FICTION READING - ELIZABETH JANE HOWARD - this is an extract from Elizabeth Jane Howard's first novel The Beautiful Visit, set at the time of the First World War. It describes a daughter choosing and purchasing a length of silk as a present for her mother. She pays for it with money she has saved from her first job.
The silk will be made up into a dress. 
 

THE BEAUTIFUL VISIT. ELIZABETH JANE HOWARD. 1950.

There was at last enough money to buy the material for my mother's dress. My sister, who knew of the plan, accompanied me to the shop for the purpose of helping to choose. I was faced with bales of material and choice seemed unbearable. There were three possible reds and I was at last able to decide only when on presenting them to my sister she rejected them all on the ground that red was an unsuitable colour.


'Grey,' she said. 'Or a good dark blue would be far more becoming.'


Instantly I was determined on red. I wanted to make my mother rich and gay and full of colour.


'The blue wears better,' said the shopman, sticking his head out and staring at me. My sister agreed that one did not get tired of dark blue as one did of red.


'You don't get tired of it because you never really like it,' I said. 'You can't have any feelings about dark blue. I'll have this one.' And I selected the richest red.


'She never wears red,' moaned my sister wringing her hands over the stuff.


'How many yards?' asked the assistant pausing and blinking his eyes.


'Six,' said my sister.


'I'll take seven,' I said grandly.


'Can you afford it? whispered my sister in a frenzy.


'Of course. I've got enough for the trimming as well.'


I showed her a bulging purse, from which a half-crown fell out.


'Dear oh dear,' said the assistant, darting after it. I could not take my eyes off the silk.


'Could we have a snip to match the trimmings? I heard my sister ask. She was being very kind. I had completely disagreed with her and she was still being kind. I squeezed her arm.


'What's all that for? she asked.


'I'm excited. Let's choose the trimming.'


'Why not let Mother do that herself?'


'It's my present. I shall choose all of it.'


'Well you have to pay first.'


'You do it,' I said and handed her the purse. I could never count change and I felt slightly sick at the amount of money I was spending.


We chose a pale tea-coloured lace, ruffled at the edges with a coffee ribbon to draw it up. When it was over I had five shillings left.


'When shall you give it to her?'


'After supper. In the evening.'


'Can you wait till then?'


'Of course. You could,' I retorted.


'We're not the same about waiting,' she replied quietly, and for a second I wondered what she meant.


The day went slowly and I tortured myself with the fear that my sister had been right, that my mother would not like red, or would not want a frock. After tea my mother began discussing my clothes. My father was trying to read the paper, a thing he never did well, as his arms were short, and the paper crumpled and folded the wrong way when he tried to turn the pages. He grunted and battled miserably and finally left us with some withering remark about the way women took no interest in outside events but thought only of clothes.


'You should have money enough to buy a couple of nice cotton dresses.' I could see that she was anxious at having shown no interest in the paper and embarrassed about the money I earned. She could not get used to the idea. I mumbled something about the frocks I possessed doing quite well, and she looked up in relief. 'Ah, you're saving your money like a good careful girl, she said.


After supper I gave it to her. 'What is it?' she asked nervously, smiling into my eyes.


'It's for you, a present.'


She gave a little gasp and bent over the string: then looked up uncertainly: 'From you?'


I nodded.


'You shouldn't,' she murmured enraptured.


I had never known how much presents meant to her and my heart beat wildly with a painful excitement. Her fingers trembled over the string until I could no longer bear it. 'I'll help.' We laughed and the string was undone. I sat back on my heels and watched her unfold the brown and white paper until she could see the red silk. She stared at it a moment unbelieving, touched it with her fingers, gave it a little pat, then suddenly lunged  forward and shook it out in beautiful rich folds.


'Red,' she cried. 'Red,' and rubbed it softly against her face.


'It's silk,' I said. I was anxious that she should miss none of its beauty.


She became quickly aware of me again and said, 'Is this from you? All this red silk?'


'Seven yards,' I said. 'For a dress. You do like it don't you?'


She turned her head away from the stuff. 'Darling, it's a wonderful present. You shouldn't have done it. You must have spent so much. All your money. It's magnificent.'


'These are the trimmings.' I gave her the second parcel. I wished now that I had put them together; I found it hard to watch her, she made me feel her pleasure almost too sharply. But she undid the trimmings quite quietly, and laid them on the stuff.


'Do you think they will look all right?' I said falsely. I was sure they were perfect.


'I haven't worn red for years,' she said, with a hint of doubt.


'Would you have preferred dark blue?'


'No. I - like this very much better. Thank you, darling. It is very sweet of you.' She put her arms round me and kissed me, once, and then again, as though it wasn't enough.


'Will you have it made up soon?'


'I'll have it done in time for Daddy's concert.' She only said Daddy when she was happy and unselfconscious. The present was a success.


'She likes red,' I told my sister triumphantly. (Howard, 1976, pp.128-131)

REFERENCE


Howard, E.J. (1976) The beautiful visit. London: Penguin.