Everyone Brave Is Forgiven Read Online Free PDF Page A

Sheridan had found her figure for Angels with Dirty Faces .
    “I’m sorry, Mrs. North?”
    “We didn’t suppose Mary would be any use at teaching, did we, dear?”
    Hilda favored Mary with an innocent look. “And she was so stoical about the assignment.”
    Hilda knew perfectly well that she had neither volunteered accepted the role particularly graciously nor survived in it for a week. Mary managed a smile that she judged to have the right inflection of modesty. “Teaching helps the war effort by freeing up able men to serve.”
    “I had you down for freeing up some admiral.”
    “Hilda! Any more talk like that and your severed head on the gate will serve as a warning to others.’
    “I’m sorry, Mrs. North. But a pretty thing like Mary is hardly cut out for something so plain as teaching, is she?”
    Hilda knew perfectly well that Mary was already suspected by her mother of dalliances. This was typical her: baiting the most exquisite trap and then springing it, while all the while seeming to have most of her mind on her meatloaf.
    “I’m just jolly impressed that she’s sticking with it,” said Hilda. “I can’t even stick to a diet.”
    With unbearable ponderousness, she was using her knife and fork to reduce the length of each of the runner beans on her plate by one third. With perfect diligence she lined up each short length beside the surplus meatloaf.
    Mary rose to it. “Why on earth are you cutting them all like that?”
    Hilda’s round face was guileless. “Are my thirds not right?”
    “Just put aside one bean in three, for heaven’s sake. It’s dieting, not dissection.”
    Hilda slumped. “I’m not as bright as you.”
    Mary threw her a furious look. Hilda’s dark eyes glittered.
    “We have different gifts,” said Mary’s mother. “You are faithful and kind.”
    “But I think Mary is so brave to be a teacher, don’t you? While the rest of us only careen from parlor to salon.”
    Mary’s mother patted her hand. “We also serve who live with grace.”
    “But to do something for the war,” said Hilda. “To really do something.”
    “I suppose I am proud of my daughter. And only this summer we were worried she might be a socialist.”
    And finally all three of them laughed. Because really.
    —
    After dinner, on the roof terrace that topped the six stories of creamy stucco, with the two of them in white dresses flaming red as the sun set over Pimlico, Hilda was weak with laughter while Mary seethed.
    “You perfect wasp’s udder,” said Mary, lighting a cigarette. “Now I shall have to pretend forever that I haven’t been sacked. Was all that about Geoffrey St John?”
    “Why would you imagine it was about Geoffrey St John?”
    “Well, I admit I might have slightly . . .”
    “Go on. Have slightly what?”
    “Have slightly kissed him.”
    “At the . . . ?”
    “At the Queen Charlotte’s Ball.”
    “Where he was there as . . .”
    “As your escort for the night. Fine.”
    “Interesting.’
    “Isn’t it?” said Mary. “Because apparently you are still jolly furious.”
    “So it would seem.”
    Mary leaned her elbows on the balcony rail and gave London a weary look. “It’s because you’re not relaxed about these things.”
    “I’m very traditional,” said Hilda. “Still, look on the bright side. Now you have a full-time teaching job.”
    “You played Mother like a cheap pianola.”
    “And now you will have to get your job back, or at least pretend. Either way you’ll be out of my hair for the Michaelmas Ball.”
    “The ball, you genius, is to be held after school hours.”
    “But you will have to be in the countryside, won’t you? Even your mother will realize that there’s nobody here to teach.”
    Mary considered it. “I will get you back for this.”
    “Eventually I shall forgive you, of course. I might even let you come to my wedding to Geoffrey St John. You can be a bridesmaid.”
    They leaned shoulders sociably and watched the darkening