And Berry Came Too

by Dornford Yates

  “If you mean it has atmosphere, I’ll give you that. It is also subtle and effective – in a singularly loathsome way. It passes direct into the bloodstream, like some odourless poison gas. It does no more than suggest: but the cunning suggestion it makes would put a ghoul off its food.”

  “Of course,” said Daphne, “you’re making me feel quite ill.”

  “It isn’t me,” said Berry. “It’s the cretonne that’s doing that. The bare recollection of its burden is more than enough. Sluglike, it leaves behind it a trail of slime: as a result, the digestive organs are startled, like sheep that have smelt a goat – I mean a wolf. They huddle together, quaking—”

  “I do wish you’d be quiet,” said Daphne. “I tell you, I don’t feel well.”

  “Of course you don’t,” said her husband. “I feel very funny, myself. And that’s just talking about it… But you never can trust these futurist conceptions. I had my suspicions the moment I heard its name.”

  “It had no name,” said Jill.

  “This one had,” said Berry. “I specially asked.”

  “What was it called?”

  Before we could intervene—

  “Boiled Mutton,” said Berry. “Give Miss Mansel some water, Falcon. She’s going to choke.”

  The Rolls was stealing through Salisbury when Perdita caught my arm.

  “Oh, look, Boy. Isn’t that priceless?”

  I could not look, for the light-hearted traffic was thick: but I berthed the car where I could and prepared to descend.

  “They won’t let you stop here,” said Berry…

  “I opened Perdita’s door.

  We shan’t be a minute,” I said. “If the police intervene, just drive her round to the Close. Jonah’s there, for a monkey. Daphne won’t choose her silk under half an hour.”

  “Well, why don’t you drive to the Close? Why should I have the onus of…”

  With Perdita laughing beside me, I hastened the way we had come.

  “And now – what was priceless?” I said.

  “You’ll see in a minute. I’m terribly glad you stopped.”

  And so was I – when I saw it. I would not have missed it for worlds. A miniature staircase of oak, for use in a library. That it had been designed by a master was very plain. Its handsome lines and the elegance of its proportions made it a work of art. The jut of the little ‘pulpit,’ its exquisite balustrade, the purity of the columns which held it up – these things stood out against its background, a curtain of cream-coloured rep. And, what was more, the dark wood was beautifully carved. Banisters, columns and base had been wrought with a delicate flourish that charmed the eye. With it all, it was made for use. I never remember a piece that looked at once so dainty and so substantial.

  When I turned to Miss Perdita Boyte, the lady was gone. After a moment, I followed her into the shop… This was unattended. A voice from its depths declared that its keeper was occupied with a telephone call.

  “…ten minutes ago. I tried to get on from there, but your line was engaged… Quite so… On the copy I had, it wasn’t coloured as yours, and of course, as I said in my letter… Exactly. You might almost call it the key. It controls the situation. For one thing only, to bring the services round… More like seven thousand. And what about the main road?… Yes, I know. Well, it’s all right now. The document’s signed… This afternoon, then. Goodbye.”

  We heard the receiver replaced, and after a moment, a nice-looking man appeared. His eyes were steady and gentle, and iron-grey hair distinguished his clean cut face.

  “Good morning,” said Perdita, quickly. “That little staircase you’ve got…”

  Amusement flashed into and out of the other’s eyes. Then—

  “May I call my partner?” he said. “He’ll deal with this better than I.” He lifted his voice. “Norm, where are you? You’re keeping a customer waiting.” He turned again to Perdita. “Won’t you sit down?”

  An older man came bustling from the back of the shop. As he approached, the other picked up a hat.

  “If I may, I’ll leave you to him. You’ll be safe in his hands,” and, with that, he smiled and bowed and walked out of the shop.

  Some twenty-five seconds later, Perdita purchased the staircase for twenty-five pounds.

  Then she drew an odd cheque from her bag and began to dictate the address—

  “Mrs Pleydell, While Ladies, Hampshire. That’s—”

  “Perdita,” I cried.

  “Be quiet. It’s my birthday present. Besides, it was made for White Ladies, and that ladder you’ve got isn’t safe.” She returned to the shopkeeper. “Could you possibly send it today? If it could be there this evening…”

  “I think I can do it, madam. My van’s going down to Southampton this afternoon.” He hesitated. “I’m glad it’s to go to White Ladies. It came from a house like that.”

  “Where did it come from?” said I.

  “Thistledown, sir. I had it in my workshop at the time of the fire. It had very clumsy castors, and I was taking them off and generally cleaning it up. And then I was asked if I’d take it in settlement of my bill.” He smiled. “I’ve often tried to sell it, but though it’s very pretty, it’s made for use. And it wouldn’t look right outside of a library.”

  Perdita’s face was glowing.

  “Isn’t that glorious?” she said. Before I could answer, she had returned to the man. “You know your partner said that I should be safe in your hands.”

  The other stared.

  “My partner, madam?”

  Perdita nodded.

  “The one who called you and then went out of the shop.”

  Norm put a hand to his head.

  “That wasn’t my partner,” he said. “That was Lord Prentice, that was – the head of the armament firm. He’s down this way on business. I’ve known his lordship for years.”

  We withdrew in some confusion – on Perdita’s part.

  “And I took him for a tradesman,” she wailed.

  “And he was quick enough to cover up your mistake. He didn’t want you to be embarrassed, so don’t go and spoil the good work. Besides, he is a tradesman – of a rather distinguished kind.”

  But Perdita nursed her error and would not be comforted.

  By way of changing the subject—

  “The Rolls has gone,” said I. “We must walk to the Close. And what about your sweetness? Am I to mention—”

  “Of course you’re not,” cried Miss Boyte. “I want it to be a surprise.”

  We reached the Close to find the cars side by side and Berry and Jonah discussing the failings of women with crooked smiles.

  “We haven’t been long,” said Perdita.

  “Dear heart,” said Berry, “though I find no fault in you, I deplore the company you keep. Consider the facts. That pin-toed leper was driving: rightly or wrongly, he was in charge of the car. It was, therefore, for me to go with you – to minister to your fancies and anticipate your desires. So far from enjoying that lawful privilege, I have, by his misconduct, been subjected to the foulest insults at the hands of a policeman, less qualified to control traffic than to groom goats in hell, and to the perspiratory inconvenience of manoeuvring a chassis, which I have always maintained was unnecessarily long, between vehicles, the drivers of which were devoid of the faculty of consideration, and round corners which could be comfortably circumvented by a goat-chaise.”

  “But I heard you—”

  “Beloved,” said Berry, hastily, “such strictures as an innate sense of decency dictated were not being passed upon you. If I may believe this blear-eyed but otherwise inoffensive representative of my sex, he has for three quarters of an hour awaited the return of a harpy who promised that she would be back before five minutes had passed.”

  “Add Jill to Daphne,” said I, “and you ought to know what to expect.”

  “It’s the old Eve,” said Berry, and shook his head

  “I don’t mind his being kept waiting: in fact, it’s good
for his soul: but suppose I’d driven them over – I nearly did.” As though appalled by this hypothesis, he sat back and mopped his face. “And what could I have done? Nothing – except sit still, while the tide of indignity rose, the seething but impotent victim of a lack of principle so vicious as to be almost Cretian. And now, shall we go? I don’t suppose they’ll be long and, in any event, we have the luncheon with us. Besides, if they saw me here, they might be afraid to come back.”

  With his words the delinquents appeared.

  As they drew near, I perceived that all was not well, for Daphne’s brows were knitted and a wistful look was hanging in Jill’s grey eyes.

  Then the Knave went bounding to greet them and set them smiling again.

  My sister lifted her voice.

  “All four of you here. How nice.”

  “And Berry’s driving,” cried Jill. “I’m going to sit beside him. When he gets tied up in the traffic, he makes me die.”

  She pitched a length of cretonne into the car, took the seat beside Berry and set her cheek to his sleeve.

  A husband addressed his wife.

  “I trust,” he said grimly, “that your quest has been crowned with success: that the silk you set out to purchase some fifty minutes ago—”

  “Oh, it wasn’t too bad,” said Daphne. “Not what we wanted, you know, and in any event it’s gone. I suppose I must have dropped it. We did look back, but you know what the pavements are like on market day. And now do let us get on. I hate having lunch too late; it throws everything out.”

  An hour and a quarter later we berthed the cars in a lane which ran from the main highway.

  The spot was notable, for it had the look of a cloister which man had long ago founded and nature had brought to perfection in many years. On one side a six-feet bank was supporting a hazel wood – arras above a dado, vivid, cool and fragrant, starred here and there with flowers: the other side lay open except for a row of beeches along the edge of the turf: and, above, the boughs had woven a living roof – a maze of choirs for singing birds to sweeten, airy and yet so stout that the sunlight had sunk to a glimmer by the time it had pierced the leaves. Between the natural pillars appeared a peaceful prospect, fit for the eyes of such as have long forsworn the vanity of the world. Meadows, studded with trees, sloped to a pleasant valley which broadened into a chessboard of well-kept fields: to the left, the ground fell sharply, to hide the middle distance except for the gay, green tops of a line of elms: to the right, a sash of woodland sloped with the park and made a handsome bulwark against the winter wind. Of such was Thistledown…

  Jonah glanced at the lane.

  “Perfect for us,” he said. “But isn’t this way ever used? I mean, nothing can pass here, can it? We are ‘occupying’ the lane.”

  “I rejoice to inform you,” said Berry, “that here, at least, I can put my car where I like. And no one born of woman can say me nay – not even a policeman by Epstein, with a hand like a bunch of bananas and the way of an anthropoid ape. This is a private road, and as Thistledown stands in my name, no one can so much as use it, if I like to order them off. As for making me give place…”

  We alighted without more ado and set about the business of making ready to lunch.

  The chuckle of a neighbouring rill suggested a means of cooling what drinks we had, and, whilst Jonah attended to this, I lugged the luncheon baskets into the shade of some chestnuts which seemed to be taking counsel a little way off.

  Averse to such menial duties, Berry took his seat on the turf and declared the points of the landscape for such as had ears to hear.

  “The property ends at that fence. It’s not a very good shape – about four times as long as it’s broad, and there’s too much slope about it. It’s a frontage of half a mile to the Salisbury road: I used to think that was of value, but it seems I was wrong. The house stood down in that dip, where you see the heads of the elms. And a glorious sight it was – a memorial of cream and old rose, with, I think, the loveliest chimneys I ever saw. But there you are. Take away the jewel, and you see what the setting is worth.”

  Whatever its market value, it made us a dining-room that was fit for a king: and when, perhaps half an hour later, we gathered about the cloth which the girls had spread, the luxury of our condition compelled our gratitude. Earth, air and sky were giving us of their best: commanding handsome country, yet sheltered from wind and sun, we had to ourselves the smiling neighbourhood: food and liquor were before us: and the tout ensemble had the air of one of those hunting banquets that live in the tapestries.

  “We should do this more often,” said Daphne. “Lunch out of doors like this is really ideal.”

  “And who brought you here?” said her husband. “Whose was the lovely instinct that led you to—”

  Here the Knave smiled into his eyes and then licked the piece of chicken adorning his fork.

  “There’s a skunk,” said Berry. “There’s an unprincipled—”

  “It isn’t his fault,” bubbled Jill. “The silly fools forgot to put in his lunch.”

  “They didn’t?” – indignantly.

  “Yes, they did. We’ll have to make him up some out of the scraps.”

  “Poor dog,” said Berry, compassionately, and gave him the morsel which he had made bold to denote. “All the same, er – go to Daphne, old fellow.” The Knave laid a paw on his arm and let out a bark. “Yes, I know. It’s a rotten shame. I’m very sorry about it. If I had my way… This ragout’s extraordinarily good. Why can’t we have dishes like this when we’re sitting at home?”

  “What ragout?” said Daphne.

  “Well, I don’t know what you’d call it. It’s made with savoury rice.”

  “Let me see it. I never ordered—”

  “It’s the Knave’s lunch,” shrieked Jill. “He’s eating the—”

  “Moses’ shrub,” screamed Berry, and covered his mouth.

  Now since the Knave understood whatever was said, it was but natural that he should acclaim our discovery of the truth which meant much to him, which he had been doing his very best to expose. Be that as it may, the second sweep of his tail knocked Berry’s glass of cool beer clean into his lap. And the glass was capacious and full.

  The resultant confusion was awful.

  With beer streaming down his legs, my brother-in-law stamped about the meadow, spitting grains of rice and roaring dismay. Weak with laughter, we pursued him, napkins in hand, while the Knave, unaware of his trespass, went backwards before his victim, barking a frantic approval of active revelry.

  (My cousin said later that only the brush of a Boucher could ever have captured the scene: he suggested a title, Silenus Routed by Nymphs.)

  With the return of coherence—

  “Oh, very funny,” said Berry. “Quite side-splitting. First, by the grossest negligence, I am allowed to consume a lot of filthy beastliness prepared for the belly of a dog.”

  “It’s p-perfectly good,” wailed Daphne. “The vet wrote down exactly—”

  “Oh, I’m sure it was the best horse-flesh,” said Berry. He swallowed, with starting eyes. “But I can’t help feeling that this weather—”

  “It – it w-wasn’t horse-flesh,” sobbed Jill. “It was b-boiled mutton.”

  So soon as he could make himself heard—

  “Thank you,” said Berry, gravely. “In that case, as you surmise, we know where we are.” He glanced at his watch. “To the best of my recollection—”

  “B-be quiet,” begged Daphne. “It can’t do you any harm. It just happens to be called his food, but—”

  “Yes, I know that bit. And what disgusting rites attended its concoction?” A gasp from Jill made him look round. “Good God, don’t say he’s having powders?”

  With tears coursing down my cheeks—

  “Only flowers of sulphur,” I said.

  “I see,” said Berry, thoughtfully. “What a very beautiful name. Flowers of sulphur. It looks as if I was in for a busy time.” He lowered his eyes. “
Just consider those trousers, will you? Every bit about them that matters, steeped, stained, soaking and soon to stink.”

  “You must t-take them off,” quavered Daphne.

  “I propose to,” replied her husband. “Almost at once. And other mysteries with them. What I want to know is why am I selected for these indignities? I came here in love and charity. In faith and hope I committed my body to your care. And here I am, corrupted within and without…”

  My sister and I escorted him back to the lane.

  Now to take off your trousers is easy: effectively to replace them is very hard – when you are in the depths of the country and your wardrobe is sixty miles off.

  It was Jill who thought of the cretonne…

  Under Perdita’s supervision, I cleansed the stains from the cloth in the chuckling rill: then I found a bramble-bush and spread the trousers to dry in the blaze of the sun: then I rejoined the others – to find a transformation which had to be seen to be believed.

  My pen cannot justly describe the picture which Berry made. So far as appeared, he was wearing nothing at all but socks, shoes and a chiton, as worn by the ancient Greeks – a shapeless tube of material, kilted about the knees and brooched upon either shoulder, to make one hole for the neck and two for the arms. The pattern of the cretonne, however, suggested leanings less orthodox… The whole effect was not so much arresting as frightening. The most daring of hikers would have withdrawn from the field. A post-futuristic ballet-master would have burst into tears. Even the Knave kept his distance, and, on being conjured to approach, retreated backwards, barking.

  Since Berry can rise to an occasion more highly than anyone I know, the meal was memorable, while the exhibition dances with which, unasked, he rounded the entertainment would have made a more critical audience split its sides. It was half-past three before he decided to change.

  “Not that I object to this kit. It’s free and easy and cool, and, as I can’t see the design, I’ve nothing to fear. But I feel that the world is unready for such an effect. People in Salisbury might stare, and the policeman I met this morning might seek to improve an acquaintance which I prefer to forget. So if somebody’d fetch my trousers… They ought to be dry by now.”