Car Fairfax ’s Diary:
September 23rd-I haven’t written anything down for days, because nothing special seems to have been happening- that is to say, nothing that has any bearing on this Z.10 business. I seem to have done nothing but run up against people I used to know, and they’ve all been very nice, and glad to see me and all that sort of thing. You don’t meet people when you’re crawling round looking for work in seedy clothes. It’s been topping meeting people again. I’d forgotten what jolly good sorts most of them were.
Yesterday I took Corinna out. She’s going down to Linwood some time this week. She talks a lot about Peter. I hate butting into other people’s affairs, but I thought she ought to know that he was married. We were having tea at a quite sort of place she picked, so I thought I’d make a plunge and get it over. I’m afraid I did it very badly, but I don’t see how you can break that sort of thing-besides I didn’t want her to think that I thought there was anything to break. She’d just been saying that Poppa thought the world of Peter, only once he’d said a thing he didn’t like to go back on it-“and of course I had said about a million times that I was just dying to go to Europe, so when he turned round and said I was to go, I couldn’t very well say much about not wanting to-could I? He said that Peter and I weren’t to write to each other, and I said ‘Poppa darling, you just pinch yourself and come awake! You’re about two hundred years out-this isn’t the eighteenth century.’ So he said we could write to each other as friends.”
I got as hot as I’ve ever been in my life, and I said,
“You’re a great friend of Peter’s.”
And she crinkled up the corners of her eyes and laughed like a child and said,
“I’m a great friend.”
“And so am I.” And there I stuck.
She stopped laughing-she’s as sharp as a needle-and asked quickly,
“What are you trying to say, Car?”
I shoved myself along by main force. The only thing I could do for her was to get it out quickly.
“We’re both his friends. Don’t you think he ought to give out his marriage? Secrets are stupid things-don’t you think so?” I went on because I was afraid to stop and I was afraid to look at her. Then when I had said “Don’t you think so?” I couldn’t think of anything else to say, so I stopped. Then I had to look.
She was sitting up quite straight, and rather puzzled.
“But we can’t because of Poppa,” she said. “Poppa won’t let us be engaged till I get back. He doesn’t say he will then, but I guess I’ll make him.” She laughed a little, but she kept looking at me.
It was perfectly horrible. I wanted her to tumble to it before she said anything like that. It was my fault-I ought to have been able to stop her. I was mad with Peter, and I could have kicked myself. I said,
“That’s a joke-because Peter must have told you that he was married.”
She sat there with her hands in her lap and her eyes wide open.
“It isn’t a joke,” she said in a little breathless voice.
I just forged ahead-I had to.
“Peter is married. He got married just before the smash. He was married before he met you.”
She never took her eyes off my face. I wished she would move, but she didn’t. Her voice didn’t shake at all, but there was so little of it that I don’t know how I heard what she was saying. I did her her say,
“Go on.”
“Peter married Fay Everitt just before the smash.”
I don’t think she had been breathing. She began now to take a long breath. When she had filled her lungs, she gave a shiver and drew the back of her hand across her eyes. It was just like seeing some one wake up.
“Oh, how you frightened me!” she said.
“My dear-” I began, but she leaned over the table and took hold of my wrist.
“Don’t be silly, Car-it’s not true.”
“Corinna-”
“Don’t be silly! Of course it’s not true.”
“My dear-”
“Peter would have told me,” she said, nodding earnestly and pinching my wrist.
I thought she was the pluckiest kid-but I won’t write down what I thought about Peter.
I began to say “I’m afraid-” but she stopped me.
“I’m not. I’m not the least bit afraid-there’s nothing to be afraid about. Let’s get this right out into the light and have a look at it. Who told you all this?”
I looked back at her and tried to remember. She held my wrist tight.
“You weren’t at the wedding, were you?” she said.
I never saw anything so confident as her eyes.
“No, I wasn’t.”
“You couldn’t have been. Nobody was. There wasn’t any wedding for you to be at. If fifty bishops all stood in a row and said they’d married Peter in Westminster Abbey, I shouldn’t believe them!”
She let go of me and sat bolt upright again. She had the air of sitting in judgment. If I’d had anything on my conscience, I should have wanted to clear out. Cocksure wasn’t the word for it.
“Now!” she said. “Did Peter tell you he was married?”
I was trying to think. I remember Peter and Fay going about together, and I remembered Peter saying “Look after Fay for me,” when she and I went to see him off. No, I didn’t-I remembered-
Corinna didn’t give me time.
“Did he? Did he tell you himself? Or did she tell you?”
I remembered.
What I remembered was Fay telling me what Peter had said. It came back in the very tones of her voice-“Peter says you’re to look after me for him. You will-won’t you?” And then, “We’re married. Didn’t he tell you? We’ve been married a month, but it’s a secret.” And then she cried and said, “Don’t tell him I told you-he’ll be so angry-but I can’t bear it all alone. You mustn’t tell him, but you can say nice things about me when you write, to cheer him up.”
“Did Peter tell you he was married?” said Corinna.
“No,” I said.
“Who told you?”
“Fay did.”
“And asked you not to tell Peter she’d told you.”
“How do you know?”
“That’s what I should have done if I’d been telling a lot of lies and didn’t want to be found out.”
I was appalled. It didn’t seem possible-but then it didn’t seem possible that Peter-
“Are you going on being afraid?” said Corinna in a little taunting voice.
I didn’t say anything. I was remembering a heap of little things.
“Well?” said Corinna.
“We’ll have to make sure,” I said.
She gave a judicial nod.
“Right away. I’m going to cable Peter, and I’m going to see Fay Everitt just as fast as I can get to her. And I’m going to ask her where she was married, and if she puts up a bluff and says where, then we’re going along to inspect that register, and if it’s got Peter’s name on it-” She paused.
“Well?” I said.
The color rose brightly in her cheeks.
“Well, then it’ll be just the meanest kind of nightmare, and you can pinch me till I wake up, Car Fairfax.”