‘Don’t know about that. For one thing Jean would want to come along too, and for another my parents—’
‘Best of all, fix it for a Saturday night – this next weekend or the one after. I’d take you out that evening – pick you up in Milngavie and take you back there – then Sunday forenoon collect you again, show you over Trumpeter and deliver you back here by sundown. Huh?’
‘Well, it’d be lovely, but—’
‘Your parents might not approve – that it? Sweet girl, all you say is you’re staying with these friends and I’m going to collect you on the Sunday to show you the boat, then whisk you home. How’s that?’
‘I’m already being terribly unkind to Guy. There’s also what the Munroes might think – if I’m staying with them—’
‘We can fix that. I’ll work it out. And Guy’ll get over it. He’s too young for you now, Suzie. Like a big puppy, isn’t he – frightfully nice, all that, but—’
‘I don’t want to hurt him. Really I don’t, Toby.’
‘Of course you don’t. Even I don’t, and I barely know him. But I’m not going to be here much longer, you know. I’ll come back and see you when I can, when I can get leave – try and stop me! But it won’t be all that often. God knows where I’ll be, even in a month’s time: and of course with this war everyone says is coming—’
‘Don’t talk about it!’
‘No. All right… But Suzie – please—’
‘I might ring Jean and ask her for the 28th, the anniversary. Just to see how the land lies. But meanwhile, not a word to anybody – not a whisper to me, even… And Toby, listen – after this one, I’m not going to dance with you again. Guy’s looking like a sick dog already.’
* * *
Diana in his arms. Yielding, loving, cheek to cheek. Her murmur close to his ear, ‘We’re making an exhibition of ourselves.’
‘We’re allowed to. We’re engaged.’
‘Do wish you could come out to the Cape with me.’
‘So do I. No such luck, though. Going to be a grim four months, this winter.’
‘Five months. I’m going in September now, remember.’ She’s caught her breath, they’re face to face and he’s disbelieving, thinks he hasn’t heard right or she’s got it wrong. He hears her now: ‘Rufus! My God, I didn’t tell you!’
They’ve stopped dancing: even as much dancing as they were doing before the conversation took this turn. He’s still holding her: they’re holding each other, deaf to the music… Shaking his head: ‘October was the dreaded month. October through to February – all dreaded… Oh, damn it!’
‘The only thing is – does it make so much difference? We’d only have seen each other about once – if that, even… With you stuck up here and me working—’
‘I’d thought of asking for a week’s leave at about the end of September, beginning October – on the assumption you wouldn’t work right up to the moment of departure…’
‘I’m sorry—’
‘What date in September? Are you going by Imperial Airways again, or by the mailboat?’
‘Flying-boat. Imperial. Darling, I’m so sorry… 2nd September – a Thursday – from Southampton of course.’
‘And the anniversary party here’s on 28th August. It’ll be our farewell party, now. Oh, damn and blast it… Any special reason, going a month early?’
‘Yes. Daddy asking me to come as soon as possible, on account of Mum getting – well, not getting any better. I have to read between the lines a bit, with him… Might even have gone sooner, except for bookings I’ve accepted, people I absolutely must not let down. That must be how I forgot to tell you – so busy getting in touch with people and cancelling even later bookings and ones that aren’t important. Doesn’t excuse me, I know—’
‘I’m sorry about your mother.’
‘I’m sorry about – all of it. Leaving you – and not having told you – oh, if only you could come with me!’
‘Out of the question. Couldn’t get leave. Couldn’t afford it—’
‘I could handle that.’
‘No. You couldn’t.’ A glance round. ‘Anyway – we’re supposed to be dancing.’
‘I’ve spoilt the whole evening, haven’t I?’
‘No. You’re here now. This makes the evening.’ Pointing with his chin: ‘That spoils it.’
Suzie, clasped by Toby Dymock…
‘Guy’s been wildly looking forward to getting back here. Getting back to her. And it’s my fault, I brought Dymock up here – never dreaming—’
The record’s finished, scratching round, and Suzie and Dymock are separating, Dymock looking fed up as she walks away from him. Diana murmurs, ‘Little tiff? Keep your fingers crossed…’ Raising her voice as a new record starts: ‘Should have done more than dreamt, my pet.’ She’s back in his arms and Crosby’s crooning ‘little charms about you…’ ‘You might have seen it was a dead cert from the start. I’d have told you… Your brother’s a love, but he’s – well, young. She is too, of course, but she’s what you might call emerging… Highly susceptible, meanwhile. She’s sweet, too: I can understand exactly how she feels.’
‘Meaning you find Toby attractive?’
‘No. Actually, I don’t, at all. I mean in her little slippers, at her age—’
‘He’s still behaving like a cad.’
‘Don’t you mean like a man?’
‘No. In fact – at the risk of sounding pompous—’
‘Oh, please don’t.’ Her arms slide up around his neck. ‘Don’t want you pompous!’
—my sweet embraceable…
‘I want you, Diana. Any way I can have you. But I’m not an older man stealing you from some kid.’
* * *
Last snap: Guy, dancing with Suzie.
‘There’s a film I want to see. Would you come? It’s on in Glasgow next week, Midge says. Lost Horizon. Stars Ronald Colman and—’
‘I’ve read stuff about it. How would we get down to Glasgow and back again?’
‘Might get a lift. There’d be someone—’
‘Now you remind me – I may be going down in any case. Not to Glasgow exactly – to the Munroes, in Milngavie. Jean Munroe’s asked me down for a night or two – and I haven’t seen her for ages.’
‘Never heard of her.’
‘Well, we were at school together. Anyway it’s not definite yet – she’s got to ring me or I’m ringing her, I forget which. All the same I would like to see that film. You’d think it’d be on for longer than a week – in a town like Glasgow?’
‘Midge has seen it – in London, saw it on the opening night or soon after. She says she’d see it again if she got the chance. So it must be good. Look, if I could get myself down there when you’re with these Munroe people—’
‘I don’t even know if I’ll be going. Or what their programme will be if I do. Guy, that was my foot!’
‘Sorry…’
‘Just lamed for life, that’s all… Tell me, was the flight up here frightfully exciting?’
‘Well – yes. Yes, it was…’
‘Diana’s promised to take me up for a flip tomorrow, before she leaves. She was telling me over supper about her ’plane – the Fox Moth. Did you know it’s the first British aeroplane ever to pay its way commercially? Something to do with the load it can carry, and the petrol consumption, all that. And it won the King’s Cup, five years ago. Not this one, I mean a Fox Moth did. Oh, and the Prince of Wales had one. Duke of Windsor as he is now… But guess what – Diana says if I’m still keen after I’ve been up with her, I ought to think about learning to fly myself! She’d put me in touch with a flying club where they’d give lessons. She learnt in South Africa, but there are clubs all over the country and she’ll find out about Glasgow – there must be one… What are you laughing at?’
‘You. Wondering how’ll you fit this in with climbing Everest and winning the National.’ He chuckled again as he kissed her cheek: stooping almost double to get there. ‘Not to mention
a few other – enthusiasms. I’m barmy about you, Suzie.’
‘I’m very fond of you, too.’
‘Fond…’
‘You’re like a brother to me. I was thinking about it, and that’s exactly how you are to me.’
‘Not in the least how you are to me.’
‘Guy!’
Midge Campbell, dancing with Rufus: reaching to poke Guy in the ribs. ‘What are you looking so glum about?’
* * *
End of hoolie, end of ‘snapshots’ – more or less…
The guests had all gone by three. Breakfast, Lady C-G told the house-party, would be ‘any old time’. Suzie had squawked, ‘But Diana’s leaving before lunch and before that she’s taking me up! And the Fox Moth’s got to be pushed out – and fuelled!’
‘Suzie.’ Her mother put an arm round her shoulders. ‘Any old time means whenever anyone wants it.’ She pointed towards the dining-room. ‘In there – by cock-crow. MacKenzie will certainly be up, William will be mucking-out; if you need more volunteers than that you’ll just have to wake some up.’
Rufus Chalk decided, washing and cleaning his teeth then returning down the fifty-odd yards of corridor to the room they’d given him this time, that he’d be up early too. He’d never had any difficulty in waking when he had to; it was probably the result of years of watchkeeping at sea, getting up to the bridge not just on time but five minutes ahead of it.
He pushed the bedroom door shut, hung his gown on the hook, went over to the bed.
Hard as boards. And when he put more weight on it, it squeaked. But – one had slept on worse… He switched on the bedside light, went back to the door and turned off the overhead one. No lock on the door, he noticed. Crossing to the window, to let some air in: the whole house was stuffy, just as in winter he guessed it would be freezing. Trivial thoughts – he was aware of this – aimed at holding off the sadness he’d been feeling ever since she’d told him she’d be leaving in September, not October.
What with that and the Guy–Suzie situation…
Diana was right, of course, that he probably wouldn’t have seen her more than once in that month. But once would have been a lot better than not at all. And she’d be gone, that was the real sadness, if a week’s leave came up he’d have no use for it… The window had stuck; he had to hammer at the frame with the heel of his hand before it would budge at all. Then as it yielded he was conscious of the noise he’d made and that some people might already be asleep. They could be – or could have been: he’d had to wait some while to get into the bathroom, and those who’d been ahead of him in the queue might well be in dreamland by this time.
Behind him – having forced the window open, inhaling cool night air and admiring the stars and a half-moon – he heard his own door being pushed shut. Hurriedly extracting head and shoulders from the musty-smelling curtains… ‘Diana!’
‘Hush.’ She’d tossed a towel and a macintosh bag of washing things towards an armchair, and missed – through looking at him, not the target… She was in his arms, whispering with her mouth close to his, ‘Lightning decision.’ Slightly breathless… ‘Floors creak, doors stick then burst open. Waiting for snores – fatal, wake everyone… So I thought now or never – vanish en route bathroom – also known as disappearance from human ken – uh?’
‘You’re brilliant – as well as—’
‘Then at cock-crow – back from bathroom…’
‘Wring the cocks’ necks so they can’t crow. Diana, I love you—’
‘Love you. Hasn’t been easy – holding you off.’
‘Been bloody torture.’
‘Well. Well…’
Her dressing-gown, which he’d pushed back over her shoulders, slid down into a heap on the board floor. ‘Diana…’ Diana naked, in the circle of his arms. Magic circle: break it, she might turn out to be unreal, a figment of his prurient imagination, long frustration, the dread of losing her for that eternity of five months. His pyjama top had been open; he shrugged it off, and she yanked at his trouser cord. ‘Oh, my…’
‘Diana—’ mouths separated for a second – ‘Diana, darling—’
‘No key in the door.’
‘Put the light out?’
‘No—’
‘All right, but – no, hell, why should they… Diana, you’re so gorgeous—’
‘I’m awful!’
‘– so lovely I can’t believe—’
‘Look – moonlight out there. Open the curtains – lamp out then?’
* * *
Mid-morning, Sunday: most of the people who’d seen Diana arrive had straggled down to the paddock to see her leave. Not Lady C-G, who hadn’t risen yet, but Sir Innes was there, telling Chalk that the Japanese had taken Peking the day before.
Diana had made a short flight with Suzie. Suzie disembarking bright-eyed and thrilled, telling Guy, ‘I’m going to do it – learn to fly – I am, I mean it!’
Dymock had not been with them at that stage, but he’d arrived soon after. When he’d appeared, coming from the direction of the stable-yard, Suzie had gone to meet him – with old Bertie lumbering at her heels – and from a distance of about a hundred yards Rufus had heard her calling to him, ‘I’ve been up – and you weren’t here to see! Toby, I’m going to have flying lessons, Diana’s promised…’
She’d reverted to a normal speaking tone, then, Rufus only heard about one word in five, but apparently Diana had promised to find out what flying clubs were in reach of here, and which instructors were or weren’t up to scratch, in terms of experience and reputation. She’d said she’d try to have this information by the 28th.
Guy was on his own now: Dymock was with Suzie beside the Moth. Rufus drew Diana aside. ‘I thought I loved you before. But now – oh, crikey…’
‘Me too. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so reluctant to take off. I love it up there, you know, always have, it’s where life begins. Or did.’
‘Guess when my life began?’
‘I don’t have to. I was there.’
‘I’ll say…’
‘Twenty-eighth isn’t so far away, Rufus. Four weeks?’
‘It’s the thought of the twenty-ninth appalls me.’
‘So don’t think about it!’
‘The day life stops, until – what, end of February?’
‘Afraid so.’
‘February twenty-eighth, then. And between those dates – vacuum… You’ll have your mother to look after, of course.’
‘And you’d better look after Guy.’
‘Yes.’ He saw that little brother had been joined by Patricia, who had her arm round his waist. Guy looking down at her, smiling as he talked, and Patricia beginning to laugh – slow beginning, as if she was trying to suppress it – at whatever he was telling her. With her head back to look up at him she really was very pretty. Rufus told his girl, ‘Yes, I will. Damn shame Pat isn’t a few years younger.’
‘Then she’d be like Suzie. Where’d that get anyone? No, he should be a few years older.’
‘H’m…’ Looking over at Suzie, now – who still had Dymock with her. ‘Except that when Toby shoves off – which I’d bet will be the end of it as far as he’s concerned—’
‘Won’t help, I’m afraid. Guy won’t feel about Suzie as he did before, and vice versa. Rufus, darling – I’m going now.’
‘Be careful, please. No chances – no flying in bad weather—’
‘No nothing. Only you. Twenty-eighth.’
Guy came over to join him, while she was taking off. The Fox Moth lifting, then climbing to clear the treetops: from this angle of sight it seemed for a few moments she mightn’t make it. He murmured, ‘Phew…’
‘Some girl, that.’ Guy looked over to where Suzie was still waving, with Dymock still in close attendance. ‘You’re a lucky man, Rufus.’
‘I know I am. Damn lucky. But listen, now. I don’t know what’s gone wrong with Suzie—’
‘Don’t you?’
‘I mean – I suppose
– that I don’t know what she sees in Dymock. But Guy – it’s not the end of the world. Even if it feels like it at the moment. Other fish in the sea – as they say… It’s true, though – this sort of thing’s par for the course – happens to us all, probably won’t be the last time you’ll go through it.’
‘Plenty to look forward to, then, haven’t I?’ He didn’t smile. ‘Rufus – changing the subject – are you going back this afternoon?’
‘I thought I’d leave after lunch. Why?’
‘Cadge a lift down with you, can I?’
‘Of course. But—’
‘Could I spend tonight at your digs – on a sofa, or the floor?’
‘There’s an unused bed in my room. What are you up to?’
‘Third request – run me into Glasgow some time on Monday, for the London train?’
‘Going to Betty’s, are you?’
‘No. Don’t break out in a rash now. I’m going to Spain. Paris first – where the Republicans have their recruiting office.’ He put a hand on his brother’s arm. ‘No big deal, Rufe. Lots of us out there already. I’d planned it before, actually – shouldn’t have changed my mind, that’s all.’
Chapter 8
Chalk told me, on his terrace in County Cork, that he’d tried to talk his brother out of it. ‘On the drive down to Dunbarton that afternoon, then half the night in my digs over a bottle of Scotch I happened to have in store against emergencies. But I took the wrong tack: although even if I’d done it right it’d probably have been futile. In retrospect I can see that: if he’d been thinking of it earlier on, then been treated as he had – well, at his age, and the way he felt about her, and with no other firm plans laid anyway…’
He hadn’t finished his beer, although I’d polished mine off some time ago. I’d decided that if or when he proposed refills I’d offer to fetch them, to save him the legwork. Not that he showed any signs of decrepitude. He had nine acres here – mostly woodland which he’d planted himself, he’d told me, and looked after without any outside assistance – and he was out with his pack of setters for an hour or so in the early mornings and every evening. (No connection between red setters and his name or formerly red hair, he’d told me. It only happened to be a breed he’d always liked.)
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