What can you do if you are thirty and, suddenly, turning the corner of

Introduction


What can you do if you are thirty and, suddenly, turning the corner of your own street, you feel perfectly happy, as if you had swallowed a piece of the late autumn sun?
Berthas feelings show her love of the moment and her satisfaction with her home, her family and her interesting circle of friends. Yet pain is not far away. Before the day is over, Bertha's safe, happy world has been destroyed and she faces an uglier, crueller reality.
In the other stories in this book, we are shown other uncomfortable comparisons: the way a music teacher behaves towards his pupils and towards his own family; the friendliness which richer children show towards each other and the cruelty with which they treat poor ones; the way in which one neighbouring family gives an expensive party and the other is affected by a sudden death.
Katherine Mansfield is now recognized as one of the greatest short story writers in the English language but she had a difficult life and was often unhappy. She was born in Wellington, New Zealand, in 1888 but went to London when she was fourteen and lived the rest of her life in Europe. She married John Middleton Murry, an important journalist and critic. Through him she met other famous writers, such as D. H. Lawrence and Virginia Woolf. Her best-known collections of short stories are Bliss and Other Stories (1920) and The Garden Party and Other Stones (1922). However, she had serious health problems. She died of tuberculosis in France in 1923, at the early age of thirty-five.


Bliss

Although Bertha Young was thirty, she still sometimes wanted to run instead of walk. She wanted to dance in the street. She wanted to throw something up in the air and catch it again, or to stand still and laugh at - nothing — at nothing, simply.

What can you do if you are thirty and, suddenly, turning the corner of your own street, you feel perfectly happy, as if you had swallowed a piece of the late afternoon sun?
She ran up the steps of her house and felt in her bag for her key, but she had forgotten it, as usual. The servant opened the door.
'Thank you, Mary,' she said as she went in. 'Is Nurse back?'
'Yes, Ma'am.'
'And has the fruit come?'
'Yes, Ma'am. Everything's come.'
'Bring the fruit into the dining-room, will you? I'll arrange it before I go upstairs.'
It was quite dark and cold in the dining-room. But Bertha still threw off her coat, and the cold air fell on her arms.
But she still had that feeling of perfect happiness, as if she had swallowed a piece of sunshine. She did not want to breathe. The feeling might get stronger; but still she breathed, deeply, deeply. She did not want to look in the cold mirror, but still she did look, and saw a woman with smiling lips and big, dark eyes. She looked as if she was waiting for somebody, as if she was waiting for something to happen. Something must happen.
Mary brought the fruit and with it a glass bowl and a lovely blue dish.
'Shall I turn on the light, Ma'am?'
'No, thank you. I can see quite well.'
There were small oranges and pink apples. There were some smooth yellow pears and some silvery white grapes, and a big bunch of purple grapes. She had bought the purple ones because they matched the colour of the dining-room carpet. Yes, that was silly, but that was why she had bought them. She had thought in the shop: 'I must have some purple ones because of the carpet.'
When she had finished arranging the bright fruit, she stood away from the table to look at them. The glass dish and the blue bowl seemed to hang in the air above the dark table. This was so beautiful that she started to laugh.
'No. No. I mustn't.' And she ran upstairs to her child's room.

Nurse sat at a low table giving little B her supper after her bath. The baby looked up when she saw her mother and began to jump.

'Now, my love, eat it up like a good girl,' said Nurse.
Bertha knew that Nurse did not like her to come in at the wrong time.
'Has she been good, Nurse?'
'She's been a little sweet all afternoon,' whispered Nurse. 'We went to the park and a big dog came along. She pulled its ear. Oh, you should have seen her.'
Bertha wanted to say that it was dangerous to pull a strange dog's ear, but she was rather afraid of Nurse. She stood watching them, her hands by her side, like the poor little girl in front of the rich little girl.
The baby looked up at her again, and then smiled so charmingly that Bertha cried: 'Oh, Nurse, please let me finish giving her supper while you put the bath things away.'
'Well, Ma'am, we oughtn't to change her over while she's eating,' said Nurse.
How silly it was. Why have a baby if it always has to be in another woman's arms? ,'Oh I must!' she said.
Nurse was not pleased, but she gave her the baby.
'Now don't excite her after supper.'
Nurse went out of the room with the bath towels.
'Now I've got you to myself, my little jewel,' said Bertha.
When the soup was finished, Bertha turned round to the fire.
'You're nice — you're very nice!' she said, kissing her warm baby. Again, she felt perfectly happy.
'You're wanted on the telephone,' said Nurse, as she took the baby from Bertha. Nurse looked pleased.

She ran downstairs and picked up the telephone. It was Harry.

'Oh, is that you, Ber? Look here. I'll be late. I'll take a taxi and come along as quickly as I can, but can we have dinner ten minutes later? All right?'
'Yes, perfectly all right. Oh, Harry!'
'Yes?'
What did she want to say? She had nothing to say. She only wanted to tell him what she was feeling. It would be silly to say: 'Hasn't it been a wonderful day?'
'What is it?' asked the voice on the telephone.
'Nothing,' said Bertha.

There were people coming to dinner. Mr and Mrs Norman Knight were an interesting couple. He was going to start a theatre, and she was interested in furniture. There was a young man, Eddie Warren, who had just written a little book of poems. Everybody was asking Eddie Warren to dinner. And there was a 'find' of Bertha's, a young woman called Pearl Fulton. Bertha did not know what Miss Fulton did. They had met at the club and Bertha liked her immediately. She always liked beautiful women who had something strange about them.

Bertha and Miss Fulton had met a number of times, and they had talked together a lot, but Bertha still could not understand her friend. Miss Fulton told Bertha everything about some parts of her life, but beyond that she told her nothing.
Was there anything beyond it? Harry said 'No'. He thought Miss Fulton was boring, and 'cold, like all fair-haired women, and perhaps not very intelligent'. But Bertha did not agree with him.
'No, the way she has of sitting with her head a little on one side, and smiling, has something behind it, Harry, and I must find out what it is.'
'Most likely it's a good stomach,' answered Harry.
She went into the sitting-room and lighted the fire and rearranged the furniture a little. The room came alive at once.
The windows of the sitting-room opened onto the garden. At the far end of the garden, against the wall, there was a tall pear tree in full flower. It stood perfect against the light green sky. A grey cat moved slowly across the grass, and a black cat followed it like a shadow. Bertha had a strange, cold feeling when she saw them.
'How strange cats are!' she said, and she turned away from the window and began walking up and down ...
The smell of flowers filled the warm room. She sat down and pressed her hands to her eyes.
'I'm too happy — too happy!' she said to herself. Really — really - she had everything. She was young. Harry and she were as much in love as ever, and they were really good friends. She had a lovely baby. They didn't have to worry about money. They had a wonderful house and garden. And friends — modern, exciting friends, writers and painters and people who wrote poems —just the kind of friends they wanted.
She sat up. She felt weak with happiness. It must be the spring.

She wore a white dress, a string of green stones around her neck, green shoes and stockings. She looked like the pear tree, but this was accidental. She had decided what to wear before she looked through the sitting-room window.

She kissed Mrs Norman Knight,* who was wearing an unusual orange coat with a row of black monkeys around the edge.
'Everybody on the train looked at my monkeys!' said Mrs Norman Knight. 'They didn't even laugh. Just looked.'
'And then,' said her husband, 'she turned to the woman beside her and said: "Haven't you ever seen a monkey before?" '
'Oh, yes!' Mrs Norman Knight joined in the laughter. 'Wasn't that just too funny!'
And a funnier thing still was, that now with her coat off, Mrs Norman Knight looked just like an intelligent monkey. Her yellow dress looked like banana skins.
The bell rang. It was Eddie Warren, white-faced and thin. As usual, he looked terribly worried.
'It is the right house, isn't it? he asked.
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* Married women used to sometimes be called by their husband's first name in English. This does not often happen now.
'Oh, I think so — I hope so,' said Bertha brightly.
'I have had such a terrible time with a taxi driver; he was most strange. I couldn't get him to stop. The more I tried, the faster he went.'
He took off his coat. Bertha noticed that his socks were white, too — most charming and unusual.
'But how terrible!' she cried.
'Yes, it really was,' said Eddie, following her into the sitting-room. He knew the Norman Knights. In fact, he was going to write something for Norman Knight when the theatre opened.
'Well, Warren, how's the writing?' said Norman Knight.
And Mrs Norman Knight said: 'Oh, Mr Warren, what happy socks!'
'I am so glad you like them,' he said, looking down at his feet. 'They seem to look so much whiter when there is a moon.' And he turned his thin sad face to Bertha. There is a moon, you know.'
He really was a most attractive person. And so were the Norman Knights.
The front door opened and shut. Harry shouted: 'Hello, you people. Down in five minutes.' They heard him hurry up the stairs. Bertha smiled, she knew how Harry liked to be always busy.
She liked his enthusiasm and his love of fighting. To other people he sometimes seemed strange, but they did not know him well. She understood him. She talked and laughed until Harry came down. She had forgotten that Pearl Fulton had not arrived.
'I wonder if Miss Fulton has forgotten?'
'Probably,' said Harry. 'Is she on the phone?'
'Ah! There's a taxi now.' And Bertha smiled when she thought about her new friend. 'She lives in taxis.'
'She'll get fat if she does,' said Harry coolly, ringing the bell for dinner.
'Harry - don't,' warned Bertha, laughing at him.
They waited, and then Miss Fulton came in. She was all in silver, and she smiled with her head a little on one side.
'Am I late?'
'No, not at all,' said Bertha. 'Come along.' And she took Miss Fulton's arm and they moved into the dining-room. The touch of that cool arm gave Bertha that same perfectly happy feeling again.
Miss Fulton did not look at her, but then she rarely looked straight at people. Her heavy eyelids lay upon her eyes and the strange half-smile came and went on her lips. She seemed to live by listening more than by seeing. But Bertha felt as if they were very close, as if they understood each other very well.
She and Miss Fulton were closer, Bertha felt, than the other guests, as they all ate dinner and talked together. They were all dears, and she loved having them there at her table. She loved giving them wonderful food and wine. In fact, she wanted to tell them how delightful they were, how nice they looked.
Harry was enjoying his dinner. He enjoyed talking about food. Bertha was pleased when he turned to her and said: 'Bertha, this is wonderful!'
She felt as if she loved the whole world. Everything was good — was right.
And still, in the back of her mind, there was the pear tree. It would be silver now, in the light of poor dear Eddie's moon, as silver as Miss Fulton.
It was wonderful how Bertha seemed to understand immediately how Miss Fulton was feeling. She was sure that she understood her new friend perfectly.
'I believe that this does happen sometimes. It happens very, very rarely between women. Never between men,' thought Bertha. 'Perhaps while I am making the coffee in the sitting-room, she will give a sign to show me that she understands, too.'
While she thought like this she continued talking and laughing. She could not stop laughing.

At last, the meal was over.

'Come and see my new coffee machine,' said Bertha.
Mrs Norman Knight sat beside the fire. She was always cold.
At that moment, Miss Fulton 'gave the sign'.
'Do you have a garden?' said the cool, sleepy voice.
Bertha crossed the room, pulled the curtains back, and opened those long windows.
'There!' she breathed.
And the two women stood side by side, looking at the flowering tree. It seemed to grow taller and taller in the bright air. It seemed almost to touch the edge of the round, silver moon.
How long did they stand there? They understood each other perfectly. They were in a circle of light; they were like people from another world.
Then the coffee was ready and Harry said: 'My dear Mrs Knight, don't ask me about my baby. I never see her.'
They talked about Norman Knight's theatre. Mrs Knight talked about the furniture that she was choosing for some people. They talked about a terrible poem about a girl in a wood ...
Miss Fulton sat in the lowest, deepest chair and Harry offered cigarettes.
From the way he offered Miss Fulton the cigarette box, Bertha could see that Miss Fulton not only bored Harry; he really disliked her. And she decided that Miss Fulton felt this too, and was hurt.
'Oh, Harry, don't dislike her,' Bertha said to herself. 'You are quite wrong about her. She's wonderful. And besides, how can you feel so differently about someone who means so much to me? I shall try to tell you all about it when we are in bed tonight.'
At those last words, Bertha suddenly thought: 'Soon these people will go. The house will be quiet. The lights will be out. And you and he will be alone together.'
She jumped up from her chair and ran over to the piano.
'What a pity someone does not play!' she cried.
For the first time in her life, Bertha Young wanted her husband.
Oh; she had been in love with him, of course. But her feelings were different from his.They talked together about it — they were such good friends.
But now she felt different. She really wanted him. Was this the meaning of that feeling of perfect happiness?
'My dear,' said Mrs Norman Knight to Bertha, 'we mustn't miss our train. It's been so nice.'
'I'll come with you to the door,' said Bertha. 'I loved having you.'
'Good-night, goodbye,' she cried from the top step.
When she got back into the sitting-room the others were getting ready to leave.
'.. .Then you can come part of the way in my taxi.'
'I shall be so thankful not to have to take another taxi alone after the terrible time I had before.'
'You can get a taxi at the end of the street. It isn't far to walk.'
'That's good. I'll go and put on my coat.'
Miss Fulton moved towards the door and Bertha was following when Harry almost pushed past.
'Let me help you.'
Bertha knew that Harry was feeling sorry for his rudeness to Miss Fulton, so she let him go. He was like a little boy in some ways, so simple.
Eddie and she stood by the fire.
'Have you seen Bilks' new poem about soup? said Eddie softly. 'It's so wonderful. Have you got a copy of his new book? I'd so like to show it to you. The first line is wonderful: "Why must it always be tomato soup?" '
'Yes,' said Bertha. And she moved silently to a table opposite the sitting-room door and Eddie went silently after her. She picked up the little book and gave it to him; they had not made a sound.
While he looked for the poem in the book she turned her head towards the hall. And she saw ... Harry with Miss Fulton's coat in his arms and Miss Fulton with her back turned to him and her head bent. Harry threw the coat down, put his hands on her shoulders and turned her to him. His lips said: 'I love you,' and Miss Fulton laid her white fingers on her cheeks and smiled her sleepy smile. Harry smiled too, and he whispered: 'Tomorrow,' and with her eyelids Miss Fulton said: 'Yes.'
'Here it is,' said Eddie.' "Why must it always be tomato soup?" It's so deeply true, don't you feel? It always is tomato soup.'
'If you prefer,' said Harry's voice, very loud, from outside,'I can phone for a taxi.'
'Oh, no. It's not necessary,' said Miss Fulton, and she came up to Bertha and gave her the thin white fingers to hold.
'Goodbye. Thank you so much.'
'Goodbye,' said Bertha.
Miss Fulton held her hand a moment longer.
'Your lovely pear tree!' she said in a low voice.
And then she was gone, with Eddie following, like the black cat following the grey cat.
'I'll lock the doors,' said-Harry, very calmly.
'Your lovely pear tree — pear tree — pear tree!'
Bertha ran to the long windows.
'Oh, what is going to happen now?' she cried.
But the pear tree was as lovely as ever and as full of flowers and as still.