Neither one or the other, Marie Louise answered with her unchanging gravity of expression.
‘Where then?’
‘Nowhere, Madame. They did not go to school this afternoon.’
‘Didn’t go to school! Why not? Didn’t you take them?’
‘Yes, Madame, I took them. As always. But when we got there they saw someone they evidently knew, who called out to them and waved, and they ran to the car and got in and drove off.’ She gave a Gallic shrug: ‘It seemed it was a friend.’
Mr. and Mrs. Ransome exchanged bewildered glances. But who could it have been? Who did Dinah and Biddy know? Who would they go with? Who would take them away with such unthinking casualness?
A shadow no larger than a bird’s feather touched their minds and they looked away so that neither should see fear in the other’s eyes.
‘Do you mean to say you let them go and did nothing? Did not even tell the directrice of the school?’
‘It’s no good talking like that, you’re only frightening her. She’s not to blame, she’s only a child. Marie Louise, my little one, did you notice what kind of car it was?’
‘It was a Peugeot, a sand-coloured Peugeot.’
‘Could you tell the number?’
‘It was too far away,’ she answered truthfully, no need to say she had not thought to look.
‘Could you see what the person was like who was in the car?’
‘I saw the person who was standing beside the car and calling to them,’ the girl replied precisely. ‘It was a man. A tall dark gentleman. And they screamed something in English and ran to him and kissed him, and they were all laughing.’ She hesitated, an enigmatic glance from her dark almond eyes passed from one to the other. She said: ‘It was as if he was their Papa.’
‘Well, then,’ said Tom with a cheering smile, ‘obviously there is nothing to worry about. Perhaps they have already arrived back at the villa. We’ll go and see. Hop in, Marie Louise.’
*
Leaning against the car he watched them curiously as they advanced erratically, flailing their arms, skipping sideways along the road, hopping, kicking stones, reeling about: thinking to himself what strange little animals children were.
When they were within five yards of the school gate and were being drawn into the tide of other children, he put a hand to his mouth and called their names, semaphoring with his other arm vigorously to attract their attention.
They looked up, and stared, blank-faced and open-mouthed, and then Dinah yelled: ‘It’s Jerry! It’s Jerry, Biddy! Come on!’ She grabbed her sister’s hand and ran towards him shouting: ‘Jerry … Jerry … Jerry.’
He caught them in his arms and hugged them to him, whirling them round till they squealed with excitement.
‘How’re my girls? Come on, into the car with you!’
‘We can’t! We’ve got to go to school now.’
‘Who says? After I’ve come all this way to see you! You can’t do that.’
‘I don’t want to go to school,’ Biddy declared stoutly, ‘I’m going with Jerry.’
‘That’s my girl! You’re a sport.’
‘So am I,’ Dinah agreed hastily, climbing in after them.
‘Then off we go!’
‘Where to?’
‘You’ll see … ’
He was driving very fast with a smile on his lips.
‘How did you know where we were?’ Dinah asked presently.
‘That’s easy, if you happen to know any magicians. And of course a chap like me gets to know all sons of people. So I had only to say to this chum of mine, “Stars and moonlight, Fire and water, Tell me where to find Tom’s daughters,” and it was as good as done.’
But Dinah didn’t laugh. She turned very red and then went pale. For the word ‘fire’ had brought the Roarer suddenly to mind and she was hideously embarrassed, not knowing whether she ought to say something or not. And if so, what? And supposing Jerry started telling them all about how she got burnt up. She saw her in her mind’s eye screaming in the flames, like the time the bird flew into the bonfire.
She pulled his sleeve and said something in a small voice.
‘What?’ he leaned closer.
‘I’m going to be sick.’
‘Poor old thing. Better now?’ he said afterwards ‘Was I driving too fast?’
‘No. Yes. I don’t know.’ She turned away. He took her face in his hand and gave her a long steady squinting look as if her thoughts were written in very small letters behind her eyes; because then he said in a quiet private sort of voice: ‘Rory was asleep and never knew anything about the fire: it didn’t touch her. That’s the truth, I promise you, darling.’ And they got back into the car and he said: ‘Now we’re going to a circus where there’s a baby elephant and acrobats and clowns and performing dogs; and after that we’re going to have the best chocolate cakes and ice cream to be found in the whole world … ’
The circus wasn’t much. The baby elephant didn’t do anything, it just walked round the ring with his trainer. And the acrobats turned out to be two skinny grubby little girls eight or nine years old in shabby pink costumes, who turned slow cartwheels and balanced wobbily on their father’s shoulders. Biddy and Dinah stared at them enviously, feeling they could do as well, if not better.
But the tea, in a rather grand hotel in Nice, was lovely.
‘And now we must ring up your parents,’ Jeremy said, glancing at his wristwatch, ‘or they’ll be wondering where you are, won’t they? Do you happen to know their number?’
Jerry went into a booth and they waited outside, watching him dial.
‘Hullo, Tom. This is Jerry. It’s all right. The children are with me — in case you didn’t guess. Nothing to worry about. They’re fine. You can have a word with them.’ He opened the door and drew Dinah in, putting the phone to her ear but keeping it in his hand.
‘Hullo, Daddy.’
‘Dinah, is that you, darling? Where are you? What have you been doing?’
‘Jerry came and took us out in his car for a s’prise.’
‘Where are you now?’
‘In a hotel, we’ve just — ’
But at this point Jerry took the telephone away and pushed her outside and firmly closed the door once more.
‘You see, they’re both with me and perfectly happy. Did I give you a scare? I rather thought I might have — ’
‘Look here, Jerry — ’
‘No, you look here — ’
Tom said doggedly:
‘I don’t suppose you meant any harm by it, but it was a pretty thoughtless thing to do, I must say.’ God knows Jeremy was the last person in the world he wanted to speak to.
‘My dear fellow, it wasn’t in the least thoughtless, I assure you,’ said the airy voice.
‘What? Anyway, just bring them back, will you?’ He simply could not bring himself to suggest he come to dinner, not when he thought about Rory.
‘Not yet, old son.’
‘What d’you mean, “not yet”! Where are you?’ Tom said with rising anger.
‘It’s much too soon. And it wouldn’t do any good to know where we are now because we’d have moved on long before you got here.’ He smiled at the children through the glass and winked an eye.
‘Listen, Eskdale, I don’t know what sort of game you’re playing — ’
‘Oh, Tom, please!’ Eskdale said in a pained manner. ‘Don’t use such expressions. You know I abominate clichés.’
‘Get this then: I want my children brought back here NOW,’ Tom said in a low forceful voice.
‘Why, of course you do. And you will get them back — I hope. But when is going to depend on you, old boy.’
‘Are you off your head or something? What are you talking about? … Eskdale?’ Tom said loudly into the silence: ‘Are you there? … Eskdale? … ’
Eskdale could hear the panic in the other man’s voice.
‘All right, Tom,’ he said in clear decisive tones. ‘I’m not fooling. Jus
t don’t try to be clever, whatever you do. Like contacting the police. It would be the biggest mistake of your life. I’ll get in touch with you again tomorrow. Hang around and wait for my call. And meanwhile, if you want to see your children again, keep your head,’ he said, and abruptly hung up.
Slowly Tom replaced the receiver, numb as if he was turning to stone. Only his eyes moved unseeingly back and forth in his blanched face.
Kate came in from the garden and gave him a quick look. His face scared her. Something must have happened.
‘I thought I heard the phone,’ she said, a little breathless from running up the three long flights of stone steps.
He nodded. Tried to lick his lips, but he had to go to the Provençale dresser and pour out some Perrier water and swallow it before he could speak.
‘It was Eskdale, ringing to say the children were with him. They’re all right: I spoke to Dinah, she sounded fine.’
The last phrase struck oddly on the ear. It was the sort of reassuring remark one makes about a person who’s been ill or involved in some kind of calamity. His wife stared. Yes, something was wrong. What did he mean?
‘I mean, there’s nothing to worry about.’
‘Has there been an accident?’
‘Oh no! No, nothing like that, I’m sure.’
‘Then what? For God’s sake, Tom!’
‘He wants to keep them till tomorrow.’
‘He what!’ A look of amazement and outrage took over her round little face like a theatrical mask.
‘I know. I said he was to bring them back right away, but he just said, “Oh, not yet”. As though it was the most natural thing in the world to take someone else’s children away without permission.’
‘But why? What for?’
‘I don’t know, love: I know no more than you.’
‘Didn’t you ask, Tom?’
‘Yes, of course I did.’
‘What did he say?’
‘I don’t know. I was simply stunned. Nothing that made sense anyway.’
‘Where are they? Did you at least find out that much?’
‘He wouldn’t tell me. He was behaving as if it was all some kind of joke. You know what he’s like.’
‘No. I don’t think I do at all. He always seemed to me a quiet well-mannered man — except when he was in drink. Not at all the type to indulge in senseless practical jokes of a malicious nature.’ Kate felt for the back of a chair and sat down suddenly, rubbing her fingertips across her brow. She said, without looking at him: ‘Tom … you don’t think he’d do anything — ?’
‘No, of course not,’ her husband said quickly. ‘He’s much too fond of them.’
‘That’s what I mean.’
‘No. He’s not like that. He’d never harm them, he’s not a pervert.’
‘How can you be sure?’
‘I am sure. After the months we’ve spent in each other’s company I could hardly help picking up some indication from his conversation. Honestly, Kate. Besides, if that had been his intention the very last thing he would do would be to let us know they were with him. Think about it.’
‘I am. I’m thinking we ought to go to the police right away and let them deal with this.’
He said sharply:
‘No.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘You must see that we can’t. It would be the most awful thing to do. He’s a — well, a friend. It would be in all the papers and cause untold embarrassment to all concerned. What have we to go on? What could we say? He has let us know the children are with him and are safe and sound, after all.’
Kate gazed at him darkly from her tawny eyes.
‘I never thought you were the sort of man who would put the convenience of a friend above that of your children.’
He gave her a strange inimical reproachful look.
‘I’m not.’
*
‘It’s all arranged,’ said Jerry emerging from the phone-box: ‘you’re staying with me overnight for a treat. How do you like that! Two young ladies having a night out with a gentleman.’ He regarded them from beneath his quirky eyebrow with amusement. ‘Are we going to have the time of our young lives! Just you wait.’
‘All night.’
‘All night.’
‘Where are we going to sleep?’
‘In a hotel, of course.’
‘Are we going to stay up late?’ Dinah asked hopefully.
‘Late! My dears, I shall be surprised if you get to bed before midnight,’ he informed them dramatically.
‘Like real grown-ups?’ Biddy hazarded, awestruck.
‘Yes; exactly. First we shall dine in a very grand restaurant and then we’ll go to a Disco, and after that we might take in a movie if we can find a funny one.’
‘Or something with monsters.’
‘No. We don’t want anything scary. I want this to be something to remember as a happy time, not one to give you nightmares.’
They shared a bedroom with Jerry (just as if he’d been their father) which was comforting. Jerry was a comforting sort of person, Dinah thought, so it must have occurred to him that she and Biddy might have felt just a little bit frightened sleeping alone in a hotel.
She loved him. He was the nicest man in the world — after her father. She flung her arms tightly round his waist and butted her head against his chest.
‘Can I sleep in the big bed with you, Jerry?’
‘That’s one of the most attractive propositions I’ve ever had: but, no. It wouldn’t do.’
‘Why not?’
‘I kick.’
Dinah giggled wildly.
‘You wouldn’t laugh if you found yourself crashing to the floor in the middle of the night. You might well fancy you’d been shot out of a cannon.’
Actually, when it came to it, they were so worn out with excitement and laughter and the unaccustomed lateness of the hour that afterwards they had no recollection of going to bed at all, and were surprised when they awoke by their unfamiliar surroundings.
The little girls looked quite washed-out from their dissipations of the previous day. Which was something Jerry had not foreseen but which suited him very well. Jerry himself seemed preoccupied and silent like he used so often to be at Upperdown when his head ached. They spoke little over petit déjeuner. The little girls wandered around the hotel gardens while Jerry dressed and paid the bill. When he called to them that he was ready to leave, he looked very different to their eyes, because for some reason he was now wearing a formal pale grey suit with a light blue shirt and dark tie. The sort of clothes he only wore when he went to London.
‘Are we going home now?’
‘No, I have to go and see someone on a matter of business. Only a couple of hours’ drive,’ he said casually.
It seemed more. But then driving is very boring to children. They drove inland from the sea, circling among the grey alps, passing through precipitous little stone villages with deserted buildings falling into ruins. At last they came to a town, through which Jerry drove with care, looking for the street names and from time to time glancing at the map open on his knee.
They came to a narrow street with a high dark wall on one side in the middle of which were a pair of wrought-iron gates. Above them an archway of iron lettering read: Le Couvent des Orphelins de l’Enfant Jesus.
But who notices such things? Not children. And if they had noticed them, they would not have understood what the words meant.
Inside the walls was a large, somehow forbidding, red plaster building. Jerry pulled on an iron bell and presently a sort of window opened in the front door and Jerry spoke through the grille to an invisible person within.
‘Now you must be very quiet and good here,’ Jerry told them as they waited.
‘Need we come in?’
‘Yes. I want you with me.’
Dinah sighed heavily, but there was no time for argument, because at that moment they were let in. They found themselves in a big square hall with a h
ighly polished red-tiled floor, and on either side one dark high-backed chair. The hall lengthened into a long white-walled corridor at the far end of which was a coloured statue of a man with light-brown hair curling to his shoulders; he was wearing a long white dress and pointing with one hand to a bright red heart in his chest. It gave Biddy the idea that the place might be a hospital and she hung behind Jerry nervously wondering what was going to happen. The red heart gave her a distinctly queasy feeling. Indeed, the old lady they were following looked rather like a queer kind of nurse in her voluminous blue costume, with that stiff white stuff put round her face instead of a sort of folded bonnet on top of her head.
A door was opened and they were ushered inside.
‘La Mère Révérende,’ mumbled the old woman.
Eskdale advanced holding each child by the hand and greeted the pale elderly woman in the black flowing robes in a grave manner, saying in French, how infinitely grateful he was for her compassionate kindness in according to one in distress the privilege of this interview. He would endeavour not to occupy too much of her precious time.
The Reverend Mother, head of the convent orphanage, replied courteously, begging him to be seated and indicating with a gesture a small sofa against one wall where the little girls might sit.
‘How can I help you, Monsieur?’
‘You do not speak English, ma mère?’
‘Alas, no.’ (Thank goodness for that, thought Eskdale.) ‘But you have excellent French, Monsieur, I do not anticipate that we shall have any difficulty in comprehending one another.’
‘You are very kind. In any case, I would wish to converse in your language, which my little girls do not as yet understand, as they are not aware of the tragedy that has befallen us. I could not bring myself to tell them. It has been so sudden.’ He paused, like one who cannot bring himself to utter the words that must be said, and then brought them out in one stark brief sentence: ‘Their mother is dead.’ (The Reverend Mother crossed herself.) He went on in a low monotonous voice: ‘My poor wife was taken ill quite suddenly and rushed to hospital last night, where she died early this morning.’ He put a hand up to hide his eyes.
‘I will pray for her soul.’
A Game of Consequences Page 16