CHAPTER IV

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Dodie Smith

I CAPTURE THE CASTLE

Plot and characters

Vocabulary

Literary devices

Writing Theme

Youth

Religion

Poverty

Love

CHAPTER IV

Little did I think what the evening was to bring-something has actually happened to us! My imagination longs to dash ahead and plan developments; but I have noticed that when things happen in one's imaginings, they never happen in one's life, so I am curbing myself.

Instead of indulging in riotous hopes I shall describe the evening from the beginning, quietly gloating- for now every moment seems exciting because of what came later. I have sought refuge in our barn. As a result of what happened last night, Rose and Topaz are spring-cleaning the drawing-room. They are being wonderfully blithe--when I dwindled away from them Rose was singing " The Isle of Capri" very high and Topaz was singing " Blow the Man Down" very low. The morning is blithe too, warmer, with the sun shining, though the countryside is still half-drowned. The barn—we rent it to Mr. Stebbins but we owe him so much for milk and butter that he no longer pays--is piled high with loose chaff and I have climbed up on it and opened the square door near the roof so that I can see out. I look across stubble and ploughed fields and drenched winter wheat to the village, where the smoke from the chimneys is going straight up in the still air. Everything is pale gold and washed clean, and hopeful.

When I came down from the attic yesterday, I found that Rose and Topaz had dyed everything they could lay hands on, including the dishcloth and the roller towel.

Once I had dipped my handkerchief into the big tin bath of green dye, I got fascinated too-it really makes one feel rather Godlike to turn things a different color. I did both my nightgowns and then we all did Topaz's sheets which was such an undertaking that it exhausted our lust. Father came down for tea and was not too pleased that Topaz had dyed his yellow cardigan--it is now the color of very old moss. And he thought our arms being green up to the elbows was revolting.

We had real butter for tea because Mr. Stebbins gave Stephen some when he went over to fix about working (he started at the farm this morning); and Mrs. Stebbins had sent a comb of honey. Stephen put them down in my place so I felt like a hostess. I shouldn't think even millionaires could eat anything nicer than new bread and real butter and honey for tea.

I have rarely heard such rain as there was during the meal. I am never happy when the elements go to extremes; I don't think I am frightened, but I imagine the poor countryside being battered until I end by feeling battered myself. Rose is just the opposite--it is as if she is egging the weather on, wanting louder claps of thunder and positively encouraging forked lightning. She went to the door while it was raining and reported that the garden was completely flooded.

" The lane'll be like a river, " she remarked with satisfaction, not being a girl to remember that Thomas would have to ride his bicycle down it within an hour--he was staying late at school for a lecture.

Father said:

" Let me add to your simple pleasure in Nature's violence by reminding you that there will shortly be at least six glorious new leaks in our roof. "

There was one in the kitchen already; Stephen put a bucket under it. I told him the two attic leaks had started before I came down but there were buckets under them. He went to see if they were overflowing and returned to say that there were four more leaks. We had run out of buckets, so he collected three saucepans and the soup-tureen.

" Maybe I'd best stay up there and empty them as they fill, " he said.

He took a book and some candle-ends and I thought how gloomy it would be for him reading poetry in the middle of six drips.

We washed the tea-things; then Rose and Topaz went to the washhouse to shake out the dyed sheets. Father stayed by the fire, waiting for the rain to stop before going back to the gatehouse. He sat very still, just staring in front of him. It struck me how completely out of touch with him I am. I went over and sat on the fender and talked about the weather; and then realized that I was making conversation as if to a stranger. It depressed me so much that I couldn't think of anything more to say. After a few minutes' silence, he said:

" So Stephen got work at Four Stones. "

I just nodded and he looked at me rather queerly and asked if I liked Stephen. I said that of course I did, though the poems were embarrassing.

" You should tell him you know he copies them, " said Father.

" You'll know how to do it- encourage him to write something of his own, however bad it is. And be very matter of fact with him, my child--even a bit on the brisk side. "

" But I don't think he'd like that, " I said.

" I think he'd take briskness for snubbing. And you know how fond of me he's always been. "

" Hence the need for a little briskness, " said Father.

" Unless.... Of course, he's a godlike youth. I'm rather glad he's not devoted to Rose, " I must have been looking very much puzzled. He smiled and went on: " Oh, don't bother your head about it. You've so much common sense you'll probably do the right thing instinctively. It's no use telling Topaz to advise you because she'd think it all very splendid and natural--and for all I know, it might be. God knows what's to become of you girls. "

I suddenly knew what he was talking about.

" I understand, " I said, " and I'll be brisk- within reason. "

But I wonder if I shall ever manage it. And I wonder if it is really necessary--surely Stephen's devotion isn't anything serious or grown-up? But now that the idea has been put into my head, I keep remembering how queer his voice sounded when he asked me about being hungry. It is worrying--but rather exciting... I shall stop thinking about it; such things are not in my line at all. They are very much in Rose's line and I know just what Father meant when he said he was glad Stephen wasn't devoted to her.

Topaz came from the washhouse and set irons to heat, so Father changed the subject by asking me if I'd dyed all my clothes green. I said I had few to dye.

" Any long dresses at all? " he asked.

" Nary a one, " I replied; and, indeed, I cannot see the slightest chance of ever acquiring grownup clothes.

" But my school gym-dress has a lot of life in it yet and it's very comfortable. "

" I must alter something of mine for her, " said Topaz as she went back to the washhouse. I felt my lack of clothes was a reflection on Father and, in an effort to talk of something else, said the most tactless thing possible.

" How's the work? " I asked.

A closed-up look came over his face and he said shortly: " You're too old to believe in fairy tales. "

I knew I had put my foot in it and thought I might as well go a bit further.

" Honestly, Father- aren't you trying to write at all? "

" My dear Cassandra, " he said in a cutting voice he very seldom uses,

" it's time this legend that I'm a writer ceased. You won't get any coming-out dresses from my earnings. "

He got up without another word and went upstairs. I could have kicked myself for wrecking the first talk we'd had for months.

Thomas came in just then, wet through. I warned him not to use Father's bedroom as a passage, as we usually do, and he went up the front way. I took him some dry underclothes--fortunately the week's ironing was done--and then went up to see how Stephen was getting on.

He had stuck the candle-ends on the floor, close to his open book, and was reading lying on his stomach.

His face was dazzlingly bright in the great dark attic -- I stood a moment watching his lips moving before he heard me. The saucepans were on the point of overflowing. As I helped him to empty them out of the window I saw that the lamp was lit in the gatehouse, so Father must have gone back there through the rain. It was slackening off at last.

The air smelt very fresh. I leaned out over the garden and found it was much warmer than indoors--it always takes our house a while to realize a change in the weather.

" It'll be spring for you soon, Miss Cassandra, " said Stephen. We stood sniffing the air.

" There's quite a bit of softness in it, isn't there? "

I said.

" I shall think of this as spring rain -or am I cheating? You know I always try to begin the spring too soon. "

He leaned out and took a deep sniff.

" It's beginning all right, Miss Cassandra, " he said.

" Maybe we'll get some setbacks but it's beginning. " He suddenly smiled, not at me but looking straight in front of him, and added:

" Well, beginnings are good times. " Then he closed the window and we put the saucepans back under the drips, which played a little ringing tune now that the saucepans were empty. The candle-ends on the floor cast the strangest shadows and made him seem enormously tall. I remembered what Father had said about his being a godlike youth; and then I remembered that I had not remembered to be brisk.

We went back to the kitchen and I got Thomas some food. Topaz was ironing her silk tea-gown, which looked wonderful-it had been a faded blue, but had dyed a queer sea-green color.

I think the sight of it made Rose extra gloomy. She was starting to iron a cotton frock that hadn't dyed any too well.

" Oh, what's the use of messing about with summer clothes, anyway, " she said.

" I can't imagine it ever being warm again. "

" There's quite a bit of spring in the air tonight, " I told her.

" You go out and smell it. "

Rose never gets emotional about the seasons so she took no notice, but Topaz went to the door at once and flung it open. Then she threw her head back, opened her arms wide and took a giant breath.

" It's only a whiff of spring, not whole lungs full, " I said, but she was too rapt to listen. I quite expected her to plunge into the night, but after some more deep breathing she went upstairs to try on her tea-gown.

" It beats me, " said Rose.

" After all this time, I still don't know if she goes on that way because she really feels like it, if she's acting to impress us, or just acting to impress herself. "

" All three, " I said.

" And as it helps her to enjoy life, I don't blame her. "

Rose went to close the door and stood there a minute, but the night air didn't cheer her up at all. She slammed the door and said: " If I knew anything desperate to do, I'd do it. "

" What's specially the matter with you, Rose? "

asked Thomas.

" You've been beating your breast for days and it's very boring. We can at least get a laugh out of Topaz, but you're just monotonously grim. "

" Don't talk with your mouth full, " said Rose.

" I feel grim. I haven't any clothes, I haven't any prospects. I live in a moldering ruin and I've nothing to look forward to but old age. "

" Well, that's been the outlook for years, " said Thomas.

" Why has it suddenly got you down? "

" It's the long, cold winter, " I suggested.

" It's the long, cold winter of my life, " said Rose, at which Thomas laughed so much that he choked.

Rose had the sense to laugh a little herself. She came and sat on the table, looking a bit less glowering.

" Stephen, " she said, " you go to church. Do they still believe in the Devil there? "

" Some do, " said Stephen, " though I wouldn't say the Vicar did. "

" The Devil's out of fashion, " I said.

" Then he might be flattered if I believed in him, and work extra hard for me. I'll sell him my soul like Faust did. "

" Faust sold his soul to get his youth back, " said Thomas.

" Then I'll sell mine to live my youth while I've still got it, " said Rose.

" Will he hear me if I shout, or do I have to find a Devil's Dyke or Devil's Well or something? "

" You could try wishing on our gargoyle, " I suggested. Although she was so desperate, she was--well, more playful than I had seen her for a long time and I wanted to encourage her.

" Get me the ladder, Stephen, " she said.

What we call our gargoyle is really just a carved stone head high above the kitchen fireplace. Father thinks the castle chapel was up there, because there are some bits of fluted stonework and a niche that might have been for holy water. The old wall has been whitewashed so often that the outlines are blurred now.

" The ladder wouldn't reach, Miss Rose, " said Stephen, " and the Vicar says that's the head of an angel. "

" Well, it's got a devilish expression now, " said Rose, " and the Devil was a fallen angel. "

We all stared up at the head and it did look a bit devilish; its curls had been broken and the bits that were left were horns.

" Perhaps it would be extra potent if you wished on an angel and thought of the Devil, " I suggested, " like witches saying mass backwards. " " We could haul you up on the drying-rack, Rose, " said Thomas.

The rack was pulled up high with the dyed sheets on it. Rose told Stephen to let it down, but he looked at me to see if I wanted him to.

She frowned and went to the pulley herself. I said:

" If you must fool about with it, let me get the sheets off first. "

So, she lowered them and Stephen helped me to drape them over two clothes-horses. Thomas held the rope while she sat on the middle of the rack and tested its strength.

" The rack'll bear you, " said Stephen.

" I helped make it and it's very strong. I don't know about the rope and pulleys. "

I went and sat beside her, feeling that if the weight of both of us didn't break anything it would be safe for her alone. I knew from the look in her eye and her deep flush that it wasn't any use trying to dissuade her. We bounced about a bit and then she said:

" Good enough. Pull me up. "

Stephen went to help Thomas.

" But not you, Miss Cassandra, " he said, " it's dangerous. "

" I suppose you don't mind me breaking my neck, " said Rose.

" Well, I'd rather you didn't, " said Stephen, " but I know you wouldn't stop for the asking. Anyway, it's you who want to wish on the angel, not Miss Cassandra. "

I'd have been glad to wish on anything, but I wouldn't have gone up there for a pension.

" It's a devil, not an angel, I tell you, " said Rose. She sat swinging her legs a minute, then looked round at us all.

" Does anyone dare me? "

" No! " we all shouted, which must have been very irritating. She said:

" Then I dare myself. Haul me up. "

Thomas and Stephen hauled. When she was about ten feet from the floor, I asked them to stop a minute.

" How does it feel, Rose? " I said.

" Peculiar, but a nice change. Go on, boys. "

They pulled again. The carved head must be over twenty feet up and as she rose higher and higher, I had an awful feeling in my stomach—I don't think I had realized until then how very dangerous it was. When she was within a few feet of the head, Stephen called up: " That's as high as the rack'll go. "

She reached up but couldn't touch the head. Then she called down:

" There's a foothold here--it looks as if there were steps once. "

The next second she had leaned forward, grasped a projecting stone and stepped on to the wall. The lamp on the table didn't throw much light up there, but it looked terribly dangerous to me.

" Hurry up and get it over, " I called. The backs of my legs as well as my stomach were most uncomfortable.

She only had to take one step up the wall to reach the head.

" He's no beauty at close quarters, " she said.

" What shall I say to him, Cassandra? "

" Pat him on the head, " I suggested.

" It must be hundreds of years since anyone showed him any affection. "

Rose patted him. I got the lamp and held it high, but it was still shadowy up there. She looked extraordinary, almost as if she were flying up the wall or had been painted on it. I called out: Heavenly devil or devilish saint, Grant our vish, hear our plaint.

Godsend Castle a godsend craves-and then I got stuck.

" If he's a devil, it can only be a devil send said Thomas. Just then a car on the Godsend road hooted loudly and he added:

" There's Old Nick come for you. "

I saw Rose start.

" Get me down! " she cried in a queer voice and flopped on to the rack.

For one awful second, I feared the boys might not be expecting the strain, but they were ready and lowered her carefully. As soon as her feet were near the ground she jumped off and sat down on the floor.

" The car horn startled me, " she said rather shakily, " and I looked down and went giddy. "

I asked her to describe her exact feelings up there, but she said she hadn't had any until she turned giddy. That is one great difference between us: I would have had any number of feelings and have wanted to remember them all; she would just be thinking of wishing on the stone head.

" You never did wish, did you? " I asked.

She laughed.

" Oh, I said a few private things all right. "

Topaz came downstairs just then, in her black oilskins, sou'wester hat and rubber boots, looking as if she were going to man the lifeboat.

She said her dyed tea-gown had shrunk so much that she couldn't breathe in it and Rose could have it. Then she strode out, leaving the door wide open.

" Don't swallow the night, will you? " Thomas called after her.

" Your luck's started already, " I told Rose, as she dashed upstairs to try the tea-gown on. Thomas went to do his homework in his room, so I thought I might as well start my bath and asked Stephen if he minded me having it in the kitchen; I generally do have it there but, as it means he has to keep out of the way for a good long time, I always feel apologetic. He tactfully said he had a job to do in the barn and that he would help me get the bath ready.

" But it's still full of dye, " I remembered. We emptied it and Stephen swilled it out.

" But I'm afraid the dye may still come off on you, Miss Cassandra, " he said.

" Hadn't you better use the bathroom? "

The bathroom bath is so enormous that there is never enough hot water for more than a few inches, and a draught blows down the tower. I decided I would rather risk the dye. We carried the bath to the fire and Stephen baled hot water from the copper and helped me to make a screen of clotheshorses with the green sheets on- as a rule, I use dust-sheets for this. As our clotheshorses are fully five feet high, I always have a most respectable and private bath, but I do feel more comfortable if I have the whole kitchen to myself.

" What will you have to read tonight, Miss Cassandra? " asked Stephen.

I told him Vol. H To I of our old Encyclopedia, Man and Superman (which I have just re-borrowed from the Vicar-I feel I may have missed some of the finer points when I first read it five years ago) and last week's Home Chat, kindly lent by Miss Marcy. I like plenty of choice in my bath. Stephen set them all out for me while I collected my washing things. And then, after he had lit his lantern to go to the barn, he suddenly presented me with a whole twopenny bar of nut-milk chocolate.

" How did you come by that? " I gasped.

He explained that he had got it on credit, on the strength of having a job.

" I know you like to eat in the bath, Miss Cassandra.

What with books and chocolate, there's not much else you could have in it, is there? Except, perhaps, a wireless. "

" Well, don't go getting a wireless on credit, " I laughed; and then thanked him for the chocolate and offered him some.

But he wouldn't take any and went off to the barn.

I was just getting into the bath when Heloise whined at the back door and had to be let in. Of course, she wanted to come to the fire, which was a slight bore as she is no asset to a bath -her loving paws are apt to scrape one painfully. However, she seemed sleepy and we settled down amicably.

It was wonderfully cozy inside my tall, draught-proof screen; and the rosy glow from the fire turned the green sheets to a fascinating color.

I had the brain wave of sitting on our largest dinner-dish to avoid the dye; the gravy runnels were a bit uncomfortable, though.

I believe it is customary to get one's washing over first in baths and bask afterwards; personally, I bask first. I have discovered that the first few minutes are the best and not to be wasted-my brain always seethes with ideas and life suddenly looks much better than it did.

Father says hot water can be as stimulating as an alcoholic drink and though I never come by one--unless the medicine-bottle of port that the Vicar gives me for my Midsummer rites counts-I can well believe it. So, I bask first, wash second and then read as long as the hot water holds out. The last stage of a bath, when the water is cooling and there is nothing to look forward to, can be pretty disillusioning. I expect alcohol works much the same way.

This time I spent my basking in thinking about the family and it is a tribute to hot water that I could think about them and still bask. For surely, we are a sorry lot: Father moldering in the gatehouse, Rose raging at life, Thomas- well, he is a cheerful boy but one cannot but know that he is perpetually underfed. Topaz is certainly the happiest for she still thinks it's romantic to be married to Father and live in a castle; and her painting, her lute and her wild communing with nature are a great comfort to her. I would have taken a bet that she had nothing whatever on under her oilskins and that she intended to stride up the mound and then fling them off.

After being an artists' model for so many years, she has no particular interest in Nudism for its own sake, but she has a passion for getting into closest contact with the elements. This once caused quite a little embarrassment with Four Stones Farm so she undertook only to go nude by night. Of course, winter is closed season for nudity, but she is wonderfully impervious to cold and I felt sure the hint of spring in the air would have fetched her. Though it was warmer, it was still far from warm, and the thought of her up on Belmotte made my bath more comfortable than ever.

I ate half my chocolate and meant to offer the rest to Rose, but Heloise was lashing her tail so hopefully that I shared with her instead and her gratitude was so intense that I feared she might get in the bath with me. I calmed her, discouraged her from licking the soap and had just started serious washing when there was a thump on the door.

I still can't imagine what made me call out: " Come in. " I suppose I said it automatically. I ha d just covered my face with soap, which always makes one feel rather helpless, and when I rashly opened my eyes, the soap got into them; I was blindly groping for the towel when I heard the door open. Heloise let forth a volley of barks and hurtled towards it--it was a miracle she didn't knock the clothes horses over.

The next few seconds were pandemonium with Hcl barking her hardest and two men trying to soothe her. I didn't call her off because I know she never bites anyone and I hated the idea of explaining I was in the bath--particularly as I hadn't even a towel to wrap around me; I had blinked my eyes open by then and realized I must have left it somewhere in the kitchen.

Mercifully, Heloise quietened down after a minute or so.

" Didn't you hear someone say " Come in"? " said one of the men, and I realized that he was an American. It was a pleasant voice, like the nice people in American films, not the gangsters.

He called out:

" Anyone home? " but the other man told him to be quiet, adding:

" I want to look at this place first. It's magnificent. "

This voice puzzled me. It didn't sound English but it didn't sound American either, yet it certainly had no foreign accent. It was a most unusual voice, very quiet and very interesting.

" Do you realize that wall's part of an old castle? " it said.

This was not a happy moment as I thought he would come to look at the fireplace wall, but just then Thomas came out on the staircase. The men explained that they had turned down our lane by accident and their car was stuck in the mud. They wanted help to get it out.

" Or, if we have to leave it there all night, we felt we'd better warn you, " said the American voice, " because it's blocking the lane. "

Thomas said he would come and have a look and I heard him getting his boots from the wash-house. " Wonderful old place you have here, " said the unusual voice, and I feared they might ask to look round. But the other man began talking about how stuck the car was and asking if we had horses to pull it out, and in a minute or so Thomas went off with them. I heard the door slam and heaved a sigh of relief.

But I did feel a little flat; it was dull to think I had never even seen the men and never would. I tried to imagine faces to go with the voices--then suddenly realized that the water was cooling and I had barely begun washing. I got to work at last, but scrub as I might, I couldn't make any impression on my green-dyed arms. I am a thorough washer and by the time I had finished, my mind was completely off the men. I hopped out and got another can hot water from the copper, which is close to the fire, and was just settling down to read when I heard the door open again.

Someone came into the kitchen and I was sure it wasn't any of the family--they would have called out to me or at least made a lot more noise. I could feel someone just standing and staring. After a moment I couldn't bear it any longer so I yelled out:

" Whoever you are, I warn you I'm in the bath here. "

" Good heavens, I do beg your pardon, " said the man with the quiet voice.

" Were you there when we came in a few minutes ago? "

I told him I had been, and asked if the car was still stuck.

" They've gone for horses to pull it out, " he said, " so I sneaked back to have a look round here. I've never seen anything like this place. "

" Just let me get dried and in my right mind and I'll show you round, " I said. I had mopped my face and neck on the drying sheets and still hadn't taken the cold walk to find the towel.

I asked him if he could see it anywhere, but he didn't seem able to, so I knelt in the bath, parted the green sheets and put my head through.

He turned towards me. Seldom have I felt more astonished.

He had a black beard.

I have never known anyone with a beard except an old man in the Scoatney almshouses who looks like Santa Claus. This beard wasn't like that; it was trim and pointed--rather Elizabethan. But it was very surprising because his voice had sounded quite young.

" How do you do? " he said, smiling- and I could tell by his tone that he had taken me for a child. He found my towel and started to bring it over; then stopped and said: " There's no need to look so scared. I'll put it down where you can reach it and go right back to the yard. "

" I'm not scared, " I said, " but you don't look the way you sound. "

He laughed, but it struck me that it had been rather a rude thing to say, so I added hastily: " There's no need to go, of course. Won't you sit down? I'm sure I've no desire to appear inhospitable" --and that struck me as the most pompous speech of my life.

I began to put one arm through the sheets for the towel.

" There'll be a catastrophe if you do it that way, " he said.

" I'll put it round the corner. "

As I drew my head in, I saw his hand coming round.

I grabbed the towel from it and was just going to ask him to bring my clothes, too, when the door opened again.

" I've been looking for you everywhere, Simon, " said the American voice.

" This is the darnedest place I’ve just seen a Spook" " Nonsense, " said the bearded man.

" Honest, I have--while I was in the lane. I shone my flashlight up at that tower on the hill and a white figure flitted behind it. "

" Probably a horse. "

" Horse, nothing--it was walking upright. But gosh, maybe I am going crazy- it didn't seem to have any legs. "

I guessed Topaz must have kept her black rubber boots on.

" Stop talking about it, anyway, " the bearded man whispered.

" There's a child in a bath behind those sheets. "

I called out for someone to bring my clothes and put an arm round for them.

" My God--it's a green child! " said the American.

" What is this place- the House of Usher? "

" I'm not green all over, " I explained.

" It's just that we've all been dyeing. "

" Then maybe it was one of your ghosts I saw, " said the American.

The bearded man came over with my clothes.

" Don't worry about the ghost, " he said.

" Of course, he didn't see one. "

I said: " Well, he easily might, up on the mound, but it was more likely my stepmother communing with nature. " I was out of the bath by then, with the towel draped around me respectably, so I put my head round to speak to him. It came out much higher than when I had been kneeling in the bath and he looked most astonished.

" You're a larger child than I realized, " he said.

As I took the clothes, I caught sight of the other man. He had just the sort of face to go with his voice, a nice, fresh face. The odd thing was that I felt I knew it. I have since decided this was because there are often young men like him in American pictures--not the hero, but the heroine's brother or men on petrol stations.

He caught my eye and said:

" Hello! Tell me some more about your legless stepmother-and the rest of your family. Have you a sister who plays the harp on horseback, or anything? "

Just then Topaz began to play her lute upstairs -she must have slipped in at the front door. The young man began to laugh.

" There she is, " he said delightedly.

" That's not a harp, it's a lute, " said the bearded man.

" Now that really is amazing. A castle, a lute-? And then Rose came out on to the staircase. She was wearing the dyed-green tea-gown, which is mediaeval in shape with long flowing sleeves. She obviously didn't know that there were strangers in the house for she called out:

" Look, Cassandra'" Both men turned towards her and she stopped dead at the top of the stairs. For once Topaz had her lute in tune. And she was, most appropriately, playing " Green Sleeves. "

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