Five Little Pigs

Things came to a head after lunch in the drawing-room just as we were finishing coffee. I had commented on a carved head in highly polished beechwood-a very curious thing, and Caroline said: ‘That is the work of a young Norwegian sculptor. Amyas and I admire his work very much. We hope to go and see him next summer.’ That calm assumption of possession was too much for Elsa. She was never one to let a challenge pass. She waited a minute or two and then she spoke in her clear, rather over-emphasized voice. She said: ‘This would be a lovely room if it was properly fixed. It’s got far too much furniture in it. When I’m living here I shall take all the rubbish out and just leave one or two good pieces. And I shall have copper-coloured curtains, I think-so that the setting sun will just catch them through that big western window.’ She turned to me and said. ‘Don’t you think that would be rather lovely?’

I didn’t have time to answer. Caroline spoke, and her voice was soft and silky and what I can only describe as dangerous. She said:

‘Are you thinking of buying this place, Elsa?’

Elsa said: ‘It won’t be necessary for me to buy it.’

Caroline said: ‘What do you mean?’ And there was no softness in her voice now. It was hard and metallic. Elsa laughed. She said: ‘Must we pretend? Come now, Caroline, you know very well what I mean!’

Caroline said: ‘I’ve no idea.’

Elsa said to that: ‘Don’t be such an ostrich. It’s no good pretending you don’t see and know all about it. Amyas and I care for each other. This isn’t your home. It’s his. And after we’re married I shall live here with him!’

Caroline said: ‘I think you’re crazy.’

Elsa said: ‘Oh no, I’m not, my dear, and you know it. It would be much simpler if we were honest with each other. Amyas and I love each other-you’ve seen that clearly enough. There’s only one decent thing for you to do. You’ve got to give him his freedom.’

Caroline said: ‘I don’t believe a word of what you are saying.’

But her voice was unconvincing. Elsa had got under her guard all right.

And at that minute Amyas Crale came into the room and Elsa said with a laugh:

‘If you don’t believe me, ask him.’

And Caroline said: ‘I will.’

She didn’t pause at all. She said:

‘Amyas, Elsa says you want to marry her. Is this true?’

Poor Amyas. I felt sorry for him. It makes a man feel a fool to have a scene of that kind forced upon him. He went crimson and started blustering. He turned on Elsa and asked her why the devil she couldn’t have held her tongue?

Caroline said: ‘Then itis true?’

He didn’t say anything, just stood there passing his finger round inside the neck of his shirt. He used to do that as a kid when he got into a jam of any kind. He said-and he tried to make the words sound dignified and authoritative-and of course couldn’t manage it, poor devil:

‘I don’t want to discuss it.’

Caroline said: ‘But we’re going to discuss it!’

Elsa chipped in and said:

‘I think it’s only fair to Caroline that she should be told.’

Caroline said, very quietly:

‘Is it true, Amyas?’

He looked a bit ashamed of himself. Men do when women pin them down in a corner.

She said:

‘Answer me, please. I’ve got to know.’

He flung up his head then-rather the way a bull does in the bull-ring. He snapped out:

‘It’s true enough-but I don’t want to discuss it now.’

And he turned and strode out of the room. I went after him. I didn’t want to be left with the women. I caught up with him on the terrace. He was swearing. I never knew a man swear more heartily. Then he raved:

‘Why couldn’t she hold her tongue? Why the devil couldn’t she hold her tongue? Now the fat’s in the fire. And I’ve got to finish that picture-do you hear, Phil? It’s the best thing I’ve done. The best thing I’ve ever done in mylife. And a couple of damn’ fool women want to muck it up between them!’

Then he calmed down a little and said women had no sense of proportion.

I couldn’t help smiling a little. I said:

‘Well, dash it all, old boy, you have brought this on yourself.’

‘Don’t I know it,’ he said, and groaned. Then he added: ‘But you must admit, Phil, that a man couldn’t be blamed for losing his head about her. Even Caroline ought to understand that.’

I asked him what would happen if Caroline got her back up and refused to give him a divorce.

But by now he had gone off into a fit of abstraction. I repeated the remark and he said absently:

‘Caroline would never be vindictive. You don’t understand, old boy.’

‘There’s the child,’ I pointed out.

He took me by the arm.

‘Phil, old boy, you mean well-but don’t go on croaking like a raven. I can manage my affairs. Everything will turn out all right. You’ll see if it doesn’t.’

That was Amyas all over-an absolutely unjustified optimist. He said now, cheerfully:

‘To hell with the whole pack of them!’

I don’t know whether we would have said anything more, but a few minutes later Caroline swept out on the terrace. She’d got a hat on, a queer, flopping, dark-brown hat, rather attractive.

She said in an absolutely ordinary, every-day voice: