me.
This interview is at an end', I said, whereat both laughed in scorn at me and made me flush exactly as Papa had done upon the afternoon of which I spoke and of which I still have tightlipped memories.
'Is it, indeed? I was not aware that interviews took place between close kin. Phillip, you will accompany us tomorrow. We will show you proof. Yes, proof, my dear- and do not sit there like some stupid owl. Oh, do not fear. We shall not say a word to Sylvia-unless you mean to show your stubbornness', said Muriel, and then stood up, and Jane did, too. I feared-yes feared-what they might do. The urge to tell them to leave my house was on my lips. Instead of that I shamelessly was dumb. Often enough such females make one fight for the appropriate words that only come after they have left. Besides, they were clearly bluffing. Uncle Reggie and our parents sadly were no more.
'You may show me what you will', I said, 'Then I will know your lies for what they are'.
'Oho, we are come to bitterness, and even about a lovesome thing, are we? We have both thrown the gauntlet down, Phillip. We shall all go into town straight after lunch', Muriel threw at me and then to my relief they both went out and left me trembling in a quiet rage.
Sylvia's Day-Book
Sometimes I lie down on my bed with Rose. I do not think she should be a servant, and I told her so. She told me about poor people, though, and how there was no room for her at home. That made me very sad. I wanted to give her money from my purse. She would not take it. Often we cuddle, and sometimes we kiss. I like to feel her mouth. She likes mine, too. We put our skirts up with our legs together, just a little bit. 'It's nice', she says, and wanted to kiss my titties through my dress, and so I let her. Oh, they tingled when she did! I felt so funny that I let her do it more. She undid my dress. I said, 'Oh, Rose!' She said, 'Come on, Miss, it feels nice'. I let her and she sucked my nipples until they were stiff and I felt funny, feint. I have told her she could call me by my Christian name when we're alone. She looked so happy when I told her that. She licked my breasts and said she would be a servant to me all my life.
CHAPTER THREE
Phillip's Day-Book
I was reluctant to accompany them today upon this so-called visit, but they had remarked to Sylvia that we were going out, and hence I could not find excuse to her to change my mind. In any case, I wished to purchase writing paper in the town. The stationery shop there is a favourite haunt, as is the bookshop where the stock is good, though the owner is not what I would term a scholar's man. He entertains some customers sometimes in a room behind the premises. I know not why, unless they too are in the trade. They do not seem to buy books from the shop, though often carry parcels out on re-appearing from behind his private door. It is not my business. One does not enquire.
“Whence are we going?', I asked Muriel. She replied that I would 'see', and had the carriage stop behind the smaller of the two hotels, for 'that was what we used to do', she said, and made great mystery of that which I felt was intended to arouse a curiosity in me I did not really feel. Then down the High Street was I led and into a small street beside that rejoices in the name of Cobbler's Way.
At a small house halfway we stopped. The door was grimy and the paint was peeled. I had no desire to go within, but Jane was behind me, Muriel in front. The bell was pulled.
“What is the purpose of this?', I enquired. Neither replied, and then a woman in an apron let us in. The hall was carpeted but frosty. Cheap prints hung upon the walls. A staircase loomed ahead of us.
'There's three of you?', the woman asked, presumably to show that she could count.
'You remember us?', asked Muriel. The woman frowned and cocked her head, then Muriel took her bonnet off and shook her hair down and bent and murmured something in her ear.
'Oh, Miss, it's you again! Five years it's bin at least, and this is your sister, too. Leastways, and with your pardon, Miss, I always thought you was', she said to Jane.
'And the gentleman who always came with us? Do you remember him?', asked Muriel. The door was closed. We edged within. I felt my neck flush and was uncomfortable.
'Oh, I dunno, Miss. Men, they comes and goes. Now, let me think. He had a black beard-did he? — yes, I'm sure he did. Real toff 'e was, just as your gentleman is now', the woman said to my distinct disdain as she looked at me.
'Do you remember flowers?', asked Jane whose hand uncomfortably pressed at my back.
'Flowers? Oh gawd, yes, I remembers now! A posy 'e always give me. What a gentleman 'e was! No one ever give me posies, Miss, before or since. I got it now-you always came on Thursdays, didn't you? Bottles of wine you brought, and give me money to buy glasses. Basket on your arm you 'ad. A real nice wicker one, it was. You left it 'ere the last time. I still got it, if you want. Used it a bit, Miss-hoped you wouldn't mind'.
All this I heard, my mind somewhat a-reel. Thursdays-a basket-I remembered that. It was six years now since Uncle Reggie passed away. He was the youngest of our mother's brothers. Died of cholera, poor chap. We could never understand where he got that.
'I remember something, too', said Jane. We had moved while speaking into a small front room of incredibly small proportions, and so much cluttered we could scarcely move.
“What's that, Miss, eh?” The woman looked anxious for a moment, but my sister smiled.
The wallpaper just behind the bed upstairs had wine thrown on it once. Oh, not by us, as you well know, but I remember that it left a stain. Is it still there?'
'Yes, Miss, it is. I meant to cover it, I never did. Won't put you out, will it?' A wrinkling of her brow again.
'It never did. Now, let me see', said Jane with deliberate slowness and glanced at me, then added to the woman, 'Four shillings you charged him for two hours. I think that's right?'
Two hours, Miss, always. Prompt you were. Well, nearly always. Once or twice it turned out to be almost three. Your gentleman always paid me for that, though. Give me an extra bob or two sometimes as well. You don't meet many like that, Miss. I've know 'em argue for an extra 'alf an hour sometimes. Got bleedin' cheek they 'ave- begging your pardon, sir', she said to me, then added to my horror, 'Two hours now you'll want, for old times sake, Miss?'
'Not today, but may we peep? Just to revive old memories. Here's half-a-crown for your trouble. We'll be no more than ten minutes, then won't bother you'.
'No bother, Miss. It's nice to see old customers return. Begging your pardon, I mean guests'.
'Of course you do', said Muriel and laughed. 'Come, dear', she then said to me in a rather biting tone and we turned about like mussels in the self-same shell.
I had no wish to ascend the narrow stairs, but Thank you, Miss, for the money', the woman said and closed her door.
'I have no wish to go up', I then hissed. Jane got again behind me, prodded me. I was distinctly worried they would make a row and let the woman hear.
'You will, though', Muriel said and bustled up, her bottom large before my face. On the small landing she stopped and pointed to a door. There is a basin in there where we used to wash and tidy up ourselves, Phillip. This is the bedroom here. The other one we never entered into.
It's the woman's. Come! Remember what I said about the stain?
She preceded me. I had no choice. Jane had the impudence to punch my back. The door opened and I saw a large, iron bed with brass rails at both ends, brass knobs on top, a mirrored stand and two old chairs were facing it against the further wall. The stain was there upon old, faded paper of quite hideous flowers that twined among a painted trellis of a sort. The floor was black and there were threadbare rugs.
'The brass knob on the end, it used to rattle. Listen', Muriel said and shook the rail a little bit. The knob tinkled till she took her hand away.
'I do not wish to know', I said. I had too many bitter thoughts. I pushed past Jane and ascended as quietly as I could. My sisters stayed for a moment I could hear them whispering. Jane giggled-so did Muriel. Then to my utter
