Arrivals & Departures

by Leslie Thomas

  ‘Like a lot of people do,’ said Richardson.

  Ten

  It was dark by the time he returned to his house, the garden laden with shadows and the night drift of Adele’s autumn flowers. The gate scraped familiarly and there was a subdued light glowing in the hallway, but he knew she would not be home, and doubted if Toby would be. He often returned to the house when it was empty.

  At one time there had been a dog, a homely terrier which had always been there with a greeting. Two years before Richardson had gone on an overseas trip; Adele had decided to take a holiday, and Toby was then at boarding school. The dog, Teddy, had been sent to a kennels where it had died on the first night of an intestinal blockage. He had never been replaced. It was almost as though, even then, they were preparing for some change in their lives, shedding some of their assets, some of their ties.

  Moodily he wandered into the sitting-room, took off his jacket, lifted a glass from the cabinet and picked up the whisky decanter. From the window he could see the evening dark and empty in the village street but, a few hundred yards away, the light over the sign of the Swan, like a near and friendly star. He considered it for a moment, and then set the decanter down and replaced the glass. He put on his jacket again and went out of the front door.

  Although it was autumn the late air was mild and still. A plane lumbered towards Heathrow, its landing lights blazing like guns. Ducking his head Richardson went into the closeness of the Swan. There were a handful of drinkers: Dobson, the bandmaster, and the woman with the plastered nose who had been playing the cymbals, were sitting intimately at one end of the small dark tables. He acknowledged them with a brief wave and Dobson guiltily raised his glass. The couple finished their drinks and went out into the dark.

  Jim Turner was reading the newspaper from Reading propped behind the bar. Richardson ordered a scotch and bought Jim a beer. ‘I hear your lad’s working in an antique shop,’ said Jim. ‘I wish I could get that kid of mine to do something like that. He’s useless.’

  On cue the door at the back of the bar opened and his son emerged and, without a word, went out at the rear of the room. ‘He looks like an antique with that pigtail,’ grumbled Jim. ‘Like a Toby jug.’

  The publican’s mother-in-law was conversing with Rona and her mother who, having finished their dinner, were sitting at what had become their customary distant alcove table. Richardson excused himself and went towards them as Mrs Durie rose. ‘I must be getting on,’ she said and, as if she believed she owed Richardson an explanation, she added: ‘I was just saying about the unexpected passing of King George the Sixth when poor young Princess Elizabeth, Queen as she is now, was abroad and had to come back.’

  When she had gone, wiping her hands on her pinafore, Richardson said to Rona: ‘You’ll know more about royalty than the Royal Family does if you stay much longer.’

  ‘Oh, we’ll be staying awhile yet,’ put in Mrs Collingwood with uncompromising haste. ‘We’re in no hurry at all.’ Rona shook her head. ‘Some time, Mother, we’ll have to go.’

  ‘I don’t see why we have to,’ argued the old lady. ‘It’s just getting interesting.’ She rolled her elderly eyes. ‘We’ve had the low-down on Princess Margaret Rose,’ she said, ‘but we haven’t seen Mr Richardson’s house yet.’ She looked up bluntly. ‘And I’d certainly like to.’

  Rona laughed and tapped her mother’s forearm admonishingly. Richardson asked: ‘Would you like to come and see it now, Mrs Collingwood?’ The old lady was agreeing before he had completed the invitation. ‘We won’t see anything of the garden but you’re welcome,’ he warned. ‘Adele won’t be back until later but I’d like you to come.’ He glanced at Rona. ‘You can see my infamous observatory while the stars are available.’

  ‘I’d love that,’ said Rona. ‘We’ll walk over now, shall we?’

  ‘Sure, sure,’ said the old lady at her daughter’s glance. She stood up carefully and called to the landlord. ‘Jim, we’re going to the Richardsons’ house.’

  ‘Not for good, I hope.’ Jim’s face ascended from his newspaper. ‘This place wouldn’t be the same without you.’

  ‘Don’t worry yourself about that,’ returned the old lady. ‘We’ll be home before drinking-up time. If not leave the back door on the latch.’

  Rona touched Richardson’s sleeve. ‘She’s practising the local phrases,’ she laughed quietly. ‘She’s even attempting the accent.’

  ‘See you then,’ called Pearl waving as they went out the door. ‘We won’t be late,’ promised Rona.

  Richardson took the elder woman’s arm as they walked along the hollow street. A distant dog barked and there was an owl in the churchyard. Rona walked on her other side. Their steps echoed.

  ‘We do have a local accent here,’ said Richardson. ‘Even though we’re only down the road from London.’

  ‘Handed down over generations,’ asserted Pearl with an odd pride. ‘And, take a look at it.’ She wafted her hand about. ‘It’s as quiet tonight as it was a hundred years ago.’

  A droning Boeing, climbing an invisible hill, crossed the sky. ‘Well, almost,’ said Richardson.

  ‘My mother likes the planes as well,’ said Rona. He looked at her and her eyes turned towards him.

  ‘I most certainly do,’ confirmed the old lady. ‘If they stopped it would all be too silent. They’re like theme music in the movies.’

  ‘We have a lady called Mrs Kitchen in Bedmansworth who belongs to something called GROAN,’ Richardson told her. ‘Group Reaction Over Aircraft Noise. I must tell her that to some people it’s theme music. She’s the lady who’s also trying to make me take down my observatory.’

  All three stopped their walk. ‘It’s crazy,’ said Rona. ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘She’s hijacked the local residents’ association,’ said Richardson. ‘According to her I’m desecrating the place.’

  ‘I’ve seen that woman,’ decided Pearl as they continued to walk. ‘And I didn’t care for the face of her. She was in the Swan with some others. Talks loud and drinks lemonade.’

  ‘You were going to a meeting,’ said Rona.

  ‘It was this evening – a meeting of the “Central Action Committee”, would you believe, but it coincided with the Bedmansworth band’s practice night and it was chaotic. Nobody heard a thing.’

  As they walked the final few yards along the street to his gate, he acted out for them the farce at the village hall and they were still laughing when he opened the front door and led them into the subdued light of the house.

  ‘I can just feel the oldness,’ said Pearl standing in the hall as he put the lights on in the sitting-room. ‘It’s coming out of the walls.’

  ‘It’s the woodlice,’ he smiled returning to them.

  ‘It’s a house that closes around you,’ said Rona quietly.

  ‘It’s relieved when someone comes back,’ said Richardson. He glanced at her. Her mother had wandered into the sitting-room and was pressed close to the French windows scrutinising the indistinct garden. ‘Would you like a glass of wine?’ he asked.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Rona. ‘White if you have it. I’m trying to wean Mother off the two half pints of beer she insists on having in the evenings.’

  ‘You’ll never do that,’ warned the old lady over her shoulder. ‘Nobody’s going to stop my ale.’

  Richardson poured three glasses of wine. Pearl left the darkened window. ‘It’s by no means an uncommon house,’ he said as they looked around. ‘In the villages around here, there are some really impressive Georgian houses, almost on top of the airport. They haven’t quite fallen down under the weight of the twentieth century.’

  ‘The proportions are very careful,’ said Rona looking at the ceiling. ‘Everything is at home with everything else.’

  Richardson said: ‘It’s been in my wife’s family for generations. Those are her parents.’

  Two portraits in oils occupied one alcove. ‘Your wife looks just like her mother,’ said Pearl. She m
oved close to the painting as she had the window. ‘Same eyes and hair. Same shape of the face.’

  ‘There’s quite a startling likeness,’ he agreed. ‘Everyone comments on it.’

  ‘Don’t you feel the ghosts?’ asked Rona. They moved away from the portraits.

  He smiled. ‘They may be here but we’ve never heard them. They lived here and they’re content to let us do the same.’

  ‘It doesn’t smell haunted,’ agreed Pearl almost sniffing around. ‘It’s been well lived in.’

  They sat in the long, comfortable room, occupying the two settees. Richardson was so aware of Rona that he hardly dared to look at her. It was almost with relief that he heard the front door open and Toby’s voice call up the hall. His son came into the room and reacted with surprise at the visitors. Edward introduced them.

  ‘An antique dealer?’ said Mrs Collingwood. ‘You’re a young antique dealer.’

  ‘Just learning,’ said Toby. He felt uncomfortable with these sudden women in his home. The younger woman was beautiful. ‘But I know quite a bit already. I aim to have my own business. Tobias Richardson Antiques.’

  ‘Sounds irresistible,’ said Rona. Toby felt his face warm at her voice.

  ‘Tobias,’ sighed her mother. ‘Don’t some people have some fine adornments.’ She repeated it: ‘Tobias.’

  ‘Tobias, Matthew, Ar …’ recited Richardson.

  ‘Don’t please, Dad,’ protested the boy seriously. ‘All those ancient names.’

  ‘Blame your grandmother,’ smiled Edward.

  ‘People liked a lot of names once,’ said Pearl. ‘In America too. Something to do with confusing the Devil.’ She pulled a face. ‘I have a string of names I wouldn’t tell anybody. One of them is Posy.’

  ‘It’s a lovely name,’ protested Rona gently. She turned to Edward. ‘I’d love to spy through the telescope.’

  ‘The sky is fine tonight,’ agreed Richardson. He led the way up the staircase. Toby went to the kitchen. ‘Your mother will be in soon,’ Richardson called.

  ‘It’s okay, I can do it myself,’ his son responded. ‘I only want a sandwich.’

  Mrs Collingwood mounted the stairs carefully, not in any difficulty but to savour each old tread and each rolling touch of the carved bannister. ‘Just think of the folks in the past who have trodden this staircase, who have put their hands on this rail,’ she mused as though to herself. ‘See how worn and dark the wood is.’

  He preceded them along the galleried landing and opened the heavy door to his study, turning on the lights as he did so. Both women stopped; the furniture, the desk, the illustrations of ancient celestial skies on the walls, the brass, curved bands of his astrolabe glowing in one corner. ‘What a fine room,’ breathed Rona.

  Richardson switched on the desk lamp and then turned up the other lights. Each of the planetary prints was illuminated by an overhanging picture light.

  Pearl Collingwood sat in his chair. ‘I want to be here,’ she announced in her decisive way. ‘I want to rest in this room.’ She pointed to the short, brass-railed stairway to the observatory. ‘And up there, I guess, are the Heavens.’

  Richardson laughed. ‘A little more distant than up there,’ he said. ‘It’s in the right direction,’ she insisted.

  Rona was looking at the coloured astronomical maps, with their extravagant designs. ‘These are so beautiful,’ she said lightly touching one of the dark frames. ‘Stars and gods and animals. And what colours.’ She pointed to the print in front of her. ‘It’s exquisite, Edward.’

  ‘Andreas Cellarius,’ he told her. He bent to see the small wording of the inscription, saying: ‘Seventeenth century in Amsterdam. Ah, there’s the date, sixteen sixty-one.’

  ‘A Ptolemaic View,’ she read. Her slow finger traced the encompassing global circle. ‘Of the Universe.’

  ‘That’s Mars charging on his war chariot,’ Richardson pointed. ‘And the lady lying on the swansdown couch is Venus, naturally. When this was drawn Cellarius believed that apart from the earth, the sun and the moon, there were only five planets, Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter and Saturn.’

  Together they moved to the next frame. ‘This is earlier. Giovanni Cinico who worked in Naples in the mid-fourteen hundreds. His map of the Northern hemisphere. See, he has Ursa Major and Ursa Minor, the two bears, lying back to back at the centre.’

  Rona pointed. ‘And here we have the Ram, Aries, right?’ Richardson nodded. He was at her shoulder. He felt he had never been so close to anyone.

  He said: ‘And the Twins, Gemini, arguing over the ownership of a harp.’

  Rona smiled with pleasure. Her mother sat still and watched them from the chair behind. Rona pointed at the chart. ‘This twin looks as if he is saying – “I can play it better than you.” And there’s Aquarius with his jug, and the Lion, very lively.’

  ‘All the astronomers enjoyed drawing Leo,’ Richardson said. ‘Look at this.’ He indicated a squared illustration, rich in colour and lettering. ‘Oh, he’s grinning,’ she said putting her fingers against her cheek. ‘What a great smirk.’ She looked further along the gallery. ‘And these two bears… Their eyes! The big one is so cheerful and the little one very doleful,’ she said. ‘But they’re both well fed. Almost portly.’

  Richardson said quietly: ‘This is one of my favourite maps. It’s by an Indian astronomer called Pathak….’ He leaned closer to the frame. ‘Durgansankawa Pathak, I think he used to pronounce it. This is a bit later than the others. Eighteen forty. It’s full of animals. Like a zoo. Lots of snakes.’

  ‘They’re all exquisite,’ she sighed. ‘What fun they must have had spying them out in the sky, giving them names and then drawing them.’

  ‘The father of all the astronomers was not so happy, nor so lucky,’ Edward said. ‘Copernicus wrote a sensational book on the universe and the day the book was finished by the printer and delivered to his house, poor Copernicus died.’

  Rona said: ‘Some things just come too late, don’t they.’

  ‘Yes, it seems like it.’

  They moved away from the wall towards the steps leading to the observatory. Pearl was already on her feet. ‘Let’s go see the real thing,’ she exclaimed. ‘Stairway to the stars!’

  Richardson led the way. He eased open the door at the top of the steps and, feeling a happiness he always felt at this moment and, added to it now, something more, gazed up to the bowed roof with its panes displaying the covering cloth of the night. The telescope rested in its cradle, waiting for him. He switched on the low light. He heard Rona’s intake of breath as she climbed the steps behind her mother and came into the chamber.

  The three stood beneath the exposed dome. Rona’s chin was tilted as she surveyed the lid of purple above. But her mother suddenly exclaimed: ‘Lordy, look at Bedmansworth! Just look at it. You can see every little thing from here. There’s the Swan and there’s the Straw Man, and the corner of the church and the road….’

  They laughed. ‘Oh, Mother,’ said Rona. ‘You climb up here to see the stars and you’re looking at the village.’

  ‘I’m more familiar with the village,’ replied her mother with a small drop in her voice. She looked at them with a strange embarrassment as if she had said something they were not meant to hear. ‘But I’ve never seen it all at once before.’

  There was a moment of hesitation between each of them. Then Richardson swung himself into the tubular seat below the telescope. ‘Let’s see who’s up there tonight.’ He pressed a button and the circular path for the telescope opened in the dome. The night air drifted in. He swivelled the instrument and peered into the viewfinder. ‘There they are,’ he said almost to himself. ‘Our friend the Great Bear, Ursa Major, Andromeda showing off, Aries and Aquarius.’

  He vacated the chair. ‘I’m first,’ insisted Pearl. Indulgently, they helped her into the chair and he adjusted the lens. She touched the telescope on its swivel. ‘It doesn’t feel heavy,’ she assured herself. She pressed her eye to the viewfinder. ‘
Oh wow,’ she breathed. ‘They’re so near.’ Her tone softened. ‘So near …’

  ‘I feel they are,’ Richardson told her. ‘Up here, late at night, you can feel you are floating among them.’

  Pearl remained for several minutes scanning the sky before she relinquished her place. ‘Okay, you have a turn,’ she invited Rona. ‘You’re a romantic. You’ll really enjoy it.’

  Richardson turned the chair and Rona slipped easily into it. Her fingers felt for the stem of the telescope. His touched hers as he guided them to the controls. She folded herself forward, looked into the lens, and gasped quietly. ‘Oh how astounding,’ she breathed. She held out her hand. ‘I feel I could touch them.’

  They stayed for another twenty minutes and then went down the steps to his study again. Pearl said in her uncompromising way that she was tired. ‘I have a whole lot to do tomorrow.’

  Rona glanced smiling at Richardson. ‘That sounds important,’ she said. ‘Thank you so much Edward. It was really amazing. Don’t ever let that woman, whatever she’s called, or the residents, or anyone, make you take your observatory down.’

  They walked down to the hallway. Toby was watching television and came from the room to wish them goodnight. Adele was still not home. Richardson said she would have been sorry to have missed them. He went out of the door with them and walked along the street, moist and empty towards the Swan. As before they strolled each side of the old lady and she linked her arms in theirs. ‘They ought to be left alone,’ she ruminated, talking about the planets. ‘We don’t have any business. It’s their country up there.’

  Along the street came the waspy whine of Bernard Threadle’s motor cycle. He turned the corner and waved to them importantly as they passed. ‘Our wandering star,’ commented Richardson. ‘Although maybe not wandering, because he keeps to the same path every night, certain roads at certain times. More like a fixed planet.’

  ‘But noisier,’ commented Pearl Collingwood. ‘I hear him in the early hours.’

  They reached the Swan. They could see Jim clearing the bar through the window. The door was still open. Pearl thanked Edward again, they shook hands and she went in. They heard her tell Jim she had seen God’s heaven.