"Pride," observed Mary, who piqued herself upon the solidity of her reflections, "is a very common failing I believe."
Mary Hadley, a thirty three year old brunette was sitting on the sofa in her aunt's front parlour at the time, waiting for her husband to return from taking their oldest daughter, Angela to boarding school.
"Was Angela too prideful to remain in day school, then?" Jane responded, looking up at her niece through steely grey pupils.
"No, you know that John and I need some time alone."
"Does Angela know?" Jane queried, scrutinising Mary carefully, taking in the dark midi length skirt, the prim blouse, the conservative black stockings and those terribly boring, sensible shoes.
"John will explain it all to her." Mary said thinking how John was so much better than Mary at explaining things. It was a no-brainer, him taking Angela to the school. He would explain it all in the car.
Mary was sure that John could make boarding school sound like heaven to their eleven year old daughter. She hoped he would be discrete. In actual fact Mary's nerves could not take any more of the girl's clumsy ways and she was more than happy to follow the family tradition of boarding schools.
John had been far more reluctant, but Mary would brook no argument. Angela was going and that was all there was to it. Mary wanted another child and Angela was simply in the way. She was ready and John had just had the most enormous pay rise, so that they could afford both the boarding school fees and re-equipping the nursery.
It had been very good of Jane to put them all up while the house was redone, particularly so, since Jane lived so much closer to the school than Mary. The visit had provided a wonderful cover, as Angela loved her Auntie Jane dearly and always really enjoyed any stay at Primrose Cottage.
And after another two weeks of hot sex with John, Mary was bound to be back to that wonderful state of motherhood she had felt when carrying Angela.
"Will he really?" Aunt Jane replied, putting down her knitting and gazing across at the young mother quite sharply. "I see. Now do tell me more about pride."
"By all I have ever read, I am convinced that pride is very common indeed and that human nature is particularly prone to it, and that there are very few of us who do not cherish a feeling of complacency on the score of some quality or other."
"And what comes after pride?" Jane queried, already feeling slightly irritated by her garrulous niece, but maintaining a neutral tone.
"A fall, I suppose."
"Are you proud of your discourse?"
"I am pleased to have set down my opinion."
"Do you have lots of other qualities to entertain me and my little circle with?" Aunt Jane added dangerously.
"I have lots of other qualities," Mary beamed innocently. "It comes with the prospect of motherhood."
Mary looked towards the window. She could see that the first Dog Roses were flowering in the hedge, although the petals were still furled and pink. She thought about how she used to play in the back garden here as a child. In early June the Spotted Orchids would be starting to appear on the boggy ground before you reached the open fields that backed onto the cottage garden. And, she recalled, over the back hedge in the short turf, a white foam of Heath Bedstraw would be joining the lilac spikes of Heath Speedwell.
And, yes, down by the stream, where livestock would have churned a patch of red clay to exactly the right consistency by now, half a dozen swallows would be circling, landing, taking up beakfuls of clay to build their nests, getting ready for motherhood.
"You are quite a vain creature, aren't you?"
Jane's rather abrupt and sardonic comment brought Mary out of her reverie.
"No I am proud of who I am. Vanity and pride are very different things, though the words are often used synonymously."
"Indeed?"
"Yes. A person may be proud without being vain."
"Are you proud without being vain?"
"I try to be. Pride relates more to our opinion of ourselves, vanity to what we would have others think of us."
"And what should I think of you?"
"I would like to think you were proud of your niece as she considers adding to her family."
"So those of us not blessed with your rutting abilities are devoid of this sense of pride?"
"I didn't say that, Jane."
"No. I said it. And do please remember who you are talking to."
"Why do you insist on this ridiculous notion of being my "Aunt Jane"? You are only three years older than me."
"Am I not your aunt?"
"You are."
"Is my name not Jane?"
"It is."
"Then logic dictates that I am your Aunt Jane, does it not?"
"I suppose it does."
"Then kindly employ a little common sense and do try to please your hostess," Jane snapped. "It is good manners after all; and I believe you pride yourself in those."
"I do."
"Well then?"
There was a pause while Mary considered whether to make this concession. Jane stared at her niece fixedly as the younger woman put her tea cup down and clasped her hands in her lap. Jane could see that Mary was stealing herself to make this little surrender and smiled encouragingly.
"Sorry... Aunt Jane."
"That's much better, Molly. Now where were we?"
"Molly -- what do you mean 'Molly'?"
"That was always my pet name for you; don't you remember?"
"I remember it only too well," Mary shuddered, recalling the sharp sound of Jane's voice summoning her to the study that Mary's father had vacated for the student some fifteen years before: the study that had become Jane's little playground and Mary's version of teenage hell, after Jane caught her necking and more with John late one night.
"Well, you will always be Molly to me."
"I would prefer it if you used my proper name."
"Molly is a very proper name. Your step father loved it. What did Robert used to call you -- Millie- Molly-Mandy?"
Mary shuddered again.
"I always thought your step father to be a perfect gentleman -- so discrete in taking his pleasures. And he did leave me this lovely cottage. I never understood how you could dislike Robert so."
"He was a wicked, wicked man," Mary practically exploded in her anger. "I was so glad when John took me away and married me abroad away from the whole pack of you."
"You broke your mother's heart."
"I didn't mean to."
"And yet, you succeeded admirably."
Mary dabbed at her eyes, feeling tearful. She hated herself for what she had done and yet she had had to get away. It wasn't her fault.
"I was very sorry that you were cut out of the will as a result of your acting so in haste, but naughty girls who run away have to take the consequences."
"I am pleased you got the cottage, Aunt Jane. John has enough for us."
"Your grimace when you say that betrays your lie."
"I didn't mean to cause any offense, Aunt Jane."
