it.”
“Well, I don’t think it’s going to be long before there’s an ironclad test for paternity,” Delia said. “Paul Bachman of our forensics lab says the discovery of DNA and RNA are breakthroughs in all sorts of directions, and won’t prove dead ends.”
She looked at today’s Ivy with a twinge of regret, for she had made up her mind; yesterday’s subject had to be laid bare. “When I saw you yesterday, Ivy dear, you were very upset, and started to tell me about your father, Ivor. But when you told me that he was both heterosexual and homosexual, I cut you short—it wasn’t the right place or time for that story. Now here I am today reminding you of your unhappiness for one reason only—I’m convinced you need to share whatever it is with me . Why that is, I don’t know, but I want to hear the story. Tell me!”
To Delia’s surprise, Ivy’s mood didn’t flatten or plummet; she looked relieved, even eager.
“Thank you for bringing it up, Delia. I confess that if you hadn’t, I wouldn’t have found the courage to broach it. Ivor! My terrible father …. The thing I find hardest to fit into my picture of him was our mother. I’ve racked my brains trying to find a reason why he, of all people, should have married an oversized simpleton, but I can’t. He didn’t treat her like a wife, yet he made no secret of the fact that she was his wife.”
“Did you like her, Ivy? Did you call her Mommy?”
“Oh, I was so confused, Delia! Children have no parameters beyond their own experiences, and I never saw other children or even other adults than those who lived in Busquash Manor and Little Busquash. I was told this enormous, bumbling woman was my mother, but I called her Marm, which was what the servants called her. As to what I felt—she frightened me. Oh, not in a malignant way! But one couldn’t really have a conversation with her, especially on a child’s level. People think that’s odd, they seem to believe Marm’s own childishness would have made it easier to communicate with children, but it wasn’t so.”
“You remembered events that happened when Dr. Nell was alive, you said yesterday,” Delia prompted.
“Oh, I remember events before Antonio the Third died in 1920!” Ivy said, adding years to her age that Delia just couldn’t credit, looking at her. “Ivor was always in command, of Antonio, and then of Dr. Nell, and then, later, of Fenella, who was the second Nell. I told you that he went slightly crazy after Dr. Nell vanished, looking for a will that was never found, but once Fenella was installed, he came into his own again. Looking back, it’s obvious that he had an affair with Dr. Nell, and another with Fenella, but he also had affairs with beautiful young men.”
Fascinated but bewildered, Delia frowned. “Where did the beautiful young men fit into the scheme of things?” she asked.
“Ivor drew them to him like moths to a lamp,” Ivy said. “I suppose he went somewhere they congregated and picked one out, then brought him home to Little Busquash. From the time that Dr. Nell inherited, my mother lived in Busquash Manor as a kind of helper or companion—maybe Dr. Nell pitied her, I don’t know. Fenella let her stay, and that meant Little Busquash was always where Ivor conducted his affairs with the young men.”
“Where did you live, Ivy?”
“In Little Busquash. I hated Busquash Manor, I think because it was where Marm lived, and to this day I hate that place! The Ivy you met there last night was the Ivy of Dr. Nell and Marm and Fenella. The moment I enter, the memories come back like women at a sale.” Ivy smiled, her cornflower blue eyes tranquil. “Oh, except if I cook,” she added. “Cooking makes the Manor bearable.”
“Finish your story,” said Delia. “You haven’t, yet.”
“You won’t let go, will you? And yes, it isn’t finished,” Ivy said. “Marm became pregnant with Rha, who was due toward the end of 1929. About three months before
“Well, I don’t think it’s going to be long before there’s an ironclad test for paternity,” Delia said. “Paul Bachman of our forensics lab says the discovery of DNA and RNA are breakthroughs in all sorts of directions, and won’t prove dead ends.”
She looked at today’s Ivy with a twinge of regret, for she had made up her mind; yesterday’s subject had to be laid bare. “When I saw you yesterday, Ivy dear, you were very upset, and started to tell me about your father, Ivor. But when you told me that he was both heterosexual and homosexual, I cut you short—it wasn’t the right place or time for that story. Now here I am today reminding you of your unhappiness for one reason only—I’m convinced you need to share whatever it is with me . Why that is, I don’t know, but I want to hear the story. Tell me!”
To Delia’s surprise, Ivy’s mood didn’t flatten or plummet; she looked relieved, even eager.
“Thank you for bringing it up, Delia. I confess that if you hadn’t, I wouldn’t have found the courage to broach it. Ivor! My terrible father …. The thing I find hardest to fit into my picture of him was our mother. I’ve racked my brains trying to find a reason why he, of all people, should have married an oversized simpleton, but I can’t. He didn’t treat her like a wife, yet he made no secret of the fact that she was his wife.”
“Did you like her, Ivy? Did you call her Mommy?”
“Oh, I was so confused, Delia! Children have no parameters beyond their own experiences, and I never saw other children or even other adults than those who lived in Busquash Manor and Little Busquash. I was told this enormous, bumbling woman was my mother, but I called her Marm, which was what the servants called her. As to what I felt—she frightened me. Oh, not in a malignant way! But one couldn’t really have a conversation with her, especially on a child’s level. People think that’s odd, they seem to believe Marm’s own childishness would have made it easier to communicate with children, but it wasn’t so.”
“You remembered events that happened when Dr. Nell was alive, you said yesterday,” Delia prompted.
“Oh, I remember events before Antonio the Third died in 1920!” Ivy said, adding years to her age that Delia just couldn’t credit, looking at her. “Ivor was always in command, of Antonio, and then of Dr. Nell, and then, later, of Fenella, who was the second Nell. I told you that he went slightly crazy after Dr. Nell vanished, looking for a will that was never found, but once Fenella was installed, he came into his own again. Looking back, it’s obvious that he had an affair with Dr. Nell, and another with Fenella, but he also had affairs with beautiful young men.”
Fascinated but bewildered, Delia frowned. “Where did the beautiful young men fit into the scheme of things?” she asked.
“Ivor drew them to him like moths to a lamp,” Ivy said. “I suppose he went somewhere they congregated and picked one out, then brought him home to Little Busquash. From the time that Dr. Nell inherited, my mother lived in Busquash Manor as a kind of helper or companion—maybe Dr. Nell pitied her, I don’t know. Fenella let her stay, and that meant Little Busquash was always where Ivor conducted his affairs with the young men.”
“Where did you live, Ivy?”
“In Little Busquash. I hated Busquash Manor, I think because it was where Marm lived, and to this day I hate that place! The Ivy you met there last night was the Ivy of Dr. Nell and Marm and Fenella. The moment I enter, the memories come back like women at a sale.” Ivy smiled, her cornflower blue eyes tranquil. “Oh, except if I cook,” she added. “Cooking makes the Manor bearable.”
“Finish your story,” said Delia. “You haven’t, yet.”
“You won’t let go, will you? And yes, it isn’t finished,” Ivy said. “Marm became pregnant with Rha, who was due toward the end of 1929. About three months before
Similar Books
