The feeling did not last. But for a moment or two I had known a world in which I belonged. I suspected that it was the world in which Isabella always lived.
Chapter Seven
It must, I think, have been a day or two after that that a child fell into St Loo harbour. Some children had been playing in a group on the edge of the quay, and one of them, screaming and running away in the course of the game, tripped and fell headlong over the edge down twenty feet into the water below. It was half tide and there was about twelve feet of water in the harbour.
Major Gabriel, who happened to be walking along the quay at the time, did not hesitate. He plunged straight in after the child. About twenty-five people crowded to the edge. By the steps on the far side a fisherman pushed off a boat and began rowing towards them. But before he could get to them, another man had dived in to the rescue, having grasped the fact that Major Gabriel could not swim.
The incident ended happily. Gabriel and the child were rescued – the child unconscious but quickly brought round by artificial respiration. The child’s mother, in acute hysteria, more or less fell upon Gabriel’s neck, sobbing out thanks and blessings. Gabriel pooh-poohed it all, patted her on the shoulder and hurried off to the King’s Arms for dry clothes and alcoholic refreshment.
Later in the day, Carslake brought him along to tea.
‘Pluckiest thing I ever saw in my life,’ he said to Teresa. ‘Not a moment’s hesitation. Might easily have been drowned – remarkable that he wasn’t drowned.’
But Gabriel himself was properly modest and depreciatory.
‘Just a damn silly thing to do,’ he said. ‘Much more to the point if I’d dashed for help or got a boat out. Trouble is, one doesn’t stop to think.’
Teresa said, ‘One of these days you’ll do just one dashing thing too many.’
She said it rather drily. Gabriel shot her a quick look.
After she had gone out with the tea things and Carslake had excused himself on the plea of work, Gabriel said meditatively:
‘She’s sharp, isn’t she?’
‘Who is?’
‘Mrs Norreys. She knows what’s what. You can’t really put much over on her.’ He added that he’d have to be careful.
Then he inquired, ‘Did I sound all right?’
I asked him what on earth he meant.
‘My attitude. It was the right one, wasn’t it? I mean pooh-pooh the whole thing. Make out that I’d just been rather an ass?’
He smiled engagingly, and added:
‘You don’t mind my asking you, do you? It’s awfully hard for me to know if I’m getting my effects right.’
‘Do you have to calculate effects? Can’t you just be natural?’
He said meditatively that that would hardly do.
‘I can’t very well come in here and rub my hands with satisfaction and say, “What a godsend!” can I?’
‘Is that what you really think it was? A godsend?’
‘My dear fellow, I’ve been going around all keyed up looking for something in that line to turn up. You know, runaway horses, burning buildings, snatching a child from under the wheels of a car. Children are the best for sob stuff purposes. You’d think with all the fuss in the papers about death on the roads, that an opportunity would come soon enough. But it hasn’t – either bad luck, or else the children of St Loo are just damnably cautious little brutes.’
‘You didn’t give that child a shilling to throw itself into the harbour, did you?’ I inquired.
He took my remark quite seriously and replied that the whole thing had happened quite naturally.
‘Anyway, I wouldn’t risk doing a thing like that. The kid would probably tell its mother, and then where should I be?’
I burst out laughing.
‘But look here,’ I said. ‘Is it really true that you can’t swim?’
‘I can keep myself afloat for about three strokes.’
‘But then weren’t you taking a frightful risk? You might easily have been drowned.’
‘I might have been, I suppose … but look here, Norreys, you can’t have it both ways. You can’t go in for heroism unless you’re prepared to be more or less heroic. Anyway, there were lots of people about. None of them wanted to get wet, of course, but somebody would be bound to do something about it. They’d do it for the kid if they wouldn’t do it for me. And there were boats. The fellow who jumped in after me held up the kid and the man with the boat arrived before I finally went under. In any case artificial respiration usually brings you back even if you have more or less drowned.’
His own particular engaging grin spread across his face.
‘It’s all so damned silly, isn’t it?’ he said. ‘People, I mean, are such damned fools. I shall get far more kudos for going in after that kid when I couldn’t swim, than if I had dived in and saved her in the approved life-saving scientific way. Lots of people are going about now saying how damned plucky it was. If they’d any sense they’d say it was just plain damned stupid – which it was. The fellow who really did the trick – the fellow who went in after me and saved us both – he won’t get half as much kudos. He’s a first-class swimmer. He’s ruined a good suit, poor devil, and my being floundering there as well as the child just made things more difficult for him. But nobody will look at it that way – unless, perhaps, it’s people like your sister-in-law, but there aren’t many of them.
‘Just as well that there aren’t,’ he added. ‘The last thing you want in an election is a lot of people who think things out and really use their heads.’
‘Didn’t you feel a qualm or two before you jumped? An uneasy feeling in the pit of the stomach?’
‘I hadn’t time for that. I was just so blissfully exultant that the thing was being handed to me on a platter.’
‘I’m not sure that I see why you think this – this sort of spectacular business is necessary.’
His face changed. It became grim and determined.
‘Don’t you realize that I’ve only got the one asset? I’ve no looks to speak of. I’m not a first-class speaker. I’ve no background – no influence. I’ve no money. I was born with one talent –’ he laid a hand on my knee – ‘physical courage. Do you think, if I hadn’t been a VC, that I’d ever have been put up as Conservative candidate here?’
‘But, my dear fellow, isn’t a VC enough for you?’
‘You don’t understand psychology, Norreys. One silly stunt like this morning has far more effect than a VC gained in southern Italy. Italy’s a long way off. They didn’t see me win that VC – and unfortunately I can’t tell them about it. I could make them see it all right if I did tell them … I’d take them along with me and by the time I’d finished, they’d have won that VC too! But the conventions of this country don’t allow me to do that. No, I’ve got to look modest and mutter that it was nothing – any chap could have done it. Which is nonsense – very few chaps could have done what I did. Half a dozen in the regiment could have – not more. You want judgment, you know, and calculation and the coolness not to be flurried, and you’ve got in a way to enjoy what you’re doing.’
He was silent for a moment or two. Then he said, ‘I meant to get a VC when I joined up.’
‘My dear Gabriel!’
He turned his ugly intent little face towards me, with the shining eyes.
‘You’re right – you can’t say definitely you’ll get a thing like that. You’ve got to have luck. But I meant to try for it. I saw then that it was my big chance. Bravery’s about the last thing you need in everyday life – it’s hardly ever called for, and it’s long odds against its getting you anywhere if it does. But war’s different – war’s where bravery comes into its own. I’m not putting on any frills about it – it’s all a matter of nerves or glands or something. It just boils down to the fact that you just don’t happen to be afraid of dying. You can see what an enormous advantage that gives you over the other man in a war.
‘Of course I couldn’t be certain that my cha
nce would ever come … You can go on being quietly brave all through a war and come out of it without a single medal. Or you can be reckless at the wrong moment and get blown to bits with nobody thanking you for it.’
‘Most VCs are posthumous,’ I murmured.
‘Oh I know. I wonder I’m not one of them. When I think how those bullets went singing round my head, I simply can’t imagine why I’m here today. Four of them got me – and not one in a vulnerable spot. Odd, wasn’t it? I shall never forget the pain of dragging myself along with my broken leg. That, and the loss of blood from my shoulder … and then old Spider James to haul along – he never stopped cursing – and the weight of him –’
Gabriel meditated for a minute, then he sighed and said:
‘Oh well, happy days,’ and went and got himself a drink.
‘I owe you a debt of gratitude,’ I said, ‘for debunking the popular belief that all brave men are modest.’
‘It’s a damned shame,’ said Gabriel. ‘If you’re a city magnate and bring off a smart deal, you can boast about it and everyone thinks more of you. And you can admit you’ve painted a pretty good picture. As for golf, if you do a round under bogey, everyone hears the good news. But this war hero stuff –’ He shook his head. ‘You’ve got to get another fellow to blow the trumpet for you. Carslake’s not really any good at that kind of thing. He’s been bitten by the Tory bug of understatement. All they do is attack the other fellow instead of blowing their own trumpet.’ He meditated again. ‘I’ve asked my Brigadier to come down here and speak next week. He might put it about in a quiet kind of way what a really remarkable fellow I am – but of course I can’t ask him to. Awkward!’
‘What with that and today’s little incident, you ought not to do too badly,’ I said.
‘Don’t underestimate today’s incident,’ said Gabriel. ‘You’ll see. It will set everyone talking about my VC again. Bless that kid. I’ll go round and give her a doll or something tomorrow. That will be good publicity too.’
‘Just tell me,’ I said, ‘a matter of curiosity. If there had been nobody there to see what happened – nobody at all, would you still have gone in after her?’
‘What would have been the use if there had been nobody to see? We’d both have been drowned and nobody would have known about it until the tide washed us up somewhere.’
‘Then you would have walked home and let her drown?’
‘No, of course not. What do you take me for? I’m a humane man. I’d have sprinted like mad round to the steps, got a boat and rowed like fury to where she’d gone in. With any luck I’d have fished her out and she’d have come round all right. I’d have done what I thought gave her the best chance. I like kids.’ He added, ‘Do you think the Board of Trade will give me some extra coupons for those clothes I ruined? Don’t think I can ever wear that suit again. It’s shrunk to nothing. These Government departments are so mean.’
On this practical note he departed.
I speculated a good deal about John Gabriel. I could not decide whether I liked the man or not. His blatant opportunism rather disgusted me – his frankness was attractive. As to the accuracy of his judgment, I soon had ample confirmation of the correct way he had gauged public opinion.
Lady Tressilian was the first person to give me her views. She had brought me some books.
‘You know,’ she said breathlessly, ‘I always did feel there was something really nice about Major Gabriel. This proves it, don’t you think so?’
I said, ‘In what way?’
‘Not counting the cost. Just jumping straight into the water although he couldn’t swim.’
‘It wasn’t much good, was it? I mean, he could never have rescued the child without help.’
‘No, but he didn’t stop to think about that. What I admire is the brave impulse, the absence of all calculation.’
I could have told her that there was plenty of calculation.
She went on, her round pudding face flushing like a girl’s:
‘I do so admire a really brave man …’
One up to John Gabriel, I thought.
Mrs Carslake, a feline and gushing woman whom I did not like, was positively maudlin.
‘The pluckiest thing I’ve ever heard of. I’d been told, you know, that Major Gabriel’s gallantry during the war was simply incredible. He absolutely didn’t know what fear was. All his men worshipped him. For sheer heroism his record is just too wonderful. His CO is coming down here on Thursday. I shall pump him shamelessly. Of course Major Gabriel would be angry if he knew what I meant to do – he’s so modest, isn’t he?’
‘That is the impression he manages to give, certainly,’ I said.
She did not notice any ambiguity in my wording.
‘But I do think that these wonderful wonderful boys of ours ought not to hide their light under a bushel. It ought to be known all the splendid things they’ve done. Men are so inarticulate. I think it’s the duty of women to spread these things abroad. Our present Member, Wilbraham, you know, he’s never been out of an office all through the war.’
Well, I supposed John Gabriel would say that she had the right ideas, but I did not like Mrs Carslake. She gushed, and even as she gushed, her small dark eyes were mean and calculating.
‘It’s a pity, isn’t it,’ she said, ‘that Mr Norreys is a Communist.’
‘Every family,’ I said, ‘has its black sheep.’
‘They have such dreadful ideas – attack property.’
‘They attack other things,’ I said. ‘The Resistance movement in France is largely Communist.’
That was rather a poser for Mrs Carslake – and she retired.
Mrs Bigham Charteris, calling in for some circulars to distribute, also had her views on the harbour incident.
‘Must be good blood in him somewhere,’ she said.
‘You think so?’
‘Sure to be.’
‘His father was a plumber,’ I said.
Mrs Bigham Charteris took that in her stride.
‘I imagined something of the kind. But there’s good blood somewhere – far back perhaps.’
She went on.
‘We must have him over at the castle a bit more. I’ll talk to Adelaide. She has an unfortunate manner sometimes – it makes people ill at ease. I never felt we saw Major Gabriel at his best there. Personally, I get on with him very well.’
‘He seems popular in the place generally.’
‘Yes, he’s doing very well. A good choice. The Party needs new blood – needs it badly.’
She paused and said, ‘He might be, you know, another Disraeli.’
‘You think he’ll go far.’
‘I think he might get to the top. He’s got the vitality.’
Lady St Loo’s comment on the affair was brought to me by Teresa, who had been over to the castle.
‘Hm!’she had said. ‘Did it with an eye on the gallery, of course –’
I could understand why Gabriel usually referred to Lady St Loo as an old bitch.
Chapter Eight
The weather remained fine. I spent much of my time pushed out on to the sunny terrace. There were rose beds along it and a very old yew tree at one end of it. From there I could look across to the sea and the battlements of St Loo Castle, and I could see Isabella walking across the fields from the castle to Polnorth House.
She had formed the habit of walking over most days. Sometimes she had the dogs with her, sometimes she was alone. When she arrived she would smile, say good morning to me, and sit on the big carved stone seat near my invalid chair.
It was an odd friendship, but friendship was what it was. It was not kindness to an invalid, not pity, not sympathy that brought Isabella to me. It was something that was, from my point of view, much better. It was liking. Because she liked me Isabella came and sat in the garden beside me. She did it as naturally and as deliberately as an animal might have done.
When we talked, we talked mostly about the things we could see; the shape
of a cloud, the light on the sea, the behaviour of a bird …
It was a bird that showed me another facet of Isabella’s nature. The bird was a dead bird; it had dashed its head against the glass of the drawing-room window and lay there under the window on the terrace, its legs sticking pathetically, stiffly up in the air, its soft bright eyes closed.
Isabella saw it first and the shock and horror in her voice gave me quite a start.
‘Look,’ she said. ‘It’s a bird – dead.’
It was the note of panic in her voice that made me look so searchingly at her. She was looking like a frightened horse, her lips drawn back and quivering.
‘Pick it up,’ I said.
She shook her head vehemently.
‘I can’t touch it.’
‘Do you dislike touching birds?’ I asked. Some people did, I knew.
‘I can’t touch anything dead.’
I stared at her.
She said, ‘I’m afraid of death – horribly afraid. I can’t bear anything to be dead. I suppose it reminds me that I – that I shall be dead myself one day.’
‘We shall all be dead some day,’ I said.
(I was thinking of what lay at that moment conveniently close to my hand!)
‘And don’t you mind? Don’t you mind terribly? To think it’s there ahead of you – coming nearer all the time. And one day,’ her long beautiful hands, so seldom dramatic, struck her breast, ‘it will come. The end of living.’
‘What an odd girl you are, Isabella,’ I said. ‘I never knew you felt like this.’
She said bitterly, ‘It’s lucky, isn’t it, that I’m a girl and not a boy. In the war I should have had to be a soldier – and I’d have disgraced us – run away or something. Yes,’ she spoke quietly again, almost meditatively, ‘it’s terrible to be a coward …’
I laughed a little uncertainly.
‘I don’t suppose you would have been a coward when the time came. Most people are – well – really it’s afraid of being afraid.’
‘Were you afraid?’
‘Good Lord, yes!’
The Rose and the Yew Tree Page 6