Giant’s Bread · Book I · VIII · Chapter 1 8 4

IV

He went out into the garden and wandered on till he came to the old Abbey. He sat down with his chin in his hands.

“Mother could!” he said to himself. “If she liked, she could! She wants to go and live in a horrid red brick house with pipes on it like Uncle Sydney’s. She doesn’t like Abbots Puissants⁠—she never has. But she needn’t pretend it’s all for me. That’s not true. She says things that aren’t true. She always has.⁠ ⁠…”

He sat there smouldering with indignation.

“Vernon⁠—Vernon⁠—I’ve been looking for you everywhere. I couldn’t think what had become of you. What’s the matter?”

It was Joe. He told her. Here was someone who would understand and sympathize. But Joe startled him.

“Well, why not? Why shouldn’t Aunt Myra go and live in Birmingham if she wants to? I think you’re beastly. Why should she go on living here just so that you should be here in the holidays? It’s her money. Why shouldn’t she spend it on doing as she likes?”

“But Joe, Abbots Puissants⁠—”

“Well, what’s Abbots Puissants to Aunt Myra? In her heart of hearts she feels about it just like you feel about Uncle Sydney’s house in Birmingham. Why should she pinch and scrape to live here if she doesn’t want to? If your father had made her happier here, perhaps she would want to⁠—but he didn’t. Mother said so once. I don’t like Aunt Myra terribly⁠—I know she’s good and all that, but I don’t love her⁠—but I can be fair. It’s her money. You can’t get away from that!”

Vernon looked at her. They were antagonists. Each had their point of view and neither could see the other’s. They were both ablaze with indignation.

“I think women have a rotten time,” said Joe. “And I’m on Aunt Myra’s side.”

“All right,” said Vernon, “be on her side! I don’t care.”

Joe went away. He stayed there, sitting on the ruined wall of the old Abbey.

For the first time he questioned life⁠ ⁠… Things weren’t sure. How could you tell what was going to happen?

When he was twenty-one.

Yes, but you couldn’t be sure! You couldn’t be safe!

Look at the time when he was a baby. Nurse, God, Mr. Green! How absolutely fixed they had seemed. And now they had all gone.

At least, God was still there, he supposed. But it wasn’t the same God⁠—not the same God at all.

What would have happened to everything by the time he was twenty-one? What, strangest thought of all, would have happened to himself?

He felt terribly alone. Father, Aunt Nina⁠—both dead. Only Uncle Sydney and Mummy⁠—and they weren’t⁠—didn’t⁠—belong. He paused, confused. There was Joe! Joe understood. But Joe was queer about some things.

He clenched his hands. No, everything would be all right.

When he was twenty-one⁠ ⁠…