Skeleton Island (Mrs. Bradley)

by Gladys Mitchell

  She also found herself the unwilling Delphic Oracle of Miss Beverley. This young woman was twenty years old and the spoilt child of parents whose sole object, where she was concerned, was to get her safely and satisfactorily married. She had given up the London School of Economics, she told Laura, to go on the stage, but the stage, to her chagrin and astonishment, had not seen its way to employing her talents. She had then worked for an unspecified but (Laura gathered) a comparatively short time as housekeeper and model to an artist, but he, alas, had a mistress of whom he was fond and to whom he was faithful, so, becoming tired of washing beer-mugs and glasses and of being sent round the corner, in the middle of studio parties, to obtain fresh supplies of the various invitations to conviviality, she had quit, after smacking the face of the mistress and being punched in the eye by the artist.

  After this, she told Laura, she had “simply mucked about at home” until she had seen the advertisement for her present post. Having “played up” the London School of Economics to Mr. Eastleigh, and “played down” subsequent adventures, she had obtained the post of junior mistress and had been amusing herself by trying to seduce junior master Ferrars. This had now proved abortive, Ferrars (most unreasonably) taking more thought for keeping his job than of ministering to her ego, so what, she demanded, should she do? Laura’s suggestion of a melodramatic leap from the cliff-top (which, she averred, would make Mr. Ferrars think a bit) was not well received.

  “Oh, I couldn’t do that!” squeaked the young lady. “I am to come in for Uncle Mally’s ten thousand a year when I’m twenty-five. But Ronald isn’t playing fair. There’s a girl in that beastly seaside town. I’m absolutely certain he keeps standing me up for her. He’s just a Casanova, and I’ve had enough of it.”

  Laura had several favourite walks. She took these by herself whenever she could, but on Saturdays and Sundays she was invariably compelled to suffer an escort of two or three little boys who missed their mothers and had need of more mature female society than that provided by Miss Beverley. She, in any case, had stated in unequivocal terms that she saw quite enough of them in class without wanting them hanging on to her skirts during her free time. With this attitude Laura could sympathise. She would have felt the same way herself. The only difference was that, with her, the feeling would have remained unspoken.

  Her favourite walk was by a narrow path, just outside the hotel grounds, which led to the broken, romantic cliffs overlooking the bay. This path was out of bounds to the boys because the crumbling cliffs were temptingly climbable. Moreover, the path also led to a ruined castle in such a dangerous state of disrepair that it had been fenced off, and warning notices had been posted at salient points. As it was easily visible from the hotel grounds, Mr. Eastleigh had not only warned the school at its first Assembly in its new home that instant expulsion would follow any attempt to break bounds, but had followed this up by putting a formidable permanent notice on the games board, the one notice board which every boy was certain to look at.

  The path led to the cliff-top and then meandered southwards past the castle. From there, in bends and windings, it went down to the little cove, the only one on the island. The beach was stony and uninviting, but there were boulders on which one could sit, and at low tide there was the small arc of sand which Laura had already noticed. A powerful swimmer, she had made enquiries of the man left by the hotel proprietor to look after the hotel’s interests, and had learned that the cove offered safe bathing and was much favoured by summer visitors for that reason.

  So far, the grey sky reflected in the grey sea, coupled with the strong winds of early March, had not tempted her into the water, but she had promised herself a swim on the first fine, boyless day that offered. Boyless because their habit of attaching themselves to her on her walks, although endearing, was also inconvenient. She could not take boys down to the cove unless the headmaster lifted his ban, a move she did not think likely, and she felt that it would be cruel to let the boys see her following a course which was forbidden to them, particularly if she was carrying swimming things.

  One Wednesday afternoon, a few days after Howard had had his interview with the headmaster, she decided that the day promised fairly enough for a dip. She was Spartan where cold water was concerned. A well-nourished body, a perfect circulation, and a powerful free-style in swimming combined to make her impervious to temperatures which would have given lesser mortals cramp or even heart failure, and she had tossed off her clothes and was in the water when she became aware that her privacy was being invaded. Turning the last bend in the cliff path was young man.

  “Damn!” said Laura, disgustedly. “Wonder how long he’s going to stay?” She turned and threshed out to sea. The tide had turned and was setting strongly shorewards, so it would be easy enough to swim in again when she was ready. When she turned back, the youth was still there, his hands in his overcoat pockets and a long scarf wound about his throat.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The New Swim

  “A belt of fog had lifted almost simultaneously with the rising of the moon.”

  Laura seldom had difficulty in making up her mind, and none at all on this occasion. When she was ready, she swam in and addressed the young man.

  “You’ll have to look the other way. I’m coming out,” she said.

  “Why, are you naked?” asked the youth.

  “Yes, of course. That is, I shall be, in a minute.”

  “Oh, righto. I’ll go away, if you like.”

  “That doesn’t matter. I’ll have one more good burst to get really warm, and when I swim in again you don’t look. Right?”

  “Right.”

  When she was wrapped in a bath sheet and was drying her hair with a towel, he said, without turning his head:

  “If I took off my overcoat and shut my eyes, I could hold it out as a wind-shield. Any good?”

  “Yes, thank you very much. That would be grand. But you needn’t shut your eyes at present. I’m perfectly decent. I’ll tell you when.”

  Colin took in beautiful arms, fine hands, and a frank and handsome countenance with a good-tempered mouth and a determined chin. Without embarrassment The Woman (for so he thought of Laura, in excited but respectful capitals) dried her shoulders and beautiful bosom and then her long legs.

  “Lift up that coat a bit higher and duck your head,” she said. Colin obeyed. “All right now. I’m dressed. And thanks a lot for the overcoat,” she added, a few minutes later. “I’ve only got my feet to dry.” He put on the overcoat, glad of its warmth, and sat down on a boulder adjacent to the one on which she had perched herself.

  “I really ought to have carried you over those stones,” he said, noting with concern that one of her feet was bleeding slightly. Laura chuckled.

  “I should have been some handful!” she said, noting his thinness and something fine-drawn about him. “Remember Denis and Anne in Crome Yellow?”

  “You’re like her in other ways, too, I wouldn’t wonder.” He did not attempt to keep the warmth out of his voice.

  “You flatter me. Besides, I’m active and energetic. Even the name’s not the same.”

  “I’m Colin Spalding.”

  “Laura Gavin.”

  “Mrs., I see.” He indicated her wedding-ring.

  “Since more years than I care to count. I have a boy of ten, who, at present, thank goodness, is at school. Do you mind if we walk about for a bit?”

  “Oh, yes, you ought not to sit still after your swim, not in this weather. How you can do it beats me. My father is always urging cold baths, but I simply can’t face them, even in front of the kitchen fire, which is how we have to take our baths at present.” He got up and held out his hands to help her to her feet. “We’ve taken that disused lighthouse at the other end of the island. I don’t suppose you’ve been as far as that, have you?”

  “Oh, yes, I have. How jolly to live in a lighthouse! I suppose you can see the mainland from the top, and lots of ships and so forth?”


  “I’ve not been to the top. I can’t stand heights. I don’t mind this path, because it’s nowhere near the edge of the cliff, and it’s on such a gradual slope. Could we go just a bit slower, though? Otherwise you’d better go on without me. I’m not all that long out of hospital, and I haven’t got back into mid-season form just yet.”

  Laura, whose Amazonian stride and hill-woman’s muscles had been making nothing of the upwards slope, not only slowed but stopped.

  “No harm in looking at the view,” she said kindly. “I wonder how decrepit that castle really is? I’ve a private bet with myself that one of these days, headmaster’s threats notwithstanding, one of our hopefuls is going to chance his luck in there. Nothing on earth would have kept me out of it when I was a kid.”

  “Did you say headmaster?” asked Colin, with sudden interest. “Do you mean you teach at the school?”

  “No. I’m the matron.”

  “Good Lord! You must have been sent from heaven!”

  “Undoubtedly. But why the rapture?”

  “Because you’ve made up my mind for me.” They walked on and took the path which led past the hotel. “This is where I push in and ask the headmaster for an interview. Would you mind telling me his name? My father did mention it, but I’ve forgotten what he called him.”

  “Mr. Eastleigh. Are you coming on to the Staff?”

  “Well, I wasn’t, but now I jolly well am, if he’ll have me. Do you tuck the boys up at night?”

  “Some of them.”

  “And the masters?”

  “Not so far as I’ve gone. I don’t think my husband would like it.”

  “I shall be the exception that proves the rule, I trust. Well, I’ll push in, before the native hue of resolution, etcetera—in other words, before I get cold feet. I hope yours are quite warm?”

  “Perfectly warm, thank you.”

  “Next time I must kneel before you and request the privilege of drying them. Goodbye for now. When next we meet, it may be as fellow-workers in the vineyard.” He had not been so happy or felt so light-hearted since his twelfth birthday. It was with a jauntiness to which he had long been a stranger that he walked up the gravel drive and rang the front-door bell of the school.

  “Well, I’m delighted, my boy, delighted!” said Howard, when his son came back in the late afternoon and gave the news. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy it. I expect it will come a little strange just at first, you know. You must allow for that. But, once you’ve settled down, you’ll do splendidly, splendidly, I’m sure.”

  “I suppose it’s the best thing, Colin,” said Fiona, when Howard had gone up to study the stars that night, “but it’s going to be dull here without you.”

  “I’ll be home every Friday night to Monday morning except for my duty week-ends, and they only come one in four, so not to worry.”

  “You’re suspiciously keen on this business, aren’t you? Are there any women on the Staff?”

  “You’re jealous!” cried Colin, delighted. “As a matter of fact, there is one rather callow little schoolmarm, but I understand she’s leaving the place pretty soon after I get there. Apart from her, there are no females except the matron and the servants.”

  “The matron? Oh, I shouldn’t count her,” said Fiona, lightly.

  “That’s where you’re wrong,” thought Colin; but he decided that any mention of Venus rising from the waves might be indiscreet at this juncture. He added: “I wonder whether you remember a chap I was at school with? He was on that Mediterranean cruise with us when you and my father teamed up. Fellow named Ferrars—no end of a blood at school. Was in the Sixth when I was a new boy. You must remember him.”

  “Ronald Ferrars? Oh, yes, I remember him,” said Fiona.

  “Well, he’s on the Staff of the school. Mind if I bring him over?”

  “I thought you didn’t like him much. That business of climbing the mast, you know. You told him you had no head for heights and he was—well—not very nice to you about it.”

  “Oh, that’s old history. You liked him, didn’t you?”

  “Oh, he was all right,” said Fiona, with a sudden vivid and not unpleasant memory of moonlight nights on the boat deck after Howard had gone to bed and Colin, then aged sixteen, had preferred a quiet, solitary swim in the warm, indoor pool to any other form of night life. “Bring him along, by all means, if you want to.”

  “Well, he knows the ropes at the school and can probably give me lots of pointers, so that I don’t put my foot in it with the headmaster or get to loggerheads with the boys—all that sort of thing, if you see what I mean.”

  “Well, see what your father says, but I’m sure he’ll be pleased. He’s delighted that you’ve taken the job, you know.”

  “Yes, well, it settles the hoo-ha about the car, but I think I shall like the job, anyway. By the way, I may have to send Ferrars by himself. Do you think you’ll recognise him again?”

  “I don’t know. But why will he have to come by himself?”

  “He may not have to, but I don’t expect he and I will be given the same afternoons off. I believe there’s a rota and so forth. You’ll be nice to him, won’t you, Fiona? It may make a lot of difference to me if I can jolly him along a bit.”

  “Are you nervous about the job, Colin?”

  “Well, yes, I suppose so. I wasn’t all that popular at school, and I don’t know how I’ll get on with the boys and masters unless I’ve got a friend at court. I mean, I expect I’ll be all right, but with Ferrars behind me—I mean, he was such a blood at school…”

  Laura, meanwhile, had been in conference with the headmaster since tea.

  “Now I don’t want you to think that what I may be going to say is intended as anything in the nature of a reflection upon your handling of your responsibilities,” was Mr. Eastleigh’s opening remark. “Far from it. I am delighted with the way you’ve dealt with matters.”

  Laura waited. Mr. Eastleigh rearranged the positions of the perpetual calendar, his pen-tray, and the silver cigarette box on his desk.

  “You’re giving me the push?” asked Laura, to help him out. “Don’t mind saying so, if you are.” He looked up, and, leaving his juggling, put his fingertips together.

  “Good heavens, no!” he said firmly. “No, no, no! Nothing like that! Far from it. No. The point is, Mrs. Gavin, I am wondering whether, as a great personal favour to me, you would consider a change of job here.”

  “Anything but the cooking,” said Laura cheerfully.

  “Well, with Miss Beverley going and Mr. Spalding coming, I have the opportunity to make some changes, one of which intimately concerns myself. In short, I shall be sending the senior master, Mr. Noble, back to Kent to look after the Common Entrance boys and also to keep an eye on the repairs to the school and make certain that the building is in a fit state for use next term, and this means that, if you agree (and only if you agree), I could bring my wife here to act as housekeeper and matron, while you…” He paused again.

  “While I take on Miss Beverley’s job with the youngest boys, do you mean? I see.” She did not sound particularly enthusiastic.

  “It would not necessarily be the youngest boys, Mrs. Gavin. That would be up to you. As a matter of fact—I speak in confidence, of course—I am not too happy about Mr. Heathers’ handling of his form. There are only twelve of them, but they seem to give him a good deal of trouble. I thought I would put them to Mr. Robson, who will soon have them back in shape, and give Mr. Heathers the small Sevens and Eights (although there are twenty of them he ought to be able to manage if I look in now and again and frighten them a bit), then I could give you Mr. Robson’s Elevens, a very nice set of boys and well in hand. Now please don’t decide in a hurry. It will be a big change for you, and, of course, you won’t get quite the same kind of freedom as you’re having as matron. Just go away and think it over.”

  “There’s no need for that,” said Laura. “I like Mr. Robson’s Elevens and I’ll willingly take them on. Have you a spare copy o
f their time-table? What subjects am I supposed to take, and with what forms? I think it’s a marvellous idea to have Mrs. Eastleigh with you. She’ll soon bring back the roses to your cheeks.”

  “Noble will cope better with the Common Entrance boys than the tutors do, and chivvy the workmen far more successfully than my wife can, I’m sure,” said the headmaster, the roses coming to his cheeks in the form of a pleased flush. “Well, I’m infinitely obliged, Mrs. Gavin. Your salary will remain the same, of course, and, as the only woman member of Staff, you need have no extraneous or supervisory duties, so you should get a fair amount of free time, one way and another, more, I dare say, than you enjoy as matron. If you do not always care to use the Staffroom, I am sure my wife will be only too happy to accommodate you in the matron’s day-room, where, of course, you will feel at home. I’m sure you’ll like her.” He smiled rather charmingly. “I do.”

  “I say, Mrs. Gavin,” said Peters, looking in at the matron’s room at break on the following morning to have a fresh dressing put on a gravel-rash knee, “the Man told us in Assembly that Miss Beverley’s leaving. We shall organise a whip-round to buy her a present, of course, so do you think you could get it for us? Scent, or a box of chocolates, or a handbag, or some handkerchiefs, or something. Prancer suggested some stockings, which sounded wizard, but the prefects wondered whether boys ought to give a lady stockings. What do you think?”

  “I think stockings would be very nice indeed, and quite all right for boys to give. I know she takes fives in shoes, so there wouldn’t be any difficulty about getting the right size. I wonder how much money you’re likely to collect?”