The Man from Ceylon

by Ruby M. Ayres

  “He is everything in the world to me, and always has been! Ours was a real love-match—and I only, hope that Paddy—that both you and Paddy”—she corrected herself—“will find as great and lasting a happiness as we have. Now put out the light—I shall be asleep in two minutes——”

  Both you and Paddy! Jessica smiled faintly to herself as she recalled her mother’s hurried correction. Funny that everyone should take it for granted that romance was not in the least likely to come her way! Well, there was generally one wallflower in every family, she supposed with a sigh—and her thoughts turned to Monty and Paddy—sitting side by side in the theatre now—holding hands?

  Mr. Mansfield called to her as she crossed the hall—

  “Has your mother gone to bed?”

  “Yes—she says she will be asleep in two minutes. It’s very naughty of her to worry so much when you are late home.”

  She had turned towards the kitchen when he called to her,

  “Come here, Jessica—I want to speak to you.” But when she obeyed it seemed a long time before he spoke.

  “There is something I must tell you—I have nobody else I can confide in. Your mother—it would break her heart if she knew what—what a confounded fool I have been. Close the door…” and then the silence fell again before with an effort he said,

  “This house must be sold! I am in urgent need of money——”

  Jessica caught her breath—

  “ Sold! This house!” she echoed faintly.

  Sell Kirlou!…the pride of her mother’s heart, which she was never tired of relating had taken them nine years to pay off its cost, borrowed from a Building Society.

  “But now it is our own freehold!” she invariably added with pride.

  Mr. Mansfield made a gesture of hopelessness.

  “I’ve been a confounded fool,” he repeated. “But I thought—I was sure it was a sound investment when I gambled on those shares. Bought them on what I believed was a rising market—and they’ve dropped to nothing, thanks to the scandalous state of the country, and if I can’t find the money to pay for them—it means utter ruination.…” And then as Jessica did not speak, “With luck the house ought to fetch six or seven thousand pounds—prices are good at the moment.” He suddenly turned on her with pathetic irritability—” Why don’t you say something? “he demanded.

  It was only with a supreme effort that Jessica could force herself to speak—

  “If you—sell the house—where can we go?” and Kirby interrupted sharply—” If I don’t sell it, it will be the end of everything. Don’t look at me like that!…I know I’ve been a damned fool, but I’m not the only one.” He began pacing the room in restless agitation. “I’ve helped enough people in my time, Heaven knows! and now there isn’t a soul who will help me. It’s always the way—the more you do for others the less they will do for you— no gratitude in this damned world——”

  Jessica moved a step towards him—

  “But Daddy—surely there must be some way out— or—is it—a very large sum of money?”

  Kirby avoided a direct answer.

  “I’ve approached half a dozen so-called friends,” he said gruffly, “but no luck!…though I wondered if—perhaps—Gerard Winter…he’s a rich fellow—and we’ve known him all his life——”

  He looked at her challengingly—” Think there’s any chance he might help me out?”

  Gerard Winter!… Gerard, who was never a generous man as even Paddy admitted—but perhaps —with her influence.…

  The front door banged suddenly and Kirby said quickly,

  “If that’s Gordon—he’s not to know anything of what I’ve told you— nobody is to know—do you hear? “and he picked up a newspaper, turning it over with forced interest.

  Gordon looked into the room—

  “Where’s Lord Monty?” he enquired—and then, with sudden suspicion, “Anything wrong?”

  His father frowned at him—

  “Wrong!…what should be wrong? “he demanded irritably—Well, I’m off to bed——”

  Gordon looked at his sister with raised brows.

  “The old man seems pretty grumpy, doesn’t he? And then again, “Where’s Monty——”

  “He’s taken Paddy to a theatre.”

  Her brother laughed—

  “She’s making the grade pretty quickly—Well, I don’t blame her—life’s a rotten business if you’re doomed to live in Poverty Street forever! You’re looking a bit glum, too. Have a cigarette?”

  Jessica shook her head, and then in surprise as he produced an ordinary packet from his pocket, “Why, where’s your cigarette case?”

  For Gordon’s gold cigarette case was the pride of his life—a thing he had always longed to possess, and which had cost him—as he comically boasted—almost all the gratuity he had received from a grateful country.

  He flushed dully at Jessica’s words—

  “Of course you would ask an awkward question, wouldn’t you?” he accused her, and then in a resigned voice, “If you want to know the truth—I’ve sold it.”

  “Sold— it?”

  He nodded with pretended indifference—

  “Yes, sold it—cash down—to pay my betting losses, if you must know the bitter truth!”

  “Oh—Gordon!”

  “Oh—Jessica!” he mimicked her defiantly. “Don’t spread the glad news, will you? I knew it was no use asking the old man to help me out again—he raised Hell about it before, though he’s as big a gambler as I am. Like father, like son— eh?…

  “And—what would have happened—if you hadn’t been able to sell your case? “Jessica asked unhappily.

  Gordon shrugged his shoulders—

  “Oh, I should have found some way out. Might even have approached our future—brother-in-law. He’s rolling in dough, from all accounts.”

  “Future—brother-in-law— Who do you mean?”

  “Dear Innocent,” Gordon mocked her. “Who do you think I mean? Why the great Monty, of course.”

  She caught her breath. “Gordon!… you couldn’t have asked him to help you! We hardly know him.”

  But even as she spoke she realised how untrue the words were. Hardly know him!…when to her, at least, he was everything in the world.

  Her brother laughed. “Well, he hasn’t done so badly as far as we are concerned. He was a stranger and we took him in, so to speak—didn’t we? And if Paddy manages to bring him up to scratch——”

  Jessica interrupted with sudden anger—

  “I wish you wouldn’t talk like that! It’s— horrible! “and, feeling she had reached the limit of endurance, she turned and left him.

  First her father—and now Gordon!…The world seemed to be falling about her in ruins—

  What would the next thing be? People said that troubles always came in threes!…but hadn’t she had her third already? and didn’t it—selfishly perhaps —seem the greatest of them all—to know that some day—perhaps quite soon—she would hear that Monty —the man she loved—was to marry Paddy?

  “It’s not fair—it’s not fair,” she thought with sudden passion. “Why shouldn’t I have some happiness? Why should Paddy have it all—it’s not fair——”

  And then, remembering her father’s angry distress, her bitterness died away—

  It was worse for him, to be in such profound trouble —he was no longer young and was in danger of losing all that had made life worth living. And her mother? —Jessica knew she had spoken truly when she said it would break her mother’s heart if they were forced to sell Kirlou. Was there no way out? No means by which she, unimportant as she was, could avert disaster? Nobody to whom she could turn for help? confident that it would be given?

  She suddenly visualised the two hands on the gold bracelet which as yet she had never worn and Monty’s explanation that they joined firmly together when properly fastened.

  What happiness it would have been to know that they were symbolical of his hand and hers! But as it
was—Paddy came first in his regard— “And—as usual—I’m just the onlooker,” Jessica told herself, and that night for the first time for many years, she sobbed herself to sleep.

  When she was going downstairs the following morning she was surprised to find Paddy’s bedroom door open and to hear her call out,

  “That you, Jess? Bring me a cup of tea, there’s a lamb! I’ve got a splitting headache, and I’m staying in bed.”

  She did not open her eyes when Jessica entered the room, though she said with her customary lightheartedness, “This is very much the morning after the night before’—I feel simply foul! “

  “Were you very late home? “Jessica asked. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

  “We just caught the last train,” Paddy admitted. “We went on to a night-club after the show and danced——”

  “Oh!… I expect you enjoyed it.” There was a slight pause before the elder girl asked, “And what did you think of Peter’s fiancee?”

  Paddy turned her face towards the pillow before answering. “Oh—she’s all right—not bad looking. Hasn’t much to say, but she seems quite—popular with Peter!…They spent the evening with us— Peter’s got a job in the Gallon’s firm selling wholesale cami-knicks or something—” she added flippantly. “I enquired if I might be allowed to have some without coupons, but he didn’t seem exactly thrilled at the idea.”

  Jessica laughed a little uncertainly.

  “You’ve got heaps of clothes, Paddy.”

  Paddy yawned, and drew the bedclothes more closely around her shoulders.

  “Not enough for a trousseau, anyway. Get that cup of tea, there’s a lamb.”

  “What do you mean—not enough for a—trousseau?”

  Paddy opened her eyes for the first time and looked at her sister challengingly.

  “I mean that I’m not taking a job to please any body,” she said defiantly. “Both Peter and his lady-love practically told me that I ought to be doing something to help the ‘Recovery programme’, or some such nonsense”. Cheek, I call it.”

  “Is—she doing anything? Rose, I mean?”

  “Yes, says she’s working in an office or something —near where they live. Fancy me stuck in a stuffy office all day!…I’d rather marry the first man who asks me.”

  Jessica tried to laugh.

  “Well, that won’t be difficult. What about the faithful Gerard?”

  Paddy made a grimace, but did not reply until, as Jessica turned to go she said, “I expect Monty would like some tea, too. We’ve both got a bit of a hangover from last night.”

  “If Monty wants some tea he can fetch it,” Jessica retorted. “I’ m not waiting on him.” And then she flushed in agitation when, having closed Paddy’s door behind her, she came face to face with Monty on the landing.

  Wearing a red dressing-gown, his feet thrust into leopard-skin slippers, and his hair on end, he was an amusing figure, but Jessica was only conscious of the unfriendly expression of his eyes as he said bluntly,

  “Listeners never hear any good of themselves. I heard what you said.”

  She laughed unsteadily.

  “Did you? Well, I’ll put the kettle on.” And then, as he followed her down the stairs, “I hear you had a good time last night, and only came home with the dawn.”

  “It all depends what you call a good time,” Monty answered. “I’d had enough of it long before midnight. Where do I find the teapot?”

  “Over there in the cupboard.”

  Jessica drew back the window curtains, letting in the bright morning sunshine, and as she looked at the garden she suddenly remembered her father’s tragic words of the previous night, “This house must be sold. I am in urgent need of money.”

  Sold!

  Until then she had never realised how dear KIRLOU was to her, and if that was how she felt towards it, how would her mother feel when she heard they must part with it?

  “Penny for your thoughts? “Monty said abruptly, and with an effort she turned her back on the sunlit garden.

  “Not worth a penny!” she told him briskly. “Have you a match?”

  Monty produced a box from the pocket of his dressing-gown and lit the gas ring.

  “Keep the rest,” he told her, but Jessica refused.

  “I’ve plenty in the store cupboard, thank you.”

  There was a short silence before he spoke again. “I’m not popular this morning, I fear. What’s the trouble?”

  “Trouble?” She repeated the word with unconscious bitterness. “Nothing!…What makes you think there is?”

  He shrugged his shoulders.

  “Instinct perhaps. Tell me, I might be able to help you out.”

  She laughed a little mirthlessly.

  “I don’t want any help, thank you all the same.”

  “And if you did, you’d rather die than ask for it, eh?” he submitted. He took the teapot from her with a determined hand as she picked it up from the table. “I’ll do that. Having been a planter I know the right way to make the stuff. First you warm the pot”—”

  “I always do,” she interrupted with a touch of exasperation.

  Monty laughed, and then surprisingly as he looked at her, he said bluntly, “You’ve been crying!…I knew there was something the matter.”

  He made a quick movement to take her hand, but at that moment a sudden knock on the back door announced the arrival of Dilly, and with a muttered exclamation of annoyance, Monty turned away.

  “A lovely morning, Miss,” Dilly greeted them cheerily., “A lovely morning, Mr. Monty. Looks as if summer’s come at last.”

  “And about time, too,” Monty retorted. “We haven’t had much decent weather since I arrived.”

  But Dilly was not to be discouraged. “You’ve only been here—not a month yet, is it? Though I must say it seems much longer.”

  “Thanks for the compliment,” Monty muttered under his breath.

  “And the B.B.C. says it’s going to be a fine weekend,” Dilly persisted. “So you’ll be lucky, Mr. Monty.”

  “Lucky?”

  “If you’re going to London as you said you was, I mean,” she explained.

  Monty glanced at Jessica who had turned away and was pouring out the tea.

  “I’ve changed my mind, I’m not going,” he said bluntly, and picking up the tray she indicated, with a muttered thank you, he departed upstairs.

  Dilly giggled as she looked after him.

  “Doesn’t want to leave Miss Paddy, I expect,” she remarked, and then, having made sure he was beyond hearing, “My brother came down on the last train last night,” she said in a stage whisper, “and he saw Mr. Monty and Miss Paddy leave the station—arm in arm they were, he says—and laughing and talking as happy as happy—looks as if it’s a case of love at first sight, not that I’ve ever come across one before outside novels and the pictures, have you, Miss Jessica?”

  Only my own silly case, Jessica thought bitterly, but she made some non-committal reply.

  Arm-in-arm, and as happy as happy!…

  Oh well!…She shook the words determinedly aside and told Dilly to take up Paddy’s tea. “And don’t forget the sugar,” she reminded her unnecessarily, for Paddy liked everything sweet, and calmly appropriated far more than her share of the weekly ration.

  Lucky Paddy, Jessica thought a little enviously, all the good things seemed to come her way, and then she laughed, as Dilly called back from the hall,

  “There’s two pairs of kippers as ought to be cooked for breakfast, Miss Jess. They won’t be worth eating if we keep them any longer.”

  Love at first sight—and then—kippers! From the sublime to the ridiculous in very truth! But perhaps it was good to have something to laugh over, even when one foolishly felt more like tears.

  No use being down-hearted! Perhaps things would improve, Jessica tried to believe, but meeting the family at the breakfast-table was not exactly encouraging.

  Mrs. Mansfield looked tired and worried, Gordon gloomily p
ushed his plate aside, remarking that he was ‘fed up with kippers’, and Kirby hardly spoke a word except to complain that his tea was cold and to irritably demand why Paddy, who was the youngest member of the family, should expect to stay in bed and be waited on hand and foot while at his time of life he had to ‘keep his nose to the grindstone’ for eight hours a day!

  But to Jessica’s infinite relief, when he left the house she saw him turn at the comer of the road to wave goodbye to her mother—” So perhaps things are not too bad after all,” she comforted herself, as she moved away from the window, suddenly aware that Monty, who was presumably reading the newspaper, was covertly watching her.

  “Feeling better now?” he enquired, and as she did not reply, he threw the paper aside and came across to her. “Look here, Jessica,” he said, “I know you don’t like me particularly—though when I first came we appeared to be good friends—but, being a grateful—if unpaying—guest, if there is anything I can do for you at any time—anything—you have only to ask me and it shall be done. I mean it,” he added quietly, and without giving her time to speak he walked away.

  Jessica looked after him with unconscious sadness. Anything he could do for her!…Anything! when there was only one thing she longed for him to do— “To—love me,” she whispered. The one utterly impossible thing!…

  “You’re crazy, my girl,” she told herself scornfully. “That’s what’s wrong with you! You’re crazy——”

  If only she had never met Monty! She had been happy enough in her own quiet way before he came— but now!…Dilly’s matter-of-fact voice brought her back to the present.

  “Baker, Miss!… Will four loaves be enough?”

  From the sublime to the ridiculous once more!…Down to earth!…leaving behind all foolish, romantic dreams which could never be realised.

  Paddy appeared, looking particularly attractive in spite of her ‘hangover’, as she called it.

  “Dilly says there’s fish for lunch again,” she complained, “so Monty and I are going to feed at the Greyhound. I’m sick of fish—want any shopping done?”

  “No—no, I don’t think so.”

  “Got the pip?” Paddy enquired. “Oh, and Monty’s not going away this weekend after all—thank goodness. Well—cheerioh! See you some time this afternoon.”