Read Online A Misalliance by Anita Brookner - Free Book Online Page B

sickroom. Gratefully, she breathed in the mild damp air. Across the street she saw Mrs Beamish and her child at the bus stop and instead of contenting herself with a wave, she went over to speak to them. The child, Elinor, was today wearing yellow, which assorted ill both with her seriousface and with the jaundiced weather. She looked pale and disengaged, but gave the impression that she was furiously thinking. Mrs Beamish, although dressed in a spiralling garment of grey cotton, which, Blanche noted, was expensive and fashionably Japanese, looked paler and even more discontented than the child, her pointed features drooping, her expression withdrawn.
    ‘Hello, Elinor,’ said Blanche. ‘How are you today?’
    ‘She’s a very naughty girl, aren’t you?’ said the mother, giving the child’s hand a shake. ‘She wouldn’t stay with the child-minder. After all the trouble I went to to find her one. And now I’ve got to drag her up to town with me. And I did want an afternoon on my own for once.’
    ‘She certainly won’t enjoy it in this weather,’ murmured Blanche, looking down at the face so studiously devoid of expression. ‘Perhaps if you waited until tomorrow …’
    ‘I can’t wait,’ the girl burst out. ‘I’m going to meet an old friend, and he was going to give me lunch, and now it’s all ruined.’
    Yes, Blanche thought, it is ruined. The child wanted to prevent you from meeting this old friend because she is defending her father’s position. And again she marvelled at Elinor’s strength.
    ‘If you like,’ she said carefully, ‘she could come home with me while you have your lunch. I could give her something to eat and you could collect her later. Would you like that?’ she asked, bending down to Elinor. In reply Elinor put her hand into Blanche’s outstretched hand and nodded. She has made her point, Blanche thought, and now she is hungry. What could be more natural? She knows she must survive.
    ‘Well, if you’re sure,’ said Mrs Beamish, with no hesitation, her features instantly swept up into a dazzling smile. ‘Look, Nellie, go with this lady and I’ll come and get you this afternoon. There’s a taxi. Quickly. Oh, terrific.’
    ‘I live just across the road, that building on the corner,’Blanche called after her. ‘Do you see? The bell is marked Hubert Vernon.’
    ‘Hubert Vernon,’ echoed Mrs Beamish, out of the window of the taxi. ‘Be a good girl, Nellie. I’ll come for you later.’
    Hand in hand, Blanche and Elinor walked away from the bus stop, Elinor leading the way, Blanche smiling to left and right, smiling at Mrs Duff, at the greengrocer, at the postman. She relinquished the prospect of the National Gallery without reluctance, enjoying the feel of the little girl’s hand tugging at her own. The child seemed quite composed, not at all discountenanced by this turn of events, and determined to take advantage of any arrangements that were likely to forward her own inscrutable plan to grow up as quickly as possible. She seemed to sense in Blanche a certain reliability, not only in the form of her lunch but as far as the rest of the day’s programme was concerned, although Blanche had no idea what that might be. A weak sun emerged; pavements dried, giving off a smell of concentrated damp. Blanche bought a small brown loaf and a pound of apricots.
    ‘Well, I never,’ said Miss Elphinstone, resting a pink rubber-gloved hand on the jamb of the kitchen door. ‘Who’s this, then?’
    ‘Her mother is a friend from the hospital,’ said Blanche, putting the apricots to stew in a little brown sugar. ‘I said I’d give her lunch,’ she added, in the tone of one granting an unimportant favour.
    ‘Well, now, my lovely, let’s have a look at you,’ said Miss Elphinstone, taking off her gloves and unbuttoning Elinor’s yellow waterproof. ‘What’s your name, then?’ Elinor stared gravely into her face and made no answer. ‘Cat got your tongue, has he? You come and