“Fine,” I said. Celia would not understand that likes or dislikes did not matter. I was in some strange limbo where nothing seemed quite real and other people slid across my consciousness like shadows. I didn’t feel real myself. I walked, I talked, I must be making the right responses to situations since no one seemed to notice that I was empty and hollow, a living ghost haunting a world that no longer concerned me.
“You’ll like him,” Celia insisted. She frowned at me uneasily.
I nodded and dredged up a sympathetic smile. I was afraid that it would not be long before Celia knew more than she wanted to know about such feelings.
Chapter 9
He must have been lurking in the bushes when Celia brought us home. Then he waited for her to drive away and leave us. The sound of her car engine had hardly faded into the distance when the front doorbell rang, a sharp demanding peal.
It was late for anyone to be calling. Slightly alarmed, I glanced at Tessa and Timothy. They were opening a tin of cat food for Errol, who was twining around their ankles, and did not appear to notice anything amiss in the situation.
“Yes—?” I opened the door cautiously, wishing that Nancy and Arnold were less trusting. They might have taken the rudimentary precaution of having a chain on their door. I did not recognize the dark male shape looming before me. “What is it?”
“What is it? I’ll tell you what it is, lady—” He pushed past me and stood foursquare in the hallway, scowling and narrowing his eyes against the light.
“Now just a minute—” I protested.
“What it is, is—” He was snarling with fury. I backed away. “Your cat has knocked up my cat—and I want to know what you’re going to do about it!”
“Poor sweet.” Tessa had come to see what was happening. “Can’t she get back to sleep again?”
“If there’s one thing I can’t stand—” the man turned his contorted face to Tessa—“it’s an insolent brat!”
“It isn’t insolence—it’s innocence!” I flew to Tessa’s defence, annoyed but no longer quite so frightened. It is difficult to be afraid of a man—however large and bad-tempered—who is tenderly cradling a gloriously beautiful picture-book cat in his arms. She appeared to be a long-haired Siamese with big blue perfectly round eyes which were watching us all with interest.
“Look at her” He gently stroked the cat’s bulging sides. “Just look at what your revolting monster has done to my poor little Pitti-Sing. That beast ought to be put down!”
Tessa pressed close to me and tugged at my skirt. I bent to her. “I don’t like that man, Mummy,” she whispered.
I wasn’t exactly enamoured of him myself, but he appeared to have genuine cause for grievance.
“Put down!” he repeated. Tessa whimpered.
“That’s out of the question,” I said firmly. “Just because you can’t keep your own cat under control, there’s no need to take it out on Errol.”
“She’s never out of my apartment in the city,” he said. “I thought it was safe to let her enjoy the great outdoors up here. I didn’t know that monster was prowling the woods, or I’d never have let her out alone.”
“Errol isn’t the only male cat around Edgemarsh Lake,” I defended. “I don’t know why you should jump to the conclusion that he’s to blame.”
Unfortunately Errol chose that moment to come ambling into the room, perhaps drawn by the sound of his own name, or perhaps curious to see what had distracted us from the vital business of getting his supper. He gave a chirrup of pleased surprise when he saw the feline in the stranger’s arms and made straight for her, breaking into a raucous serenade. Pitti-Sing immediately began to struggle to get down and join him. It was abundantly clear that Errol was well known to her and had enjoyed the fullest cooperation in his escapade.
“No! No!” the man cried, clutching the squirming cat desperately. “No, Pitti-Sing, stay with Daddy.” He glared at me. “Get that monster out of here! Go away! Go away—” He launched out with one foot at Errol.
“No-o-o!” Tessa leaped to save Errol from the kick. As she bent to pick him up, the foot landed on her cast. “Oooh!” she screamed and burst into tears.
“You kicked her! You kicked my sister!” Timothy was upon him like a whirlwind, fists flying.
“Oh my God!” The man dropped to his knees beside Tessa. “I’m sorry, honey. I didn’t mean to hurt you. It was an accident.” Pitti-Sing took advantage of his divided attention to twist free and break away. Errol followed her.
“Timothy!” I caught my son as he drew back his foot to aim a kick at the man’s head, now within range, and pulled him away. “Behave yourself! It was an accident. Tessa—” I knelt beside her—“are you all right? Let me see your arm, darling. Does it hurt to move it?” If that stupid man had rebroken her arm, I’d kick him myself.
“Mummy!” She hurled her good arm around my neck and subsided against me, still sobbing.
“My God, lady,” the man said. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I wouldn’t have hurt her for the world. Honestly.”
“You were going to kick Errol,” Timothy accused. “You wanted to hurt him.”
“Damn right!” For an instant, something dangerous sparked in the man’s eyes. “That cat has it coming to him!”
“He’s an awful man, Mummy,” Tessa confided loudly. “I don’t like him.”
“I’m terrible,” the man agreed unexpectedly. “Here—” He stuck out his chin and pointed it at Tessa. “Go ahead and sock me. As hard as you can. Then we’ll be even.”
“Tessa!” I caught her doubled-up fist. “Two wrongs don’t make a right! And you”—I turned to the man—“ought not to suggest such a thing. I’m trying to bring up my children to be civilized!”
“Sorry, lady, you’re right.” He wrenched himself to his feet. “I’m glad you stopped me. I’ll bet that kid packs quite a punch.”
Tessa gave one final sniff and tried not to smile, “I could knock you over,” she said.
“Tessa!”
“Sure you could, kid.” He reached out as though to pat her on the head, but had second thoughts and withdrew his hand hastily.
“Look.” He turned to me. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said what I said about your cat. I was angry. Believe it or not, I’m a reasonable man and you look like a reasonable woman, so why don’t we compromise? I’ll settle for having the cat taken care of.” So that I should have no doubt about his meaning, he added, “I’ll even pay the vet’s bill myself.”
“No!” I said sharply. I couldn’t possibly do that to someone else’s cat. What would Nancy and Arnold say if they came back and found Errol neutered? Presumably they liked him the way he was or they would have attended to the operation themselves. Perhaps they had plans for breeding from him at some future time.
“So much for reasonable compromise.” A sulky look spread over the man’s face.
“Mummy, he’s still trying to hurt Errol, isn’t he?” Tessa asked plaintively.
“It won’t hurt the cat,” he snapped.
“It won’t do him any good,” I countered, firmly on Errol’s side. “Why don’t you be reasonable? They’re both long-haired cats, the kittens ought to be beautiful.”
“I wanted to mate Pitti-Sing with one of her own breed when she was a bit older. She’s a pure-bred Himalayan—” He broke off and looked around. “Where is she? Where did she go? Pitti-Sing … here, Pitti-Sing …”
“He calls her Pitti-Sing,” Timothy observed with interest.
“It’s not baby-talk” The man went on the defensive. “It’s from The Mikado. Pitti-Sing was the—”
“We’re quite conversant with the works of Gilbert and Sullivan, thank you,” I said crisply.
“Say, that’s right” He seemed struck by a new thought. “You’ve all got accents. But—” He looked around and shook his head. “This is the right house. I’m sure. Besides—” he said it like an accusation—“that cat was here.”
“The cat lives here,” I said
. “We don’t. We’ve swapped houses with the Harpers for the summer. We’re the Blakes. This isn’t our house—or our cat.”
“That explains it!” His face cleared. “No wonder you wouldn’t agree about the cat. In that case, there’s no problem. I’ll take the thing to the vet myself. You don’t have to know anything about it until it’s all over. Then you can be as shocked and indignant as they are—and put all the blame on me.”
“No!” I was already shocked and indignant. “Certainly not! That’s unthinkable! Errol is under our protection—if you dare to lay one finger on him, I’ll call the police!”
“Oh.” His sigh was a bit too theatrical; I mistrusted it instantly. “I’m sorry you feel that way, but—” he sighed again—“I suppose there’s nothing I can do about it. I’ll just take my cat and leave. If that’s all right with Errol—”
“Timothy, Tessa—go find the cats. Bring Pitti-Sing back here to Mr.—?”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m Noah Peterson. My uncle has loaned me his house to work in for the summer. I guess that makes me your nearest neighbor. We ought to try to get on better.” He smiled and held out his hand.
“I suppose so.” Somewhat reluctantly, I shook it. In the sudden silence, I became aware of strange crackling noises in the background. “What are those children doing now? Or is it the cats?”
“I don’t know.” He frowned and listened. It was too far away to be the children. “It sounds like a string of firecrackers going off. Some of the kids at camp must be staring their Fourth celebrations early.”
“Rather muted firecrackers—” I moved uneasily to the window and raised the shade. A crimson light flickered in the sky. “Perhaps they’re sending up fireworks.”
“Oh no!” He strode over to the front door and opened it. “Oh no!”
“What is it?” I followed him out on to the porch and the question became unnecessary. Now I could smell the smoke and hear the angry crackle of flames.”
“Tim! Tessa!” I called, fighting panic. It was the nightmare all over again, except that this time I was awake.
“Kids!” Noah Peterson said bitterly. “They’ve set light to the bonfire. They’re going to ruin the Fourth of July for everyone.”
“The bonfire …” I began to relax. “At the top of the Lake …” It was a safe distance away. Furthermore, it would soon be under control. Already the swooping siren of a fire engine could be heard rushing along the road from town: “That’s all right, they’ll soon have it out.”
“It will still be ruined,” he said gloomily. “By the time they’re through, it will never dry out again in time for Tuesday night.”
“Mummy—” Tessa came up behind us. “I’ve got Pitti-Sing. Listen, she’s purring.”
“Fine,” I said, although the sound could not be heard above the crackling noises.
“And I’ve got Errol!” Timothy was flushed with triumph. Or perhaps it was just the reflection of the red glow overspreading the sky. “What’s that?”
“That’s the Fourth of July gone up the spout!” Noah Peterson gathered his cat from Tessa’s arms. “Someone’s set off the bonfire early.”
“Will there still be a Fourth of July?” Timothy asked uncertainly.
“Oh, sure. There’ll still be the town picnic, the Horribles parade, the fireworks … but it won’t be the same. Not without the Grand Finale Bonfire.”
“It still sounds like a full programme to me.” I tried to cheer him. He seemed to be a hidebound traditionalist—perhaps because of his interest in history.
“Oh well.” He tried to cast off his gloom. “I suppose we might as well go down to the lake and watch it across the water. It’s the only bonfire you’ll see this year.” He started down the steps, then seemed to recall that he was still carrying Pitti-Sing. Timothy still clutched Errol.
“We’d better leave the cats in the house—if you don’t mind,” he said. “It might upset them.”
Pitti-Sing might be sensitive enough to be upset by the bonfire, but I doubted whether anything short of a charge of dynamite would ruffle Errol’s fur. Nevertheless, I took Pitti-Sing from him and went into the house. Timothy followed me.
“Put them in separate rooms!” Noah Peterson called after us.
Everyone appeared to have had the same idea. The circumference of the lake was dotted by telltale points of light—pinpricks that were cigarettes, and larger circles that were flashlights. Voices carried on the still night air, with an occasional burst of laughter. The show might be going on ahead of schedule but everyone seemed determined to enjoy it just the same.
The noise was louder out here, a constant snapping crackling roar, punctuated by loud reports as a knot of wood exploded sending sparks showering upwards. The cracks were echoed from the camp across the water, where discipline had obviously slipped in the face of this unscheduled excitement and some of the campers were setting off their firecrackers early.
The air seemed even hotter and the smoke pall pressed down over the lake. I fought back an urge to cough and blinked my eyes against the acrid smoke.
“We’re all right so long as the woods don’t catch,” Noah Peterson muttered to me.
“If there was any danger, why did they allow the bonfire to be built in the first place?”
“They’ve been building it up for weeks—the weather was all right when they started. Everybody for miles around drops by and adds their contributions to it—it’s a matter of local pride to have the biggest and best bonfire in the state. Now it’s all shot to hell!”
The first stream of water from the firemen’s hoses hit the flames, producing a loud hiss and a cloud of steam. There were assorted boos and cheers from the watching crowd. Not everyone wanted to see the fun ended. Including, presumably, the one who had started the fire.
“Those kids—” Noah looked across the lake to the shore of Camp Mohigonquin. Suspicion must always fall on a group of slightly bored juveniles living away from home and under supervision that wasn’t as strict as it might have been. “They’re going to have some explaining to do in the morning.”
“I don’t know about that.” Unnoticed by me, another couple had strolled up to join us. “The condition everything is in after this long dry spell, you can’t rule out spontaneous combustion.”
“Hank, Viv—” Noah seemed to know them well. “Let me introduce Mrs. Uhh—” He broke off; he did not know me nearly so well.
“Rosemary Blake,” I said. “And Tessa and Timothy.”
“Celia’s sister.” Viv Singleton identified me immediately. “We’ve been looking forward to meeting you. Celia’s been talking about your visit for weeks.”
“Glad you finally made it.” Hank shook hands all round and nodded towards the fire. “Just in time for all the excitement, eh?”
Another engine had joined the first two and all three were steadily pumping water on the flames. The fire was stubborn, just when it seemed contained, it burst out again at another corner of the ramshackle pile. The firemen would get it under control eventually, but it was going to take an awful lot of water. Noah’s prediction that it would never dry out again in time for Tuesday night was obviously correct.
“Look at that son-of-a-bitch burn!” Hank gloated.
“Don’t be such a schoolboy,” his wife scolded. “Just because you’re here to see it. Remember, it’s going to spoil the fun for a lot of people. Most of them will be arriving tomorrow.”
“Summer people!” Hank abruptly remembered his companions. “Sorry, folks,” he said to us. “No offence meant.”
“None taken,” Noah assured him. “We know you only hate your customers.”
“Hank can’t stand parting with the best things,” Viv explained to me. “I have to force him to sell. He’d be prefectly happy living like a packrat with everything towering over him.”
“We call it Early Collier Brothers decor,” Hank said. “My ideal—so long as it’s all antique.”
“If he starts on old newspapers,
I throw him out,” Viv laughed.
“You must come and visit the shop,” Hank said. “I’ve got some English pieces there I know you’ll love.”
“I’d like to see it,” I said. “But I’m afraid I’m not in the market for anything right now.”
“That’s all right,” Viv said quickly. “We also buy.”
“Nor have I anything to sell.” People seemed to expect me to be pretty free with the Harpers’ possessions. “Everything in house belongs to the Harpers.”
“Oh, we know that,” Hank said. “What Viv is driving at is that we make regular buying trips to Europe. We’ll be in England during the winter when business is quiet. If your taste is anything like your sister’s, we’d be more than happy to take anything you’re willing to part with.”
“Well, really—” It was a bit much. I’d just met them and they were practically making offers for my furniture. “I’ll have to think that over.”
“Sure you will,” Viv agreed. “We didn’t mean to pressure you. It’s just that we don’t want to miss a likely prospect. You come and see our shop. No strings attached—”
An earsplitting hoot ripped through the air, then another, and another.
“My God!” Noah said. “That’s the Fire Whistle! There’s a fire in the town—and all the engines are out here at the lake!”
Confusion and consternation became apparent among the figures attending to the bonfire. One jet of water dropped and turned aside. The fire immediately leaped higher and the stream of water was directed back on the flames. Shouted consultations began.
“Send back the hook-and ladder,” Noah groaned between clenched teeth. “All the engines can pump water, but if the ladder is needed it will be needed fast and there won’t be time to send for it if they leave it at the lake.”
Whiskers & Smoke Page 8
