She had slept late. It was twenty-five to eight.
Sitting up in bed, she turned her head to the side, realising that she had been woken by someone moving about and a door opening and shutting.
Oh, dear! She rose hastily, put on her dressing gown, then went into the kitchen, to see Humphrey sitting at the table.
He was actually smiling, and when he spoke to her his voice was clear. ‘Your granny’s medicine should be patented; it’s a miracle worker. I’m practically free.’ Then he added, ‘Shall I get you a cup of tea?’
‘No, no.’ She put a hand out to him. ‘I’ll see to it. I’ve slept. I—’ She stopped; then, looking at him from across the table, she said, ‘Yes, you do look better. Last night you looked as if you were in for a thorough dose.’
‘I thought so too, but now I . . . I feel fine.’
She made herself say with concern, ‘I’d be careful, though; you’re not clear of it yet.’
‘Oh, yes; I’m sure I am.’
Hesitantly now, she put in, ‘Will you be going off for the weekend?’
Before he could answer the phone rang, and when she answered it a voice said, ‘This is Mrs Beggs here. Is Mr Drayton in?’
‘Yes. Yes, I’ll get him.’
She went to the kitchen door and said, ‘It’s for you . . . Mrs Beggs.’
‘Oh. Oh.’
He hurried across the hall and his voice came to her clearly saying, ‘I had an awful cold last night but it’s practically gone this morning, so you can put their minds at rest.’ His voice was loud. ‘I should be there about twelve.’ Then, ‘Thank you, Beggie, thank you. Goodbye.’
Hannah was standing at the kitchen door when he said, ‘I’m not going to be let off, and I’ll tell them it’s only thanks to you and your granny’s remedy.’ He was smiling again, and she smiled back at him, and when she said, ‘It very rarely fails,’ he answered, ‘I’ll have to remember that for future use.’
He had gone a few steps from the door when he came back hastily, saying, ‘You . . . you’ll be going to your sister’s?’
‘Oh, yes; yes, later.’
‘That’s it. That’s it. I don’t like to think of you here by yourself every weekend, but . . . well, you know the position.’
He seemed to be waiting for an answer of confirmation to his statement, but when none was forthcoming he merely nodded and turned away.
He had left the house by ten o’clock. She watched him from the window striding down the street. His long legs seemed almost on the point of a run, and she told herself he’d have to run to catch that particular train to Worthing; and again she wondered why he did not buy a car. She’d put it to him, only to be asked where he was supposed to find the money for a car; and, what was more, there was the upkeep. She recalled she’d answered by saying, ‘I’d have thought your uncle would have seen to that,’ and she remembered the strange answer he’d given her on that occasion: ‘You have a lot to learn about my aunt and uncle,’ he had said, from which she could only infer there was a meanness in them. This had seemed strange, because she understood he was their only living relative, and both the uncle and the aunt were each known to be quite wealthy through inheritance: he had been a partner in a family textile company and she had been a director. Apparently they had married late in life, and adopted the boy Humphrey, who was the orphaned son of George Drayton’s second cousin; they both saw the boy as the child they would never have; and so in a way she could understand Humphrey’s one seeming desire was to pamper them in their old age, both as a means of thanking them and with his eye on the future when they should die.
When she saw her husband disappearing round the end of the street, Hannah hastily went to the phone. When the voice came to her, saying, ‘Hello, who’s speaking?’ she answered, ‘A certain Mrs Hannah Drayton, Mr Miller.’
A laugh came across the line, and he said, ‘Good morning, madam.’
‘Good morning, Peter. Is David in?’
‘No; I’m sorry, he isn’t. He’s along at Mr Gillyman’s, but I can reach him there.’
‘Will you tell him that there is a person who would like to take lunch with him at Micky’s around one o’clock?’
‘I’ll definitely pass on that message, madam; and may I be presumptuous enough to ask if I’ll have the pleasure of seeing you later, perhaps for tea?’
‘You may, Peter.’
‘That’s a pleasure to look forward to.’
‘Bye-bye, Peter.’
‘Goodbye, madam.’
She stood looking at the phone. He was wonderful: David was really lucky to have found someone like him, a companion and a friend, a housekeeper and cook, all rolled into one.
She now flew up the stairs and began her preparations to surprise the man who would once more take her into Alice in Wonderland, and not just today, or tonight.
She had made up her mind.
She came out of the station and into the street. It was busy. She looked about her: there he was, standing near the kerb about ten feet away from her. He looked in her direction, then past her, as though not seeing her; then, the next minute, he almost jumped towards her.
As he grabbed her arm, and none too gently, he said quite loudly, ‘I . . . I can’t believe it. I . . . I didn’t think it was possible for you to look . . . well . . . more . . . more beautiful. It’s absolutely—’ Now he let go of her arm, tried to step back, only to be pushed to the side by a man who said roughly, ‘Look out! there, mate. Look out!’ He had to turn and, looking at the man’s companion, say quickly, ‘Oh, I’m terribly sorry. Did I step on you?’
‘No. No.’ The woman was laughing and looking towards Hannah; then turning to her companion she said, and in no small voice, ‘I wouldn’t mind being stepped on if I looked like that.’
‘Get on with you!’ The man pushed her forward, and David, now taking Hannah’s bag with one hand, put his other around her shoulders and guided her through the moving throng to where they usually got on the bus, only then to say, ‘Oh, you’re far too elegant today to be squashed up on a crowded bus.’ He put up his hand and yelled to a passing cab, ‘Taxi!’
The next minute she was being pressed on to the black leather seat and they were sailing north, towards Camden.
Except for the two reserved seats in the alcove the café was already full; but their entry didn’t go unnoticed, drawing one or two discreet but appreciative looks from fellow diners. Micky himself greeted them, but he gave special attention to Hannah, saying, ‘My! you do look smashing! Been to Paris?’
‘Yes, Micky; I just slipped over.’
‘Well’ – he jerked his head – ‘you found a nice piece of material when you were there, I must say. My! what a combination. I’d better not let me wife see it.’ Then, lowering his head, he said, ‘Where did you come by it? In the city? I mean, here?’
‘Yes. Yes. A little shop near Oxford Street. Small place, Yvonne’s. Take her there. She’ll come out very pleased, I can tell you.’
His face stretched as he said, ‘Yes, but will I be glad?’
‘Yes, of course you will, because you like a bargain; and I have a strong feeling I’d ’ve paid twice as much for it if it had been in the main street.’
‘No kidding?’
‘No kidding.’
‘And you say the name’s Yvonne?’
‘That’s it. Madame Yvonne.’
Smiling, he was about to leave them, but he turned quickly and, punching David on the arm, he said softly, ‘Thanks for Tuesday’s phone call.’
‘Oh, don’t thank me; thank Gilly for having his big ears to the ground. It mightn’t have come off. It was just a chance, because, you know, he won’t recommend anything fishy, and, as he says in his own funny way, some shares just need the chips, salt and pepper and a newspaper.’
/> ‘Does he say that? He’s a funny bloke. Ah, here’s Oscar. He’ll tell you there’s something really special on today.’ He made room in the narrow space for the waiter, whose real name was Harry Blyth, but who, from the time of joining this establishment, had been Oscar Demont; but Oscar Demont had one advantage over Harry Blyth: he could assume three foreign tongues, in broken English, of course . . .
When they had the table to themselves Hannah leant towards David, and her voice held a gurgle as she said, ‘I’m in Wonderland again.’
‘What?’ he put his head closer to hers.
‘I said, I’m in Wonderland again. I entered it the other morning when Mr Gilly danced me through the book-lanes singing his poetry; and I was in it in Madame Yvonne’s. She stepped out of Cinderella: she was the fairy godmother and was dressing me for the ball; then immediately I came out of the station today I was back in Alice, because you were there; and now, during these last few minutes’ – her gurgle turned into a laugh – ‘I meet the Mad Hatter again. They’re all here, and the only thing I’m afraid of is that I’ll wake up.’
He did not immediately answer her, but leant back against the partition; then he said, ‘If it rests with me, Hannah, you’ll never wake up.’
They did not linger over their meal, anticipating the moment when they could be alone together, in the safety of David’s flat. They left the restaurant and took neither a taxi nor a bus, but walked, saying little on the way.
The door to the flat was opened by Peter, who seemed so stunned by the new Mrs Drayton as to have lost his voice. When he did speak, it was to say, ‘Madam, may I congratulate you on . . . well, all I can say is, beautifying beauty still further.’
‘Oh, you would come out with something like that: top the lot, you would.’ David was nodding at him.
‘Well, I’m sorry, sir, if your admiration has been unable to evoke eloquence with which to cap my simple praise.’
‘Oh, go on with you!’
‘You two stop it and let me get my jacket off, and then I’ll be able to relax, I hope.’
Peter took the jacket from her and, stooping, picked up her case and walked towards the bedroom.
Hannah’s eyes followed him; then she said quietly to David, ‘I . . . I was hoping I . . . ’ Her head drooped – she couldn’t finish, but she walked towards where the tea was set out before the couch, and sitting down and still with her head lowered, she muttered, ‘It should be so easy to say it.’
He was sitting close by her now, his arm around her shoulders. ‘What should be easy?’ he asked softly.
‘May I stay for the weekend?’ Her head jerked round and she was looking into his eyes. She had expected to be pulled into his embrace and kissed hard, but what he did now was put his hand out and gently stroke her cheek, and, to her surprise, he said, ‘Will you pour out the tea?’
His response was so unexpected that she appeared like someone winded, so much so that she lay back against the couch, closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath, and when she heard him say, ‘All right, I’ll do it then,’ she looked at him as he calmly stirred the tea before pouring it out.
Peter was now standing by the side table, saying, ‘Can you manage, sir?’
‘I think so, Peter. Yes, I think so.’
They were alone when he handed her the tea, yet he still did not look at her, but in a low voice he said, ‘My dearest, take no notice of me for the next few minutes while I make a fool of myself.’
She quickly put out a hand and caught his, and again the small voice within was saying, How strange life is. She’d been worried about how exactly she should put over her proposal. It must have sounded bold; crude, in fact. She had expected to witness his delight and to feel his arms about her holding her close. But what had happened? The tables were entirely reversed. It was as if he had become embarrassed. No; that wasn’t the right word, and yet something was affecting him.
She experienced further bewilderment when, his voice apparently cool, he said, ‘I’ll tell Peter he may clear the table; he wants to get off early and do some shopping before going on to his club.’
When he called Peter there was a break in his voice and he began to cough.
Peter did not immediately appear, and this caused David to look towards the ceiling and say, ‘I didn’t hear him going upstairs, and those stairs creak.’
It was at this moment that Peter appeared – it could be said he scurried into the room – saying, ‘You’re about to have a visitor, sir.’
David was on his feet now: ‘Who?’
‘Pill, sir. I mean Lord Pillbeck.’
‘Oh! Peter, never! Oh, no.’
‘I caught a glimpse of him from the window. He was hesitating about which stairway to take.’
‘Oh, well, let’s get these things out of the way and then get yourself out.’
‘Oh no, sir; I’ll stay till he goes. If not, you may have a visitor for the night; he looks in need of help.’
‘Oh! not again.’ At this moment the bell rang, and Peter, putting down the tray he was now holding and straightening the front of his jacket, put his shoulders back, cast a partly smiling glance at David and made for the door.
The clear high voice came to them both, saying, ‘Hello there, Peter! Nice to see you again. Is your master in?’
‘Yes, sir; yes. Do come in.’
‘Thank you, Peter. Thank you.’
As David walked towards the newcomer Hannah saw a man of medium height who could be sixty or more. He had a round, chubby face, but its colour could only be described as muddy. As he took off his hat and handed it to Peter, Hannah expected to see at least grey hair, if not white, but instead she saw a dark mass yelling forth its black dye, and the sight wiped from her mind for the time being the feelings that had been enveloping her since David’s reception of her proposal. At this moment she was filled with a mixture of pity and compassion. What was more, the visitor was a lord, and the first lord with whom she had ever come in contact.
As he approached her she took in his whole attire at a glance. ‘Seedy’ was the right word to express it: the navy blue overcoat was of an old-fashioned cut; his grey trousers still held the shadow of a crease down the front, but the ends, lying on top of the brown leather shoes, looked frayed; and the thought sped through her mind that no-one these days need look as he did, because they could be perfectly well dressed for a few pounds in one of the many charity shops.
‘Hannah, let me introduce Lord Henry Pillbeck; this is Mrs Hannah Drayton, Henry.’
‘Delighted to meet you, my dear.’ He had a pleasant, well modulated voice. She answered, ‘How d’you do?’ and let her hand be lifted to his lips but instead of looking at him, her gaze darted to David, who made a little motion of his head, the meaning of which was lost on her.
‘Do sit down, Pilly; I’m sure you’d like a cup of tea,’ David said, and added, ‘Would you mind, Peter, bringing in another pot?’
‘Not at all, sir. Not at all.’
Before seating himself in a leather chair Lord Pillbeck moved it slightly so that he could have a full view of the room, and, now looking round him, he said, ‘What a remarkable place you have here, David. Who did this for you . . . Spencer?’
‘No, of course not. How could I afford Spencer, Pilly? No, I did it myself.’
‘My, my! you are a clever chap. I always said you were.’
‘What are you doing with yourself these days, anyway?’ David said as he sat down on the sofa again, but the old man seemed to study them both closely before he replied, ‘Oh, getting about as usual; but nothing, you know, David, is as usual. The world’s changed. Have you been anywhere lately, house parties, anything?’
‘No; as you know, Pilly, I never was one for house parties.’
‘Yes. Yes, I recall that used to annoy the Lady
Clarissa. Do you see her at all now?’
‘No; not at all.’ David’s tone was stiff; but the old man seemed not to notice it and went on, ‘She doesn’t change. In fact, I think she seems to get younger. Well, in that way I mean more rowdy. I called there last week. It isn’t the same. It isn’t the same.’ He shook his head sadly now and, looking down at one hand, he seemed to examine his nails before he added, ‘No hospitality. Oh! in those days’ – he was nodding at Hannah – ‘you know, a party could go on for a fortnight. And the food would be beautiful, delightful. Unfortunately, I wasn’t one for horses, I never rode much, but I did amuse them in the evenings, didn’t I, David?’
‘You did, you did indeed.’
‘Those wonderful charades. I could imitate any actor on the stage and the ladies, too. Oh yes, and the ladies, too.’ His head was bobbing now at Hannah.
‘Have you been abroad lately, to your cousin’s?’
‘Oh.’ The clay-coloured face moved into a wrinkled mass: the lips pouted, the nostrils widened, and the voice held a note of annoyance as he remarked, ‘Not for six months. You know he married again?’
‘Alec! married again?’
‘Yes. Yes, I was as surprised as you are and he can give me half a dozen years or more. Silly old fool! And she wasn’t a young piece either, well . . . kicking fifty, I’d say, but she knew what she was about. I was amazed because he had always gone in for dolly-birds; but she came to nurse him when his back went.’ His head now was moving from side to side and it was as if he were trying to find words with which to express his disdain. ‘A nurse, you know. Just a nurse.’ His forefinger was wagging at David now. ‘Nurses are dangerous people. Oh, yes, much more so than the dolly-birds. You get something for your money there. But I suppose he’d reached a stage when he imagined he wanted mothering, petting up. Well, she does that all right, so much so that when she decided to go on to another post he proposed, and she was into his bed faster than was seemingly decent. I am sorry, my dear’ – he now inclined his head toward Hannah – ‘I’m sorry, my dear, if my explanation of her desire to become his wife sounded crude, but facts are often so. You see, the creature took a dislike to me and she convinced him that I was no longer a household necessity; and this after we had spent years on and off together. We had, hadn’t we, David?’
The Thursday Friend Page 16
