Young Mrs. Savage, page 13
“Not nearly so poetical,” smiled Dinah. She was amused not only at Malcolm’s joke, but at Malcolm’s accent which was extremely good. Time was when the Dees had prided themselves on their ability to mimic the broad Lowland speech of Seatown folk, but it was so long since Dinah had heard it that she was doubtful if she could do it now.
Dan had not spoken, but now he leaned forward on the seat. “Malcolm,” he said eagerly. “Malcolm, I must tell Di; you don’t mind, do you?”
“Of course I don’t mind.”
“Malcolm has offered me a job,” said Dan, his voice tense with excitement. “Di, isn’t it marvellous! That’s why we were so long—talking about it—”
“Dan!” exclaimed Dinah in delight.
“Isn’t it splendid!” cried Dan. “Isn’t it too wonderful for words—a real job—something worth doing—something I can get my teeth into—”
Malcolm laughed. “You can get your teeth into it all right,” he declared. “As a matter of fact I’ve been on the lookout for somebody with teeth. It’s amazing how few people seem to have any teeth nowadays; they all want to be spoon-fed.”
“I’ll speak to Mr. Cray to-morrow,” said Dan. “He won’t mind a bit—I mean anybody could do the job I’m doing now unless he was completely imbecile. I don’t want to let him down, of course, but I’ll find out how soon he can fill my place.”
“Good!” nodded Malcolm. “I’d like you to start as soon as possible.”
“Meanwhile I can read up about it, can’t I?” said Dan eagerly. “I shall have plenty of time in the evening when I’ve finished work. That would help, wouldn’t it? I mean I shouldn’t be so absolutely ignorant if I had read some books on the subject.”
Malcolm promised to look out some books. “But don’t worry,” he said. “You’ll soon learn . . .”
They were silent after that; silent, not because their minds were empty, nor because they could find nothing to say, but because their minds were busy with thoughts, peaceful and friendly. Dinah was thinking of the queer way things had worked out and of how they might easily have worked out differently. For instance if she and Dan had not conceived a childish hero-worship for Malcolm Armstrong (and followed him round the golf course to see him win his match) Malcolm would not have remembered the Dees . . . He would not have spoken to Dan yesterday at the swimming-pool and asked them to supper. This job which obviously, was the chance of a lifetime for Dan, was the direct outcome of that childish adventure.
Dinah chuckled involuntarily. “And we got punished for being late for dinner!” she exclaimed.
“I know! I was thinking of that,” said Dan with a grin.
Their companion looked at them in bewilderment. “What on earth are you two talking about?” he inquired.
It was natural that the Dees should discuss the evening’s entertainment as they walked home together in the dark. Dan was still full of excitement about his prospective job and was anxious to tell Dinah all about it. He explained that he was to help Malcolm, to understudy him as it were, so that eventually he would be able to lighten Malcolm’s burden . . . possibly run the business for a few weeks if Malcolm were away; or, alternatively, be sent as a plenipotentiary to America. Dinah exclaimed and commented suitably and said all the right things; she was overjoyed at Dan’s improved prospects. They spoke of their hostess and her niece and agreed that they had never met such disagreeable people . . . and wondered how on earth Malcolm could stand it and continue to live with them. Dinah inquired why Dan had been so unhelpful in the drawing-room before their host appeared and learnt that it was because Dan had expected his host to appear in evening-dress.
“They were in evening kit,” explained Dan; “so of course I thought he was sure to be—and there was I in a flannel suit and a coloured tie!”
“Would it have mattered so frightfully?” Dinah inquired.
“Of course it would have mattered, you ass!” said Dan, affectionately.
Dinah was silent. She had been slightly put out at the discovery that she was inappropriately attired, but her social sense had triumphed; it seemed odd that Dan should have taken the matter so much more seriously.
“But you aren’t interested in clothes!” said Dinah at last. “You wear the most awful rags; the tweed jacket you were wearing this morning is only fit for a scarecrow.”
“That’s quite different,” said Dan firmly.
16
Dan left early on Monday morning and Dinah, having supervised the children’s breakfast, shepherded them to the beach. The tide was not so far out this morning so she was able to sit with Margy and keep an eye on the older ones who were paddling and sailing boats. Mr. Monk appeared at eleven o’clock with his paper and a chocolate biscuit for Margy. She ate it with her milk. For some reason best known to herself she refused to say “Bung-ho” to Mr. Monk, but remained absolutely dumb in spite of every blandishment.
“Don’t bother her,” said Mr. Monk, smiling and sitting down. “That’s the joy of small children—they’re completely natural. When they grow’ older they discover the necessity to conform to convention and to hide their feelings behind a mask. Why should Margy say ‘Bung-ho’ if she doesn’t feel like it?”
“She might at least say thank you for the chocolate biscuit,” objected Dinah, looking at her younger daughter in disgust. “But she won’t, and I can’t make her.”
Mr. Monk chuckled.
“And another thing,” continued Dinah. “Another thing I must apologise for—a far worse thing—is Nigel’s behaviour on Friday. I haven’t seen you since. It was very naughty of Nigel to ask you for a shilling. It was dreadful, really! I’m terribly ashamed.”
“He didn’t ask me!” exclaimed Mr. Monk. “He just . . . and anyhow it was my fault. I shouldn’t have given it to one child and not the other.”
“Why not?” asked Dinah. “The children must learn to be sensible. I’m trying to teach them. No, honestly, I want you to understand. It was Mark’s shilling—you gave it to him—but Nigel was silly about it. They must learn.”
“I see what you mean,” he replied. “I wish we had been as wise with our son. We spoilt him, I’m afraid. But I must repeat that Nigel didn’t ask me for a shilling.”
“He knew he needn’t,” said Dinah, with a half-smile.
“Well—perhaps. It was quite a good-sized fish.”
Dinah laughed. “You aren’t sticking to the point.”
“I know. It’s one of my weaknesses,” said Mr. Monk, regretfully.
This little exchange had taken them a good deal further forward in their acquaintance, so when Mrs. Monk appeared and her husband jumped up to help her down the bank it seemed natural for her to join the party. She was a little, frail old lady, with snow-white hair and very light blue eyes.
“This is a friend of mine, my dear,” said Mr. Monk, as he settled her comfortably on the rug. “She is the mother of those delightful children.”
“You’re staying at Craigie Lodge,” declared Mrs. Monk, smiling very sweetly at Dinah. “I’ve watched you going in and out. You see, I can’t go about much so I’m allowed to be inquisitive about my neighbours; it’s one of the advantages of getting old. Nobody minds old people being inquisitive . . . And of course Patrick knows Lieutenant-Commander Bell. Patrick is our nephew. They met at Singapore or somewhere—”
“Colombo, my dear,” put in her husband.
“Colombo,” agreed Mrs. Monk. “They met there in the war. Patrick would like a game of golf with Lieutenant-Commander Bell, so perhaps—”
“They played together on Saturday,” Mr. Monk reminded her.
“But they could play again, couldn’t they?” said Mrs. Monk.
“Of course,” agreed Dinah. “Dan would like to—perhaps next week-end. He’s got a job at Leith, so he only comes down for the week-ends.”
“He’s left the Navy?”
“Yes; so you needn’t call him Lieutenant-Commander Bell. Plain Mister will do.”
“It’s certainly easier,” said Mrs. Monk, smiling. “I’m sure you must be glad he’s left the Navy. I wish Patrick would, but he says he hasn’t got the brains for anything else. It must be lovely to have Mr. Bell at home for good. I suppose you will be looking for a house in Edinburgh.”
“Yes, we are,” said Dinah. “It won’t be very easy to find one, but—”
“Patrick said you would allow the children to come to tea,” said Mrs. Monk, interrupting suddenly. “He did say so, didn’t he, Jack?”
“Yes,” said Mr. Monk, nodding.
“If you really want them,” said their mother doubtfully.
“Of course we want them!” cried Mr. and Mrs. Monk with one voice.
“Wednesday,” suggested Mr. Monk. “How would that do?”
Dinah said it would do admirably.
The day had passed quickly and pleasantly. It was not until the children had gone to bed and Dinah was sitting down to her solitary supper that she began to feel lonely . . . and how silly it was, thought Dinah. She had done without Dan for years, but now, because she had had him with her for a long week-end, she was missing him quite horribly. I shall move, she decided as she helped herself to the succulent dish of macaroni and cheese which Nannie had provided for her. I shall move to Edinburgh—that’s settled. Dan and I have nobody in the world except each other, so it’s ridiculous to live hundreds of miles apart. Having made this decision she decided that she must write to Irene Barnard and to the House Agent at Nettleham—and perhaps a few lines to Dan just to tell him it was definitely fixed.
After supper she put on her coat and went out. She had been out all day, but still she had not had enough Seatown air. There was no air like it, Dinah thought, no air so fresh and tonic and energising. The sea was right in, almost up to the wall. It was ruffled by the evening breeze and the little wavelets glittered and sparkled in the rays of the sun. They made a gentle splashing sound as they curled over and fell upon the beach, a peaceful sound, monotonous and soothing.
She was leaning on the wall, watching it and enjoying it, when a big car drove up behind her and Malcolm Armstrong got out.
“Hallo!” exclaimed Dinah in surprise.
“Sorry to bother you,” he said, smiling at her. “It’s a note for Dan, that’s all. He forgot to give me his address at Leith.” Dinah took the note. She was slightly uneasy; had Malcolm thought better of his offer to give Dan the post?
“It’s nothing important,” Malcolm assured her. “Just to ask him to look in at the office and see me. I want to give him some papers to read.”
“Of course. I’ll send it, shall I?” said Dinah, nodding. “I was going to write to him, anyway. Dan and I are going to set up house together in Edinburgh, you know.”
“An excellent plan! The Dees should live together.”
“That’s what the Dees think.”
Malcolm leant on the wall beside her; he seemed in no hurry to go. “It’s lovely here,” he said. “So peaceful and restful after the hustle and bustle of business. I get awfully tired.”
“I expect you have a great deal to do.”
“It isn’t that so much. It’s my leg that bothers me. I was wounded rather badly and it still goes on growling,” he explained. “But don’t let’s talk about it.”
“Why not?” asked Dinah. “Don’t you like talking about it?”
“People don’t like listening,” replied Malcolm, with a little smile.
“That’s nonsense,” she said quickly. “Of course people want to know. Tell me about it, Malcolm.”
“There isn’t much to tell. I’ve got a little shell splinter in my ankle. They’ve taken out several other splinters, but apparently this particular splinter is in a difficult place. Sometimes it settles down and doesn’t bother me much, and then, for no reason at all, it starts up and gives me hell. They’ve tried all sorts of treatment, but nothing short of getting the thing out is going to be any good—I’m sure of that.” He hesitated, and then added: “It may end in losing my foot, of course.”
“Oh, Malcolm!”
“It’s all right,” declared Malcolm. “I mean, lots of people are much worse off. Look at that fishing-boat in the bay. Isn’t it a pretty sight?”
The boat was going out for a night’s fishing; it was gliding along with a peaceful but purposeful motion, the gentle breeze from the west filling its widespread sails.
“It’s Ben Johnstone’s boat,” continued Malcolm. “He’s a friend of mine—a splendid old chap—I often go out with him. Would you like to come some evening, Dinah? I don’t mean all night of course—just for a sail?”
The idea was attractive. Odd, of course, but . . . “I don’t see why I shouldn’t,” said Dinah, thinking aloud.
“No reason at all!” agreed her companion. “In fact, every reason why you should. What about to-morrow night?”
“To-morrow night!” echoed Dinah, somewhat startled. It was one thing to decide that there was no reason why she should not go and another to be pinned down to a definite date in the near future.
“To-morrow,” said Malcolm, firmly. “Better to take advantage of the good weather while it lasts. I’ll leave a message for Ben at the harbour.” He pressed her hand and got into the car. “Eight o’clock to-morrow,” he said. “That’s all right, isn’t it, Dinah?”
“Where?” asked Dinah. “I mean—”
“At the harbour. I’ll meet you there,” replied Malcolm, and drove off quickly, almost as if he were afraid she might change her mind.
Dinah was afraid Nannie might disapprove, might think it an odd thing to do (she thought it odd herself), but Nannie was not in the least put about at the idea.
“They’re nice people,” said Nannie. “They’re real old Seatown gentry. And of course Dan’s going to help him run his business, so naturally he’s grateful for that. You’ll need to take a warm coat and a scarf for round your head. It’s parky on the water, especially at night, and I don’t want you getting a chill.”
Thus reassured, Dinah went upstairs and wrote her letters and, having sealed them and posted them in the pillarbox (which very conveniently was built into the wall just opposite the gate), she betook herself to bed.
17
Dinah awoke early to find a soft, warm creature snuggling into her back.
“It’s me,” said Mark’s slightly gruff voice. “Nothing’s the matter—I mean I haven’t been sick or anything—but I just hadn’t seen you for such a long, long time.”
“You hadn’t seen me!” exclaimed his mother in surprise.
“Not properly,” Mark explained. “Not just you and me talking.”
Dinah took his point. She took it all the more easily because she often felt the same about her children and regretted it, but there was no way to remedy the matter as far as she could see. Living next door to Irene Barnard, who had an only child, she had noticed that Irene was friends with her daughter, that they talked to one another constantly—almost as equals—sharing the same amusements and taking a keen interest in one another’s affairs. It was impossible for Dinah to do this with four children. Naturally the children played together, which was good for them and pleasant for them (and incidentally saved her a lot of trouble) but it divided her from them by an impassable barrier. Even if this barrier had not existed, Dinah would not have had time to be friends with each of them separately.
“You see what I mean,” urged Mark.
“Yes, of course,” said Dinah. “Let’s talk now, shall we?”
They talked. It was very pleasant indeed. They talked about what they would do when they went to Edinburgh. Mark was a little anxious as to whether he would be able to have his rabbits there and Dinah did not raise false hopes. If they could get a house with a garden it might be possible but they would have to wait and see.
“It doesn’t matter,” Mark assured her. “I mean if we can’t, we can’t. I just wanted to know. I like animals, you . . . see.”
Having settled this, as much as it could be settled, Mark went on to talk of another matter near his heart.
“You know Bob, the dustman?” he inquired.
“Bob? No, I’m afraid not.”
“Well, he knows you. He came round yesterday with his cart and let me pat his horse—it’s an awfully nice horse called Mac. He said he used to know you when you were a little girl. Then he said he supposed I was going to be a doctor like Doctor Bell.”
“You’re going to be a sailor, aren’t you?”
“I think I’d rather be a doctor. Could I be a doctor? It’s more use, isn’t it? I mean, of course sailors are useful too, but—well, I think I’d like to be a doctor.”
This was quite a new idea to Dinah, but she welcomed it warmly. If Mark really wanted to be a doctor there was no reason why he should not be. Now that she thought of it, she realised that there was a great deal of her father in Mark; why hadn’t she seen it before?
“Mark,” she said, solemnly; “it’s very hard work to be a doctor and it costs a lot of money; but if you do your part and work very hard I’ll do my part and find the money somehow. Your grandfather was a splendid man and a very good doctor. I would rather you were like him than anybody I can think of. If you’re as good a doctor as he was I shall be very proud.”
“I would try,” said Mark, gravely. “As a matter of fact, Bob said that too—that I was like my grandfather.”
Tuesday morning was Nannie’s shopping-time. She suggested that the children might like to go with her and see the shops and, this suggestion being well received, she set off early with her escort. Dinah watched them with an amused smile as they walked down the road; Nannie was not very much taller than the children, her small, plump figure wore a purposeful air, and she waddled rather than walked; the children hopped and skipped round her, talking eagerly about what they intended to buy with the money their mother had given them. Mark was carrying the enormous basket which always accompanied Nannie on her expeditions to the town.
