Everyone else seemed to be eating or drinking or being served, but presently Edward became aware of a voice, beyond the red-faced man on his left who was drinking stout with great gusty breaths, which had been chanting in unison with his own whenever the waitress came near.
“Two sausage rolls and a large ale,” the voice kept saying in patient and strangely familiar tones. Edward leaned across the red-faced man and there, in a badly-fitting grey tweed suit tapping hopefully on the counter with a two-shilling piece, was Allan Colley.
“Not so easy to get a drink, is it, Mr. Colley?” said Edward, blushing. Allan Colley’s square forehead was puzzled for a moment and then cleared.
“Why, hullo!” he said. “It’s—er, Mr.—er, you’re the Secretary of that Collis Park affair, aren’t you?”
“That’s right,” nodded Edward, thrilled that he remembered.
“How are you?” said Allan Colley. “Bit of a—two sausage rolls and a large ale! Darmi, she’s gone again. Here, this is hopeless. How about slipping out and finding a pub somewhere?” The red-faced man expanded himself and filled their places thankfully as they left the counter. They were parted for a while by the crowd but met again in the doorway.
“Thank Heaven for at the other end of the table. startlyh some air,” said Allan Colley, mopping his brow. “Let’s, go down to the High Street. We shan’t miss much if we’re quick about it.” They talked in spasms, parting and coming together again as they dodged through the sauntering crowds. “I don’t know how it is,” he said, “but waitresses always behave as if I were dumb and invisible. D’you find that?”
“Rather,” said Edward, who would never have admitted it off his own bat, appearing round a perambulator.
In the Queen Adelaide, Allan Colley said : “You grab that corner table, and I’ll cope at the bar,” but Edward almost pushed him into a chair and rushed to the bar. He wasn’t going to miss the chance of buying Allan Colley a drink.
He was so friendly, so unlike a famous man, so different, yet so very much nicer than Edward had ever imagined. They talked about rabbits over their lunch like any two fanciers. Edward had to keep reminding himself that he was really sitting chatting to Allan Colley and even being called : “My dead Ledward.”
“Got any of your famous Giants up here today?” asked Colley, jerking his head towards the Common.
“Yes. The doe you gave first prize to and a couple of youngsters of the same strain. They’re only novices, of course, but I’m hoping she may do some good, though there’s some pretty hot competition.”
“I remember the doe. It’ll have to be pretty hot to beat her if I’m any judge.”
“Are you judging today?”
He shook his head. “Busman’s holiday. I much prefer a little show though to an affair like this. The Pros. take all the interest out of it. I tell you what, you know Ledward, I meant to tell you the other day, but I didn’t get a chance, if I were you, I should have a table show for your Club next time. Have it just for the Club members ; don’t let outsiders in. It’s a much better way of encouraging and helping the amateurs, and after all, they’re the backbone of the Fancy these days.”
“But that’s exactly my own idea,” said Edward, leaning forward, his eyes shining, “That’s how I wanted that show of ours to be, but—well, other people thought differently.” Allan Colley might despise him for a sneak if he mentioned names.
“By the way, Ledward,” he said. “I read the report you turned in about it. I thought——”
“Oh it was only a scratch thing, I know,” said Edward quickly.
“No, I thought it was jolly well done. You gave it quite a human kink, refreshingly different after the same old formula most people grind out.”
“Did you really think so? I say, have a beer? We’ve got time.”
“No, on me.” He got up, but Edward again beat him to the bar.
“I’ve been thinking—here’s who!” continued Allan Colley, “you’ve got a style that might lend itself to an article or so. Ever tried your hand at writing?”
“Well——” Edward thought of the drawer full of much-travelled short stories. “One or two things you know—stories and such. Only potty little things of course.” He saw no reason to mention that they had never appeared in print.
“Thought you weren’t quite new to the game. Look here, they have to find somewhere elseI s.’re crying out for original little articles in Backyard Breeding. Not necessarily very technical stuff, you know—they’ve got the old timers like me to do that—but chatty, helpful stuff—as one amateur to another. You know the kind of thing. Why don’t you have a shot at it? I’ll have a word with the editor. They don’t pay much I’m afraid——”
“Good Lord,” said Edward breathlessly. “I don’t care about that, but what could I write about?”
“Oh—amateur breeding—your difficulties and what you’ve done about them—things that’ll interest the little breeder. I tell you one for a start : How to Start a Domestic Rabbit Club. Write it from your own experience ; how you went about it, what cropped up, how the Club grew, what the Government do for you—you could make it a bit humorous as well as helpful. Try it anyway and send it along. About a thousand words.”
“But I don’t know whether I could,” said Edward, unnerved by the speed with which the suggestion had been made and apparently settled, but his demurring mutters were lost on Mr. Colley who had pulled out a watch on the end of a chain and was standing up and reaching for his hat.
“Ought to be getting back,” he said, “or we’ll miss your class. I want to see if my friend Armitage thinks as highly of your doe as I do.”
Mr. Colley—‘s friend Armitage, who was a jolly-looking man with hair that grew forward in a fringe like a boy’s, thought very highly of Freda. He placed her second only to the famous Montserrat Playboy, who had won at so many shows that entering him now was a mere formality. Armitage told Colley afterwards, and Colley told Edward that Freda might even have been placed first if she were not slightly past her prime.
Mr. Armitage, who had a reputation as a humorist, cracked jokes all the time he was judging and made the atmosphere round his end of the bench very gay and informal. Most of the spectators crowded round him, and the judge at the other end of the bench, who went about his work in tight-lipped earnest kept looking along disapprovingly. He would have liked to give little lectures, but there was hardly anyone at his end to give them to.
What pleased Allan Colley, and therefore Edward, even more than Freda’s expected success was that Mr. Armitage, with many a quip about next Sunday’s dinner, placed Edward’s two young rabbits second and third respectively in a class judged by meat standards.
“As a point of interest, sir,” asked a man in a bowler hat as the bench was being cleared for the next class, “why did you give that Second and Third? They weren’t any bigger than any of the others.”
“I believe you.” said Mr. Armitage. “But the point is, they were younger. By the time they’re the same age, they’ll be bigger? Get it?” The man in the bowler hat nodded and went away to brood over his unplaced exhibit.
“Well what about this rabbit?” A sharp-faced, thrusting woman held out a rabbit which had been one of the first turned off the bench. “He’s bigger than any of the others. Perhaps you’d tell me what’s wrong with him?”
“What’s wrong with him? Well, look at him, madam. Gross. Like a pig, madam. Fat and muscle aren’t the same thing, as any butcher will tell you.” He handed her back the rabbit, wrinkling his nose. “Gross,” he repeated. The woman bore her rabbit away in a . As a matter of fact, I. bhuff and Mr. Armitage smiled round on his appreciative audience.
“Any more questions? Blimey, this is quite a Brains Trust.”
When Edward got home, with a basket in each hand and his blue and green cards peeping out of his breast pocket, he found E. Dexter Bell at the house. Mrs. Munroe was there too, and they were all having tea with hot anchovy toast.
“Look
at the lovely flowers Mr. Bell brought for Dorothy, Ted,” said Connie, putting into her voice a reminder that Edward had never thought of bringing flowers all the time Dorothy was in bed.
“And a rattle for baby,” said Dorothy, holding up a garish affair of chromium bells and coloured ribbons.
“Very kind I’m sure,” said Mrs. Munroe.
Mr. Bell basked, leaning well back in his chair. He seemed very much at home.
“How’s yourself, Edward, my boy?” he asked. “Been to a show, I hear. Wish I could have gone with you, but we can’t all take Saturday afternoons off.”
“It’s my monthly half day,” said Edward, sitting down to the cooling cup of tea Connie had poured for him. “Dammit, we work fifty-eight hours a week, I should think we’re entitled to that.”
“Oh, of course, of course, I wasn’t suggesting——” said Mr. Bell, passing off Edward’s slight huffiness with an indulgent laugh. “Do any good at the Show?”
“I did rather, as a matter of a fact,” said Edward carelessly. “Got a second with my doe Freda in a very hot class, and two of my young ones were well placed in a flesh class.” Mrs. Munroe shuddered slightly. “Chap from a big stud came up afterwards and made me a very good offer for one of them,” went on Edward, helping himself to toast. “He said he’d take any more of the same strain that were going ; seemed quite impressed with it.”
“Splendid, splendid,” said Mr. Bell. “That’s the way to go on. Well, you young rascal, what are you crowing about?” He turned aside to Donny, whose cot was drawn up between him and Dorothy.
“As a matter of fact,” said Edward, incensed by Mr. Bell’s failure to be impressed, “Allan Colley said that they were the best youngsters he’d seen for a long time.”
“Oh, was Colley judging? He told me he wasn’t booked for any more shows this month.”
“No, but he was there. We had lunch together. He talked quite a lot about the Club, by the way. You know what I always said about having a little show for members only——”
“Oh you and your old Club,” said Connie. “Can’t you talk about anything else? It’s awfully boring for us, and I’m sure Mr. Bell doesn’t want to be bothered with business just when he gets a little free time.”
“Look, even Baby’s yawning,” said Dorothy, and they all made cooing noises at the cot, but Edward was not going to be put off.
“As I was saying, Bell,” he continued, with a black look at Connie, “Allan Colley thinks we ought to have a little members’ show. I believe he’d come and judge for us if we asked him.”
“My dear chap,” Mr. Bell gave his short indulgent laugh again, “you can’t ask people like Colley to put themselves out for a potty bigger than any of the others. p along little affair. By all means have another show soon, I’d planned that we should in any case, but don’t let’s go back on what we’ve already achieved. Even if it’s not bigger, we’ll run it on the same lines as the other. I must say I thought it a great success.”
“You would,” said Edward sourly, “you won it.”
Connie said : “Really, Ted!” and Mrs. Munroe clicked her teeth E. Dexter Bell said : “Oh, don’t mind him. It’s just a slight case of our old friend the little green monster, eh, Donny? Eh, you young ragamuffin?”
“It isn’t at all,” said Edward. “It’s simply that the smaller members of the Club ought to have a——” But no one was listening. The women, bored with the rabbit talk had decided that it was the baby’s bedtime. They were getting up and beginning to clear the tea things. Connie had picked up the baby and Edward noticed with a shock how it became her to stand there holding him in his shawl, patting his back and nuzzling her cheek against his head. She posed for a moment or two, the picture of maternity, while Dorothy stacked the tray.
When the women had gone upstairs, Mr. Bell said that he must be going. “Coming round the corner to have one for the road with me?” he asked. He never seemed to notice when Edward was annoyed with him.
“No,” said Edward. “I’ve got some work to do. I’ve got an article to draft out for Backyard Breeding.”
“Commissioned one, have they?”
Edward did not see why he should deny it. After all, Allan Colley had promised to get it in ; that came to the same thing.
“Hullo!” said Mr. Bell. “We are coming on! I quite envy you. You know, I’ve always said I’d do a bit of writing myself if only I had the time. I’ve had a book in my head for years as a matter of fact. You know what they say—there’s at least one book in every man’s life story? I dare say I’ll get down to mine one of these days. Oh well, I must be toddling. Sure you won’t come out?”
“Oh by the way,” said Edward in the hall, “before I forget : this scheme of Club members going round visiting each others stock. It’s quite a success. A lot of them came here last week-end, and tomorrow we’re going to Mr. Marchmont. I thought we might come to you next week if it’s convenient.”
“Terribly sorry, old boy,” said Mr. Bell, putting on his black homburg, “but not next week.”
“Well when?”
“Oh I don’t know. Leave it a bit. I can’t say definitely.”
“I would like to give them a date. They’re awfully keen on coming to you ; they’ve heard so much about your stock.”
“Good heavens, Ledward,” said Mr. Bell quite crossly. “I’ve told you I can’t say definitely. Good Lord, you can’t expect me to throw open my place at a moment’s notice to a rabble of schoolboys and God-forsaken spinsters.”
“But I’ve told them we’re going to you soon. They’ll think it so funny. I mean, everyone else has been only too pleased——”
“Let ’em think what they like,” said Mr. Bell airily. “Look here, I can’t discuss it now ; I’ve got unbelievinglyan alongto fly. And I promised I’d go and see Donny in his bath. I don’t want to miss that. I’m a fool about kids, you know.”
He escaped upstairs and Edward stood in the hall looking after him, nodding his head sagely. A small suspicion that had been creeping into his mind for some time was being confirmed.
He thought about it all night and tackled Dick at the factory on the following Monday.
Dick was having his tea, sitting on an upturned box with a half-pint mug cradled in his hands and two Swiss buns in his lap.
His reactions were unsatisfactory. “I don’t know what’s the matter with you lately, Ted,” he said. “You seem to have got a regular down on Edgar. I must say, considering all he’s done for us, I think it’s damn paltry of you.”
“But don’t you see,” said Edward. “I’m beginning to think that he’s only helped the Club in order to help himself. Mind you, I’m not blaming him for that ; after all, he’s not a charitable institution, but it does seem a bit fishy to me that he’s been claiming lately for more and more breeding does. He’s been getting an awful lot of the bran ration.”
Dick took a long drink of tea and swilled the liquid round and round in his mug before answering. “Look here, Ted,” he said pompously, “I’m in charge of the rationing scheme. Are you suggesting that I’ve been making false returns? Because if you are——”
“Oh, don’t be a fool, Dick,” said Edward exasperated. “I’m not suggesting anything of the kind. I’m only asking, have you ever had any proof that his figures are correct, and what’s even more important, have we any proof that he’s sending half his young stock to the butcher? I mean, it’s different with the other members, because they sell their flesh through us, but as you know, Bell has always done it direct to his own man, and now I’m asking myself : Why?”
“Why?” repeated Dick obtusely, biting into a bun and looking at it while he munched.
“That’s what I’d like to know. I’ve been thinking about it for some time, and the other night, when he as good as refused to let us come and see his stock, I must say, it got me properly suspicious. Look here, how long is it since you went round his place and saw for yourself how many breeding does he’s got? I know it’s months s
ince I did, and then it was only in the dark. I honestly think one of us ought to go and check up. It could all be quite friendly, just an ordinary visit. The last thing I want is any unpleasantness, but if he’s doing what I suspect, well it’s—it’s Black Market, that’s all it is, Dick. You go. I think it’s your duty.”
“I don’t know about you, Ted,” said Dick slowly, “but I personally would be ashamed to go spying like that on a man who’s been such a good friend to us. As I said before, I don’t know what’s got into you. You never used to be one to take a personal spite.”
“Oh Dick, you’re hopeless,” raged Edward. He could have knocked him off his box, mug and buns and all. “You’re so honest yourself, you’re absolutely blind. This man’s got you just where he wants you. He’s probably laughing at you behind your back for a mug——”
Plink-a-plink-a-plonk! The charge-hand of the Assembly Shop played a carillon with a cross bolt on the stu reduction gear blyhds of a crankcase to indicate that the tea break was over. Dick put the last piece of bun into his mouth and stood up, brushing crumbs off his overall.
“We’ve always been good friends, Ted,” he said, “and I’m sure I hope we still may be, but I never thought I should hear you talk to me like that. Come on, Joe. Time’s up.” He lumbered off, with monstrous dignity, his little leprechaun mate hopping behind like a Familiar Spirit.
Cursing Dick’s stupidity, Edward went back to his own Shop and took it out of Reenie for an innocent question about a sticking lever and was told off in his turn by Dinah for having been away for so long with the magnifying glass.
Nobody’s temper was very good on the bench these days. They were short-handed and in a perpetual rush to set the engines through to schedule. Paddy was gone. When her husband came home, he had got her transferred to a factory near where he was stationed. Everyone had been surprised that Paddy, who had always behaved as if she were bored to tears with Canning Kyles had seemed quite upset at leaving. She would not even say good-bye to anyone, but on her last day had slipped away after lunch, leaving them stranded with the embroidered teacloth with which they had planned to surprise her at six o’clock.
The Fancy Page 26