A Dismal Thing To Do

by Charlotte MacLeod

  “You weren’t here. It was that time your mother was sick and you went down to take care of her. All we had was a sandwich and a piece of pie, as I recall. It wasn’t too bad, for restaurant food.” Actually it had been quite good, but Janet wasn’t about to praise anybody else’s food in Annabelle’s kitchen. “What happened to that pretty granddaughter of Perce’s, the one with all the curly hair? Yvette, wasn’t it?”

  “Yvette’s okay,” said young Bert gruffly, his voice by now having completed the change that had sent it careening from squeaks to rumbles for the past year or so.

  “Not so okay as the little Williamson girl, eh?” said Bert Senior.

  “Aw, Dad, cut it out before the brats start on me again.”

  As umbrage was being taken by the brats and quelled by the parents, Fred Olson showed up with Janet’s washstand, scrubbed and made as presentable as possible. She of course was delighted and Annabelle only a few degrees less so for Janet’s sake. Fred was made a great fuss of and Bert urged to get that silly toaster out of the way so Fred could sit up to the table and have a piece of pie, not that he needed it as he himself remarked and as the overstrained seams of his trousers attested.

  “How you doin’, Madoc?” he asked with his mouth full.

  “Well, I’ve visited the scene of the crime.” Madoc gave his wife one of his sad little smiles. “I may as well come clean, Jenny. That washstand isn’t exactly an outright gift. Fred made me do a dicker for it.”

  “Aha, the great two-by-four robbery,” said Bert, neatly picking up the cue. “Was Jase Bain surprised you’ve called in the Mounties, Fred?”

  “Haven’t asked him. I expect he’ll take it as his natural due. This is mighty good pie, Annabelle. Why thanks, I don’t mind if I do. What’d he say, Madoc?”

  “About what you’d expect.” Madoc gave them a somewhat embellished account of his interview with Bain, knowing full well the boys would spread it all over school and their friends would take it home to their parents. That was fine with him. It looked as if he might be around Pitcherville for a while, so the locals might as well know he had a reason for staying, even if it did lead them to assume he was using Bain to wangle a paid holiday with his in-laws out of the RCMP.

  “So I may be here a bit longer than I expected, if that’s all right with you and Bert, Annabelle.”

  It couldn’t have been righter. Annabelle said so at considerable length. So did the boys, who felt their prestige greatly enhanced by having a Mountie for an uncle. Bert only gave Madoc a grin and a nod, and went on screwing the toaster back together.

  “There, by Jesus. Want to get me a piece of bread, Charlie, and we’ll give her a try?”

  Much to the boys’ disappointment, the toaster worked fine. “Aw Dad,” Ed protested. “It was more fun the other way.”

  “Never you mind,” snapped his mother. “If you think it’s any fun standing over a hot stove first thing in the morning frying bacon with hunks of toast flapping past my ears, you’ve got another think coming. Now get along upstairs, the pack of you.”

  “Aw, Ma, tomorrow’s Saturday,” Bert protested.

  “I don’t care. I’m not having you sprawled out in bed all morning when your father’s got chores for you to do. Janet, you’d better go, too. Your eyes look like two burnt holes in a blanket.”

  Fred Olson said he guessed he’d better mosey along before his wife sent out the bloodhounds. Madoc neatly pocketed Bert’s oil can. After half an hour’s sorting out, the party was over.

  While Janet was washing her face and brushing her teeth, Madoc de-squeaked the bedsprings but a fat lot of good it did him. Between the long ride and having so many people around her, Janet hadn’t had much chance to rest. She was asleep almost before she got through kissing him good night. After that, there wasn’t much for Madoc to do but go to sleep himself, so he did.

  Chapter 11

  EVEN THE ROOSTER SLEPT late the next morning. It was half-past eight before Annabelle got them all gathered around the breakfast table for fried eggs, fried ham, hot biscuits, and a few other things. Bert and the boys had been out to the barn, of course, because the livestock always came first, and Julius had got his saucer of cut-up ham, not that Julius exactly counted as livestock.

  “Ol’ Jule’s just one of the farmhands like the rest of us,” Charlie was arguing. “You spoil him, Ma. Go filling him up with ham and he won’t want to be bothered catching the mice.”

  “How’d you like to get stuck with a cold mouse for breakfast?” Ed yelled back.

  “Could we please change the subject?” Janet asked her nephews. “I feel a bit queasy.”

  “You do?” exclaimed Annabelle.

  “It’s not that kind of queasy,” Janet protested, knowing full well what was in her sister-in-law’s mind. “But I think I’ll skip the ham and eggs all the same, if you don’t mind. In fact, I think I’ll go on back to bed for a while.”

  Madoc leaped up so fast he upset his chair. Bert grinned.

  “Don’t panic yet a while, Madoc. You’ll have plenty of time for that later. Sit down and eat your breakfast.”

  “I don’t see why Uncle Madoc’s flapping around like a wet hen just because Aunt Janet’s got a bellyache,” Ed remarked, helping himself to about half a jar of strawberry jam. “You going to be like that when you get married, Bert?”

  Annabelle and Bert Senior had stern rules about fisticuffs at the table, but they were still trying to enforce them as Madoc helped Janet back to their bedroom. “I’d like to know what people have kids for anyway,” Bert was roaring, plenty loud enough for Madoc to hear and take warning.

  “Good question,” Madoc murmured into his wife’s ear. “Do you want to reconsider, Jenny love?”

  “I just want to get back to bed,” she told him. “I think it was the smell of that ham frying that put the kibosh on me.”

  “I wish you’d let me take you to a doctor.”

  “Madoc, I’d know if there were anything really wrong with me. I overdid it a little yesterday, that’s all. Now go back and finish your breakfast before you start a panic.”

  “If you say so.”

  But Madoc was back in the bedroom as soon as Bert and the boys had gone about their chores and Annabelle had shooed him out of the kitchen because she wanted to put her bread to rise and that was one thing she never cared to do and talk at the same time. When he slipped into the room, though, he found Janet fast asleep, breathing normally and not looking as if she were about to develop any alarming symptoms. He stayed there watching and wondering for a while, then went off to the hardware store and bought a can of stuff to strip paint off washstands with.

  The stuff smelled awful and looked worse, but it did the trick. Madoc worked out in the woodshed for the rest of the morning. By the time Annabelle rang the dinner bell, he’d got all six layers of paint off. The washstand looked worse than before, in his opinion, but no doubt Janet had some plan afoot to turn it into a thing of beauty, or something near enough to satisfy herself and his mother.

  After he’d cleaned up, he went to check on Janet, who was awake and not queasy any more. “I think Julius and I will take it easy today, though,” she told him. “What have you been up to all morning? Not out to Bain’s again, I hope?”

  “No, I’ve been stripping your table for you.”

  “That was sweet of you.” Janet grabbed a fistful of his hair, which was black and almost but not quite curly, and pulled him down to be kissed. “How does it look now?”

  “Queasy.”

  “That’s all right. I’d decided to paint it regardless. It’s nothing so very special, you know.”

  “I never supposed it was.”

  “But you went ahead and bartered your soul to Fred Olson for it anyway.”

  “Well, darling—”

  “I know, you don’t have to tell me. A poor excuse is better than none. Have you decided how you’re going to weasel your way in with the Grouses and the McLumbers?”

  “I thought I mi
ght begin by stepping out with another woman. How do you think Bert would take it if I invited Annabelle over to Armand’s lodge tonight to enjoy the floor show? For that matter, how do you think Annabelle would react?”

  “I think they’d both be tickled silly. So would Maw Fewter and a few more around town.”

  “Yes, well, there’s that. Have you a better idea?”

  “Nope. Go ahead and let ’em talk. But why don’t you want Bert along with you?”

  “Because I want him here keeping an eye on you. He doesn’t have his Owls’ meeting on Saturdays, does he?”

  “Thursday, if they haven’t changed the date since we were last here. We’ll be home by then.”

  “What makes you so sure?” Madoc growled into her neck. “Going psychic on me like Aunt Blodwin?”

  “Nope, just thinking about all we’ve got to do before your mother comes. You might just mention to one or two people that Bert and I had some family business to hash over so you and Annabelle decided the pair of you might as well clear out and leave us to it. That ought to start them wondering if Uncle Sid out in Saskatchewan’s finally kicked the bucket and left us his fortune. Or if Cousin Henry scooped the pot and we’re trying to figure out a way to claim undue influence. I’ll be interested to know how much they run it up to before they find out he’s still alive and kicking. So will Uncle Sid, I expect. He’s never had two cents to rub together in his whole life, that I know of. I don’t suppose you’d care to drive back over to the hardware store before you leave me in the lurch, and pick up a can of dusty blue paint in case I feel up to finishing that washstand tomorrow?”

  “And how will I know which shade of dusty blue paint to get?”

  “How many shades do you think they’ll have, for pity’s sake? Get whichever one they’ve got. A pint should be plenty. The satin finish, not the shiny. Mr. McLumber will help you pick it out.”

  “Ah, I see. You’re being clever again.”

  “Well, there’s no sense wasting the afternoon, is there? I can’t imagine he’s the man you’re after, but he’s pretty easy to get into a conversation with. Tell him you bumped into Eyeball Grouse yesterday in Fredericton and see what he says.”

  “Darling, Eyeball Grouse is not a name to be bandied about in hardware stores. I’m not supposed to know he even exists.”

  “Then couldn’t you say you met a relative of Mr. McLumber’s but you can’t recall offhand what his name was?”

  “Why don’t I simply ask him which of his male relatives has fallen in with evil companions and developed a knack for felonious assault?”

  “Well, you’re the policeman. I’d try sort of wiggling my way around to it myself. Not that I’d get far, I don’t suppose. They’re a pretty clannish bunch Out in Bigears. Still, it never hurts to try, as Great-aunt Winona said when she put mittens on the cat so he wouldn’t scratch up her new chesterfield.”

  “Are you two coming down to dinner or not? Ma wants to know so she can dish up the stew.” That was Ed, clattering up the stairs three at a time. “Ma says she’ll fix you a tray if you’d rather stay abed, Aunt Jen.”

  “How about it, Jenny?” Madoc asked her. “Could you eat something?”

  “I’d love a cup of tea,” she admitted. “Run back and get me one, would you, Ed? No sugar, remember. Tell your mother I wouldn’t mind a piece of that bread she baked this morning and about half a teaspoonful of stew, but I’d as soon wait for that till she can come up and talk to me while I eat. You go along with Ed, Madoc. No sense in your keeping the rest of them waiting.”

  So Madoc went. He’d barely got a foot inside the kitchen when everybody was asking, “How’s she feeling?”

  “She’s clamoring for hot bread and dusty blue paint,” he reassured them.

  “She’s going to paint the bread?” Charlie wondered.

  “It’s for the washstand,” snapped his mother. “Stop trying to be funny and eat your dinner if you’re so wild to get to the hockey rink. Bert, you make sure your brothers stay up at the shallow end of the lake. This is a treacherous time of year.”

  It was as good an opening as any. “Speaking of treachery, Annabelle,” said Madoc, “how’d you like to sneak out on your husband tonight?”

  “Madoc, whatever do you mean?”

  “I thought you might like to go out to Armand Bergeron’s lodge with me and catch the show. It’s rather the in thing with Pitcherville society these days, isn’t it?”

  “Such as it is, I suppose you might say so. It appears to be respectable enough, from what I’ve heard. But it’s mostly the young crowd that go there for the dancing.”

  “And what are we? Come on, Annabelle, be a sport.”

  “Go ahead, Belle, do you good,” said Bert. “You know damn well you’ve been yammering at me to take you. Now I won’t have to.”

  “Serve you right if I happened to meet somebody more obliging.” Annabelle could still charm when she tossed her curls and turned on her over-the-shoulder smile. “But what’s Janet going to say if we go off and leave her alone, in her condition?”

  “What do you mean alone?” Bert retorted. “The boys and I’ll be here, won’t we?”

  “I don’t know, Madoc, it doesn’t seem right. Why can’t we wait till next Saturday when she’s feeling better, and all go together?”

  “Because next Saturday you’re all coming to Fredericton to meet my mother.”

  Annabelle still wasn’t ready to give in. “Couldn’t you bring Lady Rhys out here instead?”

  “Mother will only just have arrived. We’ll have to give her a while to admire the new washstand before we start gallivanting, don’t we? Furthermore, we’ve already given her a faithful promise you’d be on the welcoming committee. Annabelle, is it yes or do I have to deputize you?”

  “Hey, I get it,” shouted young Bert. “Uncle Madoc’s detecting somebody and Mum’s supposed to be the beautiful lady spy that gets the bad guy on the spot so the good guy can grab him. Right on, Mum!”

  Annabelle turned the color that used to be known as Schiaparelli pink. “I don’t know where you kids get such crazy notions. Watching too many of those trashy television programs, eh.”

  “Nope. Reading those paperbacks you’ve got hidden down in the preserve closet,” Bert Junior replied sweetly.

  “I do not have them hidden! I stuck them there for want of a better place to put them because there’s so darn much junk of yours and your father’s all over this place. And furthermore, why couldn’t you have been doing some homework for a change instead of stuffing your head with that kind of nonsense?”

  “Annabelle,” said Madoc, “I want you to be the beautiful spy who lets the dumb cop know who’s who and what they’re up to. I can’t take the boys because they’re too young to be hanging around a dance hall on a Saturday night. I can’t take Bert because it would look too strange for the pair of us to go off by ourselves and leave you sitting here with my sick wife. Janet suggests you and I pretend she and Bert had some family business to talk over so we decided to clear out and leave them to it.”

  “What family business, for instance? Why couldn’t you and I be in on it?”

  “No doubt we could, if there were any. Our story is that it was too utterly dull and boring and we didn’t want to be bothered.”

  “Nobody’s going to believe that.”

  “Jenny doesn’t think so, either, but she figures we’ll be doing an act of charity by giving the village something fresh and juicy to chew on. The thing of it is, Annabelle, Jason Bain’s been giving my distinguished colleague Fred Olson a rough time over that lumber he claims was stolen. He’s been threatening Fred with a lawsuit, impeachment, and six or eight other things. Fred doesn’t know yet whether Bain’s actually been the victim of some crime far more serious than he’s admitting to, or if the old man’s setting Fred up as the pigeon in one of his swindles. If it’s the former, we’d like very much to know what it’s all about. In the latter case, Bain ought to be stopped before he pulls it off,
and I should take a personal pleasure in stopping him.”

  “Oh well,” said Annabelle, “if it’s à case of spiking Jase Bain’s guns, of course I’ll do anything you want me to. Why didn’t you say so in the first place?”

  “Mainly because I was a bit nervous that some one of the persons present might drop a careless word in the wrong ear and upset the applecart. Listen here, you lads. You can joke about old Jase and his two-by-fours if the other kids bring it up, but if any one of you so much as looks as if he thought Fred and I might be taking the old coot seriously, I’ll chuck you all in the slammer. Is that clearly understood?”

  “You bet!” was the consensus of the gathering.

  “What are you going to do now, Uncle Madoc?” Charlie asked before his brothers could shut him up.

  “I’m going back to the hardware store and buy your aunt a pint of dusty blue paint for her washstand. Can I drop you at the hockey rink?”

  He could, and did. Then he went on to McLumber’s and selected a shade called Loyalist Blue with a good deal more assistance than he needed from a remarkably chatty young clerk. Madoc tried to get the young fellow switched off to more interesting subjects, but had no luck. Roughly half of Pitcherville was in there clamoring for attention, and Mr. McLumber appeared to expect, not unreasonably, that the clerk go and do what he was getting paid for.

  Madoc hung around for a while, picking out a paintbrush, admiring various gadgets, and getting elbowed out of the way by shoppers of more serious intent, but didn’t get another crack at the garrulous youth. After a while he gave up the struggle and took his small purchases out to the farm. He found Janet sitting up in bed, talking clothes with Annabelle. She agreed Loyalist Blue was just the ticket, and went on talking clothes. Madoc went back to the woodshed and painted the washstand Loyalist Blue.

  Chapter 12

  ANNABELLE HAD DONE HIM proud. She was wearing the Frenchwoman’s ultimate chic: a well-fitted black dress and matching pumps. A Liberty scarf Janet had brought her from London was deftly twisted at the neck and pinned with a golden brooch in the shape of a cow with a ruby eye Bert had given her to remember him by when he was out milking the herd. She’d used a discreet amount of makeup and smelled deliciously but not too strongly of the toilet water the boys had clubbed together to buy her for her birthday. When Madoc complimented her on her appearance, she laughed.