Mary Olivier: A Life | Page 9

pleased to think you were not really good
at Aunt Bella's, where Mrs. Fisher dressed and undressed you and you
were allowed to talk to Pidgeon.
Roddy and Dank said you ought to hate Uncle Edward and Pidgeon and
Mrs. Fisher, and not to like Aunt Bella very much, even if she was
Mamma's sister. Mamma didn't really like Uncle Edward; she only
pretended because of Aunt Bella.
Uncle Edward had an ugly nose and a yellow face widened by his black
whiskers; his mouth stretched from one whisker to the other, and his
black hair curled in large tufts above his ears. But he had no beard; you
could see the whole of his mouth at once; and when Aunt Bella came
into the room his little blue eyes looked up off the side of his nose and
he smiled at her between his tufts of hair. It was dreadful to think that
Mark and Dank and Roddy didn't like him. It might hurt him so much
that he would never be happy again.
About Pidgeon she was not quite sure. Pidgeon was very ugly. He had
long stiff legs, and a long stiff face finished off with a fringe of red
whiskers that went on under his chin. Still, it was not nice to think of
Pidgeon being unhappy either. But Mrs. Fisher was large and rather
like Aunt Bella, only softer and more bulging. Her round face had a
high red polish on it always, and when she saw you coming her eyes
twinkled, and her red forehead and her big cheeks and her mouth
smiled all together a fat, simmering smile. When you got to the black
and white marble tiles you saw her waiting for you at the foot of the
stairs.
She wanted to ask Mrs. Fisher if it was true that Aunt Bella would be ill
if she were naughty; but a squeezing and dragging came under her
waist whenever she thought about it, and that made her shy and
ashamed. It went when they left her to play by herself on the lawn in
front of the house.
Aunt Bella's house was enormous. Two long rows of windows stared
out at you, their dark green storm shutters folded back on the yellow
brick walls. A third row of little squeezed-up windows and little

squeezed-up shutters blinked in the narrow space under the roof. All
summer a sweet smell came from that side of the house where
cream-coloured roses hung on the yellow walls between the green
shutters. There was a cedar tree on the lawn and a sun-dial and a stone
fountain. Goldfish swam in the clear greenish water. The flowers in the
round beds were stiff and shining, as if they had been cut out of tin and
freshly painted. When you thought of Aunt Bella's garden you saw
calceolarias, brown velvet purses with yellow spots.
She could always get away from Aunt Bella by going down the dark
walk between the yew hedge and the window of Mrs. Fisher's room,
and through the stable-yard into the plantation. The cocks and hens had
their black timber house there in the clearing, and Ponto, the
Newfoundland, lived all by himself in his kennel under the little ragged
fir trees.
When Ponto saw her coming he danced on his hind legs and strained at
his chain and called to her with his loud, barking howl. He played with
her, crawling on his stomach, crouching, raising first one big paw and
then the other. She put out her foot, and he caught it and held it
between his big paws, and looked at it with his head on one side,
smiling. She squealed with delight, and Ponto barked again.
The stable bell would ring while they played in the plantation, and
Uncle Edward or Pidgeon or Mrs. Fisher would come out and find her
and take her back into the house. Ponto lifted up his head and howled
after her as she went.
At lunch Mary sat quivering between Mamma and Aunt Bella. The
squeezing and dragging under her waist had begun again. There was a
pattern of green ivy round the dinner plates and a pattern of goats round
the silver napkin rings. She tried to fix her mind on the ivy and the
goats instead of looking at Aunt Bella to see whether she were going to
be ill. She would be if you left mud in the hall on the black and white
marble tiles. Or if you took Ponto off the chain and let him get into the
house. Or if you spilled the gravy.
Aunt Bella's face was much pinker and richer and more important than

Mamma's face. She thought she wouldn't have minded quite so much if
Aunt Bella had