Roger’s head appeared over the bannister. ‘Perhaps I can finish my painting now,’ he remarked, an unusually slow grin spreading across his face. ‘I must say it was quite a funny sight watching him storm through your midst like a Japanese general, unseated at an opportune moment by the enemy – I noticed there wasn’t one brave enough to tackle him,’ and he backed hurriedly out of sight as a noise behind the Budden’s door suggested Mr Budden’s possible reappearance.
‘He really hasn’t a leg to stand on, you know,’ Edward remarked peevishly, ‘Whereas I have.’
‘Who? Mr Budden or Roger?’ I enquired.
‘Roger, of course. The racket that issues from that room really leaves him without a reason for a legitimate complaint.’ He looked at Andy apologetically.
‘You cannot compare the perpetual crying of a baby to the melodious strains of wind instruments,’ I insisted tenderly, rushing in quickly to defend the room where my heart lay, noting Andy’s wry look.
‘That’s a matter of opinion.’
‘Personally I think those two are mad as well,’ Gerald remarked with conviction, forgetting one offender was in our midst. ‘But it’s all beside the point, the question is – are you going to give that uncouth man notice or not?’
As so often I found one event seemed to set off a whole chain of events, and I was saved from making an immediate decision by just that. A yelp of help from Nicholas who, stoking up the drawing-room fire to furnace-like proportions while we were arguing the point in the hall, had started a fire of some magnitude, which in seconds roared up the chimney throwing out showers of hot sparks, and soot falling like burning coals was already spreading threateningly across the hearth. The roar told us that the chimney was well alight.
Edward, struck to rigid horror with the first news that the unbelievable had happened, quickly transposed himself to a model of ‘I told you so’ and rescue. ‘My God,’ he announced, ‘lucky I’m here to deal with it for the rest of you don’t realize the dangers of fire.’ Completely forgetting his ailments he took charge in the tones of a regimental sergeant major suffering from adenoids, showing a side of his nature that we had never suspected. He barked our orders in rapid succession. ‘Women and children to safety on the lawn. You, Gerald, warn the house.’
I tried to point out that after all it was only a chimney fire, but was silenced, rudely.
Feeling rather foolish I marshalled the children and the dog on to the front lawn. I could hear Gerald warning the first floor that we were all about to go to perdition and Andy rushing to preserve his trombone and records, Jane her medicine chest. Oaths and protests followed. Edward, armed with a packet of salt, was all ready to fight his way to the rooftops where a smoke screen spread above us. Flames leapt merrily out from the chimney, sending out a shower of sparks like a fireworks display. The neighbours had already gathered and I tried to ignore what I considered their vulgar curiosity. Lady Booth, swallowing her pride, for she never mixed with Mrs Briggs, was now standing shoulder to shoulder with her. Curiously our fire had made them comrades in arms.
They glared at me as if I was a public menace. Mrs Briggs, as usual, spoke first: ‘One spark and we shall be up,’ she complained, but almost as if she enjoyed the spectacle and was trying to terrify her neighbour in an underhand retaliatory way. This observation, as intended, sent Lady Booth into fresh cries of panic, for if there was one thing she dreaded it was an all-consuming fire.
Mr Beetle, observing the disturbance, was already on his way to save us, puffing up like a small engine, his jaw wobbling and arms outstretched to catch the first victim. ‘I thought things had been too quiet,’ he panted. ‘I do hope Mrs Durrell is not in the blaze.’
‘Everything is under control,’ I remarked haughtily, my hauteur dissolving into a sheepish grin as a string of fugitives, headed by Mr Budden carrying his baby, left the house looking as though they were following Moses to the promised land. Blanche appeared at the window.
‘Save her, save her!’ Mr Beetle shouted excitedly.
‘Beauty before age,’ Nelson remarked.
‘Judy feels too bad to get up, so I’ll just hang around for a while to see what happens,’ she called down, giggling at the sight of us all gathered together on the lawn.
Then all eyes turned to the roof, where Edward, like a tropical bird with whiskers, had appeared. Still clutching his packet of salt, he was clambering cautiously across the grey slates to a series of sympathetic ‘Ahs’ from the ground. He made towards the chimney where the flames were licking up to a frightening height. I burst out laughing, in one of my doubtful bouts of humour. We lost him for a moment in a gust of black smoke. There was a gasp of horror from the onlookers, accentuated by Mrs Briggs: ‘He’s gone in, that’s what, poor creature.’ Then Edward re-appeared, safe from behind the chimney. A small cheer went up. ‘More salt,’ he hollered, ‘bring more salt.’
‘What’s he saying?’ I shouted, hoping my fire insurance was not overdue.
‘What’s he want salt for?’ Mr Beetle enquired with great interest.
‘He’s not cooking up there, is he?’ Lady Booth spoke anxiously.
‘It’s an old-fashioned fire extinguisher,’ Harriet said in a remarkably sane way, standing with the tragic air of Joan of Arc.
‘I think ’e’s ’aving a fit, poor man, overcome by the ’eat, no doubt.’
‘Better send for the ambulance.’
‘Can’t find any salt,’ Gerald shouted, appearing at the window beside Blanche, ‘we’ve used it all, it seems.’
‘Is he going to save her?’ Mr Beetle was agitated by the possible fate of the blonde in the window.
‘Seduce her, more likely,’ Roger smirked.
‘’Ear, ’ear,’ was Nelson’s contribution.
‘We haven’t any more,’ I called up to Edward who was hanging over the eaves now, as though he was examining them for the best place to build a nest.
‘Imbeciles!’ he roared, dragging us all into the picture of wrath. ‘Then get the Fire Brigade.’
‘I’ve sent for the Fire Brigade,’ a croaky voice announced dramatically behind us. Miss Brady, shrouded in a blue shawl, was hurriedly crossing the road.
‘Thank God, we are saved,’ Lady Booth burst into tears, and leant for comfort into the welcoming arms of Mr Beetle, whose short figure, unable to bear the welcome burden, called loudly for Lord Booth, who never appeared.
‘Crikey, there’ll be some mess to clear up now, mark my words,’ Mrs Briggs announced in a pleased voice, as a frantic ringing of a bell and people popping out all over the road told us that the fire engine was speeding to our rescue. Within minutes the shining model of civilized efficiency had put out the blaze that Edward’s courage had failed to quench, and there was only the mess to clear.
Edward, extremely happy, having at last experienced the fire he had subconsciously longed for, I firmly believed, told and retold his story to all those who had not been present to witness his own little rooftop charade.
‘I knew we’d have a fire one day,’ he kept saying. ‘I had a premonition,’ and at last, hoarse from his own recitals, he remembered that after all he did have a cold, and clutching his throat he announced pathetically that he thought the episode had brought on pneumonia. He rushed to the nurses’ sanctuary for medical aid – we noticed this with some amusement, for Blanche and Judy never kept more than cotton wool.
Going upstairs after the excitement had died down, to see how Judy’s illness fared, I found her alone, lying in bed with a pallor and limpness that frightened me. ‘Shall I call the doctor?’ I suggested, really concerned.
Judy weakly protested that Blanche was doing all that was necessary. ‘Sorry to have missed the fire – I heard that Edward excelled himself,’ she managed a small smile, attempting a lively note.
I regaled her briefly with a few of the finer points, poked up the fire into a more cheerful blaze and went to find Blanche and insist that the doctor was called. Jane would have had her patient
in hospital long ago, but this was one room, however provocative the situation, where Jane never trespassed. I followed laughter, and traced Blanche to Edward’s room, where she was taking his temperature for the second time, in a most unprofessional manner, while discussing hairstyles with Olwen.
If Edward had a choice of nurse, he usually preferred a blonde one, so he was now of course reclining back and enjoying the soft hand, re-living the fire with Paula and Barry who had just returned from a day of visiting relatives.
Taking Blanche’s attention away from a disappointed Edward I drew her into a private corner to discuss Judy’s illness. The matter was soon made clear, in a calm clinical way, a tone that only a nurse could produce. Judy, unknown to us, had become pregnant and, terrified of the consequences, had procured an abortion. Where, was a mystery. The word which I had treated so casually, slipped over lightly in the dictionary before and which had played no part in my life up till now, had suddenly become reality and one for concern.
Mother, hearing exaggerated gossip about a few charred remains, not waiting to pack a suitcase, arrived holding a large phial of sal volatile beneath her nose, strongly supported by Leslie with a bottle of brandy. Finding the house still standing she recovered slightly, and entered almost gaily in her relief, though not without a few apprehensive glances in the direction of Harriet’s room. Mother found me, not sitting in the midst of a smoking ruin smelling of anti-burn lotion and mourning my losses, but pacing the floor with this entirely new problem. She examined the scene of the fire intently, rebuked me for endangering the lives of the household, turning a deaf ear to the fact that it was her darling grandchild who had started the fire, while Leslie, finding our death by fire a false alarm, wandered off to have a celebratory drink with Edward, leaving me to wither under one of Mother’s stern looks.
‘And what else is going on?’ she asked.
‘What do you mean?’ I said evasively, avoiding those direct blue eyes.
‘I can tell from your face, dear there is more going on here than meets the eye. I thought I heard the murmur of illness – not another epidemic, I hope, that you are trying to keep from me?’
So hesitatingly, wondering if Mother had ever heard the dread word, I told her of Judy’s plight. Mother, much to my surprise, not only knew the word, but seemed to know a great deal about the subject, learned, she said, in the days of her youth when starting a nursing career. She was nevertheless aghast at what she called the follies of youth. ‘This is what comes of playing with fire,’ she pronounced gravely, ‘and why the unmarried mothers’ home seems to be full all year round. It makes me quite certain that you must either close this house at once, or in future let me interview your prospective tenants. Doris, Leslie and I have decided that you seem to attract every worst situation. You have been in this house less than a year and murder alone has only been avoided by a miracle. Now this sort of thing’ – she avoided the contaminating word – ‘can hardly give the house a good moral tone. The doctor had better be called in immediately if you are to avoid a funeral.’
I agreed, feeling as though the world’s problems were personally at my door. I asked the doctor to call, and he came quickly, the same slight figure of efficiency. No expression crossed his face during his visit, but as he left he turned to me as I hovered worriedly in the hall and remarked in a matter-of-fact voice: ‘You do pick ’em, don’t you?’ I agreed, blushing guiltily. It was no use contradicting him, for I certainly did.
‘Another twenty-four hours and she would have been dead,’ he said cheerfully. ‘I shall send an ambulance immediately to collect her.’
Was this the right moment to introduce Harriet to the doctor? Perhaps not. Sighing, I decided Mother was right. In future I would let her choose the lodgers.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Mother had her chance to put her new resolution into action almost immediately by the sudden departure of Judy and Blanche to new hospitals, no longer mere pot-carriers but nurses of some standing. Exams had been passed with flying colours, disproving the theory that their role as nursing sisters was entirely superfluous. Jane, green-eyed, refused to believe that exam papers had not been tampered with or examiners seduced, and muttered disparaging comments about the present day standards of nursing. There were the usual farewells, the usual party, while Mother subsequently busied herself, with Leslie’s help, concocting a suitable notice, and put it in the local paper under the column of ‘Rooms to Let’.
It was a foregone conclusion that my family, however disapproving, in their great anxiety to see me as a success, would intervene kindly when they thought necessary.
The period of waiting for the results of Mother’s labour was trying. Mrs Greenfield had temporarily forgotten her latest grievance – the frustrating spectacle of someone else and not her being carried away by an ambulance. The sight of Mother revived her irritations.
‘I see,’ she announced knocking and entering with ceremony, ‘that you have allowed that woman here again.’ Her eyes filled with the light challenge, flickered past me to Mother, innocently waiting a possible new tenant to materialize, the first answer to her call. The usual sound of music hung about the hall.
‘Mrs Greenfield, I hope you are not going to cause trouble,’ I answered coldly, trying to keep calm, for this was obviously the wrong moment to start a brawl with Mother’s prospective lodger actually on the way.
‘Me cause trouble!’ She looked genuinely astonished. ‘It’s they that cause trouble,’ she said bitterly. ‘Rob me in broad daylight, talk about me – but do I get sympathy, oh no, other people can be carried off comfortably in ambulances …’ She paused, deeply offended at the memory.
Edward, as usual, came to the rescue. Opening his door he bounded up the stairs with a ‘No time to lose.’
‘They are at it again!’ she shrieked, immediately alert, and rushed after Edward. The rattle of the lavatory door told me that Edward was safe.
This convinced me that it was certainly the wrong moment for personal introductions of Harriet to a new tenant, for one had to get slowly acclimatized to understand her oddities. I turned to hear Mother say in a resolute voice: ‘I shall stick it out dear, and I shall continue to look under my bed as usual.’
Then she was rising with an exclamation of pleasure and refusal to acknowledge the uproar going on upstairs, with Harriet demanding that Edward leave her things alone. A tall, dark stranger had entered the gate.
‘Ah, here he is,’ said Mother. ‘Just what your horoscope said, and what a nice-looking young man; I knew success would be ours in the end,’ she added cheerfully, preparing to bustle out. The noise upstairs was subsiding.
My interest rose as I took stock quickly of that handsome, almost smooth face, the easy swinging body. A splendid blazer and trim grey flannels. Healthy, too, obviously unperturbed by the east winds biting across the house.
‘He’s all yours,’ I said affectionately as I made way for Mother. ‘My turn will come later,’ and I settled down to await the results of Mother’s first business venture with great interest.
Jane popped in to say that she thoroughly approved of Mother’s companion, and she hoped that our bête humaine, Mr Budden, or that screwy Harriet, wouldn’t frighten him away; and she had managed to silence the music-lovers temporarily. We chortled together like a couple of old crones at the great possibilities of the stranger, listened on tenterhooks to Mother enticing a new body into our web, refraining from the urge we both felt for a closer investigation. Just as we were beginning to feel we couldn’t stand the strain a moment longer, Mother reappeared in our midst, all smiles.
‘I have let your room, which you will be pleased to know, and to a perfect gentleman.’
Jane and I exchanged satisfied glances.
‘Good, good,’ breathed Jane.
‘Is he a bachelor, married, or divorced?’ I asked all the important questions.
‘Divorced, in my opinion,’ said Nelson, cheekily popping his head round the door then disappearin
g again.
‘I’ve no idea,’ said Mother, with a little disparaging look at my vulgar curiosity. ‘But even Harriet quailed before that smile and returned quietly to her room, though Edward looked a trifle sour, I must say.’
‘Perhaps he is jealous.’ It was a reasonable assumption.
‘I do hope Edward is not going to be prejudiced of such a charming young man.’ Jane was already teetering on the precipice of romance. ‘And such a charming voice too …’ It seemed that Mother was on the same precipice.
We praised Mother’s efforts at letting wholeheartedly, and questioned her for more details on this new and perfect male who was about to establish himself among us. Mother, relishing the discussion on her find, fell into easy raptures, in which the words ‘genuine’, ‘honest’, ‘handsome’, all played a great part – ending with the bright observation that he had a good set of teeth: she knew how fussy I am about men’s teeth.
‘But did you mention rent?’ I wanted to know, not really worried, mesmerized by the tale of his other charms.
Mother’s face dropped. ‘I quite forgot about that, but I am sure you will have no trouble. Honesty is written all over him.’
‘I hope so, but I very much doubt it,’ said a sour voice, and Edward had entered our discussion.
‘He likes children and animals, that is enough,’ Mother reasoned, ‘and happily Margo’s horoscope said that a dark stranger would make his presence felt in a satisfactory way,’ she concluded. Our conversation ended there.
Percival Johnson certainly made his presence felt as he settled in our midst. Mother’s wholehearted praise, and his own ingratiating, almost Latin charm, graced with an Oxford accent, opened every female door to him – even the formidable Harriet – and outshone any of Gerald’s previous manoeuvres. He carried shopping bags for old and young alike, he listened with a personal cosy tenderness to each one: their health, their operations, their finances, uttering murmurs of sympathy: ‘I say, how awful my dear’, or ‘My dear, how you have suffered’, or the infallible ‘You look charming, just charming’.
Whatever Happened to Margo? Page 24
