coming round the corner very suddenly, and then you saw me and stopped and stared at me. I’ll never forget that.”
“Nor will I,” I said.
“So that’s where it’s going to be. And your friend Santonix will build it.”
“I hope he’s still alive,” I said with an uneasy pang. “He was a sick man.”
“Oh yes,” said Ellie, “he’s alive. I went to see him.”
“You went to see him?”
“Yes. When I was in the South of France. He was in a sanitorium there.”
“Every minute, Ellie, you seem to be more and more amazing. The things you do and manage.”
“He’s rather a wonderful person I think,” said Ellie, “but rather frightening.”
“Did he frighten you?”
“Yes, he frightened me very much for some reason.”
“Did you talk to him about us?”
“Yes. Oh yes, I told him all about us and about Gipsy’s Acre and about the house. He told me then that we’d have to take a chance with him. He’s a very ill man. He said he thought he still had the life left in him to go and see the site, to draw the plans, to visualize it and get it all sketched out. He said he wouldn’t mind really if he died before the house was finished, but I told him,” added Ellie, “that he mustn’t die before the house was finished because I wanted him to see us live in it.”
“What did he say to that?”
“He asked me if I knew what I was doing marrying you, and I said of course I did.”
“And then?”
“He said he wondered if you knew what you were doing.”
“I know all right,” I said.
“He said ‘You will always know where you’re going, Miss Guteman.’ He said ‘You’ll be going always where you want to go and because it’s your chosen way.’
“‘But Mike,’ he said, ‘might take the wrong road. He hasn’t grown up enough yet to know where he’s going.’
“I said,” said Ellie, “‘He’ll be quite safe with me.’”
She had superb self-confidence. I was angry though at what Santonix had said. He was like my mother. She always seemed to know more about me than I knew myself.
“I know where I’m going,” I said. “I’m going the way I want to go and we’re going it together.”
“They’ve started pulling down the ruins of The Towers already,” said Ellie.
She began to talk practically.
“It’s to be a rush job as soon as the plans are finished. We must hurry. Santonix said so. Shall we be married next Tuesday?” said Ellie. “It’s a nice day of the week.”
“With nobody else there,” I said.
“Except Greta,” said Ellie.
“To hell with Greta,” I said, “she’s not coming to our wedding. You and I and nobody else. We can pull the necessary witnesses out of the street.”
I really think, looking back, that that was the happiest day of my life….
Nine
S o that was that, and Ellie and I got married. It sounds abrupt just putting it like that, but you see it was really just the way things happened. We decided to be married and we got married.
It was part of the whole thing—not just an end to a romantic novel or a fairy story. “And so they got married and lived happily ever afterwards.” You can’t, after all, make a big drama out of living happily ever afterwards. We were married and we were both happy and it was really quite a time before anyone got on to us and began to make the usual difficulties and commotions and we’d made up our minds to those.
The whole thing was really extraordinarily simple. In her desire for freedom Ellie had covered her tracks very cleverly up to now. The useful Greta had taken all the necessary steps, and was always on guard behind her. And I had realized fairly soon on that there was nobody really whose business it was to care terribly about Ellie and what she was doing. She had a stepmother who was engrossed in her own social life and love affairs. If Ellie didn’t wish to accompany her to any particular spot on the globe there was no need for Ellie to do so. She’d had all the proper
“Nor will I,” I said.
“So that’s where it’s going to be. And your friend Santonix will build it.”
“I hope he’s still alive,” I said with an uneasy pang. “He was a sick man.”
“Oh yes,” said Ellie, “he’s alive. I went to see him.”
“You went to see him?”
“Yes. When I was in the South of France. He was in a sanitorium there.”
“Every minute, Ellie, you seem to be more and more amazing. The things you do and manage.”
“He’s rather a wonderful person I think,” said Ellie, “but rather frightening.”
“Did he frighten you?”
“Yes, he frightened me very much for some reason.”
“Did you talk to him about us?”
“Yes. Oh yes, I told him all about us and about Gipsy’s Acre and about the house. He told me then that we’d have to take a chance with him. He’s a very ill man. He said he thought he still had the life left in him to go and see the site, to draw the plans, to visualize it and get it all sketched out. He said he wouldn’t mind really if he died before the house was finished, but I told him,” added Ellie, “that he mustn’t die before the house was finished because I wanted him to see us live in it.”
“What did he say to that?”
“He asked me if I knew what I was doing marrying you, and I said of course I did.”
“And then?”
“He said he wondered if you knew what you were doing.”
“I know all right,” I said.
“He said ‘You will always know where you’re going, Miss Guteman.’ He said ‘You’ll be going always where you want to go and because it’s your chosen way.’
“‘But Mike,’ he said, ‘might take the wrong road. He hasn’t grown up enough yet to know where he’s going.’
“I said,” said Ellie, “‘He’ll be quite safe with me.’”
She had superb self-confidence. I was angry though at what Santonix had said. He was like my mother. She always seemed to know more about me than I knew myself.
“I know where I’m going,” I said. “I’m going the way I want to go and we’re going it together.”
“They’ve started pulling down the ruins of The Towers already,” said Ellie.
She began to talk practically.
“It’s to be a rush job as soon as the plans are finished. We must hurry. Santonix said so. Shall we be married next Tuesday?” said Ellie. “It’s a nice day of the week.”
“With nobody else there,” I said.
“Except Greta,” said Ellie.
“To hell with Greta,” I said, “she’s not coming to our wedding. You and I and nobody else. We can pull the necessary witnesses out of the street.”
I really think, looking back, that that was the happiest day of my life….
Nine
S o that was that, and Ellie and I got married. It sounds abrupt just putting it like that, but you see it was really just the way things happened. We decided to be married and we got married.
It was part of the whole thing—not just an end to a romantic novel or a fairy story. “And so they got married and lived happily ever afterwards.” You can’t, after all, make a big drama out of living happily ever afterwards. We were married and we were both happy and it was really quite a time before anyone got on to us and began to make the usual difficulties and commotions and we’d made up our minds to those.
The whole thing was really extraordinarily simple. In her desire for freedom Ellie had covered her tracks very cleverly up to now. The useful Greta had taken all the necessary steps, and was always on guard behind her. And I had realized fairly soon on that there was nobody really whose business it was to care terribly about Ellie and what she was doing. She had a stepmother who was engrossed in her own social life and love affairs. If Ellie didn’t wish to accompany her to any particular spot on the globe there was no need for Ellie to do so. She’d had all the proper
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