by Andrew Garve
‘I expect you’ve been pretty thoroughly into the economics of it,’ Mellanby said.
‘Oh, yes, I think I know the form. I’ve been browsing in the books quite a lot – you can pick up a good bit there …’ Roscoe grinned. ‘At least I can tell the difference between a White Leghorn and a Rhode Island Red now.’
‘It’s more than I can,’ Mellanby said. He puffed thoughtfully at his pipe for a moment. ‘You know, I should think it might help if you could talk to someone who’s actually running a poultry farm. I can’t think of anyone offhand, but I’m sure we could find someone …’
‘That would be a great help,’ Roscoe agreed. ‘One of my troubles is that I don’t know a soul in this country, apart from a few chaps who came out of the Army at the same time – and I’ve even lost sight of them, now … I’ve been abroad so long I feel almost like a stranger here – I don’t even know where my relations are, supposing I’ve still got any … But I expect I’ll soon make some friends.’
‘You’ve made some,’ Sally said, with a smile.
‘Well – that’s jolly nice of you.’
‘What you really need, of course,’ Sally said, ‘is a wife. Are you married?’
‘No – somehow I never seemed to get around to it. But I probably will take a wife when I’m a bit more settled – must have someone to collect the eggs! First I’ve got to find a place, though.’
‘What sort of thing have you in mind?’ Mellanby asked him.
‘Oh, something quite small – the old gratuity won’t run to anything ambitious. About three acres, I thought.’
‘As little as that?’
‘Well, I’ll be working on the battery system, you know – keeping the jolly old birds inside, with nothing to do but lay. You don’t need a lot of ground for that. On three acres I reckon I can have six or seven hundred birds – and that’s as many as I can handle on my own. Even for that number the capital outlay will be pretty steep.’
‘What about a house?’ Mellanby asked.
‘Oh, almost anything will do for me, to start with. It’ll have to be something very simple – a shack, or a small bungalow, perhaps.’
Sally said, ‘You know, John, Eleanor’s been talking vaguely about selling her cottage and field – it might be the very thing if she could be brought to part with it …’ She explained to Roscoe. ‘Eleanor Bryce is a friend of mine – we work together on the Old People’s Welfare here. She lives at Marples – that’s about seven miles away … It’s a charming little cottage, not modernized but full of possibilities. Would you like me to ask her about it?’
‘That’s very decent of you,’ Roscoe said. ‘It sounds as though it might be a bit grand for me, but the more places I can inspect, the sooner I’ll get my ideas sorted out.’
Mellanby, looking thoughtful, got up to refill the glasses. ‘It’s certainly going to be quite an undertaking,’ he said, ‘starting from scratch the way you’re doing.’
Roscoe nodded. ‘It’ll be all right if the money holds out.’
Mellanby said, ‘Yes,’ and frowned. He was a fastidious man, and there was something very distasteful about offering financial help as a direct return for the saving of lives. Roscoe might easily feel the same way about it. Yet the subject had been raised – and now was surely the time to show willingness. As casually as he could, he said, ‘Well, if an interest-free loan would help you over the hump in the early stages, you’ve only to tell me.’
‘That’s most generous of you,’ Roscoe said gratefully. ‘I’ll certainly bear it in mind … But I’d like to stand on my own feet as far as possible.’
‘Talking of standing on your own feet,’ Mellanby said, with a faint smile, ‘how are you planning to get about while you’re looking for a place? Sally tells me you haven’t a car.’
‘No, I haven’t … I managed to get myself through the driving test the other day, so I’ve got a licence, but the car will have to wait till I can see my way more clearly …’ He grinned. ‘Got the snaffle and the bit but no jolly old horse, eh? I guess I’ll have to rely on public transport.’
Mellanby shook his head. ‘I’d have thought a car would be absolutely essential while you’re searching. You’re bound to be covering a lot of ground, and you’ll find public transport very thin as soon as you get off the main roads … Look, why not borrow my car?’
‘Ah, no – it’s very good of you, Mellanby, but you’ll be needing it yourself.’
‘We’ve got two cars, as you can see. I can easily share Sally’s.’
Roscoe looked doubtfully at Sally. ‘What about all those old people you visit, Mrs Mellanby? – that must mean a lot of running about for you. I’m sure it would be most inconvenient.’
‘I don’t do very much in the holidays,’ Sally said. ‘I like to be with the children when they’re at home … Really, we shan’t be needing both cars – there’s no reason at all why you shouldn’t have one.’
‘H’m – well, it’s darned nice of you, I must say, and very tempting … It would make a lot of difference – save me hours of footslogging … Are you sure about it, Mellanby?’
‘You’ll be more than welcome,’ Mellanby said. ‘Take the Humber with you tonight.’
‘Well,’ Roscoe said, with obvious relief, ‘if I can really do that it’ll ease another problem for me … It looks as though the first thing I’ll have to do in the morning is find new lodgings.’
‘Oh?’
‘Yes, the Plough’s booked up solid after tonight, so I’ve got to shift, I tried a couple of other places in the village, but they’re full, too, and they tell me Bath’s chock-a-block … Still, I expect I’ll find something …’
Mellanby and Sally exchanged glances. There was a little pause. Then Sally said, ‘Won’t you come and stay with us, Mr Roscoe? We’d be so pleased if you would, and we’ve lots of room.’
Roscoe looked quite taken aback. ‘Oh, no – I couldn’t do that – it would be an imposition. You people are much too kind … After all, I’m just a stranger …’
‘We don’t feel you’re a stranger,’ Sally said, ‘and we’d be delighted to have you … In fact, we insist, darling, don’t we?’
‘We do indeed,’ Mellanby said. One of us will collect you at the Plough tomorrow morning, Roscoe, and you can use this house as a base until you’re fixed up. All right?’
‘I’m overwhelmed,’ Roscoe said. ‘But I can’t pretend it wouldn’t make things a darned sight easier for me – and apart from that, I’d enjoy it a lot.’
‘Then it’s settled,’ Sally said. She stood up as she caught sight of Mrs Barney, the cook, at the open front door. ‘After dinner I’ll show you your room.’
Chapter Six
Roscoe moved in on the following morning, with one large suitcase, a stack of poultry journals, and a few oddments. The rest of his belongings, he explained, were being stored in London until he had somewhere to put them. Mellanby said he was welcome to have them sent down right away, but Roscoe said he’d got used to living out of a suitcase and could manage perfectly well. Sally told him he must regard himself as one of the family and make himself absolutely at home, and he said he would. By lunchtime he was ‘Frank’ to Kira and ‘Uncle Frank’ to the children.
Sally had already rung up Eleanor Bryce to find out if her cottage and field were really for sale, and it seemed that they were. The cottage was standing empty, Eleanor had said, and the key was at the farmhouse next door, so Mr Roscoe could inspect it any time he wished. Roscoe said there was no time like the present and went of immediately after lunch in Mellanby’s Humber. He drove out of the gate and down the normally sedate road a great deal faster than the Mellanbys ever did, but he had assured Sally he was a very safe driver – ‘it’s the slow ones that get into trouble, you know’ – and he certainly gave an impression of competence, if not of caution.
He was back about six, with a mixed report Mrs Bryce’s field was a possibility, he said, though it had a northern slope, which wasn’t supposed t
o be too good for poultry – and the cottage was a bit on the large side. It would be better, he thought, not to rush into anything before he’d had a good look round. Thanks to the car, he’d been able to inspect a couple of other properties deep in the Somerset by-ways, and he had more plans for the next day. He seemed very hopeful about his prospects, and generally in high spirits.
The evening passed agreeably. After he’d changed, Roscoe joined Mellanby, who was having a game of cricket with the children on the back lawn. It turned out he could bowl rather cunning off-breaks, which delighted Tony. Then there were drinks outside again, and a pleasant dinner during which Roscoe amusingly described his experiences with estate agents the previous day. He was an exuberant addition to the family and a complete contrast to the gentle, urbane Mellanby. Kira, sitting opposite him, seemed quite fascinated by his male vigour and his brilliant blue eyes. As the meal progressed, the Mellanbys learned a little more about his background. His father, it seemed, had been a marine engineer at Southampton, but Roscoe had never really known him – both his parents had died when he was young. He’d been brought up by a spiritualist maiden aunt, long departed, who had held seances at her home in Beckenham – one of which, as a small boy, Roscoe had contrived to watch from a cupboard and now described with gusto. His flow of talk was most entertaining – but at ten, as though sensing that Sally and Mellanby would be glad of a quiet hour together, he said he thought he’d have an early night and went off to bed with The Smallholder. He was going to be, Sally decided, a model guest.
In the morning Sally rang up some of her country friends to see if they knew of a successful poultry farmer in the district. She was soon put on to a young man named Tom Adams, who turned out to be very affable and told her on the phone that he’d be glad to talk to Roscoe and give him any advice he could. Roscoe, well pleased, went straight off to see him, and was away all day.
Sally was sitting with the children under the copper beech when he drove in in the evening, scattering the gravel as he jammed the brakes on hard. This time he was bearing gifts – a huge bunch of red and white carnations. He crossed the lawn to her and presented them with a bow and a flourish. ‘For you, Sally,’ he said.
The familiar use of her name startled her. She said, ‘That’s not the way to take care of your shekels!’ a trifle reprovingly. ‘But they’re lovely – thank you very much. Aren’t they lovely, Tony?’
‘Yes,’ Tony said, without enthusiasm. ‘Can I have the elastic?’
‘I’ve got something better than elastic for you, young fellow-me-lad,’ Roscoe told him. ‘Come and see …’ He turned back towards the drive.
Sally called after him, ‘How did you get on with Mr Adams?’
‘Oh, fine, fine … I think I’ve just about got the practical side sewn up, now …’ He was already delving in the back of the car. After a moment he produced a pair of small-size boxing gloves, on which Tony fell with glee. ‘Ever done any boxing at school, Tony?’
‘Yes, I have, and I’m a very good boxer, except that I keep my eyes shut,’ Tony said.
Roscoe gave a loud guffaw. ‘Well, that’s not much use, is it? – you’ll have to practise … I’ll soon teach you.’ He produced another pair of gloves, for himself. Then he went round to the boot and hauled out a punchball on an adjustable stand. ‘Got to keep fit!’ he called to Sally, with a grin. ‘Shall we take it round the back, Tony?’
Tony tried to lift the stand, but the base was of solid iron and he couldn’t move it. Roscoe laughed, and threw it lightly over his shoulder. ‘Come on,’ he said.
Alison shed a tear or two after they’d gone. ‘He didn’t bring me a present,’ she sobbed.
‘Never mind, pet,’ Sally said. ‘Come and help me arrange these flowers, and then we’ll turn out all the cupboards and see what we can find for the Jumble Sale.’
Alison brightened at once. ‘Oh, yes!’ she said. ‘That’ll keep me amused for a long time, won’t it?’
A boxing lesson was in full swing on the back lawn when Mellanby emerged from his study at half past six. Roscoe, his magnificent torso bared to the waist, was showing Tony how to punch, while Kira stood by and watched. His tremendous blows cracked against the punchball like gunshots in the still garden. With his great rippling muscles and his agile tread he made a most impressive figure.
‘Are you a heavyweight?’ Tony asked, as Roscoe finally allowed the punchball to come to rest.
Roscoe nodded, with a wink at Mellanby.
‘Are you a champ, too?’
‘Well, I used to box for the regiment,’ Roscoe said, ‘and I generally managed to win … Now you have a go.’
Tony began to batter at the punchball. Roscoe stood back, watching him. ‘Good thing for young chaps to be able to use their fists,’ he said to Mellanby.
Mellanby smiled and said nothing.
‘Too many young sissies about, if you ask me.’
‘Would you say so …? What’s your definition of a sissy?’
‘Any chap who can’t defend himself properly … Pity you can’t have a crack with us, Mellanby – but I guess that leg of yours would let you down.’
‘I dare say the leg would be all right,’ Mellanby said dryly, ‘but boxing’s not really my line of country.’
‘How did you get the limp?’ Roscoe asked. ‘Trouble with the old Hun?’
‘Nothing so heroic, I’m afraid. I was excavating a wall about ten years ago and slipped, and the knee’s played me up ever since.’
‘Bad luck, old man … Well, come on, Tony, see if you can batter me into unconsciousness with that straight left of yours … !’
Dinner that evening was far from the pleasant meal it had been the day before. Following his demonstration of prowess in the garden, something extraordinary seemed to have happened to Roscoe. He now appeared determined to dominate the table too, both with his physical presence and his loud talk. His way of speech, with its curious blending of BBC accent, Army slang, and transatlantic idiom, suddenly began to jar. The uninhibited cross-glances he kept throwing at Kira made Sally feel decidedly uneasy. One way and another, she scarcely recognized the well-mannered and considerate guest of the first day. Mellanby, normally so tolerant, relapsed after a while into near-silence as Roscoe continued to hold the stage. He was talking about his campaign experiences in the Western Desert; of Wogs and Wops and how he had dealt with them, and of various actions in which he had creditably taken part. He had probably drunk, Mellanby decided, just one Martini too many – the large one he had helped himself to just before dinner. It was all a bit trying. Mellanby particularly didn’t like the way he kept saying ‘Sally.’ It was a name he cherished, a name to be use with affection by friends. A small thing, no doubt, but irritating …
It was Sally, when at last she was alone with Mellanby, who put their joint concern into words.
‘John,’ she said, ‘do you think you’re going to like Roscoe?’
He gave a wry smile. ‘I’m having a damn good try.’
‘It was awful tonight, wasn’t it …? I simply can’t imagine what got into him.’
‘Gin!’ Mellanby said.
‘Well, yes, but I don’t think it could have been only that … He seemed completely different today – almost like a different person … I don’t understand him at all.’
‘Neither do I,’ Mellanby said, ‘but then we don’t really know him very well yet. We’ll have to wait a bit.’
‘He’s a shocking exhibitionist – all that display of muscle on the lawn …! I was watching from the window. I think he was doing it to impress Kira …’
‘Well, if you’re one of those very brawny chaps I suppose it’s natural to show off sometimes … And don’t forget we were glad enough of his brawn a couple of days ago.’
‘I know …’ Sally looked distressed. ‘It’s dreadful that we should be talking like this about him – it seems so horribly ungrateful after what he did … I know I ought to like him – but actually I think I’m a bit afraid of him.�
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‘Oh, nonsense!’
‘It’s true … If he can be so arrogant after two days, what’s he going to be like in a week or two? He’s beginning to take possession of the house …’
‘Really, Sally, I think you’re imagining things.’
‘Well, he certainly did tonight. Perhaps he’ll be different tomorrow – I hope so … I do want to like him – I feel quite terrible about it … John, surely it should be easy to like someone who’s saved the life of one’s child?’
‘I doubt if it’s as simple as that’ Mellanby said. ‘After all, it’s not a natural relationship, being so obliged to anyone. It’s a forced one. I dare say there’s an unconscious resentment set up.’
‘I suppose there might be – but I don’t think it’s true in my case. I liked him very much yesterday … And I do enormously admire him for what he did.’
‘So do I,’ Mellanby said, ‘but admiration’s not the same thing as liking. A man doesn’t necessarily turn out to be compatible with oneself, simply because he’s been physically brave, it’s a great quality, and I wish I had it, but there are other qualities, too … Anyhow, I shouldn’t worry about it, Sally – just let things take their course … We’ll do everything we possibly can for Roscoe – and if we find he’s not our sort, well, it just can’t be helped …’
Mellanby was away all next day. An Antiquaries’ Summer School was being held at Weston-super-Mare, and he’d been asked to preside at the opening session. Sally usually went with him on these occasions, but this time she’d decided not to.
It was nearly ten when he got home. The house was quiet, the children were asleep. Sally was sitting alone in the garden room, with the french doors open to the warm night.
‘Hallo, darling,’ she said, ‘I’m so glad you’re back … How did it go?’
‘Oh, quite well. There were more people than last year, and a lot of them young.’
‘Good speakers?’
‘Jones was fascinating about the Shetland “dig.” Dickson was a bit drear …’ Mellanby smiled. ‘One of those lectures that seem to last a fortnight but actually only last about ten days.’