'Got one of those low minds, has she, this Miss Buttersplosh?'
'Not at all,' said Monty warmly. 'Far from it. She's got about as high a mind as she can stick. And her name isn't Butter-splosh. It's Butter-wick.'
'Just as bad,' said Miss Blossom critically.
'It's not half as bad. There's no comparison. And, anyway, we aren't talking about her name, we're talking about what she would think if she saw you sitting here, practically on my toes. It would give her a fit. You see, there are wheels within wheels. Regeje Tennyson, like a silly ass, went and gave her the impression that I was a fairly mere butterfly. And that, coming right on top of that tattoo mark on my chest-'
'What tattoo mark would that be?’
'Oh, it's a long story. Boiling it down, I was once engaged to a girl called Sue Brown and I had her name tattooed on my chest with a heart round it -'
'Golly!' said Miss Blossom, much intrigued. 'Let's look.'
Monty was sitting with his back against the head of the bed, so was unable to recoil far. But he recoiled as far as he could. 'No, dash it!'
‘Ah, come on.' ‘No, really.'
'What's the matter with you? Chests are nothing among friends. You can't shock me. I once played the love interest in Bozo the Ape Man’
'I dare say, but -’
'Come on. Do.'
'No, I'm dashed if I will.’
'Oh, very well. Keep your old chest, then.’
Hurt and disappointed, Miss Blossom gathered up the alligator, adjusted the pink ribbon about its neck and left the room. It was as she closed Monty's door and started to go to her own in order to restore Wilfred to his wickerwork basket that Gertrude came along the passage.
It had been Gertrude's intention to knock on Monty's door and tell him that he ought to get up and enjoy the lovely sunshine. She abandoned this project. Having stared for a moment, she turned sharply and went on deck again.
It seemed to Monty from time to time during the remainder of that day of blue skies and soft breezes that the girl he loved was a little rummy in her manner. Nothing that you could put your hand on exactly, but rummy. She fell into sudden silences. Every now and then, glancing up, he would find her gaze on him in a rather thoughtful way. Or not so much thoughtful, perhaps, as ... well, rummy. It weighed upon him a little.
By night-time, however, the slight sense of depression induced by this rumminess had left him. By nature resilient, he soon found it vanishing under the influence of the excellent dinner set before him by the authorities who had composed the evening's menu.
These kindly men, believing that there is nothing like a bite to eat for picking a fellow up, had provided five kinds of soup, six kinds of fish, and in addition to these preliminaries such attractive items as chicken hot-pot, roast veal, ox tail, pork cutlets, mutton chops, sausages, steak, haunch of venison, sirloin of beef, rissoles, calf's liver, brawn, York ham, Virginia ham, Bradenham ham, salmi of duck and boar's head, followed by eight varieties of pudding, a wide choice of cheese and icecreams and fruit to fill up the chinks. Monty did not take them all, but he took enough of them to send him to the boat deck greatly refreshed and in a mood of extreme sentimentality. He felt like a loving python.
The atmospheric conditions on the boat deck were of a nature to encourage these emotions. It was a still, warm night of stars and moonshine, and if only his cigarettes had held out Monty might have remained where he was indefinitely, probably even going to the length of trying to compose poetry.
Opening his case, however, at the end of the first hour or so and finding it empty, he decided to go to his state-room and stock up. If Gertrude had been with him on the boat deck, he would, of course, have had no need for cigarettes: but Gertrude had pleaded a bridge engagement with Jane Passenger and a couple of her team mates. So Monty went below, and he was in the act of opening the door of his state-room when he was checked by an exclamation of shocked reproof and turned to perceive Albert Peasemarch.
The steward was looking his most Victorian.
'You can't go in there, sir,' he said.
Monty stared at the man. He was at a loss. Every time they met, it seemed to him, this vassal sprang something new and cryptic on him.
'What do you mean?'
Albert Peasemarch appeared astonished by the question’ 'Didn't the young lady apprize you, sir?' 'Do what?'
‘Inform you of what had transpired? Not the young lady next door, I don't mean. The other young lady, Miss Butterwick. Didn't she tell you that she had changed state-rooms with you and that you are now in B 36?'
Monty leaned weakly against the wall. As on a previous occasion, the steward had become two stewards and was flicker’ ing at the rims.
'Yes, sir, that's what she's gone and done. Changed staterooms with you. Quite a general post it's been with you this voyage, hasn't it, sir,' said Albert Peasemarch sympathetically. ‘I expect it's becoming a case of you dunno where you are, as the song says. First your gentleman friend shifts you, and now the lady shifts you. Pretty soon you'll be having to be keeping a daily memo, to remind you which actually is your current shed.'
He chuckled at the quaint conceit, considered it for a moment, then, feeling that it was much too clever to be said only once, repeated it.
'Pretty soon you'll have to be keeping a daily memo, to remind you which actually is your current shed. But don't think, sir,' said Albert Peasemarch, striking a graver note, for he could be serious as well as witty, 'that I approve of all this chopping and changing. I ventured to observe to the young lady that it was all highly irregular and shouldn't ought to be done without the cognizance and permission of the purser, but she just replied: "Damn your eyes, steward," or words to that effect, "you do what you're told and let's have less back-chat about it," so I shifted you, as requested. But I naturally assumed that the young lady would have apprized you.'
'Steward,' said Monty, speaking in a low, croaking voice.
'Sir?'
‘peasemarch ... Do you happen to know, Peasemarch, if Miss Butterwick has - has gone into the bathroom yet?'
'Oh, yes, sir,' said Albert Peasemarch brightly. 'She went in first thing.’
‘And-?’
'Oh, yes, sir, she saw that undeliable writing. Well, she could hardly have missed it, could she? She seemed highly interested. She stood looking at it for a while, and then she turns to me and says: "Coo, steward! What's all this?" And I replied: "That is writing, miss, done in lipstick." And she said "Oh!"'
Monty clutched at the wall. It seemed the only solid thing in a disintegrating world.
'Oh?'
'Yes, sir, that's what the young lady said - "Oh!" She then dismissed me and closed the door. Some little time later, she pressed the bell for the tabby - the stewardess, sir, and gave her a note to take to your state-room - B 36, in case you've forgotten, sir - that's on the deck immediately above this one, this being the C deck - and there no doubt you'll find it.'
Monty left him. He had had sufficient of Albert Peasemarch's society for the time being. The steward had the air of a man who was about to point out that all this was just another example of the inscrutable workings of Fate - as no doubt it was. For, as Monty realized, if Gertrude Butterwick had never been born - if, indeed, she had been born without arms or with one leg shorter than the other, she would never have been selected to accompany the All England Ladies' Hockey Team to America: in which case, she would not have been on board the liner Atlantic and would not have been in a position to think things over and come to the conclusion that a Monty Bodkin next door to Miss Lotus Blossom was a Monty Bodkin who would be much more happily situated on Deck B.
Nothing could be truer than all this, but Monty did not wish to stand there and listen to Albert Peasemarch expounding it.
With leaden feet he stumbled to State-room B 36. Its air was still faintly scented with his favourite perfume, that affected by Gertrude Butterwick, but he did no sentimental sniffing. His whole attention was absorbed by two objects that lay upon the dressing-table.<
br />
One was an envelope with his name on it in the handwriting he knew so well. The other was a brown plush Mickey Mouse with pink coral eyes.
It beamed up at him with a wide-smiling cheerfulness which in the circumstances he found tasteless and intolerable.
Chapter 14
Fully as tasteless and intolerable to Monty's-mind was the way in which, on the morning following these cataclysmic events, all Nature smiled. Nothing could have been fairer or brighter than the weather next day. There was no rain, no fog, not even a fresh north-easterly breeze. Heedless of the fact that it contained a young man for whom life no longer held any meaning, the sun came pouring into State-room B 36, and dancing merrily on the ceiling, as if everything had been for the best in the best of all possible worlds.
At a few minutes after nine there was a shuffling of carpet-slippered feet in the passage and Reggie Tennyson entered.
The sight of his old friend did nothing to alleviate Monty's gloom. His views on congenial society at the moment were exactly opposite to those expressed by Julius Caesar. He did not want men about him that were fat; sleek-headed men and such as sleep o' nights. And while Reggie was not fat, he had plainly enjoyed an excellent night's rest and was in capital spirits. As he walked in he was smiling as broadly as the Mickey Mouse. And that animal's unceasing joviality had been jarring on Monty ever since he had woken up.
His 'What ho', accordingly, lacked spontaneity and heartiness. He was just settling down to breakfast, and had hoped to be alone with his grief and kippers. And if solitude were to be denied him, he would have preferred some such visitor as Ambrose. Yond Ambrose had a lean and hungry look, and that was the sort of thing Monty required this morning. He felt scarcely capable of coping with Reggie.
Still, one has to be civil. He prepared to make conversation.
'You're up early,' he said glumly.
Reggie leaned against the foot of the bed, draping his dressing-gown around him.
‘You bet I'm up early,' he replied with a sort of Boy Scoutful exuberance which turned the kipper to ashes in Monty's mouth. 'I've better things to do than frowst in bed on a morning like this. What a morning 1 I don't know when I've known such a morning. The sun is shining -'
‘I know, I know,' said Monty peevishly. 'I've seen it.’
Reggie's effervescence diminished a little. He seemed wounded. He looked for a moment rather like Albert Peasemarch in one of his hurt moods.
'Well, all right,' he said. There's nothing to get stuffy about It's not my fault it's shining, is it? I wasn't consulted. I merely mentioned the fact to explain why I'm up and doing with a heart for any fate at a gosh-awful hour like this. I'm going to find Mabel Spence and play shuffleboard with her. Have you met Mabel, Monty?'
'Just to speak to.'
'What a ripper!’
'I dare say.’
'What do you mean, you dare say?' said Reggie warmly. I'm telling you. She's the sweetest girl on earth. Gosh, I wish I was Ambrose.'
‘Why?'
'Because he's going to Hollywood, where she lives, whereas I am headed for Montreal - curse the place and may worms attack its maple trees - and shall probably never see her again after the voyage ends. Still, no use,’ said Reggie bravely, ‘worrying about that. The thing to do is to gather rosebuds while ye may. And, talking of rosebuds, old boy, do you remember a tie you bought in the Burlington Arcade and came to lunch in at the Drones one day? About a week before the Two Thousand Guineas, it would have been. Throw your mind back. It had a sort of pink roses effect on a dove-grey background, and it is exactly what I need to add the finishing touch to the costume in which I propose to flash upon Mabel this morning. You haven't brought it with you, by any chance? If so, I'll borrow it'
'Look in the left-hand top drawer,' said Monty wearily. He swallowed a moody forkful of kipper. He was ill attuned to talk of ties.
'Got it,' said Reggie, having looked.
He returned to the foot of the bed. The momentary gloom caused by the thought of parting from Mabel Spence had disappeared. He was smiling again, as if at some thought or memory which amused him.
'Tell me, Monty,' he said, 'what on earth are you doing up here? The way you whizz about this ship is enough to make a chap's head swim. I do think, as an old friend, you might have told me you had moved. I plunged into what I thought was your state-room just now and gave the sleeping figure in the bed a hearty wallop -
Monty uttered a broken cry.
'- and it tore off its whiskers and it was Gertrude. An embarrassing moment for all concerned.' ‘You didn't?'
‘I certainly did. What's the idea? Why the switch?' ‘Didn't she tell you?'
'I didnt wait to be told anything. I reddened and withdrew.’ Monty groaned.
'Gertrude suddenly made up her mind to change state-rooms after dinner last night. She left a note for me here explaining why she had done it. That blighted Blossom girl came into my room yesterday morning soon after you had left, and apparently Gertrude was passing along the corridor and saw her coming out and going into her own cabin. From this she seems to have drawn two conclusions - one, that the Blossom and I were on pretty matey terms, and secondly that we were next door to one another. So she decided to change. She didn't say a word about it to me, so my chances of heading her off were nil. Abetted by Albert Peasemarch, she simply went ahead and did it.'
Reggie had listened to this narrative with the natural concern of a big-hearted young man for a friend in trouble. His nimble mind leaped without hesitation to what was plainly the nub of the tragedy.
'But, gosh! If Gertrude's in that room, she'll see that writing on the wall.'
Monty groaned again.
'She has seen it. Naturally, it was the first thing her eye Jit on when she checked in.'
'Did she touch on that in her note?'
Monty waved a sombre fork at the dressing-table.
'Look. That Mickey Mouse. I gave it her the first day of the voyage. I found it here when I came in last night.’
'She had sent it back?'
‘Sent it back.'
'Gadzooks! The one hundred per cent raspberry.’ ‘Yes.’
' 'Odsblood,’ said Reggie, pondering.
There was a pause. Monty finished his kipper.
'She saw Lottie coming out of your state-room, did she?’
'Yes. So she tells me in her note. But, dash it, she didn't say a word about it all the time I was with her yesterday afternoon and evening. If she had, I could have explained that the woman simply sat and talked about Ambrose and what a silly ass he was and how much she loved him and that not a word passed between us that could not have been broadcast in the B.B.C.'s Children's Hour. And now, of course, it's too late to do any explaining, because she's seen that writing and thinks I'm a sort of secret Mormon elder.'
Reggie nodded understandingly.
'Yes. One can follow her mental processes, of course. First, she finds that tattoo thing on your chest. You square yourself over that, but it leaves her a bit shaken. Then - foolishly, I admit, though with the best motives - I tell her - By the way, how did you square yourself over that? All that stuff of mine about you being such a lad?'
'I told her you were the biggest liar in London.’
'Good.'
'That nobody ever believed a word you said.’ 'Very sound.'
'And that you were always doing that sort of thing, because you thought it funny. I said you had a distorted mind.'
'Admirable,' said Reggie. 'Most judicious. The best move you could have made. I see now why her manner to me has been a bit cold of late.’
‘Has it?'
'Very cold. In fact, the only time it has really approached warmth since the first day out was just now in that state-room. There was a sort of hummock in the bed,' said Reggie, living over a scene which was plainly green in his memory, 'and I said to myself: "This is where I give Monty a laughable surprise," and I spat on my hand and hauled off and let it go. As I say, most embarrassing. Well, what you
have told me makes the procedure absurdly simple. I can put you straight with her in a second. I will go to her at once and tell her that it was I who wrote that writing on the wall.'
The tray on Monty's lap heaved and rattled. For the first time he began to regard the dancing of the sunbeams on the ceiling as something other than an offensive piece of gatecrashing. He could meet the smiling eye of the Mickey Mouse without wincing.
‘Reggie! Would you do that?'
'Of course. The only plan.'
'But will she believe you?’
'Of course she'll believe me. It all fits in perfectly. You seem to have made me out such a bally hound that she will be ready to believe anything to my detriment and discredit’
'I'm sorry about that.'
'Don't apologize. Very strategic'
'But where would you have got lipstick?’
'Lipstick can be borrowed.'
Monty's last doubts as to the feasibility of the scheme were removed. He gazed upon Reggie emotionally. He saw how wrong he had been in hastily taking him for a pest and an excrescence when he had entered the room. A sort of modern Sydney Carton was what Reggie seemed to him now.
He could not, however, repress a certain qualm as he considered this thing that his friend was about to do for him.
'I'm afraid she'll be pretty peeved with you.'
'Peeved? Gertrude? My first cousin? A girl I've seen spanked by a nurse with a hair-brush? You don't suppose I care what old pie-faced Gertrude thinks of me, do you? Good heavens, no. One laughs lightly and snaps the fingers. Don't you worry about me.'
Powerful emotions were wrestling with one another in
Monty's bosom. In addition to relief there was the agony of hearing the girl he loved described as 'old pie-faced Gertrude', sheer wonder at the realization that there could exist a man who did not value her good opinion, and a burning resentment against a nurse capable of perpetrating the hideous outrage specified. But relief was the most powerful. 'Thanks,' he said.
It was with difficulty that he could utter even that simple word.
Luck of the Bodkins Page 13
