It was Valentine astride Nestor. He looked entirely composed and clucked gently to the ape, which cocked its head knowingly at the familiar voice.
‘Cousin Ross,’ said Valentine, raising his crop in ironical greeting. ‘And Geoffrey Charles? Has my little man been disturbing you?’
Butto made a sudden galloping rush at the group of people who had now come out of the church, and they scattered for their lives. One elderly woman stumbled over a gravestone and fell heavily. Butto stopped and stared at her, and she screamed piercingly. The ape plucked at his bottom lip and chattered, while two men, greatly daring, edged nearer until they could help the woman to her feet and drag her out of danger.
Then the ape was off again, leaping up to the windowsill of the church and from there to a vantage point astride the church porch.
‘You’re frightening him,’ said Valentine. ‘He is far more frightened of you than you are of him. Butto, Butto. Tutti-frutti, tutti-frutti, tutti-frutti, come down from there, boy, or you’ll fall. He’s not a great climber,’ he said conversationally to Geoffrey Charles, ‘but of course he gets around!’
‘He is getting around altogether too much,’ snapped Geoffrey Charles. ‘You see what the women think – they’re terrified by the brute. You must find better ways of keeping him under control – that is if you want to keep him at all!’
Valentine laughed. ‘I would not lose my Butto for all the world! Now that my wife and child have left me, he is my only companion. Tutti-frutti, tutti-frutti, look what I have for you, boy.’ He put a hand in his pouch and took out a parcel. He said to Ross: ‘He cannot resist fruitcake.’
‘Shoot’n!’ came a shout at the back of the crowd. ‘Oo’s got a gun? Tes a danger to the community!’
‘Shoot’n,’ others took up the cry. ‘Tes a dangerous wild beast. E’d eat our childer! Shoot’n. Shoot’n. Go on, ’Arry, you got a shotgun!’
‘Not ’ere I ain’t!’
Valentine’s answer was to dismount from his horse and walk up to the church porch, making soothing sounds and clucking with his lips almost as if mimicking the ape. Butto looked at him cunningly and extended a long hand. Valentine was just tall enough to pass up the large loaf of cake. The big beast carefully unwrapped it from its paper and stuffed the whole cake in his mouth, grumbling with satisfaction. Great teeth and pink gums and a pink tongue were much in evidence, and the torn paper floating.
‘Greedy Butto,’ said Valentine. ‘It is more genteel to eat it in smaller pieces. However, we shall see.’ When Butto had finished and was licking his lips and picking at his teeth, Valentine took another similar packet from his pouch and held it out for the animal to see. Butto stretched out his hand.
‘No, no,’ said Valentine, ‘you must come down. I will give you this when you behave properly.’
After a while Butto got tired of holding out his hand. He withdrew it to scratch.
‘Come along,’ said Valentine. ‘None of this nonsense. Tutti-frutti, tutti-frutti. Down you come.’
The ape stared with cavernous black eyes at the men and women watching the scene. He extended his great arm over the side of the porch again.
‘When you come down,’ said Valentine, ‘then you may ride home.’
There was a lot of chattering and blowing out of lips.
‘They will not hurt you,’ Valentine said. ‘And they had better not try. They are only here to watch.’
A scuttling at the back of the crowd and someone shouted, ‘Ere’s ’Arry wi’ ’is musket!’
‘I doubt if twill fire,’ said the owner. ‘I not used him for two year!’
‘Use it now at your peril,’ shouted Valentine, and then angrily: ‘Butto!’
The ape began to slide down the slate roof and fell to the ground landing on all-fours. Valentine grasped the animal by the fur behind his neck and pulled forward Nestor. Horse looked at ape. They clearly knew each other. Then Valentine said to Geoffrey Charles: ‘Give me a hoist.’ Presently he was in the saddle and he turned and clucked at Butto, still holding the second parcel of cake in one hand. A moment’s hesitation, then Butto took hold of the saddle and in an ungainly lurch pulled himself up and sat himself behind Valentine. Nestor twitched his ears and snorted. But he did not rear or show other distress.
‘Good day to you all,’ Valentine called and touched his hat. The horse turned awkwardly on the path and then made its way quietly to the lychgate. One or two people laughed nervously as if in a release of tension. As soon as the horse and its two riders turned away towards home everyone in the churchyard began talking at once.
Isabella-Rose was not home for Easter, but she arrived the following Friday. She had found difficulty in picking a travelling companion, she said, and Christopher had taken ship for Lisbon on the day after Good Friday. She seemed just as cheerful as ever, and discussed the postponement of their marriage plans without apparent embarrassment. It would now probably be June, which would give her another term with Dr Fredericks. Christopher thought, and she agreed, that it was time for her to leave his school and move on. The question was where and how to move on. Someone offering both some further teaching but mainly performance was what she now needed.
Clowance had not come for Easter either but, hearing that her sister’s wedding had been postponed and that she was on her way home, she took a few days off from her ‘hobby’ as Christopher was inclined to call it and rode over the day after Isabella-Rose arrived. She was therefore present at most of the family conversations and agreed with her mother that Bella seemed perfectly normal, unruffled by the postponement and ‘not a bit changed’. But she wondered privately whether Bella was deeper than most people thought.
Demelza wondered exactly the same thing.
Sisters can sometimes confide in each other where a mother and daughter cannot. The two young women walked on the beach in the wayward, windy April sun, the sea’s surf rushing and sucking at their feet. They clattered down into Nampara cove. They climbed along the cliffs together. They became young again and slid down the great sandhills. They decided that before Clowance left they should ride over to Place together and see Valentine and make the acquaintance of Butto, the great ape. They laughed and chatted and joked as they had not done since Jeremy died.
(Clowance had a letter in her pocket that she had received just before she left Penryn. She had not brought it to show her mother – still less Bella – but she wanted time to read it again and did not like to leave it lying about the house.)
She asked Bella if she had met Philip Prideaux. Bella said, of course, at the party, and then again when he came to escort Clowance home; but she did not know him well, they had only exchanged a few words. Christopher had talked more to him because of their army history.
‘He has asked me to marry him,’ Clowance said, surprising herself that it had come out.
‘Oh?’ And then: ‘What did you say?’
‘I said I would think it over.’
‘And are you?’
‘What, thinking it over?’
‘No, going to marry him.’
‘I don’t know. I’m thinking it over.’
‘Do you love him?’
‘Not the way I did Stephen.’
They thought of this together.
‘I suppose there are more ways than one of loving a man,’ said Bella.
‘Oh, yes. He’s . . . eligible.’
‘Good-looking.’
‘I’m glad you think so. He – says he has money enough.’
‘That’s not a disadvantage. It would mean you would sell your shipping line.’
‘Such as it is, yes.’
‘You must be tired of it, Clowance?’
‘I am not tired of my independence.’
‘Ah . . . That’s another matter.’
‘You see . . .’, the elder girl struggled with her words, ‘you see, I like Philip. At first, not so. I thought he was – well, certainly not for me. But as time has passed I have grown to like him very much. He is a
victim of the war – just as Christopher is – but in a different way. He is – very high-strung, taut – sometimes it seems almost overmastering. But I have helped him – could do more. I – at times we still bicker a little with each other, but it is quickly made up and no longer seems to matter. And his company is stimulating. I lack company in Penryn. Except for Harriet Warleggan and one or two such as she, I have few friends. And most of those have families – interests of their own . . . But at the moment I have an uncomfortable feeling . . .’
‘What is that, m’love?’ Unusual, the younger girl counselling the older. Bella’s time in London had already matured her in a way that gave her the edge of experience over the provincial Clowance.
‘I am still – partly in love with Stephen. At the end I almost – almost came to hate him. Yet he is the one I fell in love with at first sight. In a way I know now I am, sort of, remembering a fallen idol. I should forget him. But, when it comes to the physical part of marriage, should I? Should I?’
The clouding sky was miles high today. Bella thought she heard a lark. She said: ‘Perhaps we have been brought up too well?’
‘How do you mean? Given too much of our own way?’
‘No, not that . . . Clowance, I do not wish to shock you, but if your experience was not with just one man, I mean if you had had love affairs with three or four men before your marriage, the attentions of one man, the art of love would not seem so special and you had nothing else, no one else, to compare it with.’
‘I think, Bella, you do shock me!’
Bella laughed. ‘Well, is it not so? Women are so gravely disadvantaged compared with men. Men have all sorts of experiences before they marry – that is not shocking, nor does it belong only to one class, it is expected of them. They think it is their right!’
Clowance smiled in return. ‘That’s the way of the world. Alas. Or perhaps alas. You would not have me frolicking with all sorts of young men even before I met Stephen? Should I be better equipped now to take another husband? Would I?’
Bella said: ‘Yes.’
They both laughed again.
Clowance said: ‘So I am supposed to think you have been living a randy life in London for upwards of a year? Perhaps even with Christopher? Perhaps with someone else? Is that the cause of the delayed marriage?’
‘That’s clever, Clowance, but you are wrong. But there are other reasons why I am not sorry for the delay. Especially to come down here among my own family and take a few deep breaths. Sometimes one feels – do you feel? – that your own family is better than any other? You grow up to certain standards . . .’
‘Don’t talk to me about standards! One thing I know for sure, that Philip’s standards are higher than Stephen’s were. I – have another man who is proposing I shall marry him, and I daresay his standards are even higher than Philip’s—’
‘Clowance, who – ’
‘But does one marry standards? Does Christopher ever deliberately lie to you, Bella? Or would he? Stephen did many times, but, I ask you, does it matter?’
Bella patted her sister’s hand. ‘Yes, I think he may have lied to me. Or – at least – he may not have spoken, when not to speak amounts to a sort of lie. Yes, I think it does matter. But who is this other man? Do tell. Do I know him?’
Clowance shook her head. ‘Lips sealed. For the time being, at least. Do not tell Mama!’
‘I promise. “Cross me throat and spit to die,” as Prudie used to say.’
‘Because Mama’s perceptions are altogether too sharp. It is so good to have you home, Bella, if only for a short time. You have grown up – so grown up. It would be good if we could stay here all together as a family for just a few months.’
‘I know. I know!’
They had come back to the stile which led into the garden of Nampara. A curtain of mist hung over the Black Cliffs at the further end of Hendrawna Beach, most of it caused by spray hitting the tall rocks and drifting before the breeze. There was a heavy swell which reached far out to sea, and a couple of fishing boats from St Ann’s had gone scudding back to the safety of the very unsafe harbour. Gulls were riding the swell, lifting high and low as the waves came in; occasionally they took to the air in a flurry of flapping white when a wave unexpectedly spilled its head. No one yet expected rain: that would be tomorrow. The sun was losing its brilliance and hung in the sky like a guinea behind a muslin cloth.
Clowance squinted up at the weather.
‘Have you got a watch?’
‘No. Not one that goes.’
‘It must be an hour since we finished dinner. It wants four hours until dusk. I have a mind to visit Valentine today. What do you think?’
Bella said: ‘There are a few of those bananas left that you brought with you.’
‘Did you like them?’
‘Yes, I did rather.’
‘They come every month now to Penryn Quay. Most of them have to be cooked because they’re over-ripe. But this bunch was just ripe.’
‘The ape – Button, is it?’
‘Butto.’
‘Butto. We might take a few with us to see if he fancies them.’
Chapter Four
As they came in sight of Place House they had a good view of the workings of Wheal Elizabeth, which almost straddled the bridle path near the house. The headgear had grown considerably this year, but there was still no sign of any fire engine or pumping gear. They were greeted respectfully by the only two miners visible above ground, edged their horses round a monstrous mound of attle, of which many tons had already been tipped or slid down the sloping cliff into the sea.
‘It is not a pretty house,’ said Bella, as they clattered up the short cobbled drive.
All seemed quiet. A horse whinnied in the stables, and Nero snorted his response. Dismount at the stone step, tether their animals and go up the three steps to the front door. Clowance gave the bell a healthy tug.
They waited. Now they could hear voices, laughter, shouts, before the footsteps in the flagged hall. The door squeaked open. A stocky man in a black coat and a striped apron looked out. Neither of them had seen him before.
‘Yus?’
‘I hope Mr Valentine is at home,’ Clowance said.
The man stared at them, then past them at their tethered horses. ‘That depends.’
More footsteps in the hall. The tall, debonair figure of Valentine. But he was not very debonair today. His black lank hair was awry, and someone had spilled wine down his shirt front.
‘Clowance! And B-bella! Well, damn me. Well, damn my eyes. Have you come to dinner? We h-have all but finished!’
‘At four o’clock,’ said Clowance, guessing at the time and smiling. ‘You eat late, cousin. Perhaps we may call again—’
‘Nay, nay, nay, nay, nay. Come in! Come right in! Come in and meet my friends. All right, Dawson, don’t h-hold the damned door like we were in a damned fortress! Well, my grandfather’s ghost, this is a surprise! We can offer you a slice or two of goose, and a pot or two of brandywine. Let me greet you!’
He kissed them both on the lips with gusto, breathing spirituous fumes, then took each by the hand and led them towards the big dining room at the back of the hall.
The table was laden with half-eaten food, wine glasses, bottles, crockery; and a half-dozen people were still lolling over the remnants of the feast. The girls recognized only David Lake; Ben Carter would have known two of the women from their encounter some time ago. Two other men. And, at the head of the table, half-crouched, one huge hand clutching the arm of the chair, the other feeding an apple into his mouth, was the great ape they had come to see.
‘Why do you not siddown?’ Valentine invited. ‘Dawson, bring the ladies a couple of extra chairs. And a drink of brandywine. Heigh-ho, me darlings!’
Bella looked at Clowance, who spread her hands slightly in a disclaiming gesture and took the seat she was offered. They were taking in the condition of the room. A tall mirror beside the window was cracked from top to botto
m, with a hole halfway down as if a cannonball had shattered it. Two chairs had lost their legs and lolled in drunken partnership beside the fireplace, and some of the wallpaper had been torn.
‘But you have not met Butto,’ said Valentine, leaning tipsily over them. ‘I am sure you will be de-delighted to meet him. Butto, these are my two beautiful cousins. My beau-beau-beautiful cousins.’
‘Good day to you,’ said Clowance.
Butto snarled in a reasonably good-tempered way.
‘We’ve brought you some bananas,’ said Bella, opening the bag she carried. ‘I wonder if he would like them.’
‘Now, now,’ said Valentine, suddenly sharp. ‘Quiet, boy. Stay where you are. Quiet, boy. There, that’s a good fellow. See what your friends have brought you. Ah, ah, don’t snatch.’
A banana was passed up. A great hand, the fingers as thick as if wearing winter gloves, was thrust out to accept the gift. The red tongue showed and the great white teeth. The ape shuffled in his chair, a crest of short hair on his forehead began to twitch up and down and with great delicacy he peeled the banana and began to eat it.
There was a roar of applause from round the table. ‘So he’s seen ’em before!’ ‘So he knows what they are!’ ‘Shows where he comes from!’ The banana was gone in no time, the jaws ceased to champ and the banana skin was suddenly flung across the table, where it caught one drunken man a slap on the side of the face. Helpless laughter all round. Butto chattered and held out his hand for another. Bella slipped a second banana out and passed it up the table, while careful to conceal that she had two more.
‘Do you have him down to all meals?’ Clowance asked.
‘How pretty you are, cousin. I had almost forgot. You are always hiding yourself in Penryn . . . No, Butto only comes down on special occasions – don’t you, boy? – when I have parties. Like this. Butto is the life and soul of any party, as you can well see. Do you know I am teaching him to smoke!’
‘Do try again, Val,’ shouted David Lake. ‘It fair kills me to watch him!’
Bella Poldark Page 27
