"Ellie seems to want her," I muttered.
"Oh yes, she's been with Ellie some time, hasn't she? She knows how to manage Ellie."
That was what Lippincott had said. I'd seen for myself lately how true it was.
"Do you want her here, Mike?"
"I can't throw her out of the house," I said irritably. "She's Ellie's old friend. Her best friend. What the hell can I do about it?"
"No," said Santonix, "I suppose you can't do anything, can you?"
He looked at me. It was a very strange glance. Santonix was a strange man. You never knew what his words really meant.
"Do you know where you're going, Mike?" he said. "Have you any idea? Sometimes I don't think you know anything at all."
"Of course I know," I said. "I'm doing what I want to. I'm going where I wanted."
"Are you? I wonder. I wonder if you really know what you want yourself. I'm afraid for you with Greta. She's stronger than you are, you know."
"I don't see how you make that out. It in't a question of strength."
"Isn't it? I think it is. She's the strong kind, the kind that always gets her way. You didn't mean to have her here. That's what you said. But here she is, and I've been watching them. She and Ellie sitting together, at home together chattering and settled in. What are you, Mike? The outsider? Or aren't you an outsider?"
"You're crazy, the things you say. What do you mean - I'm an outsider? I'm Ellie's husband, aren't I?"
"Are you Ellie's husband or is Ellie your wife?"
"You're daft," I said. "What's the difference?"
He sighed. Suddenly his shoulders sagged as though vigour went out of him.
"I can't reach you," said Santonix. "I can't make you hear me. I can't make you understand. Sometimes I think you do understand, sometimes I think you don't know anything at all about yourself or anyone else."
"Look here," I said, "I'll take so much from you, Santonix. You're a wonderful architect - but -"
His face changed in the queer way it had.
"Yes," he said, "I'm a good architect. This house is the best thing I have done. I'm as near as possible satisfied with it. You wanted a house like this. And Ellie wanted a house like this, too, to live in with you. She's got it and you've got it. Send that other woman away, Mike, before it's too late."
"How can I upset Ellie?"
"That woman's got you where she wants you," said Santonix.
"Look here," I said, "I don't like Greta. She gets on my nerves. The other day I even had a frightful row with her. But none of it's as simple as you think."
"No, it won't be simple with her."
"Whoever called this place Gipsy's Acre and said it had a curse on it may have had something," I said angrily.
"We've had gipsies who jump out from behind trees and shake fists at us and warn us that if we don't get out of here, some awful fate will happen to us. This place that ought to be good and beautiful."
They were queer words to say, those last ones. I said them as though it was somebody else saying them.
"Yes, it should be like that," said Santonix. "It should be. But it can't be, can it, if there is something evil possessing it?"
"You don't believe, surely, in -"
"There are many queer things I believe... I know something about evil. Don't you realise, haven't you often felt, that I am partly evil myself? Always have been. That's why I know. I know when it's near me, although I don't always know exactly where it is... I want the house I built purged of evil. You understand that?" His tone was menacing. "You understand that? It matters to me."
Then his whole manner changed.
"Come on," he said, "don't let's talk a lot of nonsense. Let's come in and see Ellie."
So we went in through the window and Ellie greeted Santonix with enormous pleasure.
Santonix showed all his normal manner that evening.
There were no more histrionics, he was his own self, charming, light-hearted. He talked mostly to Greta, giving her as it were the especial benefit of his charm. And he had a lot of charm. Anyone would have sworn that he was impressed by her, that he liked her, that he was anxious to please her. It made me feel that Santonix was really a very dangerous man, there was a great deal more to him than I had ever glimpsed.
Greta always responded to admiration. She showed herself at her best. She could on occasion dim her beauty or else reveal it and tonight she looked as beautiful as I'd ever seen her. Smiling at Santonix, listening to him as though spellbound. I wondered what lay behind his manner.
You never knew with Santonix. Ellie said she hoped he was staying for several days but he shook his head. He had to leave on the following day, he said.
"Are you building something now, are you busy?"
He said no, he'd just come out of hospital.
"They've patched me up once more," he said, "but it's probably for the last time."
"Patched you up? What do they do to you?"
"Drain the bad blood out of my body and put some good, fresh red blood in," he said.
"Oh." Ellie gave a little shudder.
"Don't worry," said Santonix, "it will never happen to you."
"But why has it got to happen to you?" said Ellie. "It's cruel."
"Not cruel, no," said Santonix. "I heard what you were singing just now.
Man was made for Joy and Woe
And when this we rightly know
Thro' the World we safely go.
because I know why I'm here. And for you,
Every Morn and every Night
Some are born to Sweet Delight.
That's you."
"I wish I could feel safe," said Ellie.
"Don't you feel safe?"
"I don't like to be threatened," said Ellie. "I don't like anyone to put curse on me."
"You're talking about your gipsy?"
"Yes."
"Forget it," mid Santonix. "Forget it for tonight. Let's be happy. Ellie - your health - long life to you - and a quick and merciful end to me - and good luck to Mike here -" He stopped, his glass raised towards Greta.
"Yes?" said Greta. "And to me?"
"And to you, what's coming to you! Success, perhaps?" he added, half quizzically with an ironic question in his tone.
He went away next morning early.
"What a strange man he is," Ellie said. "I've never understood him."
"I never understand half of what he says," I answered.
"He knows things," said Ellie thoughtfully.
"You mean he knows the future?"
"No," said Ellie, "I didn't mean that. He knows people. I said it to you once before. He knows people better than they know themselves. Sometimes he hates them because of that, and sometimes he's sorry for them. He's not sorry for me, though," she added meditatively.
"Why should he be?" I demanded.
"Oh, because -" said Ellie.
Chapter 16
It was the next day in the afternoon that as I was walking rather rapidly in the darkest part of the wood where the shade of the pine trees was more menacing than anywhere else, I saw the figure of a tall woman standing in the drive.
I took a quick impulsive step off the path. I'd taken it for granted that she was our gipsy but I stopped in sudden recoil when I saw who it actually was. It was my mother.
She stood there tall and grim and grey-haired.
"Good lord," I said, "you startled me, Mum. What are you doing here? Come to see us? We've asked you often enough, haven't we?"
We hadn't actually. I'd extended one rather lukewarm invitation, that was all. I'd put it, too, in a way which made it pretty sure that my mother wouldn't accept. I didn't want her here. I'd never wanted her here.
"You're right," she said. "I've come to see you at last. To see all's well with you. So this is the grand house you've built, and it is a grand house," she said, looking over my shoulder.
I thought I detected in her voice the disapproving acidity that I'd expected to find.
"Too grand for the likes of me, eh?" I said.
"I didn't say that, lad."
"But you thought it."
"It wasn't what you were born to, and no good comes from getting out of your station in life."
"Nobody'd ever get anywhere if they listened to you."
"Aye, I know that's what you say and think, but I don't know what good ambition's ever done to anybody. It's the kind of thing that turns to dead sea fruit in your mouth."
"Ah, for God's sake don't croak," I said. "Come on. Come along up to see our grand house for yourself and turn up your nose at it. And come and see my grand wife, too, and turn up your nose at her if you dare."
"Your wife? I've seen her already."
"What do you mean, you've seen her already?" I demanded.
"So she didn't tell you, eh?"
"What?" I demanded.
"That she came to see me."
"She came to see you?" I asked, dumbfounded.
"Yes. There she was one day standing outside the door, ringing the bell and looking a little scared. She's a pretty lass and a sweet one for all the fine clothes she had on. She said 'You're Mike's mother, aren't you?' and I said 'Yes, and who are you?' and she said 'I'm his wife.' She said 'I had to come to see you. It didn't seem right that I shouldn't know Mike's mother...' And I said 'I bet he didn't want you to.' and she hesitated, and I said: 'You don't need to mind telling me that. I know my boy and I know what he'd want or not want'. She said 'You think - perhaps he's ashamed of you because he and you are poor and I'm rich, but it isn't like that at all. That isn't like him at all. It isn't, really it isn't.' I said again, 'You don't need to tell me, lass. I know what faults my boy has. That's not one of his faults. He's not ashamed of his mother and he's not ashamed of his beginnings.
"'He's not ashamed of me.' I said to her, 'He's afraid of me if anything. I know too much about him, you see.' And that seemed to amuse her. She said: 'I expect mothers always feel like that - that they know all about their sons. And I expect sons always feel embarrassed just because of that!'
"I said in a way that might be true enough. When you're young, you're always putting on an act to the world. Mind myself, when I was a child in my auntie's house. On the wall over my bed there was a great big eye in a gilt frame. It said 'Thou God seest me.' Gave me the creeps it did all up my spine before I went to sleep."
"Ellie should have told me she'd been to see you," I said. "I don't see why she should keep it such a secret. She should have told me."
I was angry. I was very angry. I'd had no idea that Ellie would keep secrets like that from me.
"She was a little scared of what she'd done, maybe, but she'd no call to be frightened of you, my boy."
"Come on," I said, "come on and see our house."
I don't know whether she liked our house or not. I think not. She looked round the rooms and raised her eyebrows and then she went into the terrace room. Ellie and Greta were sitting there. They'd just come in from outside and Greta had a scarlet wool cloak half over her shoulders. My mother looked at them both. She just stood there for a moment as though rooted to the spot. Ellie jumped up and came forward and across the room.
"Oh, it's Mrs. Rogers," she said, then turning to Greta, she said, "It's Mike's mother come to see our house and us. Isn't that nice? This is my friend Greta Andersen."
And she held out both her hands and took Mum's and Mum looked at her and then looked over her shoulder at Greta very hard.
"I see," she said to herself, "I see."
"What do you see?" asked Ellie.
"I wondered," said Mum. "I wondered what it would all be like here." She looked round her. "Yes, it's a fine house. Fine curtains and fine chairs and fine pictures."
"You must have some tea," said Ellie.
"You look as if you've finished tea."
"Tea's a thing that need never be finished," said Ellie, then she said to Greta, "I won't ring the bell. Greta, will you go out to the kitchen and make a fresh pot of tea?"
"Of course, darling," said Greta and went out of the room looking over her shoulder once in a sharp, almost scared way at my mother.
My mother sat down.
"Where's your luggage?" said Ellie. "Have you come to stay? I hope you have."
"No, lass, I won't stay. I'm going back by train in half an hour's time. I just wanted to look in on you." Then she added rather quickly, probably because she wished to get it out before Greta came back, "Now don't worry yourself, love, I told him how you came to see me and paid me a visit."
"I'm sorry, Mike, that I didn't tell you," said Ellie firmly, "only I thought perhaps I'd better not."
"She came out of the kindness of her heart, she did," said my mother. "She's a good girl you've married, Mike, and a pretty one. Yes, a very pretty one." Then she added half audibly, "I am sorry."
"Sorry," said Ellie, faintly puzzled.
"Sorry for thinking the things I did," said my mother and added with a slight air of strain, "Well, as you say, mothers are like that. Always inclined to be suspicious of daughters-in-law. But when I saw you, I knew he'd been lucky. It seemed too good to be true to me, that it did."
