Smith Tale of Two Families, A

1. Auflage 2015
ISBN: 978-1-78094-434-0
Verlag: Hesperus Press Ltd.
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: 6 - ePub Watermark

E-Book, Englisch, 304 Seiten

A charming tale of love, family and compromise filled with vivid characters, from the author of I Capture the Castle. From Dodie Smith, the author of I Capture the Castle and The Hundred and One Dalmatians comes a classic tale of complicated sibling relationships, friendship and forbidden love. Set in 1970s England, this is a delightful, funny novel with deftly drawn characters and true heart. Suspecting her husband, George, of dalliances in the city, May decides it is high time the family moved to the country. Determined to create the perfect home there, she finds an idyllic country house set in a lilac grove and sets about furnishing it properly and cooking enormous meals. She even manages to convince her less well-off sister, June, to move into a cosy cottage on the grounds with her husband Robert. This new set-up is very much a family affair as June's husband Robert just happens to be George's brother: the two sisters are married to two brothers. At first both families seem to be settling in well, sharing delicious meals and having jolly times together. Their grown-up children, Hugh and Corinna, visit from London and there even seems to be a hint of romance in the air for them, while the surviving grandparents from both sides of the family move into the big house and forge new friendships. But the arrival of a cantankerous great aunt will reveal the cracks in the family's tangled relationships and will even threaten to unveil the greatest secret of all - while May thought moving George to the country would put a stop to his affairs, he has begun to fall in love with his sister-in-law, June. The death of a beloved character will, however, turn the tables again and lead to the ultimate, happy, denouement.

Dorothy Gladys 'Dodie' Smith (1896-1990) was an English novelist and playwright. Smith is best known for her novel The Hundred and One Dalmatians. Her other works includeI Capture the Castle and The Starlight Barking.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Smith, Dodie

Leseproben

1

As the taxi neared the signpost saying ‘To the Dower House only’, May told the driver to stop. ‘We’ll walk the rest of the way.’

The driver stopped but said he could easily drive them. ‘The lane’s narrow but the surface is all right. I often came here when the old ladies were still alive.’

May said she would rather walk, then turned to her sister, June. ‘I want to sort of sneak up on the house.’

June, conscious of unsuitable shoes, asked the driver how long they would have to walk. He said not above five minutes, on which May briskly got out of the taxi, to be followed, less briskly, by June. Then May, having discovered on the way from the station that the driver had missed his lunch, told him to drive to the nearest village and get some. ‘I’ll treat you. And you can take at least an hour. I shall need all of that to explore the place.’

‘Okay and thanks,’ said the driver. ‘And when I come back I’ll drive up to the front door. Might be raining again by then. Well, February Filldyke, as they say.’

‘Nice man,’ said May as the taxi drove off. I haven’t heard February Filldyke since I was a child. What ages it is since I was last in the country.’

‘Yet of course you have the right clothes for it,’ said June. ‘But you would have even if you were suddenly asked to go yachting or cross the Sahara.’

‘Well, I dare say I could rig up something. Here, hold up!’ She shot out a steadying hand. ‘You’ll need some proper country shoes when you come to stay with us here. I’ll treat you.’

‘Don’t be so sure you’re coming here. The house may be a horror.’

‘But I told you, George liked it when he came to see the old girls about their investments. And it’s so miraculous to get the chance of renting such a house. It could be sold for an enormous amount if it wasn’t entailed. I do love this twisty lane. And there are signs of spring already. Those dangly things are lambs’ tails, later on they get all furry yellow and come off on you.’

‘This is going to be a long five minutes’ walk,’ said June.

May thought this possible as there was still no sign of any house, but she continued to find things to praise: the overgrown hedges, the tall, still-dripping trees, the brilliant green of the grassy verges, the freshness of the air. And after several more bends in the lane they saw a white wooden gate standing open. Once through this they looked across a large, circular lawn surrounded by a gravel drive. And now at last they were face to face with the house.

‘Much too large,’ said June.

‘Not at all. If you knew how I’m longing for space, after that poky flat.’

June laughed. ‘You can’t call that fabulous flat poky.’

‘I can and do. The fact that it’s expensive doesn’t make it spacious.’ May stood still, gazing at the house. ‘Georgian, I think – no, the roof looks Queen Anne. I’d say Queen Anne refronted in the late eighteenth century.’

‘The things you know about architecture!’

‘I told you, I’ve been reading up about country houses. Those downstairs windows look Victorian.’

‘So does the conservatory. That’s pretty hideous.’

‘I don’t agree. It could be amusing if one got the right line on it. And that big room on the left balances it. That could be an orangery, with those tall windows, except that it looks fairly new. Well, come on. Shall we go across the lawn or by the drive?’

‘The lawn will be wet. And I bet the whole house will be damp. We’re in a hollow here.’

‘We are not in a hollow. I shall strike you if you go on disparaging everything.’

They crunched along the gravel drive to the front porch, which suggested the lych gate of a churchyard.

‘A bit ye olde, this,’ said May. ‘Porches so often spoil houses. But we can grow things up it. Now the key should be hanging on the right of the door. Well, it isn’t. I’ll read the letter again.’

There were wooden seats on the inside of the porch. They sat on them and May took a letter from her handbag and read it aloud:

Dear Mrs Clare,

I’m so sorry but I shan’t be able to meet you on Thursday, as arranged. I have to represent my grandfather at a family funeral – they keep on happening, I’m sure they’re taking years off my life. I’ll be home on Friday but I’m not sure what time. Perhaps Saturday would be a good day for you? But you may still prefer Thursday and to be on your own. You’ll find some of my great-aunts’ furniture in the dining room and drawing-room. It goes well with the William Morris wallpapers (original and still in almost perfect condition). But of course you may loathe the furniture and the wallpapers. I’ll leave the central heating on.

Just one thing: If there’s anything you want to know please don’t ask at the Hall. Though my grandfather has agreed that the Dower House shall be let, it’s best not to remind him that it’s going to be. Perhaps you could leave a message – I’ll put paper and pencil in the hall – and then I could telephone you. And if you do decide to come on Saturday, I’ll be here.

Yours sincerely,

Sarah Strange

P.S. Key on nail right of porch – outside, hidden under the overhang. Key of the staff cottage under its doormat.

May handed the letter to June. ‘Curious handwriting, isn’t it?’

‘Almost illiterate.’

‘Oh, no – just peculiar. So spiky. Now where’s that key? Outside the porch, she says.’

May now found the key without difficulty and opened the front door. A wave of warm air came to meet them.

‘So much for your damp house,’ said May.

‘It’d be damp if it didn’t have central heating.’

‘Well, it does have central heating. George told me the old ladies had it put in because they suffered so much with rheumatism – one of them was crippled with it. This is a good hall. Looks as if it’s just been decorated.’

The panelling had been painted white. Doors stood open on either side. May, going through one of them gasped.

‘My goodness, this wallpaper might be new!’

It was a deep pink, with a raised design in ruby red.

‘You couldn’t keep this furniture,’ said June. ‘Or the curtains and carpet.’

‘I certainly shall. Everything goes with the wallpaper. I shall get to like it all, just as I’ve got to like art nouveau.’

‘I haven’t and never shall – this or art nouveau. Though I’ll admit the wallpaper’s handsome.’

‘That’s big of you.’

‘If gloomy.’

‘Of course it’s gloomy on a dark morning. Now let’s find the drawing room.’

It was on the other side of the hall. Here the wallpaper was a deep green against a yellowish background. The furniture included a cabinet packed with ornaments.

June, peering in on them, said, ‘Don’t tell me you like these.’

‘I shall, when I know more about them. I must read up about William Morris.’

‘I wonder if there’s a William Morris kitchen.’

But the kitchen was reasonably modern except for the long, scrubbed table and pine dresser which even June had to admire.

‘How I shall enjoy cooking in here!’ said May. ‘All sorts of wonderful things in great earthenware casseroles.’

‘They’ll feel embarrassed in that William Morris dining room.’

May, pushing open a door, said, ‘They won’t be eaten in that William Morris dining room. This is the room we shall virtually live in.’

It was long, with a large open fireplace and heavy white-washed beams. Three windows, one of them a French window, looked out on to a lawn beyond which was a grove of small, bushy trees. At the far end of the room there was an unusually large bow window with a window seat. May, moving quickly to it, said, ‘Look! That must be the Hall.’

There was an uninterrupted view of it, across a neglected park dotted with ancient oaks, many of them obviously near the end of their lives.

‘Palladian,’ said May.

‘Those pillars must make the inside dark.’

‘George says it’s going to rack and ruin – the whole estate is. And nothing can be done until the old man dies and the girl inherits, by which time it’ll be too late for anything to be done.’

‘Jolly prospect for the girl. And what a life for her, shut up in that tomb with an old man.’

‘George gathered from the family solicitors that she’s devoted to him. And I should think she’s trying to prop up her inheritance. Well, perhaps we can make things a bit more cheerful for her.’ May sat down on the window seat. ‘June…’

There was a sudden note of appeal in May’s voice which her sister instantly recognised. She sat down beside May and said, ‘Yes, darling?’

‘You do like this room, surely? It’s light and cheerful even on this gloomy day.’

‘Well, it’s certainly the better for not being cluttered up with old-fashioned furniture.’

‘I can do something marvellous in here, once I get a line on it. June, darling, please stop being against the house.’

‘I don’t give a damn about the house, one way or another. What I’m against is your leaving London. I simply can’t imagine life without you there.’

‘We’ll be just one hour from Liverpool Street and twenty minutes’ drive from the station.’

‘You’re forgetting how long it’ll take me to reach Liverpool Street. Anyway, I can’t...