Picturegoer (Jul-Dec 1937)

August 7. 1937 The Story of her parents were out and she waited the arrival of her escort. She even listened while Lucy spoke hopefully of leaving them when Bark got a job. "Grandmamma, why don't you face facts?" Rhoda said. "You know grandfather can't get a job. He's much too old." "About the only fun in life at seventy is pretending there aren't any facts to face," Lucy said, "so would you mind if 1 went on pretending, Rhoda?" She was surprised as the girl stooped to kiss her. "I'm sorry. Granny ... I didn't mean ..." she faltered. But one moment's mutual understanding couldn't bring Lucy in tune with her modern grandchild. Events came to a head one night when Rhoda stayed out beyond even her mother's ideas of the time for coming in. Anita, with every nerve at tension, waited for the telephone to ring. When it came, Lucy took the call. She couldn't hear fully from the voice at the other end what Rhoda had done, but evidently she had been out with a young man at a night club which had been raided. A court case might be involved. Anita turned on Lucy for ringing off without consulting her, and Lucy felt constrained to speak about the episode at the cinema. Anita, however, couldn't see that Lucy was trying to show her that Rhoda wasn't honest, and ought to be blamed. Anita only saw that Lucy, having brought up five children of her own, wouldn't allow her daughter-in-law to bring up one. Anita blamed Lucy for butting in'. Anita demanded to know by what right Lucy hadn't told her of Rhoda' s action before. Lucy said something about Anita's being upset and no hard feelings on either side, but deep down in her heart, the seed of a decision was being sown. She, Lucy, who had never consciously decided anything of more importance than what to have for dinner, was already making a decision that involved the rest of her life and all of its happiness. She must leave George and Anita. But where was she to go ? Before the question could be answered she heard that Bark was ill. " Only a cold," Cora wrote. All the same, he had run a temperature and had the doctor. All Lucy knew was her Bark was ill and away from her, and that even if his temperature were down one minute, it might conceivably go up the next. Meanwhile Lucy knew, too, that George had heard from Nellie, who pleaded illness and the necessity of going abroad for a rest and change. Of course, Harvey never intended to take in the old people. Lucy spent a week digesting this disappointment, and realising also that Anita and George behind her back were making plans. Coming upon Rhoda tap-dancing to the wireless one day, Lucy asked, "Any mail come in, Rhoda?" "On there. Granny." She took the envelopes from the bench and looked at them one by one. One, addressed to George Cooper, Esq., Rodgers Apartments, New York, she turned in her wrinkled hands and studied for some time. Rhoda had gone when George came in shortly before THE FILM— continued dinner. Now was Lucy's time to speak while Anita was dressing. It seemed that George also had something to say, for he coughed and looked nervous when she said, " I spoke to your father on the telephone to-day, George." "Yes. He's perfectly well, but you know Cora's doctor says he oughtn't to winter here. We arranged he should go to Addie's in California for a while, so as to keep strong. I wish Addie could have you both, but she can't." ' ' As long as she takes father, that's enough. Maybe I'll be able to see him to say ' Good-bye.' " " Of course. Mother, there's something else I've got to tell you." She had expected this, but was determined to speak first. "There's something I must tell you," she said. Deliberately ignoring George's agitated, "Let me do it while I can," she went on : "Well, it's only this. I don't want to hurt your feelings, but I haven't been too happy here. It's lonely with everyone out all day. Would you mind terribly if I decided to go to the Idylwild Home? I'd — I'd meet women of my own age there." She had been right. Even if she hadn't seen that letter addressed to George with "Idylwild Home for Aged Women" printed in the top right-hand corner, his face, his whole manner showed plainly that he and Anita had been planning her departure. Calmly she continued, forcing George to listen. "Once I thought that your father and I might get together again — but I see it will never turn out that way, so I want to go to the Home. . . . I'm so glad that's over. I hated to tell you as much as you would have hated to tell me anything like that. And one more thing — let me finish, dear. I'd like to stay here till your father's on his way to California. He's funny about things — oldfashioned. To him a Home would seem terrible. He must never know that I'm going. This is one thing that has to be bandied my way. Just let him go on thinking that I'm living with you and Anita. You can always forward my letters. " She left the rocking chair, the gentle creak of which had unconsciously formed a background for her speech, and drew near George, who looked, for all his forty-five years, much like a schoolboy aware of wrong-doing. " It'll be the first secret I've ever had from your father, dear — it'll seem funny." She was turning away, but yielding to impulse reached up and touched George's cheek. "Another little secret just between us," she said. " You were always my favourite child." She felt his arm round her, before, without a word, he left the room. Not only youth has its hour, its day when the sunshine and blue sky of the outer world is matched by the sunshine within. To Lucy and Bark, came such a day when they met in New York before Bark's departure for California. There was to be a family dinner at George's before Bark caught his train. Nellie was coming over to cook one of her famous pot-roasts. Meanwhile Lucy and Bark had five whole hours to spend together. Leisurely they walked from the Park into one of the busier streets and stopped to look for some time at a car in one of the showrooms. Before they knew where they were a salesman — though they hardly recognised him as such, so friendly was his manner — was offering them a drive. "My car's here . . . exactly like the one you were looking at . . . If you have a little time, I'd like to show you her performance," he said ingratiatingly. "We couldn't, thank you all the same. We're having dinner with our children," Lucy said. " I'll take you there," he countered. "Or a ride up the Drive, if you prefer." "Why shouldn't we?" Bark said firmly. "Come, now, that's the spirit," replied the salesman. With a guilty feeling, Lucy took her seat in the back beside Bark, leaving the salesman to drive in front. The car started. Lucy's sense of guilt merged into satisfaction at the comfort of the upholstery, the joy of gliding in and out past trams and 'buses, the peace of easy movement among noise and bustle. "Pretty nice, isn't it, Bark?" she said. "Sure you're warm enough ?" " Ugh-ugh. Remember we took a ride up the Hudson when we came to New York on our honeymoon? Remember the Vogard Hotel where we stayed? I wonder if its still standing." The salesman turned his head. " Yeah, the Vogard 's on Lower Fifth Avenue." PICTUREGOER Weekly " What about having a cup of tea there, Lucy? It'd do you good." Thinking of the children, Lucy protested, but Bark persisted. The salesman obligingly drove them to a magnificent looking building which was quite unlike the homely hotel Lucy had known fifty years ago. They got out of the car and the salesman made it quite plain that he had hoped they might buy it. He was charming, however, when they explained their inability to do more than appreciate the compliment, said something about being proud to have shown off the car, and got into it to drive away. "/^ood-bye . . . we didn't touch vJ anything, anyway," Bark said, before Lucy felt her arm taken and her feet treading the thickest carpet she had ever seen. With its chandeliers, its brocade curtains and gilded balconies and furniture, the new Vogard seemed terribly awe-inspiring. The fashionable young receptionist at the desk was, however, very approachable and showed them, when she heard about Lucy and Bark's honeymoon, a picture of the old-time lobby. At the bar, which without quite realising it they made their first place of call, a man in a white coat came up and introduced himself as Mr. Norton, the Vogard's new manager. "I assure you, Mr. and Mrs. Cooper," he said, " that we're just as glad to see you as the old management could have been. "Now what will you have to drink, Mrs. Cooper?" " You must have something. Ladies are drinking here," Bark said decidedly. At the bar-tender's suggestion they had two "Oldfashioned" cocktails. Lucy sipped hers feeling, in spite of strangeness, that the world was very good, till she remembered the children. "I'm going to telephone George and Anita. We're not going to have dinner with them. How long have we waited meals for them and in the end they've never come ?" Bark argued. "We're going to have dinner here." So he telephoned and even Lucy didn't dare to talk of the expense of dining out, but here Mr. Norton stepped in, stopping to talk to them like old friends at their table for two, before signing the biU. But now the parting could not longer be put off. The station must be reached. Standing on the platform, hearing the porters' cries of "All aboard," Lucy saw Bark into a comfortable seat. He stood up and looked at her. The scarf she had knitted was round his neck. His hair and moustache were white, but there was courage and hope still in the child-like blue eyes. "In case anything should happen ... in case I don't see you again," he said, shakily, "it's been very nice knowing you, Miss Beckenridge." " Oh, Bark, that's the nicest speech you've ever made ! And in case I don't see you — well, for a little while, I just want to tell you it's been lovely — every bit of it — the whole fifty years. I'd sooner be your wife than anyone else on earth." The engine shrilled. The train moved. Standing erect. Lucy looked at the loved figure till she could see it no more, then turned away resolute, one whom love had taught too late the lesson of old age, the need of the closing day to Make Way for To-morrow. Bark spent most of his time with Abe Rubens, keeper of the local store. It was Abe who read Lucy's letters to the old man. 23