The huge main line station was deserted and curiously eerie as we walked through it. The shops were shut and dark; only a lone vendor with a pile of evening newspapers was in sight. It was past the rush hour and not yet time for the theatre crowd to be heading for the suburbs.
We found our train platform and, so that we wouldn’t have to walk so far at the other end, we strolled almost the length of it, passing endless lighted windows illuminating empty carriages. It might have been a ghost train.
We settled ourselves in a compartment; soon a whistle blew, doors slammed and the train moved slowly out of the station. Arnold settled back and began reading the newspaper, the twins dropped into a light doze. I sat at the window looking out at what I could see of the scenery going past. Vignettes of life appeared and disappeared as the lighted windows flashed by.
I felt tired but restless. It would be nice to have stayed longer in London, taken in a show, and been one of the crowd on the last train home. Perhaps I could organize a childminding swap with Lania; I’d take her kids some evenings when she and Richard wanted to go out, and they could take the twins so that Arnold and I could get to a few theatres while we were here.
I looked across to say something of the sort, but it was too late. Arnold had fallen asleep, too. With a sigh, I twitched the newspaper from his hands and folded it. I’d read it later; I was still finding the glimpses of English life in the houses along the track more interesting than newsprint.
We had left the car in the station car park all day. The car park had been full when we left it there this morning, now there were only a few cars remaining. We relinquished our tickets to the ticket collector and headed gratefully for the car, congratulating ourselves on our forethought.
Yawning, Arnold slid behind the steering wheel. The twins both crowded on to the front seat and battled with the seat belt until it fastened around both of them.
‘Are you sure you’re awake enough to drive?’ I hesitated before getting into the back seat.
‘I haven’t been asleep.’ Arnold was immediately on the defensive. ‘I was just resting my eyes.’
‘Hmmph!’ I got in.
‘It isn’t easy, poring over old books and manuscripts all day, you know. This isn’t a pleasure trip for me –’
‘I'm working!’ He let in the clutch and the car lurched forward.
‘I suppose I’m not?’ I couldn’t let him get away with that. ‘If you think trailing the twins around the tourist traps is fun, why don’t you try it? I’ll swap my feet for your eyes any day!’
Arnold ground the gears by way of reply and we took a corner much too sharply. I was glad the twins were safely belted down. I was hurled from one side of the back seat to the other as the car plunged down the street like a bucking bronco.
‘For God’s sake ... Arnold ... Ooof! ... find the ... right gear!’
‘It is in the right gear!’ Arnold snarled. ‘There’s something wrong with the car.’
‘Daddy’s driving with the emergency brake on,’ Donald reported in a calm practical tone that was more irritating than shouting would have been.
Arnold snarled again – wordlessly, fortunately – and wrenched at a knob by his knee. There was a scream of anguished metal and the car immediately dropped into a more sedate progress.
‘And you weren’t sleeping!’ I jeered.
Arnold deliberately muttered something too low for me to catch and took another corner on two wheels.
He was driving too fast and veering to the right, but I decided I’d better not say anything more. He could be pushed just so far. It was time to shut up.
We took the final corner and barrelled along the street as though we were going right past the house. Arnold drove towards the kerb but didn’t slow at all.
‘Stop!’ Donna shouted. ‘Daddy – we’re here. Stop!’
‘I can’t!’ Arnold had gone pale, a fine film of perspiration broke out on his forehead. His knee was jerking frantically as he pumped the brake. ‘It won’t stop.’
‘The clutch –’ I called out. ‘You’ve got to do something to the clutch before you can brake!’
‘The emergency brake,’ Donald shouted. ‘Now use the emergency brake!’ He grabbed for it.
I could see cars hurtling past at the end of the street. The traffic light farther on had obviously just changed. If we couldn’t stop, we’d plunge straight out across that stream of moving traffic.
‘Hang on!’ Arnold shouted. ‘I’m going to –’ he turned the steering wheel sharply. We lurched up over the kerb and across the sidewalk. There was a muted impact as we hit the hedge and the car tried to climb it.
We hung there, halfway up the hedge. Arnold switched off the engine. ‘Christ!’ he muttered. ‘Christ, that was a close one!’
‘The emergency brake didn’t work, Dad,’ Donald informed him unnecessarily. ‘You must have broken it, driving with it on.’
‘Nothing worked!’ Arnold mopped his forehead. ‘I’m going to go back and give those car-hire people hell. They’ve got no right letting a car like this go out on the road.’
‘Oh-oh!’ Donna was looking through the hedge. The porch light had snapped on in the other half of the house. ‘I think we’re in trouble, Dad.’
We were. Lania stormed down the path and shrieked with dismay as she saw the car hanging from her hedge.
‘See if you can get out, honey,’ Arnold said. ‘Easy now. Then we’ll lift the kids down. The back wheels are still on the ground. Don’t slam the door behind you – we don’t want to rock the boat.
‘Okay.’ I opened the door and slid out cautiously, trying to avoid Lania’s accusing gaze.
‘My hedge!’ Lania wailed. ‘Look at what you’ve done to it!’
‘We’re awfully sorry.’ I was too busy getting the kids to safety to bother glancing at the hedge, although I sure could feel it. The sharp holly points scratched at me as I leaned into it to catch first Donna and lower her to the ground, then Donald.
‘It took years to grow that hedge. Years and now look at it!’
‘I apologize –’ With the children safe, Arnold now opened his own door and scrambled out. I apologize deeply, Mrs Sandgate, but there was no alternative.’
‘No alternative?’ Lania wasn’t going to accept a feeble excuse like that. If we’d had any decency, we would have driven past and killed ourselves.
‘Arnold isn’t used to manual clutch —’ I said.
“The brake wouldn’t hold —’ Arnold began.
‘Damn your clutch! And your brake!’ Lania’s voice rose to a fishwife’s shriek. ‘What about my hedge?’
The twins had dashed for the neutral zone under the portico and were busy pretending that they had never seen any of us before in their lives.
‘We’ll get on to a garage right away,’ Arnold promised. ‘They’ll send a tow truck for the car. Once they’ve lifted it off, we can see what the damage is. It may not be as bad as it looks.’
‘It looks better already,’ I said brightly. ‘Now that we’ve got our combined weight out of the car.’
‘Sure it does, Babe.’ Arnold slid his arm around my waist and I clung to him limply, even though he was pretty limp himself. We propped each other up in the face of Lania’s awesome wrath. There was something inhuman about it. You’d think she’d be glad the hedge was there – it had quite possibly saved our lives.
‘I’m sure the hedge can be fixed,’ I offered weakly.
‘Sure, it can,’ Arnold echoed.
‘You know nothing about it!’ Lania turned on her heel. ‘Nothing at all!’
Seven
We spent the next few days lying very low. We all but crawled into a hole and pulled the top over us. I caught Arnold actually tiptoeing down the path on his way to the train one morning, hunched over and trying to lower his profile beneath the top of the ruined hedge.
The car-hire people had not been exactly warm and supportive, either. They claimed that there had been nothing wrong with their car �
� until we got at it. They were in no hurry to let us have a replacement car and, anyway, we decided it would be better to stick to the car we knew. The garage promised to let us have it back by the end of the week with everything fixed. It would be safer to keep it – who knew what problems we might find with another car?
Arnold had even promised to take a couple of days away from his research and drive us around some more. To that end, we were poring over maps at the breakfast table the day the car was due to be returned.
‘They sure have some funny names in this country,’ Donald observed. ‘Lower Slaughter – isn’t that crazy?’
‘No crazier than Medicine Hat,’ Arnold said. ‘Or how about the Susquehanna River?’
‘Just the same –’ I was studying the map and weighed in on Donald’s side. ‘I’m glad we didn’t have to tell our friends we were spending the summer at Potter’s Bar – or Pratt’s Bottom.’
‘Yeah,’ Arnold retorted swiftly. ‘We’d have been the butt of some pretty awful jokes.’
We all groaned and hurled pieces of toast at him – the Harper accolade for a successful pun. (Even our friends in New Hampshire had gotten into the spirit of the thing and, during cocktail hour, joined us in bombarding him with olives, peanuts and lightweight snacks. Hostesses had been known to draw Arnold aside and implore, ‘Please, Arnold, no puns' unless you’re standing on the linoleum.’)
Esmond took one horrified look at the flying crusts, abandoned his soggy corn flakes and disappeared through the cat flap.
‘Oh, look –’ I protested. ‘Now we’ve frightened Esmond again.’
‘Esmond is a scaredy-cat,’ Donna said severely.
‘He’s no fun at all,’ Donald complained. ‘He’s afraid of everything. I don’t see why we couldn’t have brought good old Errol along with us.’
‘I’ve explained a dozen times –’ I explained again. “The English are paranoiac about rabies, so they have strict quarantine laws. Errol would have had to go into quarantine for six months – and we aren’t even going to be here that long. It’s much better for him to stay at home where he’s happy and comfortable. Also –’ I cut off the incipient protest – ‘the Blakes couldn’t take Esmond with them because, although he’d be all right going into America if he had a vet’s certificate saying he was in good health, he’d still have to go into quarantine for six months when he came back here. It wouldn’t be fair to him — or to them.’
‘It’s a stupid law,’ Donald muttered.
‘Maybe, but it’s the law,’ Arnold said. ‘We’ve got to abide by it.’
‘Well,’ Donna said, ‘if we can’t have any fun with Esmond, can we go over and play with Angela and Perry?’
‘I think you’d better hold off for a while longer,’ I suggested. ‘We aren’t exactly Mrs Sandgate’s favourite people at the moment. Give her a couple more days to cool down.’
‘Then can we have a pair of roller skates?’ Donald spoke as though they were settling for a poor second, but I recognized that they had been working towards this question all along.
‘Okay,’ Arnold agreed, before I could reply. ‘Fair enough. You kids learn to skate and keep to yourselves for a while longer. When Angela and Perry see how much fun you’re having, they’ll want to come over here and play with you.’
‘Over Lania’s dead body,’ I muttered, but nobody was paying any attention.
‘Today?’ Donald pressed home his advantage. ‘This morning?’
‘Why not?’ Arnold was in a good mood. ‘We’ve got to go shopping, anyway.’
On the way, I mailed a letter I had written to Rosemary concerning several things I’d forgotten to mention about domestic arrangements at Cranberry Lane. While writing, I’d taken the opportunity to give our side of the story about the hedge tactfully – just in case Lania had written to complain about us. I hoped Rosemary wasn’t emotionally involved with the hedge as well, but I doubted it. Necessarily, the hedge encircled the property on Rosemary’s side, too, but it was obviously Lania’s baby. Even so, it was a shame Arnold couldn’t have managed to ram the car into our half of the hedge. Lania would have had less right to complain then.
We stopped at the garage and got a firm promise for the return of the car by the end of the week. This would have been more comforting if there hadn’t been an earlier, equally firm, promise that we’d get it back today.
By the time we’d bought the roller skates, finished our other shopping, and found a taxi to take us back to the house, we were not in the best of collective moods.
It didn’t help that Lania was outside pruning that damned hedge for about the eighteenth time since it happened. If only she’d leave it alone, it might recover more quickly. As it was, she’d clipped away at the accident spot and the surrounding area until she had destroyed the original outlines and lowered it about two feet — all the while blaming us for the damage.
‘Good morning, Mrs Sandgate,’ Arnold fawned as we went past.
She gave us a curt nod and a withering look.
Properly withered, we slunk into the house and retreated to the kitchen where we could neither see nor be seen. Unfortunately, we could still hear the sharp vicious snap of the pruning shears.
‘What can we do?’ Arnold asked plaintively. ‘Do you think we ought to send her a dozen roses – two dozen? We’ve offered to pay, but she says she doesn’t want money.’
‘No,’ I said, ‘she wants blood – preferably yours.’
‘Is Dad going to bleed all over the hedge?’ Donna asked with interest. ‘Will that make it grow faster?’
‘Sure it will,’ Donald said. ‘Lots of the most expensive fertilizer is made with blood. They’ve got a deal going with the slaughterhouses and –’
“That will be enough!’ Arnold thundered.
‘I guess he isn’t.’ Donna sounded disappointed. The subject is closed.’ I backed Arnold’s authority, although I might just as well have kept my mouth shut. The twins exchanged a grimace and then fell into silent communion. I knew that, at some level beyond the rest of us, they were still carrying on their private joke. Donna giggled abruptly and her twin wriggled his ears – a new trick he had picked up.
‘All right.’ Arnold felt it, too. He reached into one of the bags and brought out the roller skates. ‘You wanted these –’ He dropped them on the table top. ‘So why don’t you try them on and go out and get some practice.’
‘She’s still out there.’ Donna cast an uneasy glance towards the front of the house.
‘Then go and play in the next street over –’ Arnold was not so exasperated as he sounded. At least he had broken up the silent exchange. ‘She won’t bother you there.’
‘It’s started raining again,’ Donald reported, turning away from the window.
Esmond minced in through the cat flap, shook himself and settled down to removing the raindrops from his back. Outside, the sudden downpour hurled itself against the windows.
‘Well, that settles that.’ Arnold shrugged resignedly. To look on the bright side, the accusing snip-snap of shears had stopped out front.
I began putting the groceries away.
‘Prr-hmm ...’ Instantly, Esmond was at my feet as I opened the fridge door. One paw raised in that delicate, diffident manner, he looked up at me pleadingly.
‘I’m busy,’ I told him. ‘If you ask Daddy Arnold nicely, perhaps he’ll open one of the tins of cat food we bought for you today.’
Esmond swung to face Arnold. They looked at each other without enthusiasm. But there was no one else. The twins had taken their skates and retreated upstairs to their rooms.
‘Oh, all right,’ Arnold grumbled. He found the can opener and shook it at Esmond. ‘I hope you realize that real cats go out and catch their own food. Our Errol would have gone out and bagged himself a rabbit if he was hungry – a squirrel, at the very least.’
Esmond twitched whiskers and tail-tip. He did not like being criticized. For a moment, he looked as though he might spurn the food Arno
ld was dishing into his saucer, but it had a mackerel base and he decided to overlook Arnold’s remarks.
The telephone rang in the study and I went to answer it, Arnold close on my heels. ‘If it’s her lawyer,’ he muttered, ‘tell him we don’t speak English.’ Arnold was still expecting legal repercussions at any moment; but I thought Lania would not go to those lengths.
‘Hello, Hazel Davies here –’
‘Hazel!’ I went limp with relief. ‘How nice to hear from you. How are you?’
‘I’m fine.’ She sounded amused. ‘But I gather you’ve been having a bit of a time with Lania. She’s been telling me all about it.’
‘I’ll just bet she has! Would you like to hear our side?’
‘I’d be fascinated. In fact, I’m ringing to invite you both – and the children – over to dinner tomorrow night. If you haven’t anything else planned, that is. I’m sorry it’s such short notice but –’
‘We haven’t and we’d love to!’ Behind me, Arnold was nodding vehemently. ‘I’m sorry – what did you say? I can’t hear you.’ A strange swooshing noise had started somewhere. I strained to hear what Hazel was saying.
‘My line’s all right. It must be at your end. Shall we —?’ swoosh, swoosh ‘... sevenish, then? I’ll look forward to it.’
‘Fine, so will we.’ I hung up, then realized that the swooshing noise was still going on. It hadn’t been the telephone after all. I turned to Arnold.
‘What are those kids -?’ There was a tremendous crash in the hall outside. We dashed for the door.
‘Oh, no! No!’ Donald lay, strangely humped, by the front door, surrounded by shards of pottery. Donna, unable to stop herself, rolled forward on a collision course with him, shrieking.
‘Hang on, honey!’ Arnold dived to intercept her. He caught one arm and whirled her round, but not before there were several nasty crunching sounds from beneath her roller skates. He picked her up and deposited her gently on the lower steps of the stairs.
Paws for Alarm Page 5