There was a lot of commotion in the mess tent as the soldiers flocked to and fro. In one corner, sat Captain Kenneth Ford, he was engrossed in a stained pile of papers, letters, and official forms, the purpose and cause and effect of which were heard by top brass, they were quite often stacked between two tattered books, every now and then some of his companys soldiers would walk up to him and exchange a few words, in jest or not. Exhausted, Ken brushed his oiled hair, and rubbed his chin, where the light shadow of a stubble was, with his slender fingers he lit a cigarette, the smoke of one slightly sweet and pungent cigarette wafted among the others, the air in the tent was almost gray with bluish smoke, it vibrated as the soldiers moved in close groups, crackled of hodge-podge mix of parody and improvisational songs rang out, melded with hymn tunes.
Ken closed his eyes and leaned against the rough post, and the soundscape sharpened, it was like all the languages of Babel at once, a sweet jumble, where a strong camaraderie glowed, verses from battalion theatricals, snaches of rigorous obsenities, language of survival, of feeling, of life, in the mud and trenches, which could not be fully translated to the home front, because they were composed precisely for these conditions, as consolation and proof, they possibly helped the stretched tired men to endure. Ken smiled wryly as, once again, familiar favourites, The Old Barbed Wire, Oh, its a Lovely War, I Wore a Tunic, Never Mind, and finally Mademoiselle from Armentees, in very lewd version of lyrics, echoed in ragged chorus.
Intermittent thoughts raced through Ken's mind, in almost half-sluggish pace, the demands and obligations, seemed to tear him in two, the responsibility weighed down his shoulders. His life was a small grain of sand in the great machinery of war, which was entirely masculine, as was balancing with propaganda and official red-tape, and with the home front's perceptive letters. From the pocket of his uniform Ken took out, two folded letters, and a thin strip of paper which he carefully spread open over the letters and reading once more those four verses, from a poem entitled Greater Love. Ken thought as he had so often of late of Walter, perhaps, if his worldly journey had not been interrupted at Courcelette, he could also have written something similar.
Persis's last letter had been a furious outburst, a mixture of newspaper lingo, and Persis's own social interests, it had been an impassioned defense, and Ken had read the missive in high spirits, as if she would have done it on purpose to cheer him up, which could very well be true, as she had a form there, even though she toed the line between splash and respectability.
Private Hoover, saluted at Ken, and the young man looked earnest, but a bit troubled, so Ken rose from his seat, and walked a couple of paces into the shadows, and Hoover followed him, and then he half muttered, "Cap, Elliott's sister is engaged, he found out about it earlier today, as there was fresh patch of overseas mail. I was wondering if he could have a double dose of rum, as you know Elliot's nerves are erratic, but he can do his job, we'll keep an eye on him." Ken glanced at the troop of soldiers milling about in the tent, Elliot was in their midst, limp but tense, and slowly Ken, nodded, and said, "Hoover, I'll take care of it, but tell your comrades to see to it that no trench foot or trench gum is born, even here. Autumn is a treacherous time, as everything is either muggy, foggy, overly warm, or just muck. As a final note, please keep, your french letters stacked, there is more at the supply tents, if there is possibility of leave, even how unlikely." Private Hoover, saluted with an impish grin, and exclaimed, "Will do, Cap!"
In a moment, a great cheer rang out, for all the men in Ken's squad had double rations of rum in front of them, and Ken smiled and retired to his own catch. Two supply packets, from Toronto, and one from Kingsport. At last he had gotten his hands on Di's novel, which was in a package, not from his sister, but from Dorian Gardiner, and in that same package there was high-quality cologne, of french stamp, and even some chocolate. With a smile, Ken broke the dark green seal from the letter and spread open the letterhead decorated with a watermarked monogram.
Dear Captain Ford!
Referring to our previous correspondence last month, I fulfilled my promise, and took the liberty of sending you also the same things with which I had also filled my fellow student Walter's maintenance package, that is, when it was not filled with various books. He really was a very special person, but of course you know that better than I do, because of your intimate family connection with Blythe family. I can confess that your powerful words of inspiration have given me new enthusiasm for the Perennial magazine. I have been working tirelessly on it. You yourself know how that game is played, sometimes one have to look at the goal and just wait, even though at the moment so many things seem to be in limbo. When this bloody tearing war is over, I'd like to invite you and your lovely fierce sister to Gardiner Hall, if at all possible, for I believe we all can sit in the library amid the William Morris wallpaper, in the smell of leather-backed books, with glasses of brandy in our hands, and talk about everything possible, the future, the past, of dreams, and at the same time we can create a new reality. A reality that honors all that blood is spilling around the world right now.
I, remain, your devoted associate,
D. Gardiner.
Ps. Both Blythe Twins would send their regards if they knew we'd started a correspondence, but women, even the best ones in the world, don't always need to know everything, do they?
After a long time a vibrant grin appeared on Ken's lips, and with a light movement of the wrist he drained his portion of rum, and for a moment he actually saw the scene that Dorian had painted in his letter. It seemed that he had received a slight spark of hope in his heart, which was further strengthened by Rilla's delightfully sincere letter. Her sweet thoughtful missives, were full of warmth, and Glen´s everyday life that was unstained by this hell that he was mired in.
A hesitant knock echoed, on the door, it was almost drowned out by tip-tapping of rain on roof, and to Victorla's soft notes, shrugging her shoulders, in a careful manner, Dorothy Gardiner opened the door of her home, warm spicy air poured into the rainy autumn gray evening, and to her surprise Dorothy saw Alice Parker, she was looking quite a sight, as she stood there shivering, on a doorstoop, bedraggled in her white blouse and black skirt, without a proper coat, as the sleeting almost horizontal rain pelted tiled path, and fierce wind tumbled rosebushes. Dorothy raised an eyebrow and inquired softly, "Would you like some tea?" Alice, nodded faintly.
Soon she was sitting in Dorothy's cozy elegant messy living room, cradeling steaming cup of tea, in her hands, draped in Dorothy´s old gown of orange satin. Ernestine's papers were on almost every free surface, and seeing Alice's slightly startled look, Dorothy laughed and said, "She has deadline, of one of her endeavors, and it's always chaos here when it is."
The door slammed in the hall, and fierce footsteps hurried as Ernestine swept into the drawing-room, and said emphatically, " Tea and Gardiner-style sympathy coming I suppose, as there's probably a relatively serious reason why you're here, this evening, not that you're not welcome, as our door is sometimes, like now, open. " Ernestine picked up a pile of papers from the floor, and a red pen, and retreated to another room, from which soon the sound of a typing began to be heard.
Dorothy set her teacup on the small tray and looked seriously at Alice, and said "Ernie was right, if you want to talk about something I can listen?" Alice, was making a light gesture with her left hand, as if touching a necklace that was no longer in place, seeing it Dorothy frowned, as Alice said in a low voice, "You gave me advice once, which I applied when I borrowed your dress here, your Callot Soeurs, if you remember? " Dorothy nodded a little impatiently, as she said, "If this is some vague way of fishing for rumors concerning dear Christine, I can say at once that I know nothing very definite, but there are whispers, which are always suppressed, by influence, as is usual in our circles, anything else that might happen behind closed doors is speculation, or malicious slander."
Alice, glancing at her teacup, where the remains of fragrant Assam were a jumbled mess, somewhat like her life, as she sighed lightly and said, "I thought it would be something like that." Intrigued, Dorothy leaned forward and said seriously, "Influence has always been the most important thing to her, she can help if she takes enough interest, and it seems like she's really interested in you. However, it may already be that you're in too deep, and you're trying get out, and that's why you're here."
Alice looked around the room where only a few months before she had been so sparklingly happy, at summer soiree, then she fixed her intent gaze at Dorothy and said, "I have put my singing practice aside, for now. I wrote her a letter, but there has been no reply, not that I expected one either. It was one of my hardest letters, but it was necessary, because some things are too, well, it was just easier that way. Things between Di and me, have been strained lately. Di ordered in no uncertain terms me to go away, and I complied."
A slight amusement flashed in Dorothy's eyes as she said, "And of course the two things are connected, I suppose, there's no point in looking so surprised, I wasn't born yesterday. The important question is this, do you go back to Primrose Hollow, which I would certainly encourage, avoiding things or encounters will not help anything, rather the opposite." Pink spots glistened on Alice's cheekbones, as she murmured, faintly "You're right."
Alice, gathered her things, and changed her clothes, in the guest room, the shadows glistened on the elegant furniture, there was a light scent of hazy cologne with a touch of lemon. Curiously Alice glanced at the framed photographs of rallies and demonstrations on the little dresser, in one picture Dorothy was smiling, looking lively, wearing a completely impossible hat, and Ernestine in a dark simple dress, without stripes something that seemed like the Alps, behind them, there were simple homespun shots that glowed with sincere deep happiness, by gaze and gesture, of this salong, a crowd in the background, among whom Alice recognized the younger Madeleine, and Helene's lofty pale profile, and Isabelle's lively charm that even a photograph could not fully capture. Softly, Alice touched the photo frames, they were sparkling clean, there were dried roses in a small vase that looked extremely fragile.
Alice glanced at the evidence of a shared life around her, a life and love that society didn't accept but that still existed, and she remembered with a shudder Di's hurtful voice that still rang in her ears, and lifting her chin, Alice walked quietly down the stairs. There was soft laughter in the living room, amid the haunting notes of Victor Herbert's music, echoing from the Victrola. The front door slammed softly, as Alice's hazy figure appeared momentarily behind the windows until she rounded the corner of the street.
Ernestine leaned back lazily on the divan, and said sharply, "Well now at least we know why Madeleine has lately, in her free moments at Helene's cafe or here, looked as if a bunch of mice were nibbling at her toes at intervals. She is almost unnaturally good at finding people, customers or others who confide in her about all sorts of things, but she has no nerve for this kind of mess. It's a good thing Alice came here, and not at Madeleine's. I could point out, my love, that you weren't being completely honest, but that's to be expected, in our circles, isn't it."
Dorothy, glanced out of the corner of her eye at Ernestine, and said briefly, "If you happened to be listening, or overhearing you know that I by no means wish to be involved in any mess connected with dear Christine, as you well know, for I shall have to meet her anyway in family-things, for she has evidently decided to move to live in Adeline's pocket, or at least that's how it seems when I have to listen to my sister's monologues at family lunches, it's exhausting on its own."
Ernestine crossed her arms, and stretched, and said softly, "Every one of us has done stupid things when we were young, gotten involved with people we shouldn't have, felt the stinging, intoxicating first love, and walked too close to the void, gotten arrested, or caused gray hairs for loved ones, or disapproval, so in a way it's nice to notice that they're still doing it, so nothing changes, in time hearts will break, and mend in time, or not."
The flickering lamplight cast shadows on the walls, as Dorothy nodded slowly, and poured fragrant brandy into graceful crystal glasses, and said impishly, "By the way, today is our anniversary." Ernestine shook her head and said, "You're wrong, it's not until spring." Dorothy, said, "I meant the anniversary of our first meeting, not our official anniversary."
Ernestine, smiled slowly and said, "You know, I thought you were totally deranged when I saw you at the rally wearing something that looked like it was straight out of Ascot, it was so outrageous, but you won me over, slowly." Nostalgia flashed across Dorothy's features, as she remarked, in a very fond tone, "Very, very slowly, fortunately over the years you haven't lost your grip on your principles, as these papers here show, rather the opposite."
Horizon was shimmering with misty clouds, as Di glanced out the window, and the frozen smile that had been on her lips turned into an ironic grimace, as thoughts circled in an almost endless circle, burning bubbling Shirley rage, still shimmered, in barely contained form. Nan glanced cautiously at her, and said, "Do you want that tea now, when you didn't before?" Di, nodded distantly, and she heard Nan's worried sigh, as she gently embraced Di, and soon two cups of tea were steaming on the table, Primrose Hollow living room smelled of tea, Nan's rose water, and ink, all familiar scents as Di silently stirred her sweet tea, as Nan carefully said, "Look, this has to stop, I can't stand you being unhappy, if Alice comes back today, I don't know where she went and I don't care, because I only care about your happiness, and it's clear you're not happy. Your pensive in a brooding manner, is somewhat reminiscent of Walter's sulks, in any case, talking to you now is completely useless, so I won't even try."
Di, nodded barely perceptibly and said, "The fork in the road has arrived, and it's painful. Mumsy always swore that forks in the road were romantic and exciting places, but I beg to differ, they are painful." Nan, was caressing Byron's volume, she opened it at random, and uttered.
When we two parted
In silence and tears,
Half broken-hearted
To sever for years,
Pale grew thy cheek and cold,
Colder thy kiss;
Truly that hour foretold
Sorrow to this.
The dew of the morning
Sank chill on my brow –
It felt like the warning
Of what I feel now.
Thy vows are all broken,
And light is thy fame;
I hear thy name spoken,
And share in its shame.
They name thee before me,
A knell in mine ear;
A shudder come o'er me –
Why wert thou so dear?
They know not I knew thee,
Who knew thee too well –
Long, long shall I rue thee,
Too deeply to tell.
In secret we met –
In silence I grieve,
That thy heart could forget,
Thy spirit deceive.
If I should meet thee
After long years,
How should I greet thee? –
With silence and tears.
Stifled tearful laughter brust out, as Di said, " That was almost too fitting, Nanlet, indeed, though it was shrouded with typical Byronness, the emotional state expressed in the poem is too recognizable just now. I can, say, if Alice comes here, yet today, what I doubt, I promise to listen, even though it will be extremely difficult." Nan, smiled softly, and whispered, " Matters of the heart, they never are, simple even if it seems so to others."
The door opened slowly, and Alice entered, cautiously. Nan cast a surprised look in Di's direction, but it was hard to decipher anything from her twin's features. Alice glanced in Di's direction, and seemed to be waiting, for something. Nan noticed how Di snorted, like an angry cat, before she she said in a cuttingly cold tone that Nan hadn't heard from her before. " Maybe the cocoa ran out, or maybe it was too sweet, or perhaps certain person was too busy. Rejection hurts, doesn't it?"
Completely stunned, Nan listened to her twin's bitter speech, and she noticed how Di's words hit Alice, with a sting as a burning flush slowly climbed upwards Alice´s neck. A syrupy silence prevailed in the drawing-room, and at last Alice said, gravely, without the slightest hint of flattery, "Di, a word, in private, please."
Di, said, "I don't think it's going to stick to just one word, and if it does, you might as well talk in Nan's presence." Alice's eyes flashed, as she said more emphatically than before, with a regally cool tone that had always caused Nan to want to shake the other girl, " Be sensible Diana. I know you don't want to hear what I have to say, you have that right, I'll say it anyway. I made a mistake when I left, even though I followed your wishes, as I ever do, perhaps that is wrong of me."
Di´s eyes narrowed as she listened, with pale lips pressed in a line. Nan knew that look, and so she got up from the table, and grabbed her coat, from the coat rack and said, hurriedly, with a sharp nod towards Di, " Have a proper talk, will you do that, please, as I don't want a similar freezing atmosphere here, it would be too much, as there is such a lot going on world right now." Alice, glanced at Nan as she nodded in faint way.
After front door had closed behind Nan, Di looked sharply at Alice and said in a brusque way, "Well." Alice, looked seriously at Di and said quietly, "I want to point out that we have been able to communicate before, we have experienced so much together, there was friendship before we stumbled into this intimacy."
Di, slumped as she said wearily, "True. We haven't talked properly in ages, as we were always both too busy, responsibilities, and other things, and intimacy is not the same thing as talking. Balance is hard to find if you don't cherish it, and both of us let that silde away. "
Alice, nodded and hummed a few strains of En vain pour éviter from Carmen, and hearing that shimmering, fatal melody, it brought a faint smile to Di's eyes, as she remarked, in a dry way, "So you predict death or dissolution for us?"
Alice smiled, it was pale and wan vunerable thing, as she said softly, "I promised, no more evasions." Di, laughed, it was bitter silvery bark of a sound, a half note, as she said, with withering sarcasm that was most atypical, " Oh, do tell then what you so generously happened to left out earlier of your narrative? There were so many holes in it you could have thrown a kitten through. Well, there are truths, and then there are assumptions, and I think that the truth is buried somewhere inbetween, as it often is."
Alice crossed her arms and said quietly, in a musing kind of way, "What I'm trying to say here is that during the two weeks I was away."
"With her, you mean," Di pointed out.
Alice continued evenly, "I realized that I was primarily looking for opportunities, as well as I wanted to give you the space we both needed, then, but you know that. I wanted to try and experience, even momentarily, if I was up for it. To experience a different kind of life that I might be able to get, even a small crumb if I'm good enough. Really ironic thing is, I'm not sure I can. I don't know if I want it enough, in the same way that writing is a kind of breathing for you? Christine represented, and represents to me above all, subtle influence. Have you ever found yourself in a situation where you're imagining how it's going to go, and you realize you're wrong, there's no turning back, then, everything turns on a dime, and everything flickers, and nothing is ever the same after that. "
Di, raised her eyebrows and said quietly, "I am, that morning when this war started, and our lives, all of our lives changed fundamentally, but somehow it seems that is not the answer you expected. It seems that you have indeed reflected, and that's a good thing, for your sake, it doesn't justify your actions at all, actually they appear now in a more premeditated light. Because power is exactly what this has been about, her allure over you and how it has reflected in our relationship, and fractured it, perhaps for good."
Alice, clenched her fingers tightly together and said in a strained voice, "Do you remember Glazebo, and what I answered you then, my mind has not changed, I still mean it."
Di, nodded slowly, and then she said, "I remember, vividly, what was more interesting, however, was what you didn't say, even then, or later, and it means more." Alice, moved her fingers, and Di noticed the red marks left by her fingers, which slowly disappeared as circulation returned, Di noted, cautiously, "You might bruise from that too." Alice, shrugged as she said, gravely "Gloves exist, as you know."
Di took a deep breath, as the associations of the phrase was too impulsively erotic for this particular conversation, so with difficulty Di said a little hoarsely, " My earlier point still stands, we've now arrived at a crossroads that may have been coming toward us for quite some time ago. Do you know, sometimes love just isn't enough. I think that's what happened to us here. I don't want to give up, it's us, but I don't see a way forward, not anymore. "
Alice's face had paled as she nodded slightly, and said, "Yes, perhaps you are right, and now it is time for our curtain to fall." The minutes passed extremely slowly, and then Alice got up, embraced Di, with a feather light touch, and walked upstairs, the light noise of her door closing sounded so loud in atypical stillness. In the familiar, beloved living room, Di buried her face in her hands and silent sobs shook her shoulders.
The lavender-colored sky had turned inky blue, as Nan walked with quick steps through the streets of Kingsport, and noticed a familiar dandyish silhouette in the window of a cafe, Nan tapped with her red glove on the window glass, and Dorian looked up, and beckoned Nan inside, at his one of his regular haunts, home away from home. Dorian, smiled a little wearily and said, "Nan, what a lovely surprise. I imagined you were by the roaring fire reading some juicy novel, or writing letters to your Jerry, but instead you're here. Shall I order you some cocoa, too?"
Nan, glanced around and said sweetly, but with a certain edge, "Sometimes, like now, cocoa sounds like a wonderful offer, as I have some time on my hands." Scent of delicious cocoa wafted in front of them, and as so often before, Nan concentrated on listening to Dorian's amusing anecdotes, as she was trying to forget the possible quite ferocious scene that was perhaps happening in Primrose Hollow at this very moment.
The light clock chimed, and suddenly the small cafe smelled of orange blossom and rose water, Nan was startled to notice how Dorian had improved his posture, at the same moment cultured voice of Royal Gardiner remarked, "Dorian, have you decided to invite the charming Miss Blythe with us, perhaps? If not I suggest, that we leave, preferably right away, if we want to avoid a nasty queue."
Nan, turned, and saw that by their small table stood Royal Gardiner, he was dressed in an impeccable suit, and next to him in a dark blue dress of the latest fashion, Christine Stuart Dawson, who, meeting Nan's gaze, smiled and said softly, "Roy, don't be so hasty, but where is delightful Diana, and charmingly fair Alice, are they perhaps sewing, somewhere, so quaint, and patriotic if so. You are certainly welcome with us, if you like, there is room, for it is a box-balcony at the Kingsport Theatre."
Surprised, Nan looked at Dorian, who barely nodded, and said, "Papa wants to expose me to a certain style of culture, come along if you can, it would be lovely."
Nan glanced at her rose red dress, and her collars, and cuffs, which thankfully were spotlessly clean, but then she glanced at her watch, and noticed that there was a heavy blue ink stain on her index finger, as Nan said in an apologetic tone, "Thank you for your kind offer, but unfortunately I have to move on, as I still have chores to do tonight, and tomorrow there are lectures again."
Royal Gardiner sniffed, and Christine Stuart Dawson smiled, and said softly, "Dear Anne, if you happen to see Alice, tell her that I hope she will study diligently, and that I will write to her soon. My correspondence has kind of exploded in my hands lately, so certain things slip by, like silk."
Confused but interested at the same time, Nan nodded, and in no time at all both Gardiners and Christine Stuart Dawson had swept away in a black Ford.
Primrose Hollow was completely quiet, and very tidy which Nan had not expected at all, quietly she crept up the stairs, and found that there was a dim light shining in Alice's room, it flooded in a narrow stream from under the closed door, like a drop of honey.
Arriving at their room, Nan took one look at Di, and her heart sank down to her toes. Her beloved twin's face was swollen and red-flecked and light tears dripped from her greenish-gray eyes. As Nan's shadow flickered in the doorway, Di said in an unflinching yet broken tone, "Coaxing won't do, Alice, nor other ways either." Nan took a deep breath and said, "I'm here."
Cautiously, Di turned, and rushed into Nan's arms, and softly, Nan stroked Di's soft unruly hair, and despite the stinging sympathy for Di's grief, the only emotion Nan felt at that moment was a sharp relief, as perhaps, Di had gotten this unnatural, immoral phase out of her system, like measles that just had to be suffered through, and now there was a chance that marriage was on the cards for all Ingelside's daughters after all, as was decent and right.
Fierce applause shook the stage as the performers came out one by one, colorful bouquets in their hands, when one performer came out, the ceiling almost seemed to fly off, as a shadowy silhouette curtsied, with flowing style. Slightly amused, Christine glanced at Royal, who had a soft look in his eyes as he glanced at Dorian, whose cheeks were flushed with excitement, green eyes glowing as he declared, "Oh, it was quite charming, what a cavalcade of emotions!"
Christine, smiled and said, "Dear Dorian, the world of entertainment is wide, and this was only a small flea circus compared to the big stages in Europe, but still pleasant, or to say nothing of Broadway, this was nothing compared to the Ziegfeld productions, Follies, it was something!"
Roy chuckled, and said lowly, "I was right, you've been hiding things, C."
Afterwards, when Royal and Dorian were left to exchange eager or lashavious impressions, with Royal's acquaintances in the hall, Christine walked down a narrow corridor and at last knocked at the door, and a somewhat hoarse voice answered, " Come in, but if you bring flowers, leave them in buckets outside, thank you." And looking down at her feet, she noticed that two buckets were filled to the brim with flowers of different colors, bouquets of roses, with almost every shade, and lilies, heaps of them, and quietly the door swung open, without a creak, and she entered the dressing room, which was bright, but the special thing was that the mirrors were covered.
Christine said calculatedly, "You are still stunning. In a few moments, you can to change a space, and a song, with a deep psychological almost novel-like enchantment, as if you were telling small novels, and not cheap and worn-out revue or vaudeville songs, not to mention wealth of emotion you are able to convey with your voice – that mix of husky, sweet, rounded, vibrato-filled tones – induces a response, from everyone in the audience, that spans the emotional scales, with severity, rage, bilss, and love, and everything in between."
Winifred Roberts turned, she was resplendent in red, in that shade her skin was like creamy ivory, her dark eyes had an introverted look that turned reserved as she met Christine's intent gaze. Then she said, "Yes, as you can see, I have managed quite well without your connections. It is very surprising to see you here Mrs. Stuart Dawson." Christine, said, "Do you ever think?"
Winnie's red hair swung wildly once as she turned to look at Christine, in her characteristic sharp way, as she said, "No, I do not." Upstairs, commotion began to die down, as the pleased audience spilled out of the Kingsport Theater into the cool evening, which already felt the frosty bite of October.