The Girl in a Swing

by Richard Adams

went on. Yet I couldn't help hoping she wouldn't try to concern

  herself too deeply with the business. It wasn't so much

  the problem of the girl who says she's keen to help but only

  succeeds in wasting others' time and getting in the way. I

  thought better of her than that. It was, rather, that I didn't

  want to see her take up a difficult subject without realizing

  what was involved (there is far more to antique pottery

  and porcelain than most people realize), pursue it for a little

  at a relatively superficial level and then drop it. That would

  ill become her style and dignity. Still, by all means let her

  run her beautiful fingers over the glazes of a few pieces, if

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  she liked, and feel the difference between them. At least it

  would give the pieces pleasure, if I knew anything about it.

  Stones have been known to move and trees to speak. A porcelain

  gentleman in tight, flowered breeches 'Well,

  there'll be some nice things for you to see, darling,

  unless Deirdre's sold them all, which is unlikely, I'm afraid.

  Now do play me some more Bach before we go to bed -'

  '- Again.'

  16

  'YOU'RE quiet, mein Lieber,' said Kathe the next morning, as

  we drove down Wash Hill. 'What are you thinking about?'

  'To tell you the truth, I was trying to give myself a bit of

  encouragement by reflecting on some of the Newbury men

  in days gone by who must have coped successfully with

  tough situations. Sir John Boyes, Tommy Dolman, Jack o'

  Newbury -'

  'Jack o' Newbury - whoever was he?'

  'His real name was John Winchcombe, and he was the

  chap who first made Newbury prosperous, about five hundred

  years ago. He started as an apprentice in the cloth trade, and

  then he married his master's widow and somehow or other

  got himself into favour with Henry VIII. He was one of the

  first self-made capitalists, really - rise of the middle classes

  and all that. He had more than a hundred looms going in

  Newbury, and negotiated a trade agreement with Flanders

  on his own initiative. And he built the church - St Nicholas.

  It's a beauty. But the story about him I like best is how he

  led thirty of his own men to Flodden and reported to the

  queen before the battle.'

  'To the queen? Not the king?'

  'Well, you see, Henry VIII was off on a campaign in

  France, and the Scotchmen thought this would be a good

  chance to invade England. But the queen, Catherine of

  Aragon - she played a big part in getting an English army

  together, and they beat the Scots and killed the Scotch king.

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  Jack o' Newbury was there, with thirty bowmen - his own

  chaps, all fitted out by himself. I dare say he reckoned it

  might do him a bit of good later. Anyhow, apparently, on

  the way up, he reported to the queen and knelt before her,

  and she was so impressed with the blokes and their turn-out

  that she said, "Rise, gentleman," and old Jack replied, "Your

  Majesty, I am no gentleman, for my rentes come from the

  backes of little sheepes, but by your favour we are here to

  serve our kynge." '

  ' 'Sounds as if he knew how to treat a lady, anyway. And

  you say he started from nothing?'

  'Yes, he did. Encouraging sort of chap. There's a ballad "The

  Cheshire lads were brisk and brave

  And the Kendall lads as free,

  But none surpassed, or I'm a knave,

  The lads of Newberrie."

  'I've often hoped I might meet his ghost one night - down

  the Wharf, perhaps, or along the Kennet towpath. I'd enjoy

  a chat with him.'

  'I don't believe in ghosts, do you?'

  'Well, I always feel like Dr Johnson: "All argument is

  against it; but all belief is for it." '

  'When I was at school the girls used to tell ghost stories.'

  'Oh - is that why you're afraid of the dark?'

  'Not a bit! It ran off me like duck's water.'

  This made me laugh, so that I nearly missed the turning

  into the Northcroft to park the car. No doubt, I reflected,

  locking up and casting a piscatorial eye at the stream to see

  whether there were any spent mayfly, Jack o' Newbury had

  handled a few tricky financial problems in his time: but I

  doubted whether even his master's widow had constituted

  as strong an imponderable asset as the one standing beside

  me now.

  Coming out into Northbrook Street Kathe stood still for

  a few moments looking about her.

  'Most of these buildings are old, aren't they?'

  'More than two hundred years, some of them.'

  188

  'They're beautiful. But why were people allowed to put in

  these modern shop-fronts on the ground floors? They're not

  right at all.'

  'A lot of that was done back in the 'twenties and 'thirties.

  But it's pretty well the same all over the south of England,

  I'm afraid. Money talks, you know.'

  'Well, we'd better go and listen to it, darling. But I'd like

  to slip out and have a look round the town later on.'

  'So you shall.'

  Before reaching the shop, however, we had an unexpected

  encounter. About fifty yards up the street I felt a touch on

  my arm.

  'Good morning, Alan! How are you? You've been away for

  a little while, haven't you?'

  It was Mrs Stannard, complete with stick and basket;

  evidently getting the shopping done early. I had always got

  on with her well enough, though since the time when Barbara

  and I had stopped seeing so much of each other our

  relations, as was only to be expected, had become a trifle

  formal. It was perhaps a little surprising that she had gone

  out of her way to come up and speak: but then she might

  have heard something intriguing on the grape-vine.

  'Oh, Mrs Stannard - how nice to see you! Yes, I've been

  abroad for the last month. By the way, may I introduce my

  wife? Kathe - Mrs Stannard, an old friend.'

  'Your wife? Goodness me, Alan, I hadn't any idea! How

  d'you do?'

  Mrs Stannard shook hands, her eyes taking in Kathe from

  head to foot. Then she turned back to me.

  'Well, this is a surprise, Alan! You go off abroad and

  come home with a beautiful wife! You're a real dark horse,

  aren't you? Surely you kept it very quiet?'

  'Well, we were married in Florida; quite recently, as a

  matter of fact. I was over there on business, you know, and

  everything happened with speed.'

  'How nice!' said Mrs Stannard, including Kathe in a warm

  smile. 'You come from Florida?'

  'Well, I've just come back from Florida,' answered Kathe,

  smiling in turn. 'I vasn't borrn dere, of course.' In the slight

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  exaggeration of her accent I could recognize teasing, and

  realized that I was enjoying this.

  'No, of course,' replied Mrs Stannard rather vaguely, as

  though already aware that the birth-rate in Florida was point

  nought one per hundred thousand. 'Well, I do hope we shall

  be seeing more of each other. And I hope your
dear mother

  didn't find the journey too trying?' she added to me.

  I admired this, but played forward to get on top of the

  break.

  'Well, she and I both decided it might be a bit much for

  her, really - the heat at this time of year, you know, and the

  humidity out there's very trying for people who aren't used

  to it. Since Kathe and I were coming back so soon anyway,

  Mother and I thought it best for her not to attempt the

  journey. And then, of course, the shop's rather a tie, you

  know - someone has to be here to keep an eye on it. That's

  just what we're on the point of going to do, actually, so

  we'll have to be getting along now, I'm afraid. But do drop

  in some time - that would be nice - bring Barbara round I'm

  sure she'd like to meet Kathe.'

  Dance and exeunt.

  'That'll roll under its own steam now,' I said to Kathe.

  ' 'Probably be in the Newbury News on Thursday.'

  At Kathe's suggestion I went into the shop first, leaving

  her to follow in about five minutes. Deirdre, in her green,

  button-down-the-front shop coat with 'Desland' embroidered

  across the breast pocket, was lifting jugs one by one as she

  dusted a shelf. Looking round and seeing me, she threw down

  the duster and came across almost at a run.

  'Cor, Mistralan, enn I glad to see you! Dear oh law, we've

  'ad ever such a time since you bin away!'

  'Oh, I'm sorry to hear that, Deirdre. But I'm very glad to

  see you, too.' I was touched that she seemed to be in quite

  an emotional state. 'Well, here I am, anyway. Sit down a

  minute and tell me all about it. Nothing too badly wrong, I

  hope?'

  'Well, not zackly, Mistralan, but it's bin ever such a worry.

  You never tells us, see, when you was to be expected, an"

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  we didn' know what to think, like, until yesterday, when the

  reverend gentleman come in and says you was due back today.

  On'y what with Mrs Desland bein' away from - oh,

  when was it? - week last Thursday - that's three days last

  week and all this week we bin on our own, and my Dad, 'e

  says, "Well, t'aint good enough," 'e says. "You'd best be

  lookin' for somewheres else, my girl, seein' as you ain't bin

  paid an' ain't bin told nothin' 'bout what you got to do." So

  I says, "No, I ain't goin'," I says, " 'cause I likes the job an'

  I reckon Mistralan'Il be back 'fore the end o' the week,' I

  says. So then 'e says, "There's all that valyable stuff down

  there," 'e says, "an" just the two of you to look after it.

  Someone'll get t'ear an' come in to pinch it, p'raps knock

  you cold an' all. It ain't right an' I ain't goin' t'ave my

  daughter runnin' the risk," 'e says. Oh, 'e didn't 'alf go on!'

  'Oh, Deirdre, I'm so sorry -'

  'So I says, "Mistralan's on 'is "oneymoon," I says. " 'E's

  got somethin' better to do just now," I says, "than bother 'is

  'ead 'bout the shop." But then I gets to thinkin' about someone

  comin' in, like Dad says, and violence an' that, like what

  you sees in the papers, an' I couldn't 'elp gett'n' ever s' worried.

  I wasn't goin' to come in Monday-'

  'Deirdre, it's all my fault and I'm very sorry, indeed I am.

  I'm terribly grateful to you. You were quite right, you know,

  I got a bit carried away. But you just wait till it's your

  turn -'

  A sharp little grin of appetite. She'd got it off her chest and

  was feeling better.

  'Look, anyway, I do hope it's all right now. Here's your

  money, in this envelope, and a bit extra on account of all

  you've done for us.' (I'd already thought of that. I only hoped

  to God the cheque wouldn't bounce.) 'I really don't know

  what we'd have done without you. Do you know, I saw Mr

  Steinberg in Florida' (I hadn't, of course, but it sounded

  better) 'and he particularly asked to be remembered to you

  and said how much you'd taught him about Moth and

  Flower -'

  'Mrs Desland comin' back then, Mistralan, is she? On'y

  191

  she seemed that much upset 'fore she went, and she never

  told us before'and, on'y just run up that Thursday morning

  an' says she wouldn't be in 'cause she was goin' down to

  Bristol.'

  'Oh, yes, she'll be back soon. But don't you think mothers

  often feel a bit lost when their sons get married -'

  'Well, I reckon p'raps she didn't just altogether fancy the

  way as you went about it, Mistralan -'

  At this moment I was saved by the bell - literally - as

  Kathe came in.

  'Anyway, Deirdre, let me introduce you to the cause of all

  the trouble. This is the other Mrs Desland. Kathe - Deirdre

  Cripps.'

  It knocked Deirdre cold; I could see that. Like a little girl,

  she shook hands in shy embarrassment, without a word, and

  I rather thought she came within half a plank of bobbing a

  curtsey. Kathe, all smiles, began chatting to her about the

  shop and the china, and after getting a few monosyllabic

  replies drew her out by picking up one or two pieces and

  asking direct questions about them. I left them together and

  went up the glass passage towards the sound of Mrs Taswell's

  typewriter.

  It was always virtually impossible to infer what might have

  been happening from anything Mrs Taswell might tell you

  of her own accord; let alone to learn by means of direct questions.

  She was a person quite likely to walk past some

  catastrophic occurrence - a bad traffic accident, say - and

  never mention it at all, but then to talk at great length about

  a complete triviality, such as a 'bus conductor's rudeness or

  a lost handkerchief. She had her own personal and highly

  idiosyncratic scale of values and priorities - rather like a

  domestic cat - but, like a cat, she also possessed dignity and

  an attractive appearance. I suppose that to those about us,

  most of us often seem at one and the same time both a

  liability and an asset, but few to such a marked degree as

  Mrs Taswell.

  She rose unhurriedly, smiled and shook hands with me like

  a hostess.

  'Good morning, Mr Desland. How nice to see you back!'

  192

  'It's nice to see you again, Mrs Taswell. How are things

  with you?'

  'Well, of course, it has been raining a lot, Mr Desland,

  as you may or may not know, but then I dare say you didn't

  get very much of it where you were. I think everything's

  been quite uneventful while you've been away. Only I can't

  help thinking there's a mouse somewhere. I've thought so

  for some time - I found some droppings - I swept them up,

  of course - but I didn't actually buy a trap, because I wasn't

  sure whether you'd want me to incur the expense -'

  'Any letters?'

  'Letters?' Mrs Taswell seemed to be trying to remember

  what the unusual word meant. 'Let me see - oh, well, one or

  two, Mr Desland. Yes. There's one from that Mr Per Simonsen

  at Bing and Grondle in Copenhagen, and one from

  Phillips, Son and Neale in London
about an auction -'

  'What's that one lying on top there?'

  'Oh, that man's been a great nuisance, Mr Desland. He's

  kept on ringing up, and I said-'

  'Hang on a sec. Let me just have a look.'

  It was a courteous but distinctly crisp letter, dated nearly

  three weeks earlier - the envelope showed recorded delivery

  - from one of our wholesalers, pointing out that we had

  apparently overlooked their invoice of March and requesting

  immediate payment.

  'Have you answered this?'

  'No, certainly not, Mr Desland. I wasn't going to have

  anything to do with people like that. But then, as I said, the

  man who signed it, Mr Hatchett, has been ringing up, asking

  for you - oh, twice this week, I think, or was it three

  times? - they say three times is lucky, don't they? -'

  'What did you say to him?'

  'Well, of course, I told him you weren't here; so then he

  asked when you'd be back and I told him it was no business

  of his -'

  'Did you say where I was?'

  'Certainly not, Mr Desland! Of course I wasn't going to

  tell him where you were. Actually I'm not at all sure where

  Florida is, but I expect you are -'

  193

  'Well, that's fine, Mrs Taswell. Thank you very much for

  looking after everything so well. By the way, here's your

  money -'

  'Oh, that doesn't matter, Mr Desland. That's quite immaterial.

  You shouldn't have bothered in the least.' (I knew

  she must have been short.) 'I can perfectly well manage, you

  know -'

  'No, here you are. I've added a little extra -'

  'I've told you before, Mr Desland, I shall only put it in the

  collection -'

  'Well, that's up to you. I suppose Mr Hatchett -'

  'And about the mouse-trap, Mr Desland -'

  'Oh, yes: yes. I'll get one, don't you bother any more

  about it. By the way, my wife's here; she's talking to Deirdre

  at the moment. She very much wants to meet you. I wonder,

  would you care to go down and make her feel at home for a

  few minutes?'

  'Well, if you wish me to, Mr Desland, of course.'

  I proceeded to telephone Mr Hatchett, who was ruffled,

  completely nonplussed by the inexplicable Mrs Taswell but

  finally more or less mollified, and assured him that his cheque

  was in the post. (It wasn't, of course, but it would darned

  well have to be before close of play.) I then descended into

  the depths of Mrs Taswell's 'In' tray, shuddering at every

  step, and soon became so much absorbed that I even forgot

  about Kathe.

  Towards the end of the morning I had dealt with the more

  urgent correspondence, checked the turnover and holdings

  of most of our non-antique stock, given Mrs Taswell a list

  of items for orders to wholesalers and, after a quick glance

  through such catalogues and notices of sales as had arrived

  while I had been away, planned my programme for the next

  three weeks. Shortage of capital was going to be the principal

  problem. Since it was Saturday I could not talk to the bank,

  but I had already worked out that I must be even lower

  than I had feared. I would have to raise a loan (and find the

  interest) or else sell some pieces from my private collection.

  Either prospect was depressing, and I postponed a decision

  194

  r

  until next week. Flick's detached opinion was likely to be

  helpful: it often had been in the past.

  At least I could hear customers coming and going with

  pleasing frequency, and supposed, since she had not come

  to ask for my help or Mrs Taswell's, that Deirdre must be

  coping with them. I was just thinking of knocking off for an

  early lunch when Kathe strolled into the office, wearing a

  'Desland' shop-coat and drying her wet hands on a sheet of

  tissue.

  'Cor, no towel in the loo, Mistralan?' she said happily. 'I

  bet it's different at Bing & Gr0ndahl.'

  'Kathe! Whatever have you been up to?'

  'Working, of course. This coat looks rather professional,

  don't you think? I've sold twelve white plates, two china dogs

  and an ashtray made to look like a bird's nest.'

  'You never?'

  'But of course. Oh, yes, and there's been one person someone

  called Lady Alice - er -'

  'Mendip ?'

  'Yes, that's right.'

  'I know her; lives out at Cold Ash. She's hooked on modern

  Copenhagen - I hooked her myself. She knows quite a

  bit about it now. Nice old girl. What did she want?'

  'She wanted us to get her some Danish pieces by Hans

  Tegner - the Blind Man's Buff set. I pretended I knew all

  about it.'

  'Well, we can get them all right, but it's going to cost her.