“She’s the daughter of the house,” I answered firmly. “And I think you would find that your mother thinks as she does.”
“We’ll ask her,” he said. He dragged me up the long room to where his mother was sitting. Mrs. McNab never stayed downstairs for long in the evening; soon after the music was at its height she would slip away quietly to the Tower rooms and be seen no more until the morning. She greeted him with a smile that lit her rather grim face curiously. Affection was not a leading characteristic among the McNabs, but Harry was certainly first in his mother’s favour.
“Miss Earle says she won’t dance, Mother! Tell her it’s ridiculous—three of us are standing out because we haven’t got partners.”
“Possibly Miss Earle does not care for dancing?”
“Yes, she does, though. Only she’s got a stupid idea that you don’t want her to.”
“I have no objection,” said his mother. “Still I do not think it would be wise for you to tire yourself, Miss Earle.”
“Oh, we won’t let her do that. But I’m hanged if you’re going to act Cinderella all the time, Miss Earle,” said Harry. “Come along—we’ve wasted too much of this already.” He swept me out into the crowd, and I gave in more or less meekly: it wasn’t difficult when every nerve in me was already beating time to the music. And Harry danced so very much better than he sang!
All the same, I never remained downstairs long after Mrs. McNab had disappeared. I had next day to consider, and my days began pretty early: besides which, I couldn’t help feeling an ugly duckling amongst the other girls. My two dinner dresses were by no means up to date; I was fully aware of their deficiencies beside the dainty, exquisite frocks of which Beryl McNab and her friends seemed to have an unlimited supply. I used to breathe a sigh of relief when I escaped from the drawing-room, racing up the stairs until I gained the shelter of my own little room.
Judy and Jack were supposed to be in bed by nine o’clock. It was one of the few rules that they did not scorn, since their days were strenuous enough to make them feel sleepy early, and they had few evening occupations. They loathed dancing, and neither was ever known to read a book if it could possibly be avoided. The crowded state of the house had made it necessary for them to give up their rooms to guests: they slept on the balcony, and Judy used my room to dress, while Jack made his toilet in a bathroom. Judy was a restless sleeper, and I had formed the habit of going out to tuck her in before I went to bed.
I slipped away from the drawing-room one hot night when the dancing was fast and furious. A little breeze from the sea was beginning to blow in at my window, and I leaned out, enjoying its freshness and wondering if Colin and Madge were grilling very unpleasantly in the stuffy Prahran flat. Above my head a faint glimmer from the Tower rooms showed that Mrs. McNab was at work—one never imagined her as doing anything but writing steadily, once she had vanished to her sanctum. Sometimes she wrote on her little balcony, which was fitted with electric light: the scent of the cigarettes she continually smoked would drift down to my window on still nights.