January 11, 2026 • 25 mins
Margaret reads you a story about class and patriarchy but don't worry it's not as pedantic as that makes it sound.
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Speaker 1 (00:01):
Call Zone Media book Club book Club, book Club book Club. Hello,
Welcome to Coole Zone Media book Club, The Only Podcast,
the Only book Club. Really don't have to do the reading,
because I do it for you. I'm your host, Margaret Kildroy,
and every week I bring you stories, stories that I
(00:24):
think you might enjoy or that tell us something about
the world or the history of this stuff. I don't
know the stories that I like. And this week I
have this is going to be surprising to you. I
have a story that I like. It is called A
Cup of Tea by Catherine Mansfield. And if you're unfamiliar
(00:48):
with Katherine Mansfield, some folks, although in this case the
people who try and preserve her legacy, refer to her
as basically transforming the way that short stories are written
the English language. And I think there's some truth to that.
She was absolutely a prolific short story writer. She wrote
kind of turn of the century. She died young at
(01:11):
thirty four, tuberculosis. That'll surprise nobody. And she was bisexual,
and she I don't know, she had a really interesting life,
like at one point she married a guy and then
left him that night, like they literally never consummated the marriage,
but she was always sick and kind of getting shipped
(01:31):
around Europe in order to try and be healthy or whatever.
And she's you know, had rich parents, although at one
point they cut her out of the will for I
think her rampant lesbianism and really proven the whole point
that people have known about lesbians for a really long time,
including lesbians. So I like the story a bunch. It's
(01:53):
a nice, cozy winter story in a way. She wrote
this in nineteen twenty two, where it came out in
nineteen twenty two, which was the year before she died.
She lived from eighteen eighty eight to nineteen twenty three.
She was born in New Zealand, but spent most of
her adult life in London and various places around Western Europe.
(02:13):
But also she fell in with like Russian mystics near
the end of her life, which is neat but it
was like partly because she traveled around basically trying to
find a cure way to deal with tuberculosis. She's like
kind of an interesting, almost archetypical writer for the time,
and she's just a really good writer, just very like
(02:33):
specific and clear. I was a big fan of Chekhov
and also was a big fan of Oscar Wilde, which
makes some sense anyway. A Cup of Tea by Catherine Mansfield,
nineteen twenty two. Rosemary Fell was not exactly beautiful. No,
(02:54):
you couldn't have called her beautiful pretty well if you
took her to peace, But why be so cruel as
to take anyone to pieces? She was young, brilliant, extremely modern,
exquisitely well dressed, amazingly well read in the newest of
the new books, and her parties were the most delicious
(03:16):
mixture of the really important people and artists, quaint creatures,
discoveries of hers, some of them too terrifying for words,
but others quite presentable and amusing. Rosemary had been married
two years. She had a duck of a boy, no,
(03:39):
not Peter Michael, and her husband absolutely adored her. They
were rich, really rich, not just comfortably well off, which
is odious and stuffy and sounds like one's grandparents. But
if Rosemary wanted to shop, she would go to Paris,
as you and I would go to Bond Street if
she wanted to buy flowers. The car pulled up, but
(04:01):
that perfect shop in Regent Street, and Rosemary inside the
shop just gazed in her dazzled rather exotic way, and said,
I want those, and those and those. Give me four
bunches of those, and that jar of roses. Yes, I'll
have all the roses in the jar. No, not lilac.
I hate lilac. It's got no shape. The attendant bowed
(04:25):
and put the lilac out of sight, as though this
was only too true. Lilac was dreadfully shapeless.
Speaker 2 (04:32):
Give me those stumpy little tulips, those red and white ones.
And she was followed to the car by a thin
shop girl, staggering under an immense white paper armful that
looked like a baby in long clothes. One winter afternoon,
she had been buying something in a little antique shop
in Curzon Street.
Speaker 1 (04:52):
It was a shop she liked. For one thing, one
usually had it to one's self, and then the man
who kept it was ridiculously fond of serving her. He
beamed whenever she came in. He clasped his hands. He
was so gratified he could scarcely speak flattery. Of course,
all the same, there was something you see, madame, he
(05:16):
would explain, in his low, respectful tones. I love my things.
I would rather not part with them than sell them
to someone who does not appreciate them, who is not
that fine feeling which is so rare. And breathing deeply,
he unrolled a tiny square of blue velvet and pressed
it on the glass counter with his pale finger tips.
(05:39):
To day, it was a little box. He had been
keeping it for her. He had shown it to nobody
as yet, an exquisite little enamel box, with a glaze
so fine it looked as though it had been baked
in cream. On the lid, a minute creature stood under
a flowery tree, and a more minute creature still had
(06:01):
her arms around his neck, her hat really no bigger
than a geranium petal, hung from a branch. It had
green ribbons, and there was a pink cloud, like a
watchful cherub floating above their heads. Rosemary took her hands
out of her long gloves. She always took off her
gloves to examine such things. Yes, she liked it very much,
(06:26):
She loved it. It was a great duck. She must
have it. And turning the creamy box, opening and shutting it,
she couldn't help noticing how charming her hands were against
the blue velvet. The shopman, in some dim cavern of
his mind, may have dared to think so, too, for
he took a pencil leant over the counter, and his pale,
(06:47):
bloodless fingers crept timidly towards those rosy, flashing ones, as
he murmured gently, if I may venture to point out
to Madame the flowers on the little lady's bodice charming.
Rosemary admired the flowers, but what was the price for
a moment the shopman did not seem to hear. Then
(07:08):
a murmur reached her. Twenty eight guineas, Madame, twenty eight guineas.
Rosemary gave no sign. She laid the little box down.
She buttoned her gloves again, twenty eight guineas, even if
one is rich, She looked vague. She stared at a
plump tea kettle like a plump hen above the shopman's head,
(07:29):
and her voice was dreamy as she answered, well keep
it for me, will you? I'll The shopman had already bowed,
as though keeping it for her was all any human
could ask. He would be willing, of course, to keep
it for her forever. The discreet door shut with a click.
She was outside on the step, gazing at the winter
(07:51):
afternoon rain was falling, and with the rain, it seemed
like the dark came too, spinning down like ashes. There
was a cold, bitter taste in the air, and the
new lighted lamps looked sad. Sad were the lights in
the houses opposite Dimly they burned, as if regretting something,
(08:12):
and people hurried by hidden under their hateful umbrellas. Rosemary
felt a strange pang. She pressed her muff to her breast.
She wished she had the little box too to cling to.
Of course, the car was there, she'd only to cross
the pavement, but still she waited. There are moments, horrible
(08:33):
moments in life, when one emerges from shelter and looks
out and it's awful. One oughtn't to give way to them.
One ought to go home and have an extra special tea.
But at the very instant of thinking that, a young girl, thin, dark, shadowy,
where had she come from? Was standing at Rosemary's elbow,
(08:55):
and a voice like a sigh, almost like a sob
breathed madame, may I speak to you a moment? Speak
to me? Rosemary turned. She saw a little battered creature
with enormous eyes, someone quite young, no older than herself,
who clutched at her coat collar with redened hands, and
(09:16):
shivered as though she had just come out of the water.
Madame stammered the voice, would you let me have the
price of a cup of tea? A cup of tea?
There was something simple sincere in that voice. It wasn't
in the least the voice of a beggar. Then you
have no money at all, asked Rosemary, None, madame, came
(09:39):
the answer. But fortunately for her and for you, some
of the products and services that we advertise on this
show don't cost you anything because some of them are
like podcasts and stuff like that. So if only this
beggar had had access to the advertisements available, she might
have had more podcasts to listen to. Anyway, Peer's ads
(10:12):
and we're back. How extraordinary? Rosemary peered through the dusk,
and the girl gazed back at her. How more than extraordinary?
And suddenly it seemed to Rosemary such an adventure. It
was like something out of a novel by Dociesky, This
(10:33):
meeting in the dusk. Supposing she took the girl home,
Supposing she did do one of those things she was
always reading about or seeing on the stage, what would happen?
It would be thrilling, and she heard herself saying afterwards,
to the amazement of her friends, I simply took her
home with me. As she stepped forward and said to
(10:54):
that dim person beside her, come home to tea with me,
the girl drew back, startled. She even stopped shivering for
a moment. Rosemary put out a hand and touched her arm.
I mean it, she said, smiling, and she felt how
simple and kind her smile was. Why won't you do
(11:15):
come home with me now in my car and have tea.
You you don't mean it, madame, said the girl, and
there was pain in her voice. But I do, cried Rosemary.
I want you to to please me. Come along. The
girl put her fingers to her lips and her eyes
devoured Rosemary. You're you're not taking me to the police station,
(11:38):
she stammered. The police station, Rosemary laughed out, Why should
I be so cool? No, I only want to make
you warm and to hear anything you care to tell me.
Hungry people are easily led. The footman held the door
of the car open, and a moment later they were
skimming through the dusk. There, said Rosemary. She had a
(12:02):
feeling of triumph as she slipped her hand through the
velvet strap. She could have said, now I've got you
as she gazed at the little captive she had nedded,
But of course she meant it kindly, oh more than kindly.
She was going to prove to this girl that wonderful
things did happen in life, that fairy godmothers were real,
(12:23):
that rich people had hearts, and that women were sisters.
She turned impulsively, saying, don't be frightened. After all, why
shouldn't you come back with me? Were both women? If
I'm the more fortunate, you ought to expect, But happily
at that moment, for she didn't know how that sentence
was going to end. The car stopped, the bell was rung,
(12:46):
the door opened, and with a charming, protecting, almost embracing movement,
Rosemary drew the other into the hall. Warmth, softness, light,
a sweet scent, all those things so familiar to her
that she never even thought about them. She watched that
other receive. It was fascinating. She was like the little
(13:07):
rich girl in her nursery, with all the cupboards to open,
all the boxes to unpack. Come come upstairs, said Rosemary,
longing to begin to be generous, come up to my room.
And besides, she wanted to spare this poor little thing
from being stared at by the servants. She decided as
they mounted the stairs she would not even ring for Jeanie,
(13:29):
but instead take off her things by herself. The great
thing was to be natural. And there cried Rosemary again
as they reached her beautiful, big bedroom, with a curtains drawn,
the fire leaping on her wonderful lack of furniture, her
gold cushions and the primrose and blue rugs. The girl
stood just inside the door. She seemed dazed, but Rosemary
(13:53):
didn't mind that. Come and sit down, she cried, dragging
her big chair up to the fire in this comfy
Come and get warm. You look so dreadfully cold. I daren't, madam,
said the girl as she edged backwards. Oh please, Rosemary
ran forward. You mustn't be frightened. You mustn't really sit down.
(14:15):
And when I've taken off my things, we shall go
into the next room and have tea and be cozy.
Why are you afraid? And gently she half pushed the
thin figure into its deep cradle, but there was no answer.
The girl stayed just as she had been put with
her hands by her sides and her mouth slightly open
to be quite sincere. She looked rather stupid, but Rosemary
(14:39):
wouldn't acknowledge it. She leant over her, saying, won't you
take off your hat? Your pretty hair is all wet,
and one is so much more comfortable without a hat,
isn't one? There was a whisper that sounded like very good, madam,
and the crushed hat was taken off. Let me help
you with your coat, too, said Rosemary. The girl stood up,
(15:02):
but she held on to the chair with one hand
and let Rosemary pull It was quite an effort. The
other scarcely helped her at all. She seemed to stagger
like a child. And the thought came and went through
Rosemary's mind that if people wanted helping, they must respond
a little, just a little, otherwise it became very difficult. Indeed,
(15:23):
and what was she to do with the coat now?
She left it on the floor and the hat to
She was just going to take a cigarette off the
mantelpiece when the girl said, quickly, but so lightly and strangely,
I'm very sorry, madame, but I'm going to faint. I
shall go off, Madame, if I don't have something good. Heavens,
(15:44):
how thoughtless I am. Rosemary rushed to the bell tea
tea at once and some brandy. Immediately the maid was
gone again. But the girl almost cried out, No, I
don't want no brandy. I never drink brand it's a
cup of tea. I want madame, And she burst into tears.
(16:05):
But do you know what I think she really wanted.
I think she really wanted to live in the modern world,
A magical, cornycopia of products and services that could await
even the most humble. Fucking God, damn it, whatever your's it,
(16:32):
and we're back. It was a terrible and fascinating moment.
Rosemary knelt beside her chair. Don't cry, poor little things,
she said, don't cry, and she gave the other her
lace handkerchief. She really was touched beyond words. She put
(16:53):
her arm around those thin bird like shoulders. Now at last,
the other forgot to be shy, forgot everything except that
they were both women, and gasped out, I can't go
no longer like this. I can't bear it. I shall
do away with myself. I can't bear no more. You
shan't have to. I'll look after you. Don't cry anymore.
(17:17):
Don't you see what a good thing it was that
you met me. We'll have tea and you'll tell me
everything and I shall arrange something. I promise. Do stop crying.
It's exhausting. Please. The other did stop just in time
for Rosemary to get up. Before the tea came, she
had the table placed between them. She plied the poor
(17:38):
little creature with everything, all the sandwiches, all the bread
and butter, and every time her cup was empty she
filled it with tea, cream and sugar. People always said
sugar was so nourishing. As for herself, she didn't eat.
She smoked and looked away tactfully, so the other should
not be shy. And really the effect of that slight
(18:00):
meal was marvelous. When the tea table was carried away,
a new bean, A light, frail creature with tangled hair,
dark lips, deep lighted eyes, lay back in the big
chair and a kind of sweet languor. Looking at the blaze.
Rosemary lit a fresh cigarette. It was time to begin,
And when did you have your last meal? She asked softly.
(18:23):
But at that moment the door handle turned, Rosemary, may
I come in? It was Philip okay, just a note
here from me. I was really confused by this at
the beginning, because at the beginning says like her husband
was not a Peter but a Michael, and her husband
is named Philip, and the Peter and Michael thing is
just some Bible shit that I don't get that maybe
(18:45):
you do. So anyway, it was Philip. It's the husband,
of course. He came in. Oh, I'm so sorry, he said,
and stopped and stared. It's quite all right, said Rosemary, smiling.
This is my friend, miss Smith, madam, said the languid figure,
(19:05):
who is strangely still and unafraid. Smith said Rosemary. We
are going to have a little talk. Oh, yes, said
Philip quite and his eye caught sight of the coat
and hat on the floor. He came over to the
fire and turned his back to it. It's a beastly afternoon,
he said, curiously, still looking at the listless figure, looking
(19:27):
at its hands and boots, and then at Rosemary again. Yes,
isn't it, said Rosemary, enthusiastically Vile. Philip smiled his charming smile.
As a matter of fact, said he I wanted you
to come into the library for a moment. Would you will,
miss Smith, excuse us. The big eyes were raised to him,
(19:47):
but Rosemary answered for her, of course she will, and
they went out of the room together. I say, said Philip.
When they were alone, Explain who is she? What does
it all mean? Rosemary, laughing, leaned against the door and said,
I picked her up in Curzon Street. Really, she's a
real pickup. She asked me for the price of a
(20:09):
cup of tea, and I brought her home with me.
But what on earth are you going to do with her?
Cried Philip. Be nice to her, Rosemary said quickly, Be
frightfully nice to her, look after her. I don't know how.
We haven't talked yet, but show her, treat her, make
her feel my darling girl, said Philip. You're quite mad.
(20:29):
You know. It simply can't be done. I knew you'd
say that, retorted Rosemary, why not? I want to? Isn't
that a reason? And besides, one's always reading about these things,
I decided, but said Philip slowly, as he cut the
end of a cigar. She's so astonishingly pretty pretty. Rosemary
(20:50):
was so surprised that she blushed. Do you think so?
I hadn't thought about it, Good Lord, Philip struck a match.
He's absolutely lovely. Look again, my child, I was bold
over when I came into your room just now. However,
I think you're making a ghastly mistake. Sorry, darling if
I'm crude in all of that, but let me know
(21:12):
if miss Smith is going to dine with us in
time for me to look up the Milliner's gazette. You
absurd creature, said Rosemary, and she went out of the library,
but not back to her bedroom. She went to her
writing room and sat down at her desk, pretty absolutely lovely,
bowled over her heart beat like a heavy bell. Pretty lovely.
(21:35):
She drew her check book towards her, but no checks
would be no use, of course. She opened a drawer
and took out five pound notes, looked at them, put
two back, and holding the three squeezed in her hand,
she went back to her bedroom. Half an hour later,
Philip was still in the library when Rosemary came in.
I only wanted to tell you, said she as she
(21:57):
leaned against the door again and looked at him with
her dazzled exotic gaze. Miss Smith won't dine with us tonight.
Philip put down the paper. Oh, what's happened previous engagement.
Rosemary came over and sat down on his knee. She
insisted on going, said she, So I gave the poor
little thing a present of money. I couldn't keep her
(22:19):
against her will, could I? She added softly. Rosemary had
just done her hair, darkened her eyes a little, and
put on her pearls. She put up her hands and
touched Philip's cheeks. Do you like me? Said she, and
her tone sweet husky, troubled him. I like you awfully,
he said, and he held her tighter, kiss me. There
(22:41):
was a pause. Then Rosemary said dreamily, I saw a
fascinating little box today. It cost twenty eight guineas. May
I have it? Philip jumped her on his knee. You may,
little wasteful one, said he. But that was not really
what Rosemary wanted to say. She whispered, and she pressed
(23:02):
his head against her bosom. Am I pretty the end? Okay?
I like that story? And yeah, her prose is immaculate,
just from a craft point of view. She picks these
very specific images with which to describe everything, and it's
just very very clear, and I really appreciate that. But
(23:27):
also like, yeah, I fucking got her ass about like
rich people. But then it's like, okay, so it's obviously
a critique of like rich women, right, and it was
written by someone who's you know, raised up her class.
I suspect not quite at this level, but like sort
of moved within this level. I also read that this
whole thing was like a thinly veiled piece about her
own cousin, who's a woman novelist whose name I don't
(23:49):
remember was Elizabeth Something who I hadn't heard of, and
I apologized for that. But more than anything, I think
about how like she's talking about at the beginning, She's like, well,
aren't we both sisters despite the fact that we were
born in these different places. Aren't we all women? Don't
we have this like bond of sisterhood. Aren't we essentially
(24:11):
oppressed together? Right? Don't we have something in common? And
how patriarchy plays women against each other to defeat rich
women from actually having solidarity of poor women from actually
identifying with them, and uses femininity and not the feminity
is inherently bad, but obviously, like you know, is using
(24:32):
appeals to femininity and appeals to like you know, basically,
the husband's like, oh, I know, how to get rid
of this person. I'm just gonna call her pretty, and
that's going to basically like, you know, my wife will
throw her out at that point, and you know, and
he's like so completely condescending, like you know, like sit
on my knee and I'm going to bounce you on
my knee. He literally bounces her on his knee. It's
(24:54):
so good. When I asked Hazel what they wanted to
say about this piece, they said, quote, yum yum, yum,
yum yum, absolutely delicious. So there's your little winter story
for you. About nice little shopping story. That's what this
story is about. The story is really about how great
(25:16):
that box was, and really she just would have been
happier if she'd bought that box in the first place. Anyway,
take care of each other and we'll see you next
week for another cool Zone Media book club. It Could
Happen here as a production of cool Zone Media. For
more podcasts from cool Zone Media, visit our website Coolzonemedia
(25:38):
dot com, or check us out on the iHeartRadio app,
Apple Podcasts, or wherever you listen to podcasts. You can
find sources where It Could Happen here. Updated monthly at coolzonemedia,
dot com, slash sources, Thanks for listening.
Call Zone Media book Club book Club, book Club book Club. Hello,
Welcome to Coole Zone Media book Club, The Only Podcast,
the Only book Club. Really don't have to do the reading,
because I do it for you. I'm your host, Margaret Kildroy,
and every week I bring you stories, stories that I
(00:24):
think you might enjoy or that tell us something about
the world or the history of this stuff. I don't
know the stories that I like. And this week I
have this is going to be surprising to you. I
have a story that I like. It is called A
Cup of Tea by Catherine Mansfield. And if you're unfamiliar
(00:48):
with Katherine Mansfield, some folks, although in this case the
people who try and preserve her legacy, refer to her
as basically transforming the way that short stories are written
the English language. And I think there's some truth to that.
She was absolutely a prolific short story writer. She wrote
kind of turn of the century. She died young at
(01:11):
thirty four, tuberculosis. That'll surprise nobody. And she was bisexual,
and she I don't know, she had a really interesting life,
like at one point she married a guy and then
left him that night, like they literally never consummated the marriage,
but she was always sick and kind of getting shipped
(01:31):
around Europe in order to try and be healthy or whatever.
And she's you know, had rich parents, although at one
point they cut her out of the will for I
think her rampant lesbianism and really proven the whole point
that people have known about lesbians for a really long time,
including lesbians. So I like the story a bunch. It's
(01:53):
a nice, cozy winter story in a way. She wrote
this in nineteen twenty two, where it came out in
nineteen twenty two, which was the year before she died.
She lived from eighteen eighty eight to nineteen twenty three.
She was born in New Zealand, but spent most of
her adult life in London and various places around Western Europe.
(02:13):
But also she fell in with like Russian mystics near
the end of her life, which is neat but it
was like partly because she traveled around basically trying to
find a cure way to deal with tuberculosis. She's like
kind of an interesting, almost archetypical writer for the time,
and she's just a really good writer, just very like
(02:33):
specific and clear. I was a big fan of Chekhov
and also was a big fan of Oscar Wilde, which
makes some sense anyway. A Cup of Tea by Catherine Mansfield,
nineteen twenty two. Rosemary Fell was not exactly beautiful. No,
(02:54):
you couldn't have called her beautiful pretty well if you
took her to peace, But why be so cruel as
to take anyone to pieces? She was young, brilliant, extremely modern,
exquisitely well dressed, amazingly well read in the newest of
the new books, and her parties were the most delicious
(03:16):
mixture of the really important people and artists, quaint creatures,
discoveries of hers, some of them too terrifying for words,
but others quite presentable and amusing. Rosemary had been married
two years. She had a duck of a boy, no,
(03:39):
not Peter Michael, and her husband absolutely adored her. They
were rich, really rich, not just comfortably well off, which
is odious and stuffy and sounds like one's grandparents. But
if Rosemary wanted to shop, she would go to Paris,
as you and I would go to Bond Street if
she wanted to buy flowers. The car pulled up, but
(04:01):
that perfect shop in Regent Street, and Rosemary inside the
shop just gazed in her dazzled rather exotic way, and said,
I want those, and those and those. Give me four
bunches of those, and that jar of roses. Yes, I'll
have all the roses in the jar. No, not lilac.
I hate lilac. It's got no shape. The attendant bowed
(04:25):
and put the lilac out of sight, as though this
was only too true. Lilac was dreadfully shapeless.
Speaker 2 (04:32):
Give me those stumpy little tulips, those red and white ones.
And she was followed to the car by a thin
shop girl, staggering under an immense white paper armful that
looked like a baby in long clothes. One winter afternoon,
she had been buying something in a little antique shop
in Curzon Street.
Speaker 1 (04:52):
It was a shop she liked. For one thing, one
usually had it to one's self, and then the man
who kept it was ridiculously fond of serving her. He
beamed whenever she came in. He clasped his hands. He
was so gratified he could scarcely speak flattery. Of course,
all the same, there was something you see, madame, he
(05:16):
would explain, in his low, respectful tones. I love my things.
I would rather not part with them than sell them
to someone who does not appreciate them, who is not
that fine feeling which is so rare. And breathing deeply,
he unrolled a tiny square of blue velvet and pressed
it on the glass counter with his pale finger tips.
(05:39):
To day, it was a little box. He had been
keeping it for her. He had shown it to nobody
as yet, an exquisite little enamel box, with a glaze
so fine it looked as though it had been baked
in cream. On the lid, a minute creature stood under
a flowery tree, and a more minute creature still had
(06:01):
her arms around his neck, her hat really no bigger
than a geranium petal, hung from a branch. It had
green ribbons, and there was a pink cloud, like a
watchful cherub floating above their heads. Rosemary took her hands
out of her long gloves. She always took off her
gloves to examine such things. Yes, she liked it very much,
(06:26):
She loved it. It was a great duck. She must
have it. And turning the creamy box, opening and shutting it,
she couldn't help noticing how charming her hands were against
the blue velvet. The shopman, in some dim cavern of
his mind, may have dared to think so, too, for
he took a pencil leant over the counter, and his pale,
(06:47):
bloodless fingers crept timidly towards those rosy, flashing ones, as
he murmured gently, if I may venture to point out
to Madame the flowers on the little lady's bodice charming.
Rosemary admired the flowers, but what was the price for
a moment the shopman did not seem to hear. Then
(07:08):
a murmur reached her. Twenty eight guineas, Madame, twenty eight guineas.
Rosemary gave no sign. She laid the little box down.
She buttoned her gloves again, twenty eight guineas, even if
one is rich, She looked vague. She stared at a
plump tea kettle like a plump hen above the shopman's head,
(07:29):
and her voice was dreamy as she answered, well keep
it for me, will you? I'll The shopman had already bowed,
as though keeping it for her was all any human
could ask. He would be willing, of course, to keep
it for her forever. The discreet door shut with a click.
She was outside on the step, gazing at the winter
(07:51):
afternoon rain was falling, and with the rain, it seemed
like the dark came too, spinning down like ashes. There
was a cold, bitter taste in the air, and the
new lighted lamps looked sad. Sad were the lights in
the houses opposite Dimly they burned, as if regretting something,
(08:12):
and people hurried by hidden under their hateful umbrellas. Rosemary
felt a strange pang. She pressed her muff to her breast.
She wished she had the little box too to cling to.
Of course, the car was there, she'd only to cross
the pavement, but still she waited. There are moments, horrible
(08:33):
moments in life, when one emerges from shelter and looks
out and it's awful. One oughtn't to give way to them.
One ought to go home and have an extra special tea.
But at the very instant of thinking that, a young girl, thin, dark, shadowy,
where had she come from? Was standing at Rosemary's elbow,
(08:55):
and a voice like a sigh, almost like a sob
breathed madame, may I speak to you a moment? Speak
to me? Rosemary turned. She saw a little battered creature
with enormous eyes, someone quite young, no older than herself,
who clutched at her coat collar with redened hands, and
(09:16):
shivered as though she had just come out of the water.
Madame stammered the voice, would you let me have the
price of a cup of tea? A cup of tea?
There was something simple sincere in that voice. It wasn't
in the least the voice of a beggar. Then you
have no money at all, asked Rosemary, None, madame, came
(09:39):
the answer. But fortunately for her and for you, some
of the products and services that we advertise on this
show don't cost you anything because some of them are
like podcasts and stuff like that. So if only this
beggar had had access to the advertisements available, she might
have had more podcasts to listen to. Anyway, Peer's ads
(10:12):
and we're back. How extraordinary? Rosemary peered through the dusk,
and the girl gazed back at her. How more than extraordinary?
And suddenly it seemed to Rosemary such an adventure. It
was like something out of a novel by Dociesky, This
(10:33):
meeting in the dusk. Supposing she took the girl home,
Supposing she did do one of those things she was
always reading about or seeing on the stage, what would happen?
It would be thrilling, and she heard herself saying afterwards,
to the amazement of her friends, I simply took her
home with me. As she stepped forward and said to
(10:54):
that dim person beside her, come home to tea with me,
the girl drew back, startled. She even stopped shivering for
a moment. Rosemary put out a hand and touched her arm.
I mean it, she said, smiling, and she felt how
simple and kind her smile was. Why won't you do
(11:15):
come home with me now in my car and have tea.
You you don't mean it, madame, said the girl, and
there was pain in her voice. But I do, cried Rosemary.
I want you to to please me. Come along. The
girl put her fingers to her lips and her eyes
devoured Rosemary. You're you're not taking me to the police station,
(11:38):
she stammered. The police station, Rosemary laughed out, Why should
I be so cool? No, I only want to make
you warm and to hear anything you care to tell me.
Hungry people are easily led. The footman held the door
of the car open, and a moment later they were
skimming through the dusk. There, said Rosemary. She had a
(12:02):
feeling of triumph as she slipped her hand through the
velvet strap. She could have said, now I've got you
as she gazed at the little captive she had nedded,
But of course she meant it kindly, oh more than kindly.
She was going to prove to this girl that wonderful
things did happen in life, that fairy godmothers were real,
(12:23):
that rich people had hearts, and that women were sisters.
She turned impulsively, saying, don't be frightened. After all, why
shouldn't you come back with me? Were both women? If
I'm the more fortunate, you ought to expect, But happily
at that moment, for she didn't know how that sentence
was going to end. The car stopped, the bell was rung,
(12:46):
the door opened, and with a charming, protecting, almost embracing movement,
Rosemary drew the other into the hall. Warmth, softness, light,
a sweet scent, all those things so familiar to her
that she never even thought about them. She watched that
other receive. It was fascinating. She was like the little
(13:07):
rich girl in her nursery, with all the cupboards to open,
all the boxes to unpack. Come come upstairs, said Rosemary,
longing to begin to be generous, come up to my room.
And besides, she wanted to spare this poor little thing
from being stared at by the servants. She decided as
they mounted the stairs she would not even ring for Jeanie,
(13:29):
but instead take off her things by herself. The great
thing was to be natural. And there cried Rosemary again
as they reached her beautiful, big bedroom, with a curtains drawn,
the fire leaping on her wonderful lack of furniture, her
gold cushions and the primrose and blue rugs. The girl
stood just inside the door. She seemed dazed, but Rosemary
(13:53):
didn't mind that. Come and sit down, she cried, dragging
her big chair up to the fire in this comfy
Come and get warm. You look so dreadfully cold. I daren't, madam,
said the girl as she edged backwards. Oh please, Rosemary
ran forward. You mustn't be frightened. You mustn't really sit down.
(14:15):
And when I've taken off my things, we shall go
into the next room and have tea and be cozy.
Why are you afraid? And gently she half pushed the
thin figure into its deep cradle, but there was no answer.
The girl stayed just as she had been put with
her hands by her sides and her mouth slightly open
to be quite sincere. She looked rather stupid, but Rosemary
(14:39):
wouldn't acknowledge it. She leant over her, saying, won't you
take off your hat? Your pretty hair is all wet,
and one is so much more comfortable without a hat,
isn't one? There was a whisper that sounded like very good, madam,
and the crushed hat was taken off. Let me help
you with your coat, too, said Rosemary. The girl stood up,
(15:02):
but she held on to the chair with one hand
and let Rosemary pull It was quite an effort. The
other scarcely helped her at all. She seemed to stagger
like a child. And the thought came and went through
Rosemary's mind that if people wanted helping, they must respond
a little, just a little, otherwise it became very difficult. Indeed,
(15:23):
and what was she to do with the coat now?
She left it on the floor and the hat to
She was just going to take a cigarette off the
mantelpiece when the girl said, quickly, but so lightly and strangely,
I'm very sorry, madame, but I'm going to faint. I
shall go off, Madame, if I don't have something good. Heavens,
(15:44):
how thoughtless I am. Rosemary rushed to the bell tea
tea at once and some brandy. Immediately the maid was
gone again. But the girl almost cried out, No, I
don't want no brandy. I never drink brand it's a
cup of tea. I want madame, And she burst into tears.
(16:05):
But do you know what I think she really wanted.
I think she really wanted to live in the modern world,
A magical, cornycopia of products and services that could await
even the most humble. Fucking God, damn it, whatever your's it,
(16:32):
and we're back. It was a terrible and fascinating moment.
Rosemary knelt beside her chair. Don't cry, poor little things,
she said, don't cry, and she gave the other her
lace handkerchief. She really was touched beyond words. She put
(16:53):
her arm around those thin bird like shoulders. Now at last,
the other forgot to be shy, forgot everything except that
they were both women, and gasped out, I can't go
no longer like this. I can't bear it. I shall
do away with myself. I can't bear no more. You
shan't have to. I'll look after you. Don't cry anymore.
(17:17):
Don't you see what a good thing it was that
you met me. We'll have tea and you'll tell me
everything and I shall arrange something. I promise. Do stop crying.
It's exhausting. Please. The other did stop just in time
for Rosemary to get up. Before the tea came, she
had the table placed between them. She plied the poor
(17:38):
little creature with everything, all the sandwiches, all the bread
and butter, and every time her cup was empty she
filled it with tea, cream and sugar. People always said
sugar was so nourishing. As for herself, she didn't eat.
She smoked and looked away tactfully, so the other should
not be shy. And really the effect of that slight
(18:00):
meal was marvelous. When the tea table was carried away,
a new bean, A light, frail creature with tangled hair,
dark lips, deep lighted eyes, lay back in the big
chair and a kind of sweet languor. Looking at the blaze.
Rosemary lit a fresh cigarette. It was time to begin,
And when did you have your last meal? She asked softly.
(18:23):
But at that moment the door handle turned, Rosemary, may
I come in? It was Philip okay, just a note
here from me. I was really confused by this at
the beginning, because at the beginning says like her husband
was not a Peter but a Michael, and her husband
is named Philip, and the Peter and Michael thing is
just some Bible shit that I don't get that maybe
(18:45):
you do. So anyway, it was Philip. It's the husband,
of course. He came in. Oh, I'm so sorry, he said,
and stopped and stared. It's quite all right, said Rosemary, smiling.
This is my friend, miss Smith, madam, said the languid figure,
(19:05):
who is strangely still and unafraid. Smith said Rosemary. We
are going to have a little talk. Oh, yes, said
Philip quite and his eye caught sight of the coat
and hat on the floor. He came over to the
fire and turned his back to it. It's a beastly afternoon,
he said, curiously, still looking at the listless figure, looking
(19:27):
at its hands and boots, and then at Rosemary again. Yes,
isn't it, said Rosemary, enthusiastically Vile. Philip smiled his charming smile.
As a matter of fact, said he I wanted you
to come into the library for a moment. Would you will,
miss Smith, excuse us. The big eyes were raised to him,
(19:47):
but Rosemary answered for her, of course she will, and
they went out of the room together. I say, said Philip.
When they were alone, Explain who is she? What does
it all mean? Rosemary, laughing, leaned against the door and said,
I picked her up in Curzon Street. Really, she's a
real pickup. She asked me for the price of a
(20:09):
cup of tea, and I brought her home with me.
But what on earth are you going to do with her?
Cried Philip. Be nice to her, Rosemary said quickly, Be
frightfully nice to her, look after her. I don't know how.
We haven't talked yet, but show her, treat her, make
her feel my darling girl, said Philip. You're quite mad.
(20:29):
You know. It simply can't be done. I knew you'd
say that, retorted Rosemary, why not? I want to? Isn't
that a reason? And besides, one's always reading about these things,
I decided, but said Philip slowly, as he cut the
end of a cigar. She's so astonishingly pretty pretty. Rosemary
(20:50):
was so surprised that she blushed. Do you think so?
I hadn't thought about it, Good Lord, Philip struck a match.
He's absolutely lovely. Look again, my child, I was bold
over when I came into your room just now. However,
I think you're making a ghastly mistake. Sorry, darling if
I'm crude in all of that, but let me know
(21:12):
if miss Smith is going to dine with us in
time for me to look up the Milliner's gazette. You
absurd creature, said Rosemary, and she went out of the library,
but not back to her bedroom. She went to her
writing room and sat down at her desk, pretty absolutely lovely,
bowled over her heart beat like a heavy bell. Pretty lovely.
(21:35):
She drew her check book towards her, but no checks
would be no use, of course. She opened a drawer
and took out five pound notes, looked at them, put
two back, and holding the three squeezed in her hand,
she went back to her bedroom. Half an hour later,
Philip was still in the library when Rosemary came in.
I only wanted to tell you, said she as she
(21:57):
leaned against the door again and looked at him with
her dazzled exotic gaze. Miss Smith won't dine with us tonight.
Philip put down the paper. Oh, what's happened previous engagement.
Rosemary came over and sat down on his knee. She
insisted on going, said she, So I gave the poor
little thing a present of money. I couldn't keep her
(22:19):
against her will, could I? She added softly. Rosemary had
just done her hair, darkened her eyes a little, and
put on her pearls. She put up her hands and
touched Philip's cheeks. Do you like me? Said she, and
her tone sweet husky, troubled him. I like you awfully,
he said, and he held her tighter, kiss me. There
(22:41):
was a pause. Then Rosemary said dreamily, I saw a
fascinating little box today. It cost twenty eight guineas. May
I have it? Philip jumped her on his knee. You may,
little wasteful one, said he. But that was not really
what Rosemary wanted to say. She whispered, and she pressed
(23:02):
his head against her bosom. Am I pretty the end? Okay?
I like that story? And yeah, her prose is immaculate,
just from a craft point of view. She picks these
very specific images with which to describe everything, and it's
just very very clear, and I really appreciate that. But
(23:27):
also like, yeah, I fucking got her ass about like
rich people. But then it's like, okay, so it's obviously
a critique of like rich women, right, and it was
written by someone who's you know, raised up her class.
I suspect not quite at this level, but like sort
of moved within this level. I also read that this
whole thing was like a thinly veiled piece about her
own cousin, who's a woman novelist whose name I don't
(23:49):
remember was Elizabeth Something who I hadn't heard of, and
I apologized for that. But more than anything, I think
about how like she's talking about at the beginning, She's like, well,
aren't we both sisters despite the fact that we were
born in these different places. Aren't we all women? Don't
we have this like bond of sisterhood. Aren't we essentially
(24:11):
oppressed together? Right? Don't we have something in common? And
how patriarchy plays women against each other to defeat rich
women from actually having solidarity of poor women from actually
identifying with them, and uses femininity and not the feminity
is inherently bad, but obviously, like you know, is using
(24:32):
appeals to femininity and appeals to like you know, basically,
the husband's like, oh, I know, how to get rid
of this person. I'm just gonna call her pretty, and
that's going to basically like, you know, my wife will
throw her out at that point, and you know, and
he's like so completely condescending, like you know, like sit
on my knee and I'm going to bounce you on
my knee. He literally bounces her on his knee. It's
(24:54):
so good. When I asked Hazel what they wanted to
say about this piece, they said, quote, yum yum, yum,
yum yum, absolutely delicious. So there's your little winter story
for you. About nice little shopping story. That's what this
story is about. The story is really about how great
(25:16):
that box was, and really she just would have been
happier if she'd bought that box in the first place. Anyway,
take care of each other and we'll see you next
week for another cool Zone Media book club. It Could
Happen here as a production of cool Zone Media. For
more podcasts from cool Zone Media, visit our website Coolzonemedia
(25:38):
dot com, or check us out on the iHeartRadio app,
Apple Podcasts, or wherever you listen to podcasts. You can
find sources where It Could Happen here. Updated monthly at coolzonemedia,
dot com, slash sources, Thanks for listening.
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