The Wedding Party Read Free Page B

live here.’ The tone of Miss Kingsford’s voice was peremptory, almost irate. ‘This would give me the willies.’
    In his gentle fashion Mr Willoughby surprised her by saying that he wasn’t, in fact, asking her to live there. He was the one who might be going to live there.
    â€˜I know, but you did ask my opinion.’
    â€˜Well, you’re entitled to that, of course.’
    â€˜I thought you said it wasn’t isolated.’
    â€˜I don’t think it is. There’s a pub and a post office and two shops a hundred yards down the road. I hardly call that isolated.’
    â€˜But in winter? What are you going to do in winter?’
    He had not time to answer this before, from outside thecaravan, a woman’s voice suddenly called with pleasant breeziness:
    â€˜Ah! there you are, Charles. I thought I recognised the car.’
    Miss Kingsford felt herself stiffen. She turned to see, standing just outside the doorway, a rather plump, fresh complexioned woman of fifty or so, her face well made-up, her brown hair without a trace of grey. A pair of drop pearl ear-rings gave her a certain gracious touch of distinction. She was clearly the sort of person who smiled almost perpetually and her silk green and purple dress was cut rather low.
    â€˜Oh! Charles, I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you had someone with you. But how nice to see you again so soon.’
    With his customary politeness Mr Willoughby stepped outside the caravan and greeted her with a light kiss on both cheeks. This was clearly what she expected and Miss Kingsford held herself coldly, silently aloof.
    â€˜Miss Kingsford, may I introduce Mrs Arbuthnot? An old friend of mine.’
    Miss Kingsford, he explained, was staying at the guest-house. Mrs Arbuthnot came forward and shook hands with Miss Kingsford. Her hand was warm. Her face flowered with an unbroken, expansive smile.
    â€˜Charles, do forgive me for intruding like this. I’d really no idea you’d brought someone with you.’
    â€˜Oh! please don’t mind me,’ Miss Kingsford said.
    â€˜I was going to drop you a line,’ Mr Willoughby said, ‘and then I thought I’d like to run over once more before I finally made up my mind.’
    â€˜And have you made up your mind?’
    â€˜Well, there would have to be one condition.’
    â€˜Oh! really, what?’
    â€˜I should have to insist on paying some sort of rent.’
    â€˜Oh! nonsense. You know I wouldn’t dream of it. Here the thing stands. I never use it.’
    â€˜Well, it’s very sweet of you. But just a peppercorn.’
    â€˜Oh! very well, then. Just a peppercorn.’
    Mrs Arbuthnot smiled even more expansively and a moment later Miss Kingsford broke in on the intimacy of the conversation by saying:
    â€˜I’m sure you two have business to talk over. Do you mind if I walk as far as the stream?’
    â€˜Oh! won’t you come over to the house for a cup of tea? Do. It’s only two minutes—’
    â€˜Well, thank you, but I should really like to get back. I’ve got one or two bits of shopping to do before they close.’
    Miss Kingsford walked away to the stream. She stood on the bank and stared at it bleakly. It really wasn’t, she thought, much of a stream and suddenly she knew she hated the caravan. Twenty yards away a solitary moorhen, disturbed, suddenly plopped sharply into the water and a moment later the sound was echoed and expanded by a long and gracious peal of Mrs Arbuthnot’s laughter. When it finally died she even heard Mr Willoughby laughing too.
    Under the impulse of these sounds she walked away up the stream. She walked for two hundred yards or so, until a fence prevented her walking any further. Then, for quitehow long she didn’t quite know, she leaned on the fence and stared into the stream, once or twice hearing, even at that distance, fresh peals of Mrs Arbuthnot’s laughter.
    When she