Syluia Townsend Warner

SELECTED
STORIE S

t
VIRAGO
 A ViragoBook
CONTENTS
First published in Grear Britain by Chatto & l7indus 1989
Published by Vfuago Press Ltd 1990
Reprinted 1994
This edition published by Virago Press 2002
Editors'Note
Copyright @ Susanna Pinney 1989 vu
A Love Match
The moral right of the author has been asserted. lVinter in the Air I
Idenborough 2l
The Foregone Conclusion zB

No part of this ,"tT.Ti:i iliîllrroduced, stored An Act ofReparadon 36

in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form Lay a Garland on my Hearse +o
Their Quiet Lives 5o
or by any meâns, without the prior permission in writing
A Spirit Rises 57
of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of
The Level-Crossing 75
binding or cover other than that in which it is published 8o
A Speaker from London
and without a similar condition including this condition
The Fifth ofNovember 93
being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
Apprentice 97
A Red Carnation r03
,4, CIP catâlogue tecotd for this book is available Over the Hill II3
from the British Library AWidow'seuilt t27
But at the Stroke of Midnight r32
ISBN 1 85381 159 9 Absalom, my Son r40
Boors Carousing ¡68
On Living for Others ¡8r
Plutarco Roo r88
Virago Press The House with the Lilacs 2æ
An lmprint of zoB
A View of Exnoor
Little, Brown Book Group 2t3
100 Victoria Em bankment
The Reredos
London EC4Y ODY Happiness 220
Totel Loss 229
237
 BUT AT THE MIDNIGHT
îäïF

HE wes last seen by Mrs Barker the charwoman.

At ten minutes
S eleven (Mrs Ridpath was always punctual,
you could set
electric kettle, got out
by her) she came into the kitchen, put on the
pink cups and saucers,
coffee-pot, the milk, the sugar the two
the rarsrn cake out of the c¿ke
spoons, the coffee canister She took
pink plates that went with the
cut trvo good slices, laid them on the
cups, though not metch. The kenle boiled,
the coffee was mede. At
^ It wes all
hour precisely the two women sat down to their elevenses.
âs usual. Tf there had beenanything not just es usual with Mrs
thing would be
Mrs Barker would certainly have nodced ¡t. Such,a
Mrs Ridpath
out of the common; it would force itself on your nouce

never much of talker though an easy lady

to talk to She asked
people m the
Mrs Barker's Diane and David. She remarked that
said she
would soon be hearing the first cuckoo. Mrs Barker
poor plgeons agaln, and
that the Council were poisoning the
th.y agreed that London was no longer what lt was.
Mrs Barker
live in-and look at ir
remember when Pimlico was a pleasure to
they treated you
nothing but barracks and supermarkes where
more consideration than if you were packet
of lentils yourself.
gening on with her work.
eleven-fifteen she said she must be
cofne out
while she was polishing the bath, she saw Mrs
Ridpath
her grey end
bedroom and go to the front door She was weenng
put on mec, for
scarf over her head. Mrs Barker advised her to
and went out"
like rarn. Mrs Ridpath did Sor picked up her handbag,
that wes the
Barker heard the lift come up and go down, and
was paid her week's
knew. It wes Saurday the day when she
beck,
she hung about A bit. But Mrs Ridpath didn't
come
 oF SYL VIA TOWN SE ND w A RN E R
I +2 E L E c TE D s T o RIES

who aPpeâr to have been left

over
those calm, ractable bores to St Paul's
he walked from Earls Court
ampler days. Every SundaY parcel and
carrFng large brown paper
attend mabns Now he arrived look round
said Aston, seerng Golding
bunch of violets. 'Lury's out, out to dinner Have
the flowers. 'She's gone
somewhere to dispose of
whisþ?'
.well, yes. That would be very pleasant.
interesting I was
The album turned out to be unexpectedlY
to wrap it up His eye fell on the violets.
eleven when Golding began
'l don't suppose I shall see Mrs Ridpath. I think you said she

dining out.'
'Slr.'s diningwith some friends''
said Golding'
'Rather a long dinner,' said
*o*t"lre [ke when they get together"
'You know r"t
",
 oF SYLVTA TOWNSEND WARNER
r44 SELECTED SToRIES
that what he received b¿ck
windmill or to Paris, by the nose, and ,s
Aurelia volce, asserting Aurelia's
be Aurelia's Lucy: talking ln
lons, aping Aurelia's flightiness,
flushed, overexcited, and gtgglins
ln short, and needing several days
schoolgirl. ThoroughlY unsettled,
ls all very well, but rt was
become herself again. Family affection
withered virgin and impecunious
that visits to a country cousln-
rerurned from them ¿s
that-should be so intoxicating that Lucy
them as such by leaving him
an assignation, and acknowledged ts
when she went to Aurelia funeral
such quantities of soup. Even ts vorce that
provided it; and came home saying
ln Aureli¡
respectful. But now there was
would be all right if they werentt so

souP and his mind condnued

to be at rest till he was ln the
bed and noticed Lucy's sponge
brushing his teeth before gomg to
new sponge; he had given lt to her
for Christmas' There was no
had not taken anything-not
for leaving lt behind. ApparentlY she
hand lodon, not her dusting powder Examining Lucy's dressing
he saw that she had taken nothing
from that either In moment
pemc he fell on his knees and looked
for her body under the bed.
dresome trick of
This was probably due to wordsworth's
ts christened Angelina, he
ebout tn one memory If Lucy had been
to suppose she wí¡s
not have been under the same compulsion
beside her be d. He looked up
Lucy (his Lucy) kept \\¡ordsworth
poem and found that on this occaslon
w ordsworth wâs
had lost her and rt made
t
though ln the following lyrics he
d that S¿muel Butler
difference to him. Then he remembere
aided by Southey and
wickedly Put rt about thet Wordsworth,
had murdered Luc-v This
meant rerurnrng to the sitting
him to reason. L ucy
Butler Half ân hour with Butler recalled
had bought new hairbrush.
forgotten to pack her sponge and
him. He did not
But ttre sponge ¿nd the hairbrush had shaken
cold, companionless
well that night, and when he got up to
was stronger than the
moming the reality of Lucy's absence
ln the Home Counties'
her breakfast tIay floating somewhere
be back-bY which nme Mn
hoped very much she would soon
would be nothing to
would have put things straight, so that there
about it. For that was the
him from seytng, And now tell me all
words he had decided on'
 WARNER
14ó SELECTED SToRIES OF SYLVIA TOWNSEND BUT AT THE STROKE OF MTDNIGHT 147
another and
and her feet felt wet elready One need suggested never been called Ithamore in all my life. Ifs a pretry name.
underclothes. Finâlly, yours?'
ed by her own efñciency she bought some
was now raining extremely hard and she had
collected several a preüy name, too. Aurelia.'
be full of people
parcels, she bought e tenân gnp. The Tete would rt was m London that
she breakfasted ln bed, that
but they wouldn't be looking ¡t s unday
had gone rn to shelter from the rarn; wearing white silk pyamas wirtr
black froggingr-for however
Mallord William Turner stanng from under his one goes shopping one cannot
Turners. Joseph remembei ever¡hing, and she
chimney-pot hat, sucking ln colour as if from
fruit, maling forgotten to buy nightdress
In all his life he had never been called
ârid,
remaking his world like some unendingly ambitious Jehovah In all his life he had never met
anything like Aurelia. She lvaS
rather unsuccessful specimens of the
J ehovah, peopling it with plain, badly kept, untravelled-and
she had the aplomb of
râce, was hers and hers alone for the next hour
When she left d¿ htre.TiII qutte recendy she must have \{orn
got there before her wedding ring, for
gallery Joseph Mallord William Turner had dent was on her ñnger;
but she bore no other mark of matrimony
the arch of
rÍun had stopped. A glinering light thrust from beneath h¡ew how to look at prctures,
and from her ease nakedness he
and painted the river with slashing strokes of
primrose and violet. have supposed her a model-but
her movements never set mto
tide was at the full, and a processron of Thames shipping rode on He could only account for her
by supposing she had escaped from
blackness and maiestY. asylum.
oh!' must be saved from any more
heç
of that. He must get her out of
fn her excitement she seized the elbow of the man beside as soon es possible This
would involve getting him out of
Touched by
too was looking, he too, no doubt, was trensfixed. too, which would be inconvenient
er(Eeme emobon and her extreme wemess, he said,
tItm hoping to I
for erome and Marmor, An
but the ñrm could surv¡ve his absence
for a, few weela.
a ta:ci. Can I give you a lift? It's going to
pelt again in a moment not be longer than that. Once
settled at Saint-Rémy de
know.' with L¿ure and Dominique to
keep an eye on her and
'I've forgotten to take out my bag' Could you wait an instant?' polite subsidy, she would
do very well for herself-set up an
Seeing its cheapness-indeed, he could read
the price' for maybe; study astronomy
She would feel no need for him.
was stillanging from it-he supposed she was some perpenral he who would feel need,
be consumed with an erpen's
She had l
who would ùe mrrch the bener for a good square tea'
vorce. spoken ofhow Cézanne painted
trees ln slats, so he drove her
The light grew dazzlng. In another minute a heavier re¡n the beechwoods round
Stokenchurch and along canal to
a
descend; if he could not secure the tÐq that had iust drawn concealed rtS very good cooking
behind rusdc Edwardian
discharge is passenger there would be no hope of another He she said she was tired of
eating cooked food, she would prefer
pushed
her dorrn the steps, sþalling with her târtan b"g, and frank as a nymph about rt, or kinkafou.
This frankness
'\lVhere cen take you? ofher savour It touched him
because rt was so totally devoid
I really don't know \ilhere would be suiableP or self-consciousness. It would of
'Where have been remarkable even
gaz¡ng out of the window at the last deñance of the light, she young grrl; ln a middle-aged
woman showing such marks of
"Whither will I not go wittr gentle Ithamore?" te¡¡r rt was resplendent. It was touching,
too, though rather
He gave his own address to the driver The te.xt drove off. to take, that she should
be so unappreciative of his tact.
He had
Turning to him, she said, 'Marlowe, not IIt€, I'm afraid rt to prospect of Provence;
he had intimated that he somedmes
sounded rather forward.' himself; that he might have
to go there quite soon; that he
r48 SELECTED STORIES OF SYLVIA TOWNSEND WARNER BUT AT THE STROKE OF MIDNIGHT
r49
hoped it might be almost immediately, in order to catch the qufte sure that she had done so, what made
him think she had?
and the wisteria. . . . she been gomg away for other
weekends? Had he noticed any
'Will you take me, too?' she inquired. To keep his feet on the n her? Was she restless at nightl Flushed? Hysterical? Had her
he asked if she had a p¿¡ssport. thickened? Ifnot, why did he say she mumbled?
Had he looked rn
On Monday rnorning he rang upJerome and Marmor to say he her drawers? Her wardrobe? The wastepaper
baskets? whv not? Had
cold and would not be coming in for a few days; and would d¡am out money from her post-office savings? Had she been
Simpson bring him a passport-application form, please. The form morbid? Had she been buying cosmetics, new
clothes, neglect-
brought. He left Aurelie to fiu it ln while he went to his bank. tu house, reading poetry losing her temper?
whv hadn tt he noticed
ñrst application, someone would have to vouch for her and he of thisl Were they growing apart? Did she talk
ln her sleep? whv did
ask Dawkins to do it. Dawkins was closeted with customer He nEyer come to Hampstead? And
why had he waited till Monday
wait. When he got at him, Dawkins was so concemed to show before saylng a word of all thisl
slight illegality ofvouching for someone he had never set eyes on the police officer came, she transferred
the cross-examination
nothing to him that he launched into conversation and told funny htun. He was large, calm man tn need of sleep,
and resolutely
about Treasury ofñcials for the next fifteen minutes. himself to Aston. Aston began to feel better.
'Aurelia! I'm sorry to have left you for so long. . . . Aurelia?' you were the last person to see NIrs
Ridpath?'
Standing in ttre emptied room he continued to say' 'Aureli¡' Vere's florid confirmadon, Aston had the pleasure
tNo
application form ley on the table. Wirh feeling ofindecency, he and the further pleasure of saung her face
'My srster
A U RE L A L E F AN U Born: Burford, Oxon. I th May forgotten about our charwoman. Mrs
Barker must have seen
Height: 5 ft. ro. Eyes: Brown. Hair: Grey.' The neat printing after I did. She came up tn the lifr
,ust as I was leaving for
without waver. But at the Signature of Applicant something must
a
happened. She had begun to write-it seemed to be a name police officer made a note oî Mrs
Barker and went awîy saFng
with'L'-and had violently, scrawlingly erased it. every endeavour would be made. 'But if the lady should be suffering
She had packed her miserable few belongings and was gon€' loss of memory, rt may not be
so easy to find her.
several weeks he haunted the Tate Gallery and waited to said Vere. .I should have thought-
unimponant paragraph saying that the body of a woman, aged persons lose their memory tn
manner of speaking they
forty-ñve, had been recovered from the Thames. üremselves. They eren tt themselves. It would surprise you how
they become
'If you haven't told the police-' The thought of being he had gone, vere exclaimed,
'Stuff and nonsense! tm sure I
murdering Lucy left Aston speechless. The aspersion was recognise L ucy mile ofI And she
hasn't much to be recognised
the notion was ridiculous. Twenty years and more had passed her stoop.
were on murdering terms. But the police were capable of of male companionship, Aston sat down with his head ln his
ah¡hing, and Vere's anxiety to establish his innocence was Vere began to unpack.
rope round his neck. Vere was at the telephone, saying that Mr w¡ls ln the kitchen, routing through
the store-cupboard, when
wished to see an officer immediately. There appeared to be B¡rker arrived on Tuesday mornmg.
She said, 'Well, I suppose you
demurring at the other end, but she overcame it. While they about Mrs Ridpath?'
filled in the time by cross-examining him. When did Lucy tell Barker put down her bag, took off her
hat and coat, opened the
was going away for the weekend? How did she look when telling drew out an epron and tied rt on.
Then, folding her hands on her
 TOWNSEND WARNER . BUT AT THE STROKE OF MIDNTGHT
r5O SELECTED SToRIES OF SYLVIA I5I
Not that I knoq' of'' Her heart sanb
she would not say; she did not rüant to preiudice
stomach' she rePlied,'No, Madam. anyone against
but a strong dislike is a strong suPport'
has put it in the hands of
Aü this took ûme The friends might know each other and get
'Well, she's gon.. Anà f"ít niàp"'ft rt would not do if her leners to them
police. rvere identical. It would
circular Her four letters done-for
'Indeed, Madam. she did not propose to
to people like the linendraper
ou know what the police are like.
'Not that that will be much use. Y could no longer supply
m Northern Ireland who regretted
with them. huckaback roller towels-she would get
'No, Madam' I have had no dealings It 0n Mrs Barker; diflbrently
to
ow why three packets of prunes? this time, and appealing to her feelinp.
'They bungle ever¡hing. N w¡ìs ¡n varn. However
last Person ln the world one she managed to get the woman ts
seem extraordinarY. She wes the address
expect to do anything unexpected.
Did she ever tâlk to you about so she rang up the police station
and stated her conviction that
Barker knew what she wouldn l¡
away? By herself, I mean?
say and should be questioned and,
be, watched. As vere
was one of those people who
'No, Madam' Never are
Lucy had gone. She had the fallacious hypothesis that lt
Mrs Barker had no doubt AS to where mspector called that afternoon
tends to keep them qutet
fuU of cemetery trees, as on Mrs Barker He could not have
the South of France-to l pale landscape
which she kept stuck n
pleasanter, but the
harm had been done; everybody m
picture postcard, not sent by anyone, the street
South of France Remarking ùat
know she had been visired
by the police. Both the children knew
dressing glass and said rilas the they got
went smoothlY to the David from school, Diane from her
must get on with her work, Mrs Barker ûr¡iterer,s. Mum! Whatever's iob at
removed the postcard, and tucked it
into her bosom. happened?' 'Mum! Is an¡hing

Loath as she wíts to admit that her sister-in-law could have

so helpless, their
vere wes sure that she had eloped. (Men afe
easily played on.) She wes sure that
Lucy's detestable cha¡n'oman
bribed. A joint elevenses
her whereabouts and had been heavily
her into the truth.
when she'd catch the woman and tnp
her tray for
This was forestalled by Mrs Barker bringing
be glad ofit, seeing how
ten-ñfty remarking that Medam might
room 'ilith en aggressivelY
was with her writing: and quining the
unnrrned. Though she
uead v ere believed rn leaving no stone
to have occurred to
that Lucf had eloped, this didn't seem
friends might produce
senes of conñdential letters to Lucy's
the tiresome women had
that would calm his mind. Not one of
would have to be
with more than given name, so the envelopes
but a 'Dear Madan'
to Sibyf Sophie 'Peg' and 'Lalla
e preliminary Aurelia adiured hersel{, gathering
redress that. The rest would be easy: her belonginp together.
and was writing to say that Lucy had Quickly does it. Don tt lose your head. Going
she u/as Aston's sister down ln the
always seemed such accompanied by the man tn
no aPparent reason slnce she and Aston had Dante-the decapiated man
could throçt any l¡s head rn front of hnn like a lantern
couple; end thet if Lalla, P.g, Sophie, or Sibyl and said through its lips,
would be an But fornrnately he got stuck
this, of course m strictest conñdence, ir ln the swing door. She w¡ts
 rs2 SELECTED STORTES OF SYLVIA TOSTNSEND WARNER

alone in the street and knew that she must ñnd a bus. A taxi would
do, it must be a bus; for a bus asks you nothing, it substitutes its
and direction for yours, it takes you away from your private life. you
it, released, unknown, an anonymous destiny, and look out of
window or read the advertisements. A bus that had gone by at
slowed as a van came out of a side street. She ran, caught up with it
as it moved again, clambered in, and sat dovrn next to e stout man
said to her, 'You had to run for it, my girl.'She smiled, too
speak. Her smile betrayed her. He saw she was not so young as he
her for. She spent the day travelling about London in buses, with a
now and then to keep her strength up. In the evening she anended
lecture on town and counry planning grven under the ausplces
London County Council This was ln Clerkenwell. During the
she nodced that her hands had left offshaking and that for a second
she had yawned quire narurally. Whatever ithad been she had
desperately escaped from, she had escaped it. Like the lecrure, she
free. It had been rather an expensive day. She atoned for this by
to King's Cross and spending the night in the ladies'waiting
was warm, lofty, impartial-prefe rable, really to any bedroom.
dutiful trarns arrived and depaned of world m
all was controlled and orderly and -demonstretions
would get on very nicely without
Tomorrow she would go ro some quiet place-Highgate
would do admirably-and decide where to go next.
It was in Highgate Cemerery, srudying a headstone which said,l
dwell in the house of the Lord for ever', that Aurelia
hostels. The lecturer tn Clerkenwell had enlarged on youth hostels.
there were middle-aged hostels, too-q uret establishments,
unlicensed sobriety; and as youth hostels are scanered in wild
scapes for the acnve who enioyed rock-climbing and rambling
dwelt on rambling and the provrslon of ramblers routes),
hostels are clustered round devotional landmarks for the
enioyed going to compline. She had enough money ro dwell
middle -aged hostel for a week. A week was quite far enough to
Probably the best person to consult would be a clergyman.
bound to be a funeral before long. She would hang on its
bunonhole the man afterward. .Excuse me,' she would begin..l
stranger. . . .'
 WARNER BUT THE STROKE OF MIDNIGHT
r54 SELECTED STORIES OF SYLVIA TOWNSEND .A,T r55

The mistake, thought Aurelia, had been to dwell on compline. the soup had been. But it wilted in her grasp. She knew that

so she had grven false impression ofherself.

The recommended costs she musr nor faint. 'smelling salts!'she exclaimed. A flask of
her rn than
Larke of St Hilda Guest-house had no sooner let
ts was pressed to her nose, her head was bowed benreen her knees.
Fogg rang up to say taken offto be put to bed with a hot-warer botrle,
exclaiming' Just rn tirne, iust ln unre Reverend she had been
your name, but you
were coming-the silly m¿n forgot to mentron Bouverie announced,'She's Anglo.'
would be going to
the lady he met, arentt you?-and that you They are always so absurdly emotional,' said a lady who
wetve finished supper But I',ll keep some soup hot for
I'm afraid
when you get back. And here ls Mrs Bouverie who will
show you the Larke returned, reporting that the poor thing was touchingly
She's waited on PurPose.' and had forgonen to bring a nightdress.
is Lefanu' Is the
'How do you áo? How kind of you' My name the morning Aurelia woke hungry but without a vestige of grati-
The sun shone, a thrush was singing in the garden, it was a perfect
far away?'
Ifwe start now we'll make it, said Mrs Bouverie. day.
had t
They started. Mrs Bouverie wes short and stout and she the replacement of Lucy, was a nova-a new appearance in
stout manner of speech. Presently she inquired, 'R.
c or A.C.?' the erplosion of an ageing star. A nova is seen where no
or taPs.
Aurelia was at a loss. The question suggested electricity and is seen as a portent, a promise ofwhat is variously desired: a
a pestilence, the birth of a hero, a rise in the price of corn. To the
'Roman or Anglo?'
Aurelia repüeã,'Anglo.'lt seemed safer, though
itwas diffrcult before called Ithamore she was ar last an obiect of art he could
sure in the dark. for. To Lancelot Fogg she was at last a spiritual woman. To
'Mrs or Miss?' of St Hilda's guest-house she was something new to talk
Aurelia replied,'Miss'' but harmless. At least, she was harmless till the
that this
She had felt so sure that she would be fed on arrival shebrought ln that wretched tomcat and insisted on keeping rt
jellied eels which pet. If Lancelot Fogg had not recommended her SO fervently
she had relied on buns, resisting those
interesting rn the neITow stfeet that twisted down
to the with that misnamed pet of hers would have been directed to
ân hotu elsewhere. It was bad enough to adopr a mosr unhealthy-
instead of gomg straight to the guesthouse she had spent
exploring the town to see if shet d like it. She did like
it. But she tomcat, but to call the animal Lucy made it so much worse; it
eaten iellied eels. a deliberate flout, a device to call attention to the creature's
She had never been to compline, either' This made
it too obvious sex.
guess how long it would go otrt or exactlY what was gomg oot Lucy, Miss Lefanu? Surely it's inappropriate?'
people were invisibly singing or reciting ln leisured tones.
If she a family name,' she replied.
understood
been so hungry, Aurelia decided, she could have developed on Aurelia's fourth evening at the guest-house. She
this charm on people. There rv:rs toøl accompanying Mrs Bouverie to compline when a distant
compline should exerc$e
oblig:ation about it which was very agreeable. And when it had herear. Lookingin the direction ofthe braying, she saw a
Mrs
ousb become over and they were walking bacbtt and and exclaimed,'A circus!'
remarked how beautifully it ended day didn it, Aureli¡ thatdreadful fair,'Mrs Bouverie replied. .As Iwas telling you, my
looking forward to the soup The soup wef¡ lentil. It was who had that delightful place in Hampshire, nor far from
-while of
thick, and she felt her being fasten on rt. The room wa!; full such rhododendrons! I've never seen such a blaze of
sat
chairs were full of people the television was on. She æwhen theywere out. , . .'
r5ó SELECTED STORIES OF SYLVLT TOWNSEND WARNER

When she had seen M¡s Bouverie safely down on her knees,
ere not wh¿t
stole away and went offto find the fair Fairs, of course,
used to be, but they are still what they âre and Aurelia enioyed
great deal tiu two haunted young men ln frock coats and
us
anached themselves to her saylng at intervals, 'Spare ^ læt
î
beautiful. Have heart. For ù.y, too, had seen her as nova. At
the
managed to Fve them the slip and hurried away through
entrails of Lunar Flight. This brought her to the outskirts of
the
the cat lyt"g on the muddied g¡ass under
and rt \ryas there she sa\ry
bonnet ofa lorr)'. Its eyes $¡ere shut, its ears laid back' It had
gone

the lorry bonnet for warmth, and was paying the price'
\ilhen she came back with a hot dog, it had rearranged itself' In
attitude she could see how thin itwas and how despairingly shabby
knelt down and addressed it from a distance. It heard her, for
it
its head away . The smell of the hot dogwas more persuasive' It
thresh its tail. 'You'll eat when I'm gone,' she said, with
to
and scattered bis of hot dog under the bonnet and began
precanous balance benveen mistrust end
away- knowing that lts
preseniration could be overset by glance. She had left the
saw that
and wes tunung rnto street full of warehouses when she
cat, lirnping and cringing, was following her. She stopped, and
it
on till it wâs beside her Then ir sât down and raised rts face toward
Its expression was completely mute-and familiar' The cat was
like her cousln Lucy.
When she picked rt up ir relaxed rn her ânns, rubbed its head
her shoulder and purred. The cat took ir absolutely for granted
should be carried offby a deity. Still throned in her amrs, it
serenely at the mortals in the guest-house' sure that they soon
disposed of.
There were a great many things to be done for Lucy' His
paw had to be dressed, his ears had to be cleaned and his coat
food hed to be bought for him, and four times a day he had
exercised rn the garden. In the intervals of this, his fleas had to b€
$'ith. Using a fine tooth comb she searched them out, pounced on
dropped them rn bowl of soapy rrater resumed the search. It
dreamlike occupauon it put her ln touch with the infinite.
Thirty Forty-seven. Fifty-two From ùme to ûme she looked
r58 SELECTED STORIES OF SYLVIA TOWNSEND WARNER

which lener to send, and to post it from Bedford, which was nearby
non-comminal. The envelope had been posted before she realised
both letters were enclosed.

'Lucy's handwriting,'said Aston. 'She's alive. What an infinite

'I never supposed she wasn't,' said Vere. 'Still, if it's a relief to
see her handwriting-it doesn't seem such a niggle as usual, but
her'L'-I'm sure I'm glad.'
'But Vere, on Monday evening, on Monday asaning, you said I
ring up the police or I should be suspected of murdering her.'
'So you would have been. They always jump to conclusions.
what does Lucy say?'
The leners had been foldetl up together. The frrst altern¿tive
uppermost.
'She seems to have got into some sort of uouble. She says she
come home unless I send her fifty pounds.'
'Fifty pounds? Where is she, then. Californial'
'The postnark is Bedford. She's gone back to her maiden
'Fifty pounds to get back from Bedford. Fifty pounds! She mus
got herself mixed up in something pretty frshy. Yes. I heard
other day that Bedford is an absolute hotbed of the drug naffic.
what she wants the money for. Poor silly Lucy, she'd be wax in
hands. Aston! You'll have to think very carefully, apan from this
demand for money, about having her back. If she were here alone
with no one to keep an ey€ on her-What does she say on the
sheet?'
'Is there a second sheet? I hadn't noticed. She says-Vere, I
make this out. She says, "tJnless you send me fifty pounds in
shall be forced to return."'
'Nonsense, Aston! You're misreadingit. She iustmade a
then put them both in.'
'But Vere, she says unless I send her the money she will be
return.'
'She must be raving. Why on earth should she expect you to
keep away? Let me see.'
After a peuse, she said, 'My poor Aston.'
Her voice was heavy with commiseration. It fell on Aston
IóO SELECTED STORIES OF SYLVIA TO1VNSEND WARNER BUT ,4,T THE srRoKE oF MIDNIGHT 16r
Lucywould be comfortable, and said he would
tumed to th€ ruin ofthe countryside-new towns, overspill, and holiday call for her at ten rhe nexr
moming.
camps.
'Look at those caravans! They've got here. now.' He was exactlypunctual. when she had assured him how comfortable
.
'Don't speak to me of caravans,' said the other lady. she and Lury had been, there seemed to be nothing more to say"
Fortunaie!,.,,
Disregarding this, the first lady asked if there were as many as ever' he was one of those drivers who give their whole mind
to
'More! Such hideosities at poor Betcombe . . . and the children! driving. They drove in his van.
Itwas lettered ,õeorge Bastable, Builder
Swarming everywhere. I shall never find a tenant now. Besides, all these rnd Plumber', and amongthe things in the backwas
abathtub wrapped in
cellophane. They drove eastward, through the same uneventful land_
new people have such grand ideas. They must have this, they mustheve
that. They don't appreciate the past. For me, that's its charm. If it scape. He turned rle van into a rrack rhar ran uphill_only
slightly
uphill, but in that flat landscape it
weren't for the caravans, I'd be at Betcombe still, glorying in my bearu seemed considerable. ,There it
is.'
and my pump. Do you know, it was eighteenth century, my pump?'
'Would you like me as a tenant?' said Aurelia. 'I can't give you any A spinney of mixed trees ran along
the top of the ridge. Smoke was
references iust now, but I'd pay ten shillings a week. No, darling!'This tisingthrough the boughs. So she
*o,rt¿ t ruå a neighbour. She had not
¡cckoned on
last remark was âddressed to Lucy, who had driven his claws into het that.
thigh. But the smoke was rising from the chimney of a bungalow, and there
'Ter, shillings a week-for my lovely little conage?' w¡s no other building there.
'A pound a week.' He must have got up very early, for
the 6re was well established, the
¡00m was warm and felt inhabited.
'Really, this is so sudden, so unusual. No references . . . and I suppooc The kitchen floor was newry washed
you'd be bringing that cat. I'm a bird-lover. No, I'm afraid it's out of the and a newspaper path was
spread across it.
question. Come, Mary, we get out here.' 'You'd find it comfortable,'he said.
For the train was coming to a halt. Both ladies gathered their 'ph, yes,' she said, looking at the nvo massive
armchairs that faced
belongings and got out. From the window Aurelia saw them get in agai& t¡ch other across a hideous hearth mat.
a few carriages farther up. 'lthasn'tbeen lived in for three years, though
I come out from time to
'You're well out of that,' observed the man with leather patches.'l time to give a look to
it. But no damp any,rrhere-that,ll show how sound
it is.'
know her place. It's a hovel. No room to swing a cat in, beggingyourcet's
pardon.' 'No. It feels wonderfully dryn, she said, Iooking at a flighr
of blue
Lucy rounded himself like a poultice above his scratch. Aurelia s¡id ponery birds on the wall.
she expected she had been silly. The train went on. An atrnosphere of Lucy was shaking his basket.

acquaintance established itself. Presently the man asked if she had any . 'May I let your cat out? He,d like a run, and I daresay he,d pick up a
particular place in mind. btealfast, bird's-nesting.,
'No. No exactly. I'm a sûanger.' &fore she could answer, he had unfastened
the lid and Lucy had
'Because I happen to know of something that might suit you-if you bounded over the threshold. How was she to answer,hi,
;;;
dont object to it being a bit out of the way. It's a bungalow, and iCs t¡len so much trouble and was
so proud of his bungalow? ^*;i;
modern. Ifyou're agreeable, I'll take you to see it.' 'Did you build it yourself?,
It was impossible not to be agreeable, because he was so plainly a shy why-I know it's a good one. I built it for my young
lady.
;l1t9.That's
when I saw you in the train,
man and surprised at finding himself intervening. So when he got out you put me in mind of her, ,omet o*. So
she got out with him, and he took her to a Railway Arms where she ¡nd rhen you said you wanted
somiwhere to live-, He sared at her,
 162 SELECTED STORIES OF SYLVIA TOWNSEND WARNER BUT ,t T THE ST R o KE
o F M ID NI G HT I 63
standing politely at a distance trying to recepture the appearance of and as far ASpossible eating ra\r foods,
nova in this half-hearted lady, no longer young.
which entailed the
of washing up. Every Saturday
she bought seven new-laid
The house had stood empty for three years. She had died. Poor hard -boiled them, and
spaced them out during the
Bastable! Aurelia's face assumed the right erpression. håd learned from Vasari's week-a trick
Liaa of the Artists. It was not an
'She left,'he said. for anyone leading adequate
an active life, but her life was
'How could she?' exclaimed Aurelia. calculatedly
though she were convalescing
This time, there was no need to put on the right expression. She from some forgotten illness.
On Sarurday evenings
Mr Bastable called to collect the rent
wholeheartedly shocked at the behaviour of Mr Basteble's needed doing-a nail knocked
and to see
lady-and if the young lady had come in iust then she would have
ln or a tap tightened up. He
brought some sort of present:
the ungrateful minx's ears. Instead, it was Lucy who trotted in, from his greenhouse,
î couple of prgeons, the first
breakfast radishes As the
smug, with fragments of eggshell plastered to his chops, sat down the presents enlarged surnmer
rnto basketloads of gÌeen
front of the fire, and began cleaning himself. M¡ Bastable remarked of roses, strawberries, P€ß' bun-
sleek dessert goosebenies.
Lucy had found a robin's nest. He was grateful for Aurelia's deepened and tn spite But as the
but shy of saying so. He suspected he had gone roo far. Somewhat ts of all the presenß and economies
wealth of one hundred
and twenry pounds lessened,
surprise he learned that Aurelia would like ro move into his she must furn her and she
mind to doing something about
bungalow immediately. He drove her to the village to do her dig; there was no one this. She could
but Mr Bastable to beg from.
came back to show her where the coal was kept, gave her the when one could take rn The trmes tryere
plain sewmg Surveþg the
Watching him drive away she suddenly became aware of the come to take for granted, landscape she
she sarv the caravans rn
she would soon be taking for granted. It sparkled with peacefully graøing new light-no
but fermenting with ambitions ^
drains and ditches; a river wound through it. A herd ofcaravans and cultural
peacefully grazing in the distance. now th.y must have bought all the picture
Happiness is an immunity. In a matter ofdays Aurelia was postcards at the shop.
had always wanted
to pamt. For all she knew
by the flight of blue poaery birds, sat in armchairs so massive she she might turn out to
good at ¡t. Willows
would be easy-think of all the erûsß who
not move them and felt no wish to move them, slept deliciously them. By noÌv the caravaners
pink nylon sheets. With immunity she watched Lucy sharpening must be tired of looking at
and would welcome real
change to representadonal
claws on the massive armchairs. She had a naturally happy bus to Msbech, ert. She took
found an ans-and-crafts
and preferred to live in the present. Happiness immunised her from shop, bought paper,
gouache p¿unts, and
a small easel. That
past-for why look back for what has slipped from one,s prcn¡res of willows-one tranquil,
sÍrme evening she did
from the future, which may never even be possessed. one storm-tossed. Thrie
days
-and
never in the past, perhaps never in the future, had she been, could
she set up the easel
on the outskirts of the caraven
srte
from life. and began
Itwas harder than willows-there
be, so happy as she was now. The cuckoo woke her; she fell were no precursors
her-but when she had complied
Lucy's purr. In the mornings he had usually left a dent beside her with few suggestions from
car:¡van ts o\rner she made her sale
gone out for his sunrising. Whetever one may say about bungalows, and received t\'o further
By the beginning of August
are ideal for cats. She hunted his fleas on Sundays and Thundays. she was rich enough to
\tras more fun and on 8o on
was now so strong and splendid that for the rest of the week he the whole easier It was
easily she painted, remarkable
and with what assurence
perfectly well deal with them himself. She lived with carefree for caravans. She varied The demand w¿ls
them, ¡rs Monet varied
seldom using more than a single plate, drinkingwater to save wittt buckets. Caravan his haysacks.
with sunseL Pint quavan.
One patron
164 SELECTED sroRIEs oF SYLVIA ToWNSEND WARNER BUT AT THE STRoKE oF MIDNTGHT 165

wented a gxoup of cows-though his children were cold towards them' æening when he had nor come in at his usual time. she had kindred
a
She evaded portraits, butyielded to a request for an abstract' Thisw¡l fire, not that it was cold-indeed,
it was oddly warm and fusty; but the
the only commission that really taxed her. Do as she might, it kept on fog made it cheerless. It was a
night to pu[ the curtains croser, listen to
coming out like a draper's window display. But she mastered it in thc the snap and crackle of a brief fire, gå early to bed. she had left
the
end, and signed it A. Lefanu like the rest' curtains unclosed, however. If Lucy saw
rhat a fire had been kindled, he
By the end of September she had made enough to keep her in idlenes would be drawn from whatever busied
him. He was a very chimney_
till Christrnas-when she would have thought of something else' comercat, although he was a tom. Twice
the brief fire died down, rwice
Winter would bring a new variety of happiness-5lsçrs¡' msr€ she made it up again. She went
to the door, peered uselessly into.the
conscious, and with more strategy in it. The gales of the equinox fog, called him. It was frightening
to call i.,à tfr"t silent, immediate
blowing across the flats struck at the spinny along the ridge, blew down obscurity.

one tree, and shook deadwood out of others' Here was an honest 'Luc,v. I-ury.,
occupation. She set herself to build up a store of fuel against the winter. She waited. No Lucy. She musr resign herself to it.
Tonight Lucy was
It was heavy work dragging the larger branches over the rough ground engaged in being a tom. As she
stood there, resigning herself to it and
clogged with brambles and tall grass, but Lucy lightened it by flirting sraining her ears, she felt the damp of the foggy air pricked with a fine
round her as she worked, darting after the tail of the branches, drizzling rain. A minute later, the ,"i., *r, fañiîg steaaiþ;
not hard but
ambushing them and leaping on them as they rustled by. She was steadily'
she had not the courage ro go on calring. The pitch
ofhervoice
collecting fuel, Lucy was growing a thick new coat; both of them werc hd frightened her; it sounded so anxious. she wenr indoors and sat
preparing their defences against the wintry months ahead. Mr Bætable down to wait. on a different night
she would have left the window open
said that by all the signs it would be a hard winter, preceded by much r¡in rnd gone to bed. And in the morning
Lury would have been th.r., too,
and wind. He advised her to get her wood in before the rain fell and md in her sleep her arm would have
gone out and round him.
made the ground too soggy to shift it. If she manages the first winter, he With the rain, it had become colder. She added coal to the fire. It
thought, she will settle. Though she was an ungrateful tenant, or ât eny blued up but did not wann her. she counted the blue ponery
birds and
rate an inattentive receiver, he wanted her to settle; it delighted hùn to listened. She listened for so long
that finally she became incapable of
see her making these preparations. Later on, he would complete them listening, and when there was
a sound which was not the interminable
by chopping the heavier pieces into nice little logs. Taking Mr Basuble's pafter of rain she did not hear it, only
close
knew that she had heard
advice, Aurelia decided to get the wood in, working on till the dusk w¿s something. A dragging sound . .
. the sound of something being dragged
scythed by the headlighs of passing cars, till Lury vanished into ¡ dongthe path to rhe door. It had
ceased" It began again. Ceased.
different eústence of being a thing audible-a sudden plop or t When she snatched the door open,
she couljsee nothing but the rain,
scuflling. She never had to call him when she went indoors. By the timc of flashing arïorvs lit by her righted room. A noise
¡ curtain
directed
she was on the threshold he was there, rubbing against her, raising his her-a Femulous yowl. He stn ct at hJr
feebly when she stooped to
feet in a ritual exaggeration. He was orderly in his ways, a timekeepet'
$htt up, rhen dragged himself on inro ttre light of the doorwi. Sfr.
He took himself in and out, but rarely suayed. When she came bacl fellon her knees. This sodden shapeless ttrirrg;;s Lucy. He looked at
from selling those unprincipled canvases, he was always waiting about herwith one eye; the other sagged on his cheãk. His
iaw dangled. One
for her, curled up on the lid of the water butt, drowsing under the elder, side of his head had been
smashed in; his front leg was broken. When
sitting prinrly on the sill of the window left open for him. He was hrppy she touched him he shrank
from her hand and yowled beseechingly.
enough out of her sight, but he liked to have her within his' slowþ, distortedly, he hitched himself
on.. th. threshold, across the
mom, ried to sit up before
So she told herself, later on, that foggy, motionless Novemht the fire, fell over, and lay nritching and
166 SELECTED STORIES OF SYLVIA TOWNSEND WARNER BUT AT THE srRoKE oF MTDNTGHT 167

gasping for breath. When at last she dared touch him, his racing to her knees.A litde farther along the road there was a footbridge over
heartbeats were like a machine fastened in him. She talked to him and the roadside ditch. It was under warer bur the handrail showed. She
stroked his uninjured paw. He did not shrink from her nowo and perhaps waded across it. The water rose to her knees. With the next few steps she
her voice lulled him as the plumpness of his muscular soft paw lulled wæ in water up to her thighs. It leaned its ice-cold indiflerent weight
her, for he relaxed and curled his tail round his flank as though he were rgainst her. ìilhen a twig was carried bobbing pasr her, she felt a wild
preparing to fall asleep. Long after he seemed to be dead, the implacable impulse to clutch it. But her aûns rvere closed about the cat,s body, and
machine beat on. Then it faltered, stumbled, began again at a slower she pressed it more closely to her and staggered on. All sense of
rate, fluttered. A leaden tint suffused his eye and his lolling tongue. His direction was gone; sometimes she saw light, sometimes she saw
breathing stopped. He flanened. It was inconceivable that he could evet darkness. The hollow booming hung in the air. Below it was an incessant
have been loved, handsome, alive. hissing and seething. The ground rose under her feet; the level ofwater
'Lucy!' lud fallen to her knees. Tricked and impatient, she waded faster, took
The cry broke from her. It unloosed another. longer strides. The last stride plunged her forward. She was out of her
'Aurelia!' depth, face down in the channel ofa stream. She rose to the surface.
The
She could not call back the one or the other. She was Lucy Ridpath, cunent bowed her, arched itselfabove her, swept her onward, cracked
looking at a dead cat who had never known her. herskull against the concrete buttress ofa revetrnent, whirled the cat out
The agony of dislocation was prosaic. She endured it because it w¡s ofher grasp.
there. It admitted no hope, so she endured it without the support of
resentrnent. (The Innocnt ønd the Guilty, tgTr)
The rain had gone on all the time and was still going on.
Lury Ridpath's mackintosh was hanging in the closet, ready to meet
it. Mrs Barker had advised her to put it on and she had done so.
Tomorrow she would put it on again when she went out to dig a hole in
the sodden ground for the cat's burial. It is proper to bury the dead; itisl
mark of respect. Lucy would bury Lury, and then there would be one
Lucy left over.
She sat in the lighted room long after the light of day came into it.
Then she put on the mackintosh and took up the body and carried it out,
The air was full of a strange roar and tumult, a hollow booming that
came from everywhere at once. The level landscape was gone. The
hollow booming rose from a vast expanse and confusion of floodwater'
Swirling, jostling, traversed with darker streaks, splintering into flashes
of light where it contested with an obstacle, it drove toward the river.
Small rirulets were flowing down from the ridge to ioin it, the uack to
the road was a running stream. In all that water there must be

somewhere a place to drown.

With both hands holding the cat clasped to her bosom, she walked
slowly down the track. When she came to the road, the water was halñvay

I-