Eve

by Beverley Hughesdon

  ‘Yes I did.’

  ‘Mm. Still, I suppose it wasn’t such a clever idea, putting you in with the daughters of army men.’ I did not reply. There were things I could tell Uncle Fergus that I would never, ever say to Lord Rothbury – who now changed the subject to ask, ‘By the way, who was that Watt chappie you referred to earlier – was he one of the boys you used to run around with?’

  I exclaimed, ‘Watt’s not a person – he’s a book. You’ve got one, too.’

  ‘Have I, by Jove?’

  ‘Or rather, your sister has – it says in the front your Aunt Dorothea gave it to her.’ I quoted: “‘On the occasion of your betrothal”. Lady Sophie must have forgotten to pack it.’

  Her brother snorted. ‘She didn’t forget it – she left it behind because she said it was so boring – a typical Aunt Dorothea present!’

  I couldn’t believe my ears. ‘Watt – boring? How could anybody possibly find Watt boring? It’s full of absolutely fascinating information. And you’ve only got the shortened version – the long one’s even better!’

  ‘Tell you what, puss cat, after tea you can run and fetch it, and then I’ll arbitrate between you and Sophie.’

  When I handed Watt to him he tested the weight, saying, ‘Good gracious – this is a mighty tome – small print, too – it does look rather – er—’

  ‘No it isn’t.’ I sank down beside the arm of his chair, ‘Look—’

  ‘Just a minute puss, you’ll be in a draught there.’ He sprang up, fetched the pouffe and plumped it down for me. ‘There, you sit on that, beside me, and we’ll look at this together.’ Span settled his head on my feet and I put my hand down to stroke his silken hair. ‘Comfortable, puss cat?’ Oh yes, I was very comfortable.

  Monty opened Watt. ‘Let’s see – we’ll try “BIRDS” first’ – ‘So you have cuckoos in India – I never knew that!’ Then a puzzled, ‘Whatever’s a “goatsucker” when it’s at home?’

  ‘I think it’s a kind of nightjar, but people call it that because they believe it feeds off udders. It’s a bird of ill-omen.’

  He snorted. ‘For the wretched goat, certainly – must be deuced uncomfortable.’ He flicked on to “(3) Birds, edible”, and quickly became engrossed in “(b) Game birds”. Then, ‘We’ll try another dip or two.’ “TACHARDIA – Lac”. ‘I never knew shellac came from an insect – goodness me, is that how they produce it? Fascinating—’

  He turned back, found “SALTPETRE”, and began to read intently. ‘Ah yes, of course – cow dung used as fuel binds up the potash, and then, with the climate being so humid—’

  I broke in, ‘Saltpetre’s used for making gunpowder, isn’t it?’

  ‘Mm – let’s look at “SILK” now, shall we?’ We dipped into the section headed: “Experiments at Improvement of Indian Silk” and he burst out laughing, before snatching it from my view and exclaiming, ‘Just listen to this, Eve: “The first report on the silks produced was to the effect that Mr Wiss had succeeded to admiration in drawing a tolerable silk from the most ungrateful of cocoons—” I started giggling as he exclaimed, ‘“Ungrateful”! I bet they were, too – so would I be, having my nice protective cocoon ripped off me before I was ready!’ He slammed Watt shut with a bang. ‘Yes, Eve, I’m with you on this one – it is a deuced interesting book, quite definitely.’

  I felt my smile blossom – then saw that his right hand lay once again on the arm of his chair. So I bent my head and let my cheek rest upon it. It was warm, and strong boned – and it still smelt of coal tar soap. I whispered, ‘Monty – about Uncle Fergus—’

  ‘Fergus who? Never heard of him.’

  I was weak with relief and gratitude. Turning my face, I kissed his hand. Then suddenly shy I jumped up and said, ‘Thank you. Shall I put Watt away now, since he’s won?’

  ‘I’ll see to it, puss. Now, if you’re going to have dinner with me tonight there’s something you must do first.’

  Hopefully I offered, ‘Put my hair up?’

  ‘No, it’ll do very nicely how it is.’

  ‘What shall I do then?’ I was ready to pay him any price at that moment.

  ‘Go upstairs and have a lie down – in bed. And don’t get up until you hear the dressing bell – by which time I hope there’ll be rather more pink showing between those golden flecks of yours.’ His forefinger gently traced the curve of my cheek as he said, ‘You’re so energetic that I keep forgetting you’ve only recently recovered from a serious illness.’

  I protested, ‘I’m not tired.’ And yawned.

  ‘Quite. Off you go then.’

  As he steered me towards the door I asked, ‘But what are you going to do?’

  ‘My churchwardenly duties – I’ve a meeting with the rector in ten minutes. As I’ve been away there’s rather a lot of business to catch up on. And of course, next week will be Easter.’ He opened the door for me, and obediently I set off up the stairs.

  He must have sent instructions to Elsie while I’d been fetching Watt, since there were two hot water bottles already in the bed and the fire was burning brightly in the grate. I undressed and slid between those lovely warm linen sheets – gosh, I really was tired…

  When I woke up again in that glowing, golden room I felt oh, so much better. Monty had been so kind – and I knew I could trust him to keep mum about the poaching. Besides, he was right – everybody did know about Uncle Fergus, certainly in Helspie. And there’d been that time when we were making our escape down a gully up above Dunbeath and there’d been a frustrated bellow from the water ghillie behind us: ‘I know it’s you, Fergus Fraser – and I’ll catch you one day, just you wait and see!’ He was still waiting – nobody ever did catch Uncle Fergus, he was far too clever for them.

  The dressing bell rang, to be followed at once by Elsie’s knock and call of, ‘I’ve started the bath for you, Miss Courtney.’ I sprang out of bed.

  I took the front stairs two at a time – and the last short flight of four in one flying leap which landed me neatly at his feet. He laughed, ‘Yes, you’ve obviously recovered your high spirits!’ And I had, oh I had.

  We didn’t say a lot over our soup and fish – we just sat eating in an easy, companionable silence, only making the odd remark – just like with Apa, sometimes – Don’t think back, Eve, not tonight. And don’t think forward, either, since there’d be no dinner tomorrow evening. Our main meal was to be at lunchtime, to set most of the staff free for the rest of Sunday. So enjoy this evening, now.

  Mr Hayter and Robert served our roast pork and crackling, our creamy mashed potatoes, carrots and cauliflower, and then withdrew, leaving us alone with the gravy boat. I gazed across the table at Monty’s hands, watching the glint of his gold cuff links set in those glossy white cuffs – which contrasted so strongly with the pure, deep black of his dinner jacket. I looked up at the glowing red velvet curtains behind his head, and down again at the fine bone china rim of my plate, at my sparkling glass tumbler, at the heavy shining silver knife and fork that I held in my hand – lifting them slightly, to enjoy their solid weight.

  With a small sigh of pure pleasure I looked up at him again – and saw that he was watching me, now. He smiled. ‘I’m admiring your capacity for enjoyment, Eve. There are times when Bym and Sophie are so busy thinking and planning for what they’re going to do tomorrow that they hardly seem to notice where they are today. But you, you always immerse yourself in whatever’s happening at the present time, don’t you?’

  I said simply, ‘Well, you don’t know what might happen tomorrow, do you? Whereas now is here, so it would be stupid to waste it.’

  His gaze sharpened, ‘So you believe in following the advice Herrick gave to young girls, do you?’

  ‘Who was he?’

  ‘A seventeenth century poet.’ And he recited:

  ‘“Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,

  Old Time is still a-flying,”’

  I nodded my agreement as he continued:

  ‘“And this same flower that
smiles today,

  Tomorrow will be dying.”

  Oh dear, that’s rather gloomy of me.’

  I shook my head. ‘No, it’s true, isn’t it? The vultures are lying in wait. But if you let yourself keep thinking about them, then they’ve got you early. So it is better to make the most of today’s rosebuds. Don’t you agree?’

  ‘Oh yes, Eve, I agree. Absolutely.’

  I announced, ‘So live for the day!’

  He laughed. ‘Another Eve motto.’

  I thought that one over. ‘It’s a bit more than a motto, Monty, it’s—’ I paused for a moment, searching for the appropriate word –

  Which he supplied. ‘It’s an imperative.’

  Eagerly I agreed. ‘Yes, that’s right. Because really it’s the only way to play it, isn’t it?’

  ‘It is indeed. Some years ago I came to the very same conclusion myself.’

  Sybella at Sunset.

  He repeated emphatically, ‘Yes, you’re absolutely right – it is the only way to play the game. Shall we drink to it, then – that more-than-a-motto of yours?’

  I glanced down at my own water-filled tumbler and laughing he said, ‘We’ll share mine, Eve – take it in turns to drink our toast. I’ll kick off.’ Ceremoniously he raised his wine-filled glass, pinged it with his left forefinger and announced, ‘Live for the day!’

  He drank. But before handing his glass to me he turned it half around, so that my lips would rest where his had done. I took it from his warm fingers, raised it, pinged the glass, and proclaimed, ‘Live for the evening!’ Then I drank – trying not to grimace at the taste.

  He laughed and held out his hand – but I made him wait while I carefully twirled the glass that all-important half circle before giving it back to him. As soon as I did he raised it again, smiled to me, and gave yet another new toast: ‘Live for the Eve! Then he drained the glass. Oh what a wonderful weekend it was turning out to be! And there was still another whole day of it to gather rosebuds in!

  It didn’t occur to me then that perhaps he was gathering rosebuds, too. Nor that he’d had a lot more practice at that game than I had. Instead I ventured, ‘Monty, about that driving lesson – have you decided yet?’

  ‘Later.’

  I said quickly, ‘After dinner? That’ll be fun, driving in the dark.’

  ‘I meant, I will decide later – as you very well knew.’

  I grinned. ‘Oh well, it was—’

  He finished for me, ‘—Worth a try.’

  ‘Yes.’ My smile broadened.

  He shook his head in mock reproof. ‘You’re even more of an opportunist than I am, puss cat. Still, you’re probably wise to try your luck earlier – I can see the strain of being on your best behaviour for the rest of the evening could be more than you’re capable of.’

  ‘I can do it,’ I bragged.

  He snorted. ‘We’ll see. But eat up now, puss cat, or there won’t be any rest of the evening left.’

  After dinner we retired to the drawing room. I poured his coffee, added a dash of cream, and stepped over the dozing dogs to deliver it while asking, in what I considered to be a most artistically casual tone, ‘This is how you like it, isn’t it – Montmorency?’

  ‘That is not what Sophie called me. Wherever did you pick it up from?’ Then, almost sharply, ‘You’ve not been at the Debrett, have you?’

  I was bewildered. ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Oh,’ he was casual now, ‘Just a reference book of the peerage – lists of all the names of the British nobility.’

  I said virtuously, ‘I wouldn’t soil my hands with it. Anyway, you wrote your full name in your arithmetic book’ – I quoted ‘“Montmorency Algernon Henry Robert Guyzance”. I know you were called Lord Belmont before your father died, but that Guyzance is the family surname.’ I admitted, ‘Actually, Mrs Hayter explained all about the titles to me when she showed me round.’

  ‘Did she indeed?’ He smiled.

  And I pounced. ‘Gosh, it’s funny isn’t it? That time at Wenlock Court when you found me reading “Three Men in A Boat” I never dreamt that you’d been called after their dog!’ I giggled. ‘I bet you’re a good ratter too!’

  Jack twitched an ear at that interesting word – but Monty took it all with disappointing calm. ‘As it happens, I would argue that the dog was called after me – since my date of publication was some years prior to that of the book.’ He took a sip of coffee before adding, ‘In practice, most people who call me “Monty” do so because at school I was known as “Belmont” – and those courtesy titles often get abbreviated.’

  Another weird tribal ritual – then it struck me. ‘But surely, the most obvious abbreviation would have been “Belle”?’ I grinned at him, ‘I bet some of them did call you that, didn’t they?’

  ‘You’re quite correct, Eve – some did. But never more than once.’ And he smiled his tiger smile.

  For a moment I didn’t know what to say – and after that moment he glanced across at Watt and remarked, ‘Sophie collected several other tomes on India to read before she went – or rather, to read once she’d set her sights on George. I’ve got to hand it to her, she really boned up on any and every subject he was interested in – quite unnecessary, since it was obvious to everyone else that he was already equally smitten.’ He smiled, affectionately, ‘But that’s my sister all over – she genuinely is “modesty personified!”’

  My pleasure at recognising his Gilbert and Sullivan allusion was somewhat dimmed by the worrying thought that immediately followed – he didn’t prefer modest girls, did he? He continued, ‘As soon as we’ve finished our coffee we’ll go and see what we can find.’

  What we found was a book called ‘Some Indian Friends And Acquaintances’ – and on discovering that the friends in question were birds, beasts and fish, we bore it triumphantly back to the warm drawing room. Although neither of us mentioned it we were both fully aware that since it was staff dinner time we would not be interrupted, so we sat down side by side on the sofa, where we could look at our prize together. Which was all very cosy until I turned over a page and spotted the mongoose – at which sighting I unwisely exclaimed, ‘Oh, Sirhan Sears used to call me a mongoose!’

  You fool, Eve – hastily I slammed the book shut – only to have it snatched from my hands with a, ‘Did he indeed? Let’s see how accurate he was, then.’

  He began to run through the index: ‘Mon-’

  Quickly I exclaimed, ‘It’s not there –’

  But he prised my fingers off the page and continued, ‘Alternative spelling – perhaps? Ah, “Mungoose, the common Indian” – yes, that’s you alright, Eve.’

  I turned my back on him as he began to quote: ‘“Plays havoc among snakes, mice and rats,” He snorted, ‘The latter, certainly – “but equally ready to make away with birds” I really will have to watch my pheasants—’ Then he was silent for a moment before suddenly starting to laugh. I waited glumly for some reference to sharp noses and pointy ears, but instead heard him read: ‘“Were it not on acount of the birds the mungoose would be a source of unadulterated joy – their ceaseless activity, their astonishing alertness and their easy, graceful movements are most fascinating.” By now I’d turned right round and was facing him again. He looked up with a smile, ‘There you are, Eve – that’s you to a “T”!’

  ‘Oh! Do you really think so?’

  ‘Yes, definitely – especially as he says they really appeal to anyone who likes ferrets.’

  ‘Ferrets!’ I sprang up, seized a cushion and threw it at him. He caught it. Darting round the room I threw, seized, threw – two, three, four – he couldn’t catch them all – besides, he was laughing too much.

  Collapsing braying on the sofa he raised his hands above his head. ‘Pax, Eve!’ I lowered my final cushion. He lay there grinning up at me, ‘But you must admit that you did behave with astonishing alertness just now!’

  I lifted my cushion again – even as he said, ‘Shame about the driving lesson
, though.’

  ‘What!’

  He shook his head sadly, ‘Heaving cushions at your host hardly qualifies as being “good”, does it?’

  Quickly I countered, ‘But the concepts of “good” and “bad” are purely relative.’

  He jerked up to say disbelievingly, ‘They are? I don’t think Nanny would have agreed with that.’

  Dropping my final cushion to the hearthrug I sank down cross-legged on to it beside the dogs – it’s always more fun to argue face to face. ‘It’s true – in India the worst thing you can do is kill a cow, yet here we do it all the time – and eat them, too.’

  He was not convinced. ‘But all societies have certain common moral guidelines – murder, for instance.’

  ‘What about thuggee? Now that was considered a religious duty by some people who worshipped Kali…’

  Our subsequent debate ranged widely. We passed through suttee to child marriage, and then on to polyandry, ‘Disgusting, Eve.’ Closely followed by polygamy, ‘Now I can see a certain logic in that –’

  ‘Rubbish, Monty—’

  It was a most enjoyable argument – until he happened to glance up at the clock, ‘Good Lord, is that the time? You should have been in bed hours ago, young lady.’ He rose to his feet.

  Quickly I asked, ‘So have I convinced you about my driving lesson?’

  ‘No, but I’ll give you one, anyway.’

  ‘Oh, thank you, Monty.’

  He smiled down at me, then said, in a considering tone, ‘And on the whole I think you probably do resemble a cat more than a ferret.’

  ‘I don’t think Nanny would have approved of your saying that to a young lady.’

  He laughed. ‘Maybe not – but she would definitely approve of what I’m going to do next – which is send you straight up to bed, now.’ He held out his hands, and I put mine in to them – but I let him use all his strength to haul me up from the cushion. Which he did, very easily.

  Once I was up on my feet again he gave my fingers a parting squeeze, swung me firmly round and commanded, ‘Off you go, now.’ So I went. Actually I’m not at all sure that Nanny would have approved of that parting pat on the behind he gave me – but I was quite happy about it.