Not All Tarts Are Apple

by Pip Granger

  ‘She’s been helping Paulette get on her feet since Dave left. They’re sharing a flat now and it seems to suit ’em both and good luck to ’em is all I can say. It’s nice to see Zelda happy. She’s been a good friend to me, Flo, she really has. It would have been a bloody sight worse without her when you left, I can tell you.’

  ‘Mum always said that you couldn’t beat a good woman friend and that everyone should have at least one. Do you remember that she always said there was two kinds of women? Men’s women and women’s women and if you knew what was good for you, you’d be a woman’s woman and you’d never be lonely. Said it was like belonging to a bloody great club. She wasn’t wrong, neither.’

  Auntie Maggie nodded sagely. ‘You’re right, Flo. I reckon that’s at least part of the trouble with our Cassie. She has no women friends, apart from me, that is, and I’m more like a mum than a friend. It was really Bert she palled up with.’

  As I listened to my beloved aunts I didn’t understand that I was learning a valuable lesson about life and the living of it, but I was. Instead, I realized that I had spent far too much time earwigging conversations that didn’t concern me. There was sunshine and donkeys to be enjoyed outdoors and it was my very last day in Aggie, so I decided that I’d better wring every last drop of enjoyment out of it. And I did.

  25

  Everyone was up bright and early the next morning. I was beside myself with excitement. Going away is all very well, lovely in its way, but heading home was even better. I wanted to get back to my friends, my toys, our Tom and familiarity. My new friend, Penny, had left the week before which meant I had to wait for a free grown-up to take me to say goodbye to Harry and his mob. In the end Great-aunt Dodie volunteered and Paulette came too. I was very sad to say goodbye to Hazel and friends, but Harry assured me that I could come down and visit them any time. I was a very subdued small person on my way back to Dunroamin. Paulette thought I was blubbing but I wasn’t – it was just a bit of sand in my eyes. I could have sworn that Hazel had sand in her eyes too when I gave her a parting nuzzle.

  Once back at Auntie Flo’s though, my excitement at the thought of seeing Luigi and everyone began to mount again. I kept getting under people’s feet and in the end Great-aunt Dodie offered to drive me to Bath. This would get me out of the way and I could join the train there. Auntie Maggie heaved a sigh of relief, and it was agreed that Mr Herbert could come too. He was returning to his bookshop and had elected to travel with the rest of us.

  It was a lovely drive to Bath. Mr Herbert sat in the front and I had a funny little seat at the back. We whizzed past the countryside and at a place called Rickford we saw the most amazing birds foraging in a field beside some woods. They were gorgeous and had red faces, glossy green heads and long pointed tails. I let out such a yell when I saw them that Great-aunt Dodie screeched to a halt, thinking that I had fallen out of the car. Mr Herbert explained that they were cock pheasants and that the mottled brown birds with them were the females. It was hard to believe that both sorts were pheasants, but Great-aunt Dodie agreed with Mr Herbert so it must have been true. She also told me that some people shot them, hung them up in the larder until they were crawling with maggots and then cooked and ate them. I’ll say this for Great-aunt Dodie, she knew how to supply interesting though often revolting details. I tucked the information away so that I could pass it on to Paulette, who was rapidly turning into my very own bird expert.

  I had never seen anywhere like Bath before. The houses were made of this lovely biscuity-coloured stone and some were very grand. Great-aunt Dodie lived in a place called Lansdown Crescent that was up a steep hill. All the houses were joined together in what Mr Herbert called a terrace and Great-aunt Dodie called a crescent. I was a bit confused by this, but it turned out that both were right – it was a terrace and a crescent.

  Great-aunt Dodie drew to a halt outside a house somewhere near the end of the elegant curve, pointed to a large, gleaming car further along the road and swore.

  ‘Dammit, Archie, that’s Ghastly Godfrey’s Rolls. What the hell is he doing here? Dear God, I hope that creature Clunt, his shifty chauffeur, isn’t with him.’

  ‘It isn’t Clunt, Aunt Dodie, it’s Fluck,’ I piped up helpfully.

  ‘What? Oh yes, Fluck. We’d better get you out of here, Rosa, and post bloody haste at that. I hope to high heaven that he hasn’t seen you. The little bastard may put two and two together and come up with four.’ Swiftly, she swung the car round until we were heading back the way we had come.

  Mr Herbert craned his neck, trying to see if there was a chauffeur in the other car. I followed his example just in time to see Charlie Fluck climb out of the driver’s seat and look towards our retreating bumper, scratching his head. I tried to duck down. I didn’t know exactly what the problem was, but I knew it was something to do with the bargaining chip business and keeping me a secret from Charlie Fluck and Ghastly Godfrey.

  Once out on to the hill, Great-aunt Dodie put her foot down, yelling, ‘Hang on!’ as she did so. We shot up what remained of the slope like a bat out of hell. At the top of the hill the road sort of split; there was a bend to the right of a church and another road in front of it, going to the left. We took the left-hand turn on two wheels, I swear, with a very satisfying squeal of tyres. As we turned, I caught a glimpse of the Rolls’s nose just peeping out from the crescent.

  ‘He’s coming,’ I screamed above the roar of our engine and Great-aunt Dodie shoved her foot down so hard it’s a wonder it didn’t go through the floor.

  We sped past large detached houses, trees and green verges so that they became a blur. At the brow of the hill, a long, straight stretch of road was laid out before us and our little car almost took off as it belted along it. We passed a strange-looking tower on our left, followed by some fields. Then there was a blur of cottages on our right with a pub and a racecourse opposite.

  I looked behind. In the distance the distinctive outline of the Rolls could just be seen. I looked ahead in time to see another weird tower, this time on our right, and then we hit the bend. There was a road to the right of the bend which Great-aunt Dodie ignored.

  ‘With any luck, Clunt will think we’ve gone down there,’ she yelled above the roar of the engine. We were heading downhill when suddenly, with no warning, Great-aunt Dodie yanked the steering wheel to the left and we dived down a lane between high hedges. At last she slowed down. ‘That should shake him off our tail. I just hope the little bastard doesn’t think to watch the railway station. What time’s the train, Archie?’

  Mr Herbert seemed to be having trouble catching his breath. ‘Three thirty or just before. It is one o’clock now,’ he answered finally.

  ‘Righto. Let’s get back to Bath on the other road and get a spot of lunch at the house. Can’t think on an empty tank now, can we? I can find out from Filkins what that sewer Godfrey wanted while I’m at it.’

  The drive back to Bath was much slower and quieter. Great-aunt Dodie and Mr Herbert didn’t speak much and I just sat in the back and worried. I tried to concentrate on the view but even the horses in the fields couldn’t take my mind off things.

  It was tricky getting through the streets of Bath unnoticed, judging by the shouts and honks of greeting aimed at us as we passed. I couldn’t see anything much except fluffy clouds and rooftops on account of deciding to lie down on the back seat as we got to the outskirts of town. My great-aunt was obviously as well known in her manor as we were in ours. At last, to the relief of my bladder and my stomach, we arrived in what my aunt called ‘the mews’ behind Lansdown Crescent where we parked the car.

  Inside the house we were confronted by a formidable old gentleman called Filkins who looked a lot less scary once Great-aunt Dodie was bossing him about.

  ‘Ah, Filkins. Good man. Show this child to the facilities and tell Mrs Filkins that we’ll take luncheon in the dining room. Perhaps you’ll show the child the way back to us when she’s ready?’

  With a ‘Yes, madam
,’ he whisked me away to the kitchen first and handed me over to a pale woman I took to be Mrs Filkins. She showed me where the toilet was and instructed me to be sure to wash my hands after. That done, I was handed back to Filkins who escorted me to a large sunny dining room with a high ceiling, big windows and loads of pictures on the walls. I watched as he laid three places in lonely isolation at one end of a gigantic table. Filkins didn’t so much bustle as glide between table and sideboard until there were three place mats, plates, soup bowls, knives, forks, spoons and glasses twinkling in the sunshine. When he’d finished, he made towards the door, announcing that he would bring the soup directly, which left me wondering how else he was planning to bring it – via Piccadilly Circus? Before I could ask, Great-aunt Dodie was telling him to wait a moment as she wanted to ask about Mr Godfrey’s visit.

  ‘He was selling tickets, madam, to this year’s Charity Ball at the Guildhall. I took the liberty of committing you to your usual ten. Mr Godfrey said a cheque at the end of the month would be satisfactory. I hope I did the right thing, madam?’

  ‘Yes, yes, Filkins, of course you did. But what else did he say? Anything?’

  ‘He asked who the child was, madam, but as I knew nothing about any child I was unable to enlighten him. It was only when his man Fluck hammered on the door and demanded to speak to Mr Godfrey that I learned you were back in Bath. I took the liberty of instructing Mrs Filkins to prepare luncheon as I felt sure you would return once you’d successfully eluded Mr Godfrey. May I fetch the soup now, madam? Mrs Filkins will be anxious about it getting cold.’

  For one awful moment I thought my great-aunt was going to delay Filkins again. I must have looked stricken because Mr Herbert suggested she ask questions while we ate. I could’ve kissed him! I’m as nosy as the next bugger, as you know, but hunger had driven everything, even my growing fear of Ghastly Godfrey, almost to the back of my mind.

  Just then a telephone rang and Filkins glided out to answer it. We could hear him clearly through the open door. ‘Miss Loveday-Smythe’s residence. Good afternoon, Mr Godfrey. A moment please.’ Filkins’s grey head appeared around the door, eyebrows raised in enquiry. Great-aunt Dodie nodded and began to get to her feet. The grey head disappeared.

  ‘Yes, Madam is on her way to the telephone now, Mr Godfrey. Will you wait just a moment? No, Mr Godfrey, I still know nothing about a child. Perhaps you should address that question to Miss Loveday-Smythe, who may be better able to answer it.’

  On hearing this, my great-aunt mouthed, ‘Oh, well done, Filkins!’ and beamed her approval. She disappeared into the hallway and Mr Herbert and I heard her booming, ‘Make it snappy, Godfrey, my soup’s getting cold.’

  There was silence for a few moments, apart from some heavy breathing that became heavier until it sounded how I imagined a wounded bull would sound. Then there was an explosion of indignation. ‘I am not in the habit of ferrying children about, Godfrey, as you well know – not since my nephew grew up and you drove my niece away!’

  More silence and more wounded bulls followed, a whole herd of ’em. The next explosion made me want to look for blood on the carpet; Mr Herbert ducked, and we weren’t even in the same room.

  ‘Cassandra’s private life is no longer any concern of yours or her mother’s, Godfrey. I’m sure that had she wished to confide in you, she would have. As you will know from reading my correspondence, her daughter was fostered. That is all I know on the subject.

  ‘No, I have no idea what you are talking about, unless your man somehow managed to mistake my friend, Archie Herbert, for a child. Has he been drinking? I shouldn’t be surprised – Fluck’s an unpleasant, shifty-looking character who riffles through handbags and steals letters.’ There was another longish pause, then she was off again. ‘If I choose to take off on a jaunt around the countryside in the motor in preference to receiving you in my home, that is entirely my own concern, Godfrey. If you simply must know, I find you to be rather an oily specimen and have always striven to avoid your company. Now my soup will wait no longer. Good day to you.’

  We heard a crash and Great-aunt Dodie came back into the room, looking very red in the face, closely followed by Filkins with a tray bearing a large bowl with a lid called a tureen. I didn’t know whether to faint with relief at the sight of food, or with fear at the sight of my relative’s kisser. Once again, I understood why Afghan tribesmen took to the hills when she got a strop on; it was something to do with the glitter in those periwinkle-blue eyes.

  We never had soup in the summer at the cafe, and as I slurped my way through the brown Windsor I knew why; hot soup and hot days don’t really go together. I felt better about the cold game pie and lettuce, tomato and radish salad that followed, but to be frank I wasn’t up to giving the food much attention other than shovelling it into my grateful gob. This was because I was too busy listening in to the conversation between Great-aunt Dodie and Mr Herbert. They seemed to have completely forgotten I was there.

  ‘It’s no good, Archie, I know that creature Godfrey is up to something. He was trying to get me to give him chapter and verse on young Rosa and he didn’t even trouble to hide the fact that Clunt stole Cassandra’s letter. The man’s without shame. I’d look a fool reporting the theft of a letter and there is precious little else I can do about it and the sewer knows it. Whatever happens we must not allow young Rosa here to fall into that man’s clutches!’

  Great-aunt Dodie’s tone was grim and her hawk nose looked sharper and more dangerous than ever. I felt very frightened and I desperately wanted my auntie Maggie and uncle Bert, even though I was convinced that this formidable-looking woman would defend me to the death if need be. The trouble was, although I knew who was threatening my world, I didn’t really understand why.

  Mr Herbert was all for us getting our food down in a hurry and making a rapid exit. ‘I think it’s best, Dodie dear. Then we can hole up quietly somewhere in case Godfrey returns here. It might be wise to warn Filkins to continue to deny any knowledge of Rosa and to insist that no child has been here today, just to keep the waters muddy.

  ‘I also advise leaving by taxi. Your car is too distinctive and you’re far too well known. Perhaps you should ask Filkins to telephone your usual man to see if he can oblige us.’

  It was agreed, and we bolted the rest of our dinner. I couldn’t even tell you what we had for afters, I was in such a state. Within half an hour we were driving through the Bath streets on our way to the station. We stopped only once, while Mr Herbert nipped into a newsagent’s and returned with The Times and Schoolfriend and Girl for me. Personally, I preferred the Eagle or the Topper but I didn’t like to complain. It was nice of him to think of me at all. I’m jolly glad he did, though, because we had more than an hour before the train and reading would stop me worrying and longing for Auntie Maggie.

  When we stopped again, I was bustled into the Station Hotel by Great-aunt Dodie while Mr Herbert settled up with the cabbie. I tried hard to read my comics while we had afternoon tea – cream, scones, everything – but I wasn’t really hungry and my attention kept straying to the grown-ups’ conversation.

  Mr Herbert said there was no reason for Ghastly Godfrey to think we’d head for the station; for all he knew, Fluck had been mistaken or I was simply down for a little holiday and there was no saying when I’d leave again. ‘If, on the other hand, he’s being extra watchful, he might just think to check the station. If he shows up, we can always catch a later train; inconvenient, but not impossible.’

  In the end, we decided that Great-aunt Dodie would ‘do a recce’ just before the train was due. If she spotted Godfrey or Charlie Fluck she’d signal, and Mr Herbert and I would carry on lying low in the hotel. If the way was clear, she’d give another signal and we’d make a dash for the train.

  A fair old discussion took place before we decided what signals my great-aunt should use. We finally settled on blowing her nose a couple of times on her large white linen hanky if there was trouble, and waving if there wa
sn’t. The nose-blowing was my idea. Actually, I suggested she could rootle about a bit as if she was looking for one of those horrible sharp bogies that dig into the inside of your nostril, but she and Mr Herbert thought nose-blowing would be better. Auntie Maggie was always telling me that nice girls didn’t pick their noses, especially in public, and I expect Great-aunt Dodie thought the same. Once that was decided there was nothing to do but carry on waiting. I fidgeted and squirmed in an agony of impatience.

  Finally, the time came for my great-aunt to leave the hotel. Mr Herbert and I took up our positions at the window so that we had a good view. She must have done several careful laps of the station platforms, ticket office and forecourt because we kept seeing her flitting across our line of vision. At last there she was again, firmly planted so that we could see her frantically waving her hanky.

  Mr Herbert and I made a dash for it – just like those spies crossing no-man’s-land in the war films – and arrived, panting, just as the train pulled into the platform. It was a miracle of timing. We saw Uncle Bert’s beloved bonce sticking out of a window towards the front of the train, and Great-aunt Dodie yanked me clear off my feet and pounded up the platform with me in her arms. Poor Mr Herbert was left to puff along behind us with our luggage. When we were at the right carriage, I was dumped unceremoniously on the platform as she yanked open the door and then almost threw me inside, much to the astonishment of my loved ones.

  ‘She ain’t been a little toe-rag, has she, so that you can’t wait to be shot of her?’ my auntie Maggie demanded, shooting me a stern you-wait-’til-I-tell-you-your-fortune look.

  She relaxed slightly when Great-aunt Dodie assured her that I had been an absolute poppet, and that Archie would explain and she’d see us very soon. As she said that, Mr Herbert arrived, and she bundled him into the carriage too as if he was a large sack of potatoes.