In fact all was ‘gas and gaiters,’ and as Barbie went home to Underwoods in the bus she decided that ‘business’ was extremely pleasant. She had almost forgotten how pleasant it was – and how satisfying.
CHAPTER TEN
Amalie’s birthday was on the tenth of July and Edward came down the night before to celebrate the occasion. He was staying at Underwoods over the week-end and returning to London on Monday morning. This fitted in perfectly with Barbie’s plans, for Edward could give her a lift back to London.
The weather had been rather unsettled but the birthday was as sunny and warm as anyone could have wished. The sun streamed in through the open windows on to the breakfast table.
Amalie opened her parcels and letters and birthday cards; she was delighted with everything, in fact almost too delighted. Birthdays are strangely moving as one gets on in life, for one is apt to think of the past rather than the future.
After breakfast Barbie set out for the village to do the shopping and Edward ran after her and took the basket out of her hand, and fell into step beside her.
‘Aren’t you playing golf this morning?’ she asked him.
‘It’s too hot for golf,’ he replied. ‘I’d rather come to the village with you. You look delightfully cool in that pretty white frock. Have you much shopping to do?’
Barbie thought Edward looked ‘delightfully cool’ in his pale-grey flannels and a white shirt, open at the neck, but she did not say so. Instead she explained that there was not much shopping and suggested that they should have a cup of coffee together at the new restaurant which had just opened in the village.
‘Coffee on a day like this!’ exclaimed Edward.
‘Lemonade?’
‘No, nor ice-cream,’ said Edward scornfully. ‘What we want on a day like this is beer.’
‘But Edward –’
‘Beer,’ declared Edward, smiling at her. ‘I tell you what, Barbie; we’ll go to that nice old inn near the village. You like beer, don’t you?’
She admitted that she liked beer.
‘Why say it in that apologetic tone of voice? It’s sensible to like beer. I like people that like beer,’ said Edward.
Twenty minutes later Barbie and Edward were leaning upon the counter of The Owl Inn and drinking beer out of tall glasses. There was nobody in the bar except themselves and the innkeeper, who was busy polishing glasses and setting them in orderly rows. Barbie had been somewhat dubious about the amenities of The Owl, she had never been inside the place before and her recollection of it was that it was a dilapidated old building, not very clean and perhaps not very reputable, so she was pleasantly surprised at its air of prosperous comfort.
‘I’ve been here two years,’ said the innkeeper in answer to a question. ‘It was a bit dirty, but me and the missus soon put that right, and we soon got a lot of new customers too. People like things clean and nice. It used to be tankards,’ he continued, pointing to a shelf where a dozen or so pewter tankards stood in a line. ‘Tankards are all very well in their way but you never know if they’re really clean, that’s what I say. A clean glass, nicely polished – well, it’s high-jinnick.’
Barbie agreed. The glasses were beautifully polished, they winked and glittered in the rays of the sun.
‘If they wants pewter they asks,’ said the innkeeper. ‘But glasses for me, every time – that’s what I say.’
‘Have one with us,’ suggested Edward.
‘Well, I don’t mind if I do. It’s hot this morning. Thank you, sir.’
Edward’s own glass was refilled. ‘You’ve had your sign repainted, haven’t you?’ he said. ‘This place used to be called The Owl Pack. I’ve often wondered what it meant. Owls don’t go in packs, they’re solitary birds. Why Owl Pack?’
‘Now you’re asking,’ declared the innkeeper, grinning from ear to ear. ‘That was what my missus said when we came. “Why Owl Pack?” she said, “it’s silly.” Of course nobody called it that – none of the local people – it was just “The Owl.” So when we had the sign repainted my missus said to change it and put “The Owl” – and that’s what we did. Well, now I don’t know whether to have it painted again – or what.’
‘You mean your customers objected?’ asked Barbie.
‘Bless your heart, no! There wasn’t one of them noticed. They call it The Owl – and The Owl it was.’ He stepped back and shouted, ‘Tom! Tom, are you there? You bring up that old sign what we found last week at the back of the cellar!’
‘An old sign!’ exclaimed Edward.
‘Old as old,’ nodded the innkeeper. ‘You’ll see.’
A big red-faced boy staggered in with the sign and propped it against the counter. It was broken and weatherbeaten and the chains which dangled from it were red with rust, but you could see the ghostly outline of a picture on the wooden boards.
‘Is that an owl?’ asked Edward. ‘I suppose it’s meant to be an owl, but it looks more like a sack tied at the corners.’
The innkeeper grinned and turned the sign round so that they could see the other side. There was lettering on it, almost too faint to read; some of the letters had been completely obliterated:
TH WO L PA K
‘Whatever is it? ’ exclaimed Barbie.
‘Got me beat,’ said the innkeeper chuckling. ‘But my missus guessed it. She’s the clever one – does Crossword Puzzles.’ He took a piece of chalk and added the missing letters. There were only three missing letters and when they had been added the legend was clear: THE WOOL PACK.
‘It’s easy when you know how,’ declared the innkeeper. ‘This inn was called The Wool Pack – sensible name – nothing silly about it. There used to be thousands of sheep in these here parts and the shepherds brought their wool down from the hills on mule-back. That’s history, that is. The village was called Shepherd’s Ford – there wasn’t no bridge in those days – and this here inn was The Wool Pack. See?’
‘It’s very interesting,’ said Edward, gazing at the board. ‘It all fits in and you can even see how the name got changed. Some fool of an artist who was asked to paint a new sign thought it was Owl – wrongly spelt. I bet he thought he was clever!’
‘And nobody noticed,’ added Barbie. ‘Nobody noticed because in those days people couldn’t read.’
The innkeeper nodded. ‘Well, there you are,’ he said.
‘You should change back to the old name!’ exclaimed Barbie impulsively.
‘I’d like to – but the missus says no. She says The Owl’s better – more romantic – and she says the customers wouldn’t like it if we changed the name. This place has been The Owl for years and years, so why change? That’s what she says.’
‘She’s right, you know,’ Edward declared.
‘She’s usually right,’ admitted the innkeeper.
Barbie was silent. To her mind ‘The Wool Pack’ was more romantic; the name took you right back into the past; it evoked the picture of shepherds in smocks sitting on the oaken settles drinking their ale out of pewter tankards. They would discuss the weather in slow deep voices and compare the state of their flocks. Outside in the courtyard there would be sacks of wool waiting for transit across the ford. ‘The Owl’ was commonplace in comparison and it meant nothing.
But whether or not it would be good policy to change the name was a different matter. Barbie was a business woman and was aware that it is never good policy to change the name of a well-known concern.
‘We talk about it,’ said the innkeeper as he removed the glasses and polished the bar counter. ‘We argue about it – friendly like. I’m apt to be a bit impulsive, but my missus keeps me on the lines. That’s the way to do when you’re married.’
It was time to go home now, so Edward paid for the beer and they walked up the hill together. There was a short cut to Underwoods over the hill and past the ruined Abbey. They rested for a few minutes sitting upon one of the fallen stones.
Barbie knew what was coming for Nell had warned her; once warned, she realise
d how blind she had been. In a hundred little ways Edward had made it clear that he loved her. So far she had kept it off, but you could not do that for ever. Sooner or later it would have to come. She had given it a great deal of thought; she had tried to do as Nell suggested and ‘give the man a chance’ and, in so doing, she had discovered that she was very fond of Edward. They had been friends all their lives; they had shared memories and shared jokes and shared interests. Aunt Amalie wanted her to marry Edward. Nothing had been said, but Barbie knew it and it weighed with her quite a lot for she adored Aunt Amalie. Then there was Underwoods. If she married Edward they would share Underwoods and the problem would be solved in the most satisfactory manner. She and Edward both loved the dear old place, and the prospect (far-off she hoped) of living at Underwoods and sharing it with Edward was exceedingly pleasant. They would share the joys and the responsibilities.
Barbie had thought of all this and she had decided to say ‘yes,’ if and when Edward asked her to marry him.
It was very quiet in the ruined Abbey. Barbie and Edward knew the place well for they had often come here when they were children. It had been fun to climb on the stones and to play at being ‘alpine climbers.’ It had been fun to ‘seek for treasure.’ Edward had been so certain that the monks of the Abbey had buried their valuables somewhere in the ruins that the two of them had spent hours digging and searching amongst the rubble, but they had never found anything of the least value.
Barbie glanced at her companion and wondered if he remembered.
‘That innkeeper – he’s a happy man,’ said Edward after a long silence. ‘I don’t know why I toil and moil in a crowd when I could have an inn like The Owl – and live in peace.’
‘You’d soon get tired of it.’
‘No, I shouldn’t. Not if I had you to “keep me on the lines.” ’
‘You’re talking nonsense.’
‘Yes, about keeping the inn, but not about you.’ He slipped his arm round her waist. ‘Barbie, darling, you will, won’t you? You’ll marry me and “keep me on the lines.” We’ve always loved each other, haven’t we? We’ve always been sweethearts. D’you remember we cut a sixpence in half and each took a piece?’
Barbie remembered. She had kept her half of the sixpence for years, and then somehow she had lost it.
‘I’ve still got my half,’ said Edward. ‘I’ve knocked about the world – here, there and everywhere – but I’ve always kept my half of the sixpence and I’ve always had you in my heart. I’ve always thought that some day you and I would get married and settle down together and be happy. Some fellows have wander-fever, you know. I had it for a bit, but that’s all over. I just want a home – and you.’
‘I don’t know …’ began Barbie in a breathless voice.
‘You don’t know! But Barbie, darling, we’ve loved each other since we were children!’
Barbie had made up her mind to say yes, but now that it had come to the point she was not quite sure. ‘Couldn’t we – leave it for a little?’ she murmured.
‘But why? Dearest girl, why leave it for a little when you know quite well you’re going to say yes?’
She hesitated. It was strange that just at this very moment she should think of Henry Buckland. She had put him out of her mind in anger – he had made a fool of her! She had seen him once and spoken to him for half an hour and yet for some absurd reason she remembered his face so clearly that if she had had the skill she could have drawn a portrait of him. It really was absurd because she knew nothing about him – nothing except that he did not keep his word!
‘You can trust me, can’t you?’ said Edward gently.
Barbie was almost frightened. It seemed as if Edward had read her thoughts.
‘You can trust me,’ repeated Edward. ‘We know each other so well. I’ve been a bit of a wanderer but that’s all over – and, honestly, I’ve loved you all the time. You believe that, don’t you?’
‘Yes,’ said Barbie. She did believe it – that was what she meant – but Edward took it to mean a great deal more.
‘Darling!’ he cried joyfully. ‘I’m so happy I could jump over the moon!’ He drew her into his arms and kissed her.
Somehow this settled everything. Barbie’s doubts vanished and she too was happy. I love him, she thought. I’ve always loved Edward. I loved him when we were children, and played together in these very same ruins, and I still love him.
They sat there in the sunshine for some time. Edward’s arm was round her and she felt secure. Edward’s voice went on talking, telling her over and over again how he had always loved her, always wanted to marry her, and how he had come to Underwoods and seen her and immediately fallen in love with her all over again in a different kind of way.
‘You understand, don’t you, Barbie?’ he said anxiously. ‘I want you to understand.’
She understood.
‘It’s perfect,’ declared Edward. ‘It’s so – right, if you know what I mean. We’re absolutely made for each other, you and I. We’ll be so happy doing everything together. Of course we can’t be married for some time. I mean I must get properly settled into this job, and we shall have to find a flat.’
‘There’s no hurry at all,’ Barbie agreed. ‘I shall have to go back to Garfield’s. They’ve kept the job open for months, so I must go back until Mr Garfield can find someone really capable to take over.’ She hesitated and then added, ‘Of course I could go on with my job at Garfield’s.’
‘Goodness no!’ cried Edward. ‘I shouldn’t like that at all. I shall want you all to myself when we’re married. It will be lovely to come home and find you there, waiting for me, and of course you can be the greatest help to me in my business. You see, darling, one of the most important things in a firm like ours is going about and making contacts and doing a little entertaining in a quiet way; making friends with the right people. It will be tremendous fun doing it all together, won’t it?’
‘Yes, of course,’ agreed Barbie, but not very enthusiastically, for to tell the truth the picture Edward had painted did not appeal to her greatly. She liked going about and meeting people and she liked parties, but she had a feeling that after a bit one might get a little tired of ‘all play and no work.’ Perhaps she would not have felt this so keenly if her visit to Mrs Bray had not been such a success; Barbie, after her long holiday, had tasted the sweets of office and was looking forward to her return to Garfield’s. It was enjoyable work and she knew she could do it well. There was satisfaction in looking round a shabby, down-at-heel house and transforming it into a beautiful, comfortable dwelling-place … but I can do our own house, thought Barbie. That will be fun.
‘We must go home,’ said Edward. ‘It’s beginning to get a bit cold and you’ve only got on that thin frock. It’s my job to look after you. I shall look after you always. Besides we must tell Amie.’
He drew her arm through his and they walked home together.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Amalie was not surprised at the news for she had seen the two go off to the village and had thought: perhaps it will happen today. She was not surprised, but she was delighted beyond measure. The happiness of seeing her dearest wish come true was almost frightening.
‘My two darlings!’ exclaimed Amalie. ‘Nothing could be lovelier. It’s the best birthday present of all!’
Penney was delighted, too; she kissed Barbie fondly, and offered her good wishes and congratulations, and of course Daphne was thrilled.
‘Oh, Miss Barbie!’ cried Daphne. ‘I dunno when I’ve been so thrilled. I do wish you all the best. Such a nice gentleman ’e is – so ’andsome and gay – just like a film star! And it’s all coming out like it was in your cup; wedding bells, I said, didn’t I? You remember?’
Barbie could not help smiling, for if she remembered rightly the seer had said the wedding bells were ‘Miss Mainwaring’s, most likely’ and had gone on to warn her to ‘beware of a tall stranger.’ Edward was not very tall and certainly, by no stretch of imagina
tion, could he be called a stranger … and then it crossed her mind that she had met a tall stranger and had not been wary of him, and he had let her down with a bump.
For a few moments Barbie felt quite uncomfortable.
‘And I said there was a ring, didn’t I, Miss Barbie?’ continued Daphne eagerly. ‘Well, you’ll be getting a ring, won’t you? And I said you’d be going across the water – and of course you’ll be going abroad for your ’oneymoon.’
Barbie laughed and said, ‘Oh, we haven’t fixed anything like that yet, Daphne.’
The day passed in a whirl but after dinner the excitement died down and they began to discuss future plans. Penney left them to talk, and the three of them sat by the window and watched the light fade.
Barbie leaned back in her chair and let the others do most of the talking. For days she had struggled with the problem of whether to say yes or no to Edward. Now it was decided and she felt peaceful and happy and secure.
‘A small flat in town,’ said Edward. ‘That’s my idea. I should hate to live out of town and travel every day. I’ve always been sorry for fellows who lived out of town … and if it wasn’t too far from the office I could go home to lunch. It would have to be a service flat – the sort of place you can walk out of and turn the key whenever you feel inclined.’
‘Just what I thought,’ agreed Amalie. ‘You could come down here for week-ends, couldn’t you? We must try to find a really comfortable service flat.’
‘They’re rather expensive,’ said Edward doubtfully.
‘My dear, don’t worry about that! I can help you –’
‘But Amie –’
The Tall Stranger Page 9