of the sea in future, and how you swim in it. You wouldn’t be the first to come to a bad end there.’
‘But I’ve come to a good end, after all.’
‘Yes, but you’re an exception. Only bad things come of the sea, in the main.’
‘I’ve never found that— no, I’ve always thought it to be a happy sea, all my life.’
‘You surprise me,’ she countered. ‘I myself have heard such terrible things, of wrecks and monsters, and drowned sailors coming ashore after years and years.’
Trevick glanced at her suspiciously. ‘Yes, I once wrote a poem about such a thing, I think. I remember Clare asked me to copy it out for her.’
‘Really?’ exclaimed the other, a touch too ingenuously. ‘I’d heard of it somewhere, too. I suppose it’s an old legend.’
He smiled to himself. ‘No, it was only a dream I had, Ravella, when I was young.’
Ravella, having trapped herself into pretending not to have read the poem, was obliged to feign, with: ‘Oh! How strange. Well, perhaps I’ve had a similar dream at some time— or maybe your coming out of the sea today put it into my head.’
‘But I’m not drowned, I’m glad to say,’ he replied. ‘Perhaps it will become a legend one day, who can tell? Until it does, though, you ought to revise your opinion of the sea. I could show you places along this coast where she’s as calm and lovely as a lake— and even here at the Point, when the weather’s better, there’s nothing brighter or more beautiful than a quiet sea.’
‘Well, when I see that, I’ll try to dread the sea a little less.’
And she said goodbye, leaving him with an inclination to help her, just as she suggested, by showing her a calmer ocean —which was of course the inclination she intended to foster.
As he watched her disappear down the path to the village, a great magpie swooped out of the woods, landed in her wake, and nodded three times; and of course, in the nursery rhyme, one is for sorrow where magpies are concerned. But unfortunately, Trevick did not appreciate this poetic insight into his fate, even as he gazed after his erstwhile guest, which only goes to show how often we pander to observe superstitions, but never think to profit by the fruits of them when they appear.
Ravella returned to her lodgings flushed with success, and gleefully imparted her day’s adventures to Mrs. Manderville, who doted on the entire narrative from end to end, laughed loudly at Ravella’s treatment of it, and generally flattered her on the genius of her stratagems. Yes, she knew well enough how to keep her lucrative guest sweet.
At the first dwindling of dusk, the gin was brought out once more, and Mrs. Manderville imbibed to perfection, declaring that she intended to fully recount her losses of the night before. Duly the cards appeared again, and again, Ravella blithely plunged her attentive landlady into debt— and the further Mrs. Manderville sank into dissipation, the more loquacious she became, and the broader her accent.
‘Love!’ she cried, by way of a toast. ‘You young lovers, you’ve got it all, haven’t you?’
‘Have we?’ asked Ravella.
‘Yes, you have! Course you have, and you know it! Look at that James Trevick, what a man he is, aye? What a man!’ She bellowed a laugh. ‘If I were twenty years younger, my lover, you’d have competition, I can tell you that!’
‘I’ve no doubt of it,’ replied the other, winning another hand.
‘An’ he’s rich, too, bloody hell is he ever rich! Did you ever hear the like? He’s as rich as a— as a—’
‘A bank?’ suggested Ravella.
‘A skunk!’ declared Mrs. Manderville with a flourish.
‘Oh no, that’s wrong,’ said her companion. ‘It’s drunk as a skunk.’
‘Drunk! I’ll have you know I can hold my drink better than you young whippet girlies! Drunk! You don’t know the meaning of the word skunk!’ —and she shot to her feet at the indignation of it, swayed alarmingly, and sat down again forcibly, breaking the arm off the chair.
‘Now look what you’ve done,’ tutted Ravella. ‘You’ll have to buy a new chair. And while you’re at it, a new table and service wouldn’t go amiss.’
But Mrs. Manderville wasn’t listening. ‘Do you hear what I say?’ she carolled. ‘If I was twenty years younger, I’d be—’
‘Forty?’ put in Ravella.
‘I’d be more than a match for you, madam!’ cried the landlady. ‘I’d have that man off you, I’d have him in my bed quicker than you could say—’
‘Barrage balloon?’ put in Ravella.
‘Barnacles?’ queried Mrs. Manderville, a little confused. ‘What are you saying to me? Where was I at? Oh that’s it, yes, well, I’d have him, you know, I’d have him and have him, if you get me, too, and his money! I’d show you a thing or two, my darlin’, and then some!’
‘I’ve no doubt about it,’ agreed Ravella, pouring another drink.
The matron then grew maudlin, and proclaimed: ‘I was a beauty once!’
‘Were you? What happened?’
‘Age, my lover, age!’ she warned, leaning over the table and trying to focus. ‘I used to have ’em all after me, you know! They used to sing a song about me, on the boats, to keep ’em warm, that’s how hot I was, twenty years since. Put you in the shade, girlie! But its gravity, in the end, though. Gravity gets you, and it’s all downhill from there!’
Ravella wagged her finger reproachfully. ‘You threw your beauty away! It was very careless.’
‘What’s that you say?’
‘Well if you were such a beauty, you should have used it to marry money and live happily ever after. What were you thinking of?’
‘I was in love!’ wailed Mrs. Manderville.
‘Woman’s ruin,’ interrupted Ravella, pouring more gin and stilting the affecting tale of romance that seemed sure to follow. ‘As I say, you were careless, and now look at you: sitting in rags on a broken chair, lamenting your losses.’
‘Rags! This was from the catalogue!’
‘What! The Salvation Army jumble sale, confess it! And to think that you could so easily be wealthy again.’
Mrs. Manderville swayed her head towards Ravella. ‘What’s that?’
‘Oh yes, it would be easy. If you’d only do as I suggest and invest a little in this place, you could soon be thriving.’
‘And where does all the money come from, aye? A sub from the Sally Army?’ she returned crossly.
‘I can loan you the money,’ said Ravella, and pushed her landlady’s losings back across the table to her. ‘What you’ve lost tonight I’ll lend you, at the merest slip of interest, to spend on investments and doing up the old place. And when it’s gotten to a fit standard, I’ll put the word about among my friends that this is the only seaside retreat— and my word is as good as a fashion, Mrs. Manderville, so you’ll be made in no time.’
Mrs. Manderville had agreed to everything before she knew where she was, and so sank still more shockingly into debt to Ravella, who secured herself a comfortable little purchase on Mrs. Manderville’s overdraft, two loans and a remortgage. Indeed, Ravella felt that she had handled her financial concerns so happily that she need have no apprehensions about how long it might take to secure James Trevick’s capital; in fact she went out directly the next day and bought herself a new wardrobe and shoes.
This moral scene has been included for two reasons: firstly, to demonstrate the evils of drink (the chief evil being, what dreadful bores drunk people tend to be), but secondly, to highlight how carelessly Ravella’s stratagems tended to escalate into catastrophes for everyone else. What were games and ploys to her, were tendant to dire consequences for her victims. And these consequences were as often emotional as financial, for though James Trevick found himself forsaking his broken heart in record time, Clare Belmont was altogether more unhappy, having been the more attached of the couple all along. Now she found herself, not only stranded and alone, but fairly at the mercy of Guy Laurence, who had not forgotten Ravella’s prompting, and daily reinforced his suit towards Clare
with whatever means he could conjure.
Ravella, it seems, was quite distressed about her dear friend’s predicament, and actually tried to sound so when Clare called her in despair.
The chorus of woe ran down the telephone thus: ‘Oh Ravella! I can’t believe he’s gone! Why won’t he forgive me? I’d forgive him tomorrow, in a moment! We could be so happy together! If he asked me, I’d go back to him at once —I can’t bear to be without him! How did this happen? We could be so happy! Why did this happen, why, why, why—?’
‘I can’t imagine, Clare,’ answered Ravella. ‘Oh dear, I foresee that my dear aunt is about to choke on a fish bone, I must go— try not to think about James too much, goodbye—’ (Click.)
Clare had of course expressed surprise to discover that Ravella was staying in Hurlevor, and so close to Trevick’s home, but Ravella had expressed equal surprise at the coincidence, and reassured her friend that, if she should have the misfortune to run into that less-than-gentle-man, she would make certain to cut him cold for the pain he had caused.
However, as it happened, Ravella found that this promise slipped her mind on the several occasions when she did happen to encounter Trevick about the village; and so far did she forget it that a familiar acquaintanceship sprang up between them, a very burgeoning friendship. This culminated one fine sunny day when he offered to take her up to Hurlevor Point to have a view of the sea. He assured her that it was as calm as a millpond and breathtakingly blue that day, so
The Drowned Sailor Page 12
