Nightingale Wood Read Online Free PDF Page A

waist; ‘I am so glad.’
    Her eyes filled. She did indeed feel warmly fond of Viola, and grateful to her, because Viola’s arrival meant that there would be someone different to look at and think about.
    And then Viola was a widow; mysterious, unguessable state! so different from that of all the other women under Mr Wither’s thumb at The Eagles.
    Perhaps, too, Viola would ‘stand up for herself’?
    Not that Tina enjoyed scenes; after a stern and scrupulous examination of her feelings about scenes she could look the book on feminine psychology in its eye and swear that scenes made her feel ill; but she felt that someone ought to make a few at The Eagles. They would clear the air.
    Tina thought vaguely about scenes as she sat on Viola’s bed, watching her comb the untidy curls just touching her shoulders.
    ‘Is your hair naturally curly?’
    ‘Just a bit, but it’s permed, of course. Shirley says it’s awful . It won’t keep tidy.’
    ‘Isn’t hair a nuisance. I’m awfully disgruntled with mine; I tried to change the parting this morning but it looked so woeful that I had to give it up. I ought to go to town, really, and have a new perm. Mine has quite grown out. I used to go up once a fortnight, a few years ago, just for a wash and a set.’
    ‘Don’t you now?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Why not?’ asked Viola idly, wondering what was for lunch.
    ‘Haven’t the energy.’
    This was not true. The answer was Mr Wither; it always was Mr Wither when someone at The Eagles was unable to do what they wanted to do.
    ‘How old are you?’ asked Tina abruptly, staring at her sister-in-law as she stood in the white blaze of April sunlight.
    ‘Just twenty-one,’ with a shy, cheerful smile. ‘Shirley says I’m a regular babe.’
    ‘Is she older than you?’
    ‘Oh, lord, yes; keep it under your hat, but she’s getting on for twenty-seven.’
    ‘Dreadful!’ said Tina wryly. ‘Isn’t she married?’
    ‘Oh yes. Been married three years. She’s going to have a baby in December.’
    ‘Oh, my dear, how lovely for her! She must be pleased.’
    ‘Well, as a matter of fact she’s a bit fed-up. You see, it may mean giving up her job.’
    ‘Oh, she has a job as well?’
    ‘Yes. She’s awfully brainy. She’s secretary to some old boy. She gets a jolly good salary.’
    ‘And what does her husband do?’
    ‘He sells cars. He works in a car saloon in Golders Green, where they live, and Shirley works down in the City.’
    ‘A husband, a job, and a baby,’ murmured Tina, staring at the floor. She stood up abruptly. ‘Well, I must go and powder my nose for lunch. Got everything you want?’
    The gong went while Viola was staring round her room.
    It was furnished with large white elephants from the rest of the house, and draughts whistled under the door and between the window sashes and from the cracks in the old boards, but it was so big and the windows showed so much sky that the general effect was pleasing.
    Viola could not help wishing that it had been smaller, with pink curtains instead of brown serge ones; in fact, she wished that it looked just like the little room over the shop where she used to sleep before she was married, but as she had been wishing, ever since her marriage, that all her bedrooms were that little pink one, she was used to the wish and took its presence for granted.
    If only I had someone to talk to! she thought, running down the stairs.
    Mr Wither greeted her with reserve, Madge waved at her boyishly. Mr Wither was afraid that she might begin at any minute to cry about Teddy, and as he did not care to risk this by talking to her, he let Tina chatter to her during lunch.
    But afterwards, ah! afterwards! The hellish fire had been banked up just before lunch by Mr Wither’s own hands, the prospectuses of several safe and highly recommended investments were arranged neatly upon the desk, a flat, depressed little old cushion had even been found by Mr Wither from somewhere in the den and arranged, how