You mean the boy in the photo?’ said Ralph. ‘The photo on Mr Gardiner’s desk in the old house.’
    â€˜Why yes,’ she said. ‘What a funny thing to remember, that old photo. Of course, he’s older now, quite the young man. So you see, we must do our utmost to put our best foot forward, because, well . . .’
    â€˜Because he’s Mr Gardiner’s son,’ finished Ralph.
    Being eighteen, Tom was now old enough to take it upon himself to come out and visit. So in the space of a week Mr Gardiner had hurriedly organised Tom’s tickets and travel arrangements with great satisfaction, excitement even.
    â€˜Of course, his mother will quiz him on every little detail here when he returns home,’ said Mama, straightening the chenille drapes round the dining room window as Ralph worked through a page of sums at the table.
    By the end of the week Mama had taken to weeping hopelessly over the menus and the maid’s inability to dust, and by the time Mr Gardiner left to fetch Tom from the station, Mama had taken to her bed with a nervous headache.
    She was still indisposed when Mr Gardiner arrived back from the train. He left Tom in the hallway with Ralph and hurried straightin to see her. Ralph could hear his voice, the high, worried replies from Mama.
    Mr Gardiner’s boy walked along the dark hallway, peering at the pictures on the walls. He had slicked-down black hair and wide baggy trousers. He took out a cigarette, turned it round and tapped it, then put it away. He gave Ralph a wink. Ralph winked back.
    Mr Gardiner came out. Shutting Mama’s bedroom door he was a man released, lightened of burdens. He embraced Tom in yet another big hug and Ralph followed them through to the sitting room. The balcony windows had been left open onto the tops of the trees along the avenue and the heady evening song of the birds filled the room. Even when he went over to the drinks table to pour Tom a glass of amontillado, Mr Gardiner’s eyes went back to his son, as if making an inventory of all the things that made him proud. He squirted some soda into a glass for Ralph and handed it to him with an absentminded pat on the head.
    Mama had organised a special meal for Tom’s arrival, but since the headache had toppled her plans as a hostess Mr Gardiner would lead the men out to eat. Ralph went in to say goodbye to Mama and she asked him to fetch her cologne stick from the dressing table. He rubbed the waxy, blue column over her forehead – almost as waxy as the yellowy bones prominent beneath the tight skin – releasing the fresh sting of perfumed alcohol.
    â€˜Thank you, dear. It’s so silly of me to be so weak-minded. I shall think good, positive things, and say a few prayers to clear my mind. Then I am sure I will be quite better again,’ she whispered.
    He left her, feeling guilty, glad to be going out with the men.
    They went to a small restaurant that was almost a bar. Tom leaned back in his chair. He gave Ralph the feeling that he found something amusing about him, in a friendly way. He showed Ralph how to flick his lighter into a tiny flame and how to light a cigarette for him.‘Sorry, old chap, I should have offered you one,’ Tom said, holding out the packet, man to man. Ralph shook his head hard, thinking of the trouble Tom would be in if Mama were to find out.
    Mr Gardiner ordered a table full of dishes, fishy rings of calamari and all the strange and misshapen fried things that Mama hated, the dark sausage dishes bleeding the fragrant oil that she disliked. The waiter seemed to know Mr Gardiner well, and they talked in mutters about recent disturbances near the cathedral.
    Mr Gardiner tucked a white napkin in his collar and gave a thump on the table.