by Anne Morice
‘Oh, really? I’m relieved to hear that because I value your opinion. All the same, you don’t know Magnus quite as I do. He’s quite capable of putting on an act for your benefit. Partly out of vanity, I have to admit, but mainly because he does so want you to enjoy the weekend. Also, to be perfectly frank with you, he gets so bored when he’s left on his own. So, if you’re quite sure you’ll be all right with Julie and Kit, I’ll just nip back and keep an eye on him.’
It was difficult to see why she had come at all, unless it were purely for the pleasure of witnessing Babs’ disappointment. It was hard to believe her capable of such pettiness, and yet her departure was not conducted quite so unobtrusively as I had been led to expect.
‘Goodbye all,’ she announced gaily, having walked as far as the sitting room with me. ‘Now that I’ve delivered my cargo I’m afraid I must dash. There’s still loads to do before tomorrow. I’ll take the Jag, if that’s all right with you Julie? And mind you don’t overtire yourself. If I were you, I’d put my feet up and let Tessa and Kit go round on their own. Thanks a lot, Babs. Come as early as you can tomorrow and don’t forget to cross my palm with silver.’
‘What did she mean by that?’ I asked Julie, as we followed Martin into one of the outbuildings, where Henry was sitting cross legged on the floor behind a potter’s wheel. She had not taken Sarah’s advice literally, but at least she was clinging to Kit’s arm for support, which may have been intended as a compromise. ‘Can Sarah tell fortunes, among all her other talents?’
‘She’s going to tomorrow. Madame Rosetta, the gypsy palmist. She’ll be one of the star attractions.’
‘Just for a lark, or is it genuine?’
‘Curiously enough, she has been known to have second sight once or twice. It started when we were children. We used to do a mind reading stunt to amuse the grown ups. It was all a trick, you know, but Magnus loved it and he encouraged us. In the end we became quite professional and Sarah occasionally pulled off something we hadn’t rehearsed at all. It’s odd,’ she added thoughtfully, ‘how a false reputation for being good at something can often end by making you genuinely good at it.’
‘Sometimes,’ I agreed, thinking it was a pity that this had not yet happened to Kit.
‘Do you want to have a try to DO this?’ Henry asked, looking up at me with his lazy, melancholy expression.
‘No thanks, I’d much rather watch you.’
‘Oh, go on, Tessa, have a shot! It’s great fun,’ Julie urged me, and I obediently squatted down beside Henry. He took a lump of clay, rolled it between his immaculate hands and then placed it on the wheel, explaining the principles to me as he went along. It must have been more fun to do than to watch, however, for no sooner had I got the thing spinning away, with predictably chaotic results, than Julie tugged at Kit’s arm and led him away to inspect the new electric kiln.
‘There is nothing to see there,’ Henry remarked, watching them go. ‘Today is GOOD Friday, a holy day, so no one is working except me,’ he added with a burst of laughter.
‘Perhaps you’re not a Christian?’
‘Oh yes,’ he replied, ‘Sometimes I am.’
‘Not today, though?’
‘MRS Graham asked me to be here. To put ON a show for the visitors.’
There was no way of telling whether these strange emphases reflected or distorted his meaning but he was so unlike anyone I had ever met that curiosity made me persevere.
‘Do you mean to have a pottery of your own when you go home?’
‘Yes. Or MAYBE I shall go into politics, as my father WOULD like.’
‘Is he a politician?’
‘He is a Paramount Chief.’
‘That sounds all right.”
‘Yes, it is ALL right,’ Henry agreed, practically falling apart with laughter, although, to be fair, his amusement this time may have been aroused by the object on the wheel, which now looked like a cross between the Tower of Pisa and a pregnant woman.
‘Odd chap, Henry,’ Martin said, when he had finished explaining to me how the kiln worked and also presented me with an ashtray as a souvenir. It was rather attractive, in a muted way, and weighed about half a ton.
‘Most unusual, I would have said.’
‘Oh, would you? I hope he wasn’t spinning a lot of yarns?’ Martin asked, staring at me with a burning intensity. ‘He’s rather apt to romanticise and you shouldn’t take him too seriously. He doesn’t set out deliberately to mislead, you understand. It’s simply that where he comes from it’s considered good manners to tell people what you believe they wish to hear.’
‘Well, he believed I wished to hear that he was the son of a Paramount Chief, whatever that may be. Isn’t it true?’
Martin gave one of his impatient snorts, which sounded as though someone had pulled a cork out of his larynx.
‘Could be, but highly improbable, I should say. The fact is, Henry knows no more about it than the rest of us.’
‘Why’s that?’
‘He’s an orphan. Adopted and brought up by missionaries. They cottoned on that he was a bright lad and they got him into one of the best schools in the country. He did pretty well there too. Lots of bits of paper to show he’s passed this and that.’
I squinted down at the ashtray, which required both hands to hold, saying:
‘This isn’t meant to be rude because I feel sure it takes an awful lot of brains and skill to be a potter, but I wouldn’t have thought it was a particularly intellectual pursuit. I wonder why he chose it?’
‘Because he’s an opportunist, old Henry, that’s why,’ Martin said with another of his alarming snorts. ‘He was training to be a doctor, but some philanthropic enterprise was handing out fellowships in pottery, and he saw it as a chance for a free trip to Europe. They pay all his expenses and tuition for a year.’
‘And do you have to accept anyone they choose to land on you?’
‘Good heavens, no. They’re all very thoroughly vetted. This outfit who provide the wherewithal has some tie-up with the Benson-Jones empire. Magnus takes a personal interest in all the candidates. Quite a lot of our students come to us in that way. Walter is another of them, and he’s really dedicated. Funny business, really; Henry’s got twice the talent and yet it would have been all the same to him if they’d been offering fellowships in fish farming, I daresay.’
‘Except that in this job he can at least wear his white coat. I expect that makes him feel like a doctor.’
Martin glanced at me sharply. ‘You could be right, at that. He’s a fanciful chap. Enterprising too. Hadn’t been here above a week when he asked for a couple of days off to go to London. I guessed he was a bit short of cash, so I asked him how he meant to get there and he said he’d walk. Did too. Set off hours before daylight on Monday morning, and strolled in on Tuesday night as fresh as a daisy. Over a hundred miles there and back, you know. I daresay he cadged a few lifts on the way but you have to hand it to him. Another thing . . .’
I never discovered what the other thing was because at that point there was a lot of bangle jangling as Babs came swooping down on us with the news that Julie and Kit were ready to leave. She walked out to the car with me and asked how long I was staying.
‘Only till tomorrow evening, when my chore will be done. Besides, my husband is coming back from Paris tomorrow and I can’t wait to see him.’
‘I’m so glad to hear you say that,’ she said in a soupy voice.
I found it an inappropriate comment too, but there was more to come.
‘What I mean is, Tessa, it’s a relief to find you’re such a devoted pair. I’m thinking of Sarah, naturally.’
‘What’s she got to do with it?’
‘Just that she happens to be very deeply in love with Kit and, from the way he talks about you, Martin and I were so afraid there might be something in the wind.’
‘Lord no. We’re not even particularly good friends. It’s simply that when you work with someone every day for weeks on end they tend to crop up rathe
r frequently in your conversation. I do it myself, but it doesn’t mean a thing and Robin knows that. Once this picture is in the can, Kit and I will go our separate ways again.’
‘Thank you, you’ve really put my mind at rest.’
‘You’re very concerned about Sarah?’
‘Well naturally, my dear. They’re the only family in these parts that one finds much in common with. Also I admire her tremendously. She has so much integrity, you know, and she wouldn’t be the kind to fall in love with just anyone. We’d hate it to go wrong now that she’s at last found someone she can be happy with.’
‘Yes, I expect you would.’
‘She’s led such an unnatural life ever since her mother died. We feel it’s high time she broke out of her father’s orbit.’
Irritated by this blatant insincerity, I said: ‘It doesn’t follow that she will. Whoever Sarah marries, she’ll always put her father first. We’ve seen an example of that this morning. However, I agree with you that it would be a pity if she broke it off with Kit because he is probably one of the very few who would tolerate the situation. In fact, it’s probably his principal asset, so far as Sarah is concerned.’
I have never quite understood what made me lay it on the line quite so squarely for her. Perhaps it was her sanctimonious hypocrisy which provoked me into speaking so plainly, but whatever the reason I had good cause to remember my words later.
2
On the return journey Kit was at the wheel, with Julie squashed in between him and myself which, for reasons quite distinct from those which had dictated it, turned out to be a fortunate arrangement. She was so practised in the art of shrinking into a small, unobtrusive ball that when the emergency came Kit had at least ample room to manoeuvre, which probably contributed to the saving of life and limb although he did show commendable coolness as well.
It happened as we approached the gates of Eglinton Hall. We heard the roar of a motor cycle coming down the drive and a few seconds later the driver flashed into view, making a wide, racing sweep to the right, in order to turn left, at the precise moment when Kit was beginning his own turn in. Instead of switching course, he continued turning and turning until he had made a complete circle. The motor cycle wavered, righted itself again and shot past our stern as we landed up, petrified but unharmed, facing the way we had come.
We sat there in numbed silence, while the roar of the motor bike gradually faded to a distant crackle, Kit’s head thrown back, as though silently addressing a word of thanks to the Almighty, and Julie’s bowed over her lap.
‘He could have killed himself,’ I said at last. ‘And us too. Who was it? Do you know, Julie?’
‘It was Walter—I think.’
‘Does he always drive like that?’
‘No, that is, I don’t think so . . .’
‘Will you report him?’
She raised her head at this. ‘Well, no. I mean, there’s no need, is there? No one’s hurt.’
‘But he was driving like a lunatic,’ I complained, nervous reaction making me irritable. ‘We could all have been killed, if Kit hadn’t kept his head.’
‘I’m beginning to regret it now,’ Kit said, switching on the ignition again. ‘He’s the one who would have copped it if there had been a collision, and nothing would please me more. He’s a menace, that Walter.’
‘Isn’t that what I keep telling you?’
‘But I’m sure he didn’t mean any harm, Tessa,’ Julie said imploringly. ‘He was probably a bit upset . . . just wasn’t thinking.’
‘And he just wasn’t thinking during that little punch up last night,’ Kit remarked sourly. ‘Or so he would have us believe.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘Only that however loudly he says he mistook me for one of the yobs, he knew damn well who I was. He must have. I was lying on my back, having practically passed out, if you want to know. I heard a rustling noise, so I dragged my eyes open, and there he was, standing quite close and looking down at me. Then he hauled me up, just for the thrill of knocking me down again. He’s really disturbed, I’d say.’
‘I call it worse than that. Could anyone really be so pointlessly savage?’
‘I don’t know,’ Julie said unhappily. ‘If Kit says so . . . You see, poor Walter’s rather an emotional sort of person . . . a bit unbalanced in some ways. I mean, you saw him just now.’
‘Yes, but presumably that wasn’t deliberate. It doesn’t explain why he should set on Kit.’
‘Oh, didn’t you know, Tessa? I’m the dreaded rival. I expect he’d have killed me, if he’d dared.’
‘Rival for what?’
‘The hand of Miss Sarah Benson-Jones, of course. What else?’
‘You’re joking!’
‘You tell her, Julie.’
‘Well, it’s too ridiculous, you know, Tessa, but there is a grain of truth in it. Walter’s got the most terrific crush on Sarah.’
‘Really? He concealed it pretty well last night.’
‘Maybe so, but I think it was mainly to impress her that he went tearing off in pursuit of the attacker. He was always hanging around at one time, until she got bored with it and told him to push off, and I suppose it’s better for his ego to pretend that everything would have been different if it weren’t for Kit.’
‘She’s probably had to sort him out again this morning,’ Kit remarked. ‘Hence the performance just now.’
‘So, you see, it’s best not to stir up any more trouble than we can help,’ Julie pleaded. ‘You never know what the press might ferret out if Walter were to be prosecuted. It’s not the kind of publicity to benefit any of us, least of all Kit.’
‘Whereas, by keeping quiet, someone else may get hurt during one of his tantrums. However, I suppose that doesn’t bother you?’
‘Tessa’s a real little tiger for law and order, isn’t she Julie? That’s what comes of marrying into the fuzz, so be warned. Don’t go falling for any blue eyed policemen.’ Julie giggled delightedly, which infuriated me still further, and I said sharply:
‘No danger of that. The way things are going, she won’t be lucky enough to meet any. I suppose one of you may call them in when Walter actually kills someone, but I wouldn’t care to bet on it.’
‘Oh goodness me, how you exaggerate, Tessa,’ Julie said with more giggles. ‘I’m sure it’s not as desperate as that. Walter will get over it soon and find someone suitable to fall in love with. It’s just that he’s rather impetuous and he’s going through a difficult time.’
I was growing crosser by the minute and Kit’s snide remark about Robin still rankled. We had arrived at the house by then but before getting out of the car I said, with as much contempt as I could fling into it:
‘I expect you’re right. We all know what fools unrequited love can make of people.’
3
On the lawn outside the window which had been the centre of the previous night’s fraças a red and white striped tent had been erected, and Sarah was standing beside it, talking to two men in dungarees. She left them when she saw the car and walked over to us, all the cares of the world on her shoulders by the look of it.
‘It seems we’ll have to wait ages to get the window mended. Isn’t it sickening? They’re not standard panes and they’ll have to be cut specially. Apparently, there isn’t a soul in the village who can do it, and we haven’t a hope of getting an outside firm during the holiday. George and Alf suggested boarding it up in the meantime, but won’t that make the room look so ghastly from inside? What do you honestly think, Tessa?’
As usual, she seemed to hang on my answer, and endeavouring to oblige I said:
‘I’d leave it as it is. I imagine we’ll be mostly out of doors anyway.’
‘Yes, that’s true, and it would look much more noticeable boarded up, don’t you agree, Julie? Would you be an angel and ask them to remove the broken glass and leave the rest as it is? Come along, Tessa, I want to show you Madame Rosetta’s headquarters. Don’t you think it�
��s rather fetching?’ she asked, taking my arm and leading me towards the tent.
‘What mystifies me,’ I remarked, ‘is how you find as many willing hands as you do on Good Friday. The director of our picture would love to know your secret.’
‘Oh, but these are not our own people,’ she told me in shocked tones. ‘Good heavens no; we shouldn’t dream of asking them to work over the holiday. They’re all from local building firms and so on. Quite pleased to weigh in on an occasion like this and earn a little extra.’
The ethics of this arrangement eluded me, unless of course it implied that the Eglinton Hall staff were all out earning overtime with the local building firms, and I switched my attention to an inspection of Madame Rosetta’s tent.
There was a large signboard propped up outside it, depicting an open palm criss-crossed with thick black lines, and it had two flaps to provide an entrance and an exit, both of which were now pulled back. Inside there was a table covered by a dark green woollen cloth which hung down to the floor and on it was a crystal ball beside some unopened packs of cards.
There was really nothing to be said, either for or against it but Sarah, as usual, was frowning at me and begging for constructive comments, so in desperation I said: ‘Perhaps the cards are too new? They might look more authentic if they were a bit thumbed and greasy.’
‘How right you are,’ she replied, ‘and how lucky you noticed it! Now, where on earth . . . ?’
The problem of finding a used pack of cards had obviously cast her into fresh turmoils of indecision and to calm her down I asked her how much she proposed to charge her customers.
‘Twenty five? Or do you think that’s too much?’
‘I’ll be able to tell you when you’ve read my palm.’
‘Half price for children, you know. Now, I wonder if the Grahams would have some old packs of cards they could lend me? I think I’ll get Julie to ring up and ask.’
‘If not, I expect Walter would be prepared to fly round the countryside and hold people up to ransom for them.’
‘Why Walter?’