If Mr Armstrong and his family were leaving tomorrow then Uncle Dick and his friends would leave shortly afterwards, and Uncle Thomas, too, would go about his business. From then onwards, the house would become quiet again, except for the laughter of the servants, and there would only be Miss Brigmore, with Mary for light relief.
At this moment the future appeared very dull to Barbara. She looked through the dim glow of the night light towards the other bed and saw that Connie was fast asleep. Connie had promised Mary not to go down, but she hadn’t promised, had she?
Quietly she pushed back the bedclothes and got out of bed; then getting into her slippers and dressing gown she tiptoed quietly to the bedroom door which opened into the day nursery. Having groped her way across the dark room, she now gently turned the handle of the door leading on to the landing.
The landing was lit by one candle standing in a three-branched candelabrum. She peered first one way and then the other and she was tiptoeing gently to the head of the stairs when she heard the little sound. She stopped, and looked back towards the end of the landing to the door opposite where their bedroom door would have been if it had opened on to the landing instead of into the day nursery. The sound could have been a laugh, or a moan, and it had come from Miss Brigmore’s bedroom which was next to her sitting room.
There it was again, a soft moaning sound not unlike the sound she herself made when she had toothache and hid her head under the bedclothes. Was Miss Brigmore ill? She did not care for Miss Brigmore but she must remember that the governess was always kind to them when they felt ill, and now she might be in need of assistance; perhaps she required some mixture out of the white bottle in the medicine cupboard, the same as she gave to them when they had stomach trouble.
She turned and tiptoed down the length of the landing until she was opposite Miss Brigmore’s door. The sound was louder now but still soft. She noted that Miss Brigmore’s door was just the slightest bit ajar. Slowly her hand lifted and she pressed it open, but only wide enough to take the shape of her face and allow her to see into the room.
What she saw caused her to hold her breath for so long that she imagined she had stopped breathing altogether. Miss Brigmore was in her bed; the bedclothes were rumpled down to her waist, the top of her body was bare, and lying by her side leaning over her was her Uncle Thomas. He was supporting himself on his elbow and gazing down into Miss Brigmore’s face while his hand caressed her breast. She noticed that Miss Brigmore had her eyes closed, but her mouth was open and from it were coming the soft moans that weren’t really moans.
As she went to take in a deep gulp of air she became conscious of a movement behind her and she turned quickly to see Connie coming down the landing. With swift silent steps she reached her sister and, grabbing her hand, she dragged her back into the nursery, and there in the dark she turned and closed the door, but softly. Then pushing Connie before her, she went towards the dim light coming from the night nursery.
‘What is it?’ Connie turned to her. ‘I woke up; you weren’t in bed. What…what is wrong? Is Miss Brigmore sick?’
Barbara shook her head violently before she could say, ‘No, no.’
‘There was a noise.’
‘She…she was snoring.’
‘Oh.’ Constance giggled now. ‘Does Miss Brigmore snore? I didn’t know. Perhaps Mary doesn’t know either. You must tell Mary. Does she do it like the pigs on the farm, like this?’
The snort brought a hasty ‘Ssh!’ from Barbara, and she pushed Constance forward as she said, ‘Get back into bed.’
‘Aren’t you going down to the gallery?’
‘No, no, I’m not. Get back into bed.’
‘What’s the matter, Barbie?’
‘Nothing, nothing; just go to bed. Come on.’ She pulled her on to the bed, then tucked the clothes round her.
‘You’re vexed, Barbie.’
‘I’m not, I’m not. Go to sleep.’
‘Goodnight, Barbie.’
‘Goodnight.’
She herself now climbed into bed and lay rigid staring up at the rose-coloured patterns on the ceiling created by the red glass vase which held the night light. Her Uncle Thomas doing that to Miss Brigmore and Miss Brigmore not stopping him. It was wicked. Miss Brigmore herself would have said it was wicked. But she had lain quite still with her eyes closed. Suddenly her body bounced in the bed and she turned on to her face and buried it in the pillow. But having blotted out her uncle and Miss Brigmore from her mind, they were now replaced by the ladies’ and gentlemen’s games she had watched from the gallery and the balcony, and she knew there was a connection between them and the scene she had just witnessed. Her uncle was bad; Miss Brigmore was bad; all the ladies and gentlemen were bad; the only people who weren’t bad were Mary Peel, Connie, and herself. She wished the ice had cracked today and she had fallen through and been drowned.
Three
‘Look, boy, what the hell do you want, waking me at this ungodly hour?’ Thomas Mallen heaved himself round in the bed, then pulled his nightcap from the back of his head down on to his brow as he screwed up his bleary eyes at the clock. ‘Ten minutes to seven. God sakes! What’s up with you?’
‘I’ve got to talk with you, Father.’ Dick Mallen hoisted himself up on to the side of the four-poster bed and, leaning forward, he said in a tense undertone, ‘I’m in a fix. I…I need two thousand straight away. It’s imperative I have two thousand straight away.’
‘Ah!’ Thomas fell back into the billowing soft pillows with a flop and, raising his arms towards the ceiling, he waved his hands at it as he addressed it, saying, ‘It’s imperative he has two thousand straight away.’ Then twisting on to his side he looked at his son with an alert gaze now and said soberly, ‘What’s come over you? What’s happened?’
‘I lost.’
‘But you’re always losing.’
‘That isn’t true.’
‘Well, what I mean is, you’ve lost before and it wasn’t…imperative you had two thousand right away.’ He glanced at the clock again. ‘Ten to seven in the morning and demanding two thousand! There’s something more besides this.’ He pulled himself upwards, very wide awake now, and stared at his son. ‘Out with it.’
‘I made a mistake.’
‘You what?’
‘I said I made a mistake.’
‘You mean you cheated?’
‘No, I tell you I…’
‘You bloody well cheated! Playin’ against fellows like Lennox and Weir, you had the bloody nerve to cheat. You must be mad.’
‘I…I didn’t cheat; there was a slight mistake.’
‘Look. Look.’ Thomas shook his fist menacingly at him. ‘I’m an old bull; don’t try to put the blinkers on me, boy. If you want two thousand straight away you cheated. Who’s pressing you?’
‘Weir.’
‘It would be, that bastard!…Well, what’s the alternative?’
Dick hung his head. ‘He’ll finish me in town…and everywhere else for that matter.’
‘Has he any proof?’
‘Lennox’ll stand by his word.’
‘By God! Boy, you do pick your friends. How much do you owe them altogether?’
‘Four, four thousand. But Lennox’ll wait.’
‘They’ll both bloody well wait. Get by and let me up out of this; I’ll deal with them.’
‘No! No, you won’t.’ Dick had his hands on his father’s shoulders now, pressing him back. ‘See me through this and I’ll promise it’ll be the last. Honest to God, I promise.’
‘I’ve heard that before. Take your hands off me.’ There was a threat in the tone, and when his son quickly withdrew his hold Thomas slowly sat up and, thrusting his feet over the side of the high bed, he sat for a moment and held his face in his hand pressing one cheek in with his thumb and the other with his fingers before he said soberly, ‘And now I’m going to tell you something. I’ve kept it from you for some time, didn’t want to spoil your fun and wanted Bessie settled, bu
t I, too, am in it up to the neck. At this present moment I couldn’t raise four hundred let alone four thousand.’
The father and son stared at each other. It was Thomas who eventually broke the silence. Nodding slowly, he said, ‘I’ve been banking on you fixing it up with Fanny. That settled, I gathered Frank would see me through, but not otherwise. I know she’s a bit long in the tooth, but it won’t be the first time a man’s married a woman five years older than himself. I haven’t pressed you, I thought I could see how things were going on their own. You asked her to stay on…’
Dick’s voice, almost like a groan, cut him off. ‘Aye, I did, but for God’s sake! Not because I wanted to marry her, she’s been laid more times than an old sow.’
Ignoring the scornful vehemence of his son’s tone, Thomas said quietly, ‘That might be, but beggars can’t be choosers. She’s your only hope, and not only yours but mine an’ all. I’m going to tell you something else, boy, and listen carefully, very carefully, for it means more to you in a way than it does to me, an’ it’s just this. If you don’t marry her it’ll be the end of the House.’ He now lifted his hand and moved it slowly backwards and forwards in a wide sweep. ‘Everything, every damned thing.’
There was a long pause. Then, his voice a mere whisper, Dick said, ‘You can’t mean it…everything?’ His face was screwed up against the incredibility of the statement.
‘That’s what I said, everything. I’ve survived on borrowed money for the past ten years. It’s only by keeping up appearances that I’ve swum this far. Let them think you’ve still got it and they’ll give you credit. But now, boy,’—he sighed deeply—‘I’m tired of swimming against the tide. Mind you, I never thought I’d confess to that, but there it is.’ He now gently patted the great mound of his stomach. ‘It’s beginning to tell here an’ all. I haven’t the taste for life I used to have.’
‘You don’t do so badly.’ There was deep bitterness in the remark and Thomas replied slowly, ‘No, I don’t do so badly, true, an’ I’m not grumbling. I’ve had a great deal of experience of all kinds of things. But you know, I’ve learned very little, except one thing, boy, one thing, and that is, everything has to be paid for; sooner or later everything has to be paid for…
‘Oh, for God’s sake, shut up, shut up!’ Dick had sprung from the bed now and was holding his hand to his brow. ‘Don’t you start preaching, you above all people, and at this time. Philosophy coming from you is a joke. It isn’t philosophy I want. Don’t you understand what they can do to me, those two? I won’t dare show my face in any club, can’t you see that?’
His arms were now hugging himself. His fists dug into his armpits, like a youth with frozen mitts trying to regain warmth, his body swayed backwards and forwards, and the action so lacking in dignity made Thomas turn his head away from the sight. After a moment he said quietly, ‘If I ask Frank for it, will you promise to put the question to Fanny before they leave?’
When there was no answer he rose to his feet, saying, ‘Well, it’s up to you. That’s the only way. If I lose everything I’m still not losing as much as you, so think on it.’
When he next looked at his son, Dick was standing with his head drooped on his chest, his hands hanging limp at his sides, and Thomas said, softly, ‘They’ll be leaving about twelve. When you see me going into the library with Frank you corner Fanny, that’s if you haven’t done it before. If Weir’s as mean as he sounds your best policy is to get it settled as soon as possible. I don’t expect there’ll be any hesitation on her part, she’s past the choosing stage.’
Thomas now watched his son flounce out as a woman might have done and stalk down the length of the long room and out into the corridor. Then he bent his head and his eyes came to rest on his bare stomach visible through his open nightshirt, and as if the sight sickened him he turned his head and spat into the spittoon at the side of the bed.
Thomas did not take Frank Armstrong into the study, nor did Dick at the first opportunity ask Fanny to be his wife. These arrangements were cancelled by the arrival on the drive at ten o’clock that morning of a shabby cab, from which three men slowly descended. Having mounted the steps one after the other, the first of them pulled the handle that was hanging below the boar’s head to the side of the great door. When the bell clanged within, the man turned and looked at his two companions, and they all waited.
The door was opened by Ord, the first footman. His gaze flicked haughtily over what he immediately stamped as the lower type of businessmen, and his voice portraying his feelings he said briefly, ‘There is a back door.’
The first man, stepping abruptly forward, almost pushed the footman on to his back with a swift jab of his forearm, and when the three of them had entered the hall they stopped in some slight amazement, looking around them for a moment, before the first man addressing Ord again, said, ‘I wish to see your master.’
‘My master is engaged. What is your business?’
‘I’ll tell that to your master. Now go and tell him that a representative of the Dulwich Bank would like a word with him.’
The Dulwich Bank. The very name seemed to convey trouble, and Ord, his manner no less haughty now but his feelings definitely uncertain, made his stately way towards the morning room where his master was breakfasting. There he motioned to Waite, the second footman who was assisting in carrying the heavy silver dishes from the kitchen, to pause a minute and he whispered in his ear, ‘Tell Mr Dunn I want him, it’s very important. There’s fellas here from the Bank.’
A moment later Dunn appeared outside the morning room door and he glanced across the hall towards the dark trio; then looking at Ord he said, ‘What do they want?’
‘The master; they’re from the Bank.’
The butler looked at the men again, paused a moment, then turned and with unruffled step went back into the morning room.
It was a full five minutes later when Thomas put in an appearance. His head still maintained its jaunty angle, his shoulders were still back, his stomach still protruding, his step still firm, the only difference about him at this moment was that his colour was not as ruddy as usual, but that could have been put down to a series of late nights.
‘Well, gentlemen!’ He looked from one to the other of the men.
It was the tallest of them who again spoke. ‘Mr Thomas Richard Mallen?’
‘At your service.’
‘I would like a word with you, in private if I may.’
‘Certainly, certainly.’
The politeness seemed to disconcert the three men and they glanced at each other as they followed the portly figure across the magnificently carpeted and furnished hall. Their eyes, like those of weasels, darted around the room into which they followed the master of the house; moving from the row of chandeliers down to the furniture and furnishings.
In the middle of the room Thomas turned and, facing the men now, said, ‘Well, now, gentlemen, your business?’
His casual manner caused a moment’s pause; then the tall man said, with some deference in his tone now, ‘I represent the Dulwich Bank, sir. I understand that a representative from there called on you some three months gone when your situation was made clear, since when they have had no further word from you.’
‘Oh, that isn’t right. I said I would see into the matter.’
‘But you haven’t done so, sir.’
‘Not yet…no.’
‘Then I’m afraid, sir, it is my duty to hand you this.’
Whereupon the man drew a long envelope from the inside pocket of his coat and held it out towards Thomas.
For a matter of seconds Thomas’ arm remained by his side; then slowly he lifted it and took the envelope, and he stared down at it before opening it. Then, still slowly, he withdrew and unfolded the double official paper. After his eyes had scanned the top of the first page he folded it again and replaced it in the envelope, and walking to the mantelpiece he placed the envelope on the marble shelf before turning to the men, saying, ‘Well, what
now?’
‘We take possession, sir.’
‘Possession?’ There was a crack in the coolness of Thomas’ manner.
‘That is the procedure, sir. Nothing must be moved, nothing. And it…it tells you there,’—the man motioned to the envelope on the mantelpiece—‘when you’ll have to appear afore the Justices. Being a private debtor, of course, you’ll not be put to the indignity of going inside, sir, as long as you’re covered.’
‘Oh, thank you.’
The sarcasm was not lost on the man and his chin nobbled before he said, ‘I’m just explainin’, sir. Anyway, if you’d taken action two years gone when you had the chance…’
‘That’s enough, my man!’ Thomas’ whole manner had changed completely. ‘Do your business but oblige me by not offering me your advice.’
The man’s jaw moved from side to side now and his eyes narrowed and it was seconds before he spoke again, saying, ‘This is Mr Conner, and Mr Byers, they will board here, you understand…sir?’
Apparently Thomas hadn’t understood the full significance of the presence of the three men until now, and he exclaimed stiffly, ‘Board here!’
‘Yes, sir, board here, until the debts are paid or the equivalent is made in the sale. I thought you’d be aware of the procedure, sir.’
There was a definite note of insolence in the man’s voice now, and under other circumstances, and if he’d had a whip in his hand, Thomas would have brought it across the fellow’s face. But he was wise enough to realise that for the next few hours he would need this man’s co-operation, for he was now in a hell of a fix. It would happen that Kate Armstrong would get a belly pain in the night and was now unfit to travel until the afternoon or perhaps tomorrow.
The Mallen Streak Page 3
