, page 13
The guests stood electrified, gazing at each other in stunned silence. Somebody cried: ‘Stand back; give the poor lady air!’ Another cried: ‘The police! Send for the police!’ At the door, the ancient butler had already begun, firmly though politely, to decline to allow the guests to leave. ‘If I may suggest, madam, it might be better to wait until the police arrive … Just in case the pendant isn’t found, sir—if you wouldn’t mind waiting …’
Mr Thoms and his party worked their way towards each other and waited weary and cross until Inspector Trickett arrived and went slowly, with West Country thoroughness, through the events of the evening, the last time the pendant had been seen, the discovery at midnight of its loss. A man stood at the door to take their names, as at last they were released.
At home in the Guardhouse Sparrow was waiting up with hot soup for them. Tiggy heard the noise of their entry, and hopped downstairs on naked pink feet, taking refuge from her mother and Miss Pye behind Evan’s chair. ‘I only want to hear about the party. I’m not asleep anyway, so you might as well let me stay up and hear about the party … Jenny, was it lovely? Did you have a lovely time?’
Jenny could not be said to have had a lovely time. She said, miserably: ‘It was a hateful party. We all had a horrid time,’ and buried her nose in Sparrow’s hot tomato soup.
‘But there was a real, proper burglary!’ said Roy, laughing to Tiggy.
‘A burgalry!’
‘Yes, a lovely burglary! Somebody burgled Lady Templeton’s pendant away, right under our noses!’
Sparrow paused in his handing round of soup, riveted to attention. ‘A robbery at The Towers, sir?’ Sparrow was a local man, and everything that happened in Daunton was of exquisite interest to him.
‘Yes, Sparrow,’ said Mrs Thoms. ‘Lady Templeton’s emerald pendant was taken. It seems his lordship gave her the pendant over the weekend; It’s new.’
‘She must have had it in time to buy that ghastly frock, Thom-Thom,’ protested Gloria, looking over her cup of soup with fluttering lashes. ‘It must have been chosen to go with the pendant, it couldn’t have been pure chance.
‘I saw her coming out of a shop in Taddlecombe today,’ said Jenny, briefly.
‘A woman with hundreds of pounds’ worth of emerald pendant buys her dresses in Taddlecombe!’ Gloria shuddered in a manner very unflattering to Lady Templeton.
‘So it can’t have been a premeditated crime,’ said Roy, ‘if nobody knew she owned the thing.’
‘I don’t for a moment believe it was a crime at all,’ put in Evan Stone, in his quiet, half-ironical way. ‘When the old dame goes to bed she’ll fish it out from among her stay-laces, and not be able to think how she didn’t realize it had just fallen down the front of her dress.’
‘No, no!’ said Thom-Thom. ‘She’s already fished the chain out from her stay-laces; and the police definitely say that it’s been cut.’
‘Cor lummy,’ said Roy. ‘What fun!’
‘And the policeman took all our names and addresses, Tiggy, wasn’t that exciting?’ Said Miss Pye.
‘It was intensely boring; and I’m tired and I’m going to bed,’ said Gloria firmly. ‘And so are you, Tiggy. Sparrow, thank you for the soup—it was lovely!’ She never spared herself in thanks to servants, so that they forgot to mind when she did spare herself in tips.
‘Good night, Roy,’ said Jenny forlornly, following her mother upstairs.
‘Good night,’ said Roy, coldly. He put his hand to the back of his neck where the incipient boil made a scarlet inflamed patch.
Miss Pye hustled Tiggy upstairs, wreathed in good-night nods. ‘Did you bring me something back in your handbag, Pye? You promised you would.’
‘Yes, I brought you a sausage roll; you shall have it the moment you’re back in bed. I hope,’ said Miss Pye anxiously, ‘that those rolls were all right, though. I wonder, Tiggy, if I’d better give it to you after all? I ate several at the party; and I don’t feel well at all; and sausage-meat in hot weather is so dangerous!’
Tiggy decided to risk the peril of sausage-meat in hot weather. ‘It’s lovely, Pye. I can’t find anything wrong with it. Do you think I’ll be ill tomorrow?’ She wriggled down in bed, her two plaits sticking out wildly over the counterpane. ‘Do you think I’ll be ill?’
On the morrow, however, Tiggy seemed to have suffered no ill effects from the sausage roll; which was odd, because Miss Pye did not feel well at all!
Julian and Truda arrived at teatime on the afternoon after the dance. Most of the others had left for the quay discussing the readiness of the Cariad for racing the following day, and haggling without rancour over the handicap to be given to the Lady Greensleeves, their only challenger.
Small boys from the naval college up the hill stood anxiously around estimating their chances against Mr Thoms’ steel mast and modern hull, with Tiggy marching about among them, throwing out her legs in a very silly way to attract their attention.
On the terrace, looking down over this scene of remote activity, Miss Pye sat holding her head and still naïvely blaming the sausage rolls. ‘Dear Julian and Truda! How nice to see you. They’ll all be home soon to tea …’ Her gooseberry eyes looked languidly out from her flat, round, foolish face. ‘A delightful party last night (though I don’t know whether quite sufficient care was taken over the catering) … And so exciting about the pendant! Any news?’
‘No, nothing. We rang up Lady Templeton this morning … It was a very good party otherwise,’ said Truda, politely making conversation.
‘But so dreadful for you, my dears, this horrible breach of promise action Mr Geoffrey’s making Jenny take. I assure you, Julian, it’s nothing to do with Jenny; it’s all Mr Geoffrey’s idea.’
‘Action for breach of promise?’ cried Truda, astounded. ‘What on earth are you talking about, Miss Pye?’
Miss Pye goggled distressfully. ‘Surely Jenny told you, Julian? Or Mr Geoffrey? Didn’t Mr Geoffrey speak to you last night?’
‘No,’ said Julian. He sat down on the edge of the balustrade with his back to the sea and jingled the money in his pockets. ‘I don’t think I even saw him.’
Truda began to speak, but stopped herself. Miss Pye wished most earnestly that she had kept quiet; however, having now gone so far, she burst into gabbling confidence. ‘It was just that somehow, Julian, the subject of you and Truda cropped up, and Mr Geoffrey made Jenny promise … Mr Geoffrey is very difficult to resist, you know, Julian; it’s hard for a young girl like Jenny, dependent on him as she is …’
Sparrow appeared with a tray of sandwiches and cakes, and unable to bear the sight of a whipped-cream filling, she made an excuse and scuttled thankfully away.
Julian and Truda sat looking at each other. ‘Action for breach of promise! Julian, they can’t!’
‘Well, of course they can’t,’ said Julian, reasonably, trying to appear offhand, to thrust the whole thing aside. ‘It isn’t a question of whether they would succeed, or even whether they can or not; suppose they even started, think of all the horridness and publicity …!’ And besides, grandmother …’
Julian’s hands gripped the stone edge of the balustrade, till the knuckles stood out pale against the tan. ‘Oh, Trudie, what a mess I’ve got you into!’
She looked at him, almost surprised. ‘You haven’t got me into a mess, darling.’
‘Yes, I have,’ he said. ‘I—if Aunt Edwina doesn’t come round I’ll have done you out of your inheritance; and though I know you don’t mind, dearest, I do. I mind for you.’
‘If you go to her straight and tell her the whole story, Julian, she’ll forgive us in the end; we’ve only got to do what we always intended to do anyway—just tell her straight out that we—well, that we’re in love …’
‘But it’ll take time to bring her round, Trudie, and with your twenty-fifth birthday so near, when this wretched will is decided one way or the other, time’s so important … And now if this ghastly breach of promise thing is started, she’ll never forgive me for getting you into such a mess, she’ll never be reconciled to our marrying each other.’
Julian sat, disconsolate, with bent head, staring miserably at the stone floor of the terrace.
‘I meant to be so good to you, Trudie darling. I meant to look after you and—and guard you, and never let you be worried or upset; and now the very first thing I do is bring this beastly sordid affair on you … And it’s more than that. I know how fond you are of the old lady, I know you don’t want to hurt her feelings by going against her.’
She got up and came and stood close to him, half leaning against him. ‘That’s true, darling; it isn’t the money, not a bit, really; but I know I’m the most important thing in her life—everything she does is for what she thinks is my good, and it is rotten to think I should have to hurt her and upset her … She’s—she’s old; and though she’s autocratic and wants everything her own way, well, she’s awfully sweet really, and awfully kind …’
She bit her lip, turning away her head so that Julian should not see the tears that were welling up in her eyes.
‘Action for breach of promise! Of all the sordid …’ He turned away in disgust. ‘Anyway, she’ll be here tomorrow evening; he’ll keep quiet till then.’
‘I suppose it wouldn’t be worth our rushing up to London today and catching her …? No, it’s too late, the trains and things won’t do. I suppose we could ring her up, but one couldn’t possibly explain on the telephone.’ She paused. ‘I suppose Geoffrey won’t try anything like that? I wouldn’t put it past him!’
‘No, no,’ said Julian quickly. ‘He —he’d never dream of such a thing. He doesn’t even know where she is.’
‘He’d ring up the flat; anyone can know where she lives when she’s in London. It’s in the directory.’
‘He won’t,’ said Julian, reassuringly.
Truda stared out unseeingly at the bay, sparkling beneath them with the little white yacht moored out in the centre. She said slowly: ‘I suppose, Julian, it wouldn’t be possible to—to buy him off?’
‘Oh, no,’ said Julian. ‘I—I couldn’t.’
‘It would save so much distress and horribleness, darling. This is only just a try-on; he’d probably keep quiet for a couple of hundred pounds and that would be the end of it. I know it’s beastly and blackmail and all that kind of thing,’ but it it’d save grandmother so much extra pain on top of what we’ve got to cause her …’
‘I haven’t got the money,’ said Julian.
‘You’ve got three hundred, darling.’
‘No, I haven’t,’ he said. ‘I haven’t got a bean. Well, perhaps fifty pounds, but that’s all; really it is.’
‘I thought you said yesterday …?’
‘I was just talking metaphorically,’ said Julian, quickly. ‘I was—I didn’t mean it in exact figures …’
Truda went a little white, looking down at her brown hands braced against the stone parapet; but she said simply: ‘Well, then, that’s out darling. The only thing to hope for is that Jenny won’t consent. And surely she won’t? Surely she’d never do such a thing?’
‘Poor Jenny’s so completely under Winson’s thumb; and Gloria’s. That woman’s absolutely unscrupulous …’
Truda was silent, hardly hearing what he said. Poor Julian, heart-breaking Julian with his troubled eyes and trembling mouth, who wanted so passionately to ‘guard’ her, as he had said, and whom she would always, delicately, imperceptibly have to ‘guard’.
She was well aware that she should have told him earlier that her grandmother had declared her intention of disinheriting her if the love affair with her cousin progressed any further; but she had believed, and rightly, that he would not have allowed her to make what he thought too great a sacrifice; though she counted the loss of her wealth no sacrifice at all.
Now for Julian to feel that he had brought ugliness to their happiness, the sordid ugliness that such a man as Geoffrey Winson could throw across it, whether or not he could succeed in bringing his action … Poor Julian; she knew that he was blaming himself, who was blameless; and longed to tell him so, and could not because her longing was so great. Side by side, they stared silently across the bay, and saw nothing of the blue water and the blue sky; their thoughts, divided for the first time in many days, and far away from the sunshine and the coming yacht race, and the chatter and laughter of the family party strolling back along the quay.
Sparrow had seen them, however, and though Sparrow had troubles of his own, his thoughts were concentrated upon his work with all the fervour of his conscientious soul. He came out on to the terrace with the rest of the cakes and sandwiches; already he had put the kettle on the gas in his orderly little kitchen. Mr Winson and Mr Silver appeared to be taking leave of the rest of the party and branching off towards the road that led to the cliff tops over towards Cow’s Bay; they were evidently going off for a walk and would not be back to tea, so Sparrow picked up their two cups and returned them to his tray.
Mr Winson and Mr Silver were pretty thick these days; there was that about Mr Winson, thought Sparrow shrewdly, that made him contented with the society of young people less sophisticated and worldly than himself; not that you could call Mr Silver unworldly, a proper lad he was, but he couldn’t hold a candle to Mr Winson in knowledge and general information and experience. But Mr Winson didn’t mind that. The young were easily impressed by his wit and cleverness and it didn’t bother him that they were not really worth the pearls he flung. He had so many pearls; it was a pity some of them couldn’t be translated into good hard cash.
Sparrow, retreating with the tray under the mute observation of Miss Deane and Mr Messenger (those two looked a bit white and funny; he hoped that nothing was wrong), wondered idly what took Mr Winson and Mr Silver up to the cliffs so much. Long country walks were not really in their line, and the pubs would not be open for another two hours. Girls, was his guess.
There were several young things up at Cow’s Bay who wouldn’t be above a bit of skittishness with the local rich gentry. Sparrow, though he was now obliged to live in at the Guardhouse, owned a little cottage at Cow’s Bay, where his pretty little wife lived all alone, and he knew all about the lovelies of that seaside village. He speculated without much interest as he rattled about in his tidy pantry, as to which of the local bits might he luring the gentlemen so far from home on so hot an afternoon.
Dinner that evening was not a very festive affair. Julian and Truda, for all their automatic good manners, were frightened, angry and disgusted, and only just concealing it. Miss Pye had one of her periodical rows with Geoffrey, this time over his (imaginary) ill treatment of Gloria, which had ended, as they invariably did, in Gloria turning the tables in her husband’s defence and siding with him against her champion. Roy, usually so full of sparkle, was black-browed and silent; the boil on his neck, now mercifully plaster-covered, was evidently coming to a head.
Mr Thoms was unhappily watching Gloria and trying to accustom himself to the idea that she could never be more at his table than a guest. Tiggy, allowed to stay up to dinner for a treat, maintained a ceaseless gabble about the doings of the girls at St Hilda’s, where she had recently spent a much interrupted, and not yet paid for, term; and as soon as she had finished her pudding was banished to bed.
However, the evening was lovely and, Evan Stone suggesting a stroll along the quay, they dribbled out in twos and threes, driven to organized action by their own indifference.
Out in the sweep of the bay, the Cariad’s white hull caught the gleam of the dying sun as she lay like a moth asleep with her white sails furled; astern of her, a little larger, shabbier, less lady-like, but polished and trimmed to mirror brightness by the boys from the naval school up the river, the Greensleeves also rocked herself to sleep.
The party straggled along the flat pebble road separating the beach from the land, kicking stones ahead of them, hands in pockets, slouching moodily along. Evan Stone, apparently conceiving it his duty to try to entertain them, drew them into a more compact bunch, by a description of a long-distance flight which he had undertaken early in his career, with unhappy results.
‘Mercifully the natives there were very pleasant, and they looked after me till help came …’ Geoffrey responded to his lead with interest, alone of the party quite free of self-examination, envy or distrust. What type of natives were they? Had Evan been with them long enough to get any insight into their habits and superstitions? Jenny, trailing along, avoiding Roy and keeping to her mother’s side, looked up to ask what would have happened if the aeroplane had come down on a cannibal island …
‘I took care not to fly over cannibal islands,’ said Evan, laughing.
‘And anyway, there aren’t any left,’ said Roy, loftily.
‘Oh, well, I wouldn’t say that. No small islands, perhaps, but in parts of New Guinea the people are supposed to have the most disagreeable habits.’
‘Besides, not only cannibals, but there are head-hunters in Borneo and things like that,’ said Jenny, aggrieved at doubts cast upon the good sense of her suggestion.
‘Yes, indeed; however, I’ve never come down among any, so I can’t tell you how one would organize such a situation. It must be a nasty experience.’
‘Horrible,’ said Gloria, pushing her way into the limelight, with a realistic shudder. ‘One can’t bear to think of it! What would you do, Evan? I mean to say, you wouldn’t have a chance in the end, would you? So would you just kill as many as you could before you let them get you?’
‘I don’t know; I suppose I would. It would be one’s first instinct, wouldn’t it? Of course, there’s always the chance that they might turn round and he friendly.’
‘Yes, but suppose they obviously weren’t. Suppose they came rushing at you, quite frankly waving spears, with the cauldron bubbling away like mad in the background …?’ Gloria, finding this somewhat speculative discourse on cannibals more entertaining than heavy silence, flogged it resolutely.
‘Well, then, of course, the tradition is that you should take out your false—er, take out your glass eye,’ said Evan, suddenly remembering his employer’s full equipment of dentures, ‘and if that didn’t work, well—you makka da firestick speak.’
