“That’s no reason at all,” declared Mr. Ayrton irritably. He was annoyed because he had other ideas about his younger son’s future. Roger was going into the Army — that was already decided — but Thomas was different. Thomas was extremely clever, his reports from school were more than satisfactory, and Mr. Ayrton had made up his mind that Thomas must go to Oxford and read medicine — or perhaps law. There had been several eminent physicians and barristers in the Ayrton family. Mr. Ayrton’s uncle, Lawrence Ayrton, had been a famous judge, his picture hung in the hall of Amberwell House and several people had remarked that Thomas resembled him. All things considered there seemed no reason why Thomas should not rise to the same dizzy height. Mr. Ayrton’s intentions were excellent, his reasoning was sensible, he opened his mouth to explain … and then he remembered Disraeli’s words.
“Well, you can put the idea out of your head,” said Mr. Ayrton. “I have no intention of allowing you to go into the Navy. I have other plans.”
“But Father —”
“Let’s hear no more about it,” said Mr. Ayrton kindly but firmly, and he went away.
Tom rushed out of the nursery; he left the door open and they heard him clattering down the stairs to the garden. Roger followed him. The three girls were left alone.
There were several mysteries here. Why had their father visited the nursery? Why had he said Tom was not to be a sailor? Why had Tom wanted Jack? The first two mysteries were insoluble — they were the sort of strange vagaries to be expected from grown-up people — but the third mystery was at least arguable.
“I told you —” began Connie.
“Yes, but it isn’t,” declared Nell earnestly. “It’s something else — and I shouldn’t have let Tom have him.”
“But you couldn’t say no when Tom wanted him so badly,” objected Anne.
This was true, of course, and it was a comforting thought. She could not have said no to Tom.
“I’ll tell you what it is,” continued Anne. “He wants to take Jack to school and have a joke with the other boys. You know how Tom loves jokes.”
Nell was still dubious. “Perhaps,” she agreed. “I’d just like to know what he’s going to do with Jack — that’s all.”
CHAPTER FOUR
When Mr. Ayrton said it would take a year before the fountain was in working order he was just about right. Meantime the construction was a source of unfailing interest to the children. They watched the masons laying the stones, they watched the trenches being dug for the pipes and they listened sympathetically when Mr. Gray bewailed the mess in his precious gardens. It certainly was a mess. Heavy-footed men clumped all over the flower-beds, rolled their wheelbarrows over the grass and mixed cement upon the crazy pavement. There were heaps of rubble piled up against the rose trellis and the roots of the magnolia tree were disturbed, so that it sickened and died. These activities went on all winter and spring; it was not until the following July that the mermaid was put into her appointed place and the men packed up and departed.
Mrs. Ayrton had decided to have a garden-party for the Opening of the Fountain, but naturally this could not be held until the mess had been cleared up and everything put right, so the party was arranged for the end of August, and meanwhile the fountain stood idle. Obviously it would be ridiculous (said Mrs. Ayrton) to invite guests to see the Opening of the Fountain when it had been playing for weeks. Mr. Ayrton agreed with her and the order was given that the fountain was not to play. Nobody was to see it playing until the great day arrived.
Meanwhile the little bronze mermaid sat upon her rock in the middle of the lily-pool with the shell in her hand. She looked hot and dusty. The sun shone down upon her bronze head and her naked, bronze shoulders. Her tail was coiled round the rock. Just below her was the pool of clear, cold water but the mermaid could not bathe.
The afternoon before the party was warm and misty and although the sun shone it was veiled in cloud. It was reflected in the water of the lily-pool, pale and hazy like the moon. Nell and Anne were leaning over the low wall which surrounded the pool, whispering together.
“She looks sad,” said Anne.
“She hasn’t got long to wait now,” replied Nell comfortingly.
“To-morrow night,” agreed Anne. She hesitated and then added, “You know I sort of feel as if I was her.”
“Why?” asked Nell in surprise.
“Well, she’s the same size as me — exactly — only not so fat.”
“I love her,” said Nell with a sigh. “I love her dear little tail.”
“Won’t it be exciting to see the water beginning? She’ll be so pleased. She’ll wake up when she feels the water beginning because mermaids love water — I mean they’re half fishes, aren’t they?”
The children were still talking about it when they went in to tea and took their places at the nursery table. They had talked about it for weeks but the subject was inexhaustible. Their lives were so quiet and monotonous that it was no wonder they were excited about to-morrow night.
“But you won’t see it,” said Nannie suddenly.
There was a moment of incredulous silence.
“Not see it?” asked Anne in amazement.
“No,” said Nannie. “The boys are to stay up for it, but you’re all to go to bed at the proper time.”
“Oh, Nannie!” exclaimed Nell in horrified tones.
“Oh, Nannie!” cried Connie. “Surely I am old enough —”
“We all are,” declared Nell earnestly. “We’re all old enough to stay up. We all want to see the beginning of the fountain — in the moonlight. Oh, Nannie, please —”
“Your mother says —”
“Did you ask her?” demanded Connie. “Did you tell her we wanted to see it? Did you?”
Nannie pursed up her mouth and remained dumb … so of course they knew she had. Also it was quite obvious that Nannie was not pleased.
(Most certainly Nannie was not pleased. She had been looking forward to appearing on the terrace with the three little girls all dressed in their best frocks to see the Opening of the Fountain. Now she would have to see it from the garden in company with Mrs. Duff and the rest of the staff, which was not the same thing at all. Nannie was almost as disappointed as the children if the truth be told.)
“It’s beastly unfair!” exclaimed Tom. “Why shouldn’t they stay up and see it? They’ve been looking forward to it frightfully.”
“Their mother says they’re too young,” said Nannie.
“Nannie, listen —” began Roger.
“It’s no use asking me,” declared Nannie. “It’s not for me to say.”
Anne had remained silent but her mouth drooped pathetically and her eyes filled with tears.
Nannie’s heart was softened. “Never mind,” she said comfortingly. “You can see it next day. I’ll ask Mr. Gray to turn it on specially, and once it’s been opened you’ll be able to see it playing quite often.”
“But it won’t be the same,” wailed Anne. “It won’t be the beginning. We want to see it begin.”
It was no use of course. They all knew that. Roger had a wild idea of going to his father and trying to explain what the little girls were feeling about it but on second thoughts he abandoned the project. Roger realised that he would be putting his head into the lion’s mouth for nothing. Mr. Ayrton never interfered with the children’s upbringing and he certainly would not interfere with this. An order was an order in the Ayrton household.
It’s a shame, thought Roger, as be looked round at the miserable faces. They’re such decent kids …
2
By bedtime the little girls had recovered some of their spirits and seemed resigned to their fate. Connie minded least, for she was least imaginative, and Nannie’s promise that Mr. Gray would turn it on the next morning for the children’s benefit pacified her completely. It would be more important to have it turned on specially, Connie thought.
At half-past six the three girls went off to bed as usual while Roger a
nd Thomas, who had been promoted to dinner in the dining-room, got ready for the meal.
No more was said until Nell and Anne were in bed and Nannie had turned out the light.
“It’s no good minding,” said Nell softly. “I mean the mermaid will enjoy it just the same whether we’re there or not.”
“But I do mind,” returned Anne in a thoughtful voice. “I mind all those people seeing it before us — when we love her and they don’t.”
Nell felt exactly the same but she was always the comforter. “I know — but we can think about her. She won’t be sad any more when the water begins.”
“D’you know what I think?” said Anne eagerly. “I think she climbs down at night and splashes in the pool — specially when the moon shines.”
“But only when nobody’s there,” returned Nell. “She won’t climb down to-morrow night when all those people are watching her.”
Anne sighed. “It’s a lovely moon for her to-night.”
“Yes,” agreed Nell. A sword of moonlight was streaming in through the open window of their room. “Yes, it’s a lovely moon.”
“D’you think —” began Anne, and then suddenly was silent.
The door opened very softly and Roger peeped in. Tom was just behind him.
“Hallo, what is it?” whispered Nell.
“They’re not asleep,” said Tom in conspiratorial tones.
The two boys stood at the door and looked across the room at their sisters.
“Perhaps we’d better not,” said Roger doubtfully.
“What?” asked Nell. She sat up and stared at him.
“Can you keep a secret?” Roger asked.
“You know we can!” cried Anne indignantly. “We’ve kept Ponticum a secret for years. What is the secret about?”
“We thought we’d turn on the fountain.”
The two little girls were speechless with amazement.
“It’s pretty safe, really,” added Roger. “The parents have gone to the Lamberts’ to play bridge.”
“I know how to do it,” explained Tom. “I watched Mr. Gray after tea. He was turning it on and off and oiling the handle to make sure it would be all right for to-morrow night. We thought it would be a lark to turn it on.”
Tom was always daring, but this was the most daring thing the little girls had ever heard of. It was positively breath-taking.
“If you’d like to come,” said Roger doubtfully. “Connie is asleep, but —”
“Oh, Roger, of course!” cried Anne, bounding out of bed.
“You’ll have to keep it dark. There’d be an awful row —”
“Of course we’ll keep it dark!”
“They’re all right,” said Tom. “They won’t let on … and it’s such a stinking shame they can’t see it to-morrow. Come on, kids, put on your dressing-gowns.”
The boys had chosen a good hour for the expedition; Mr. and Mrs. Ayrton had driven off in the car and Nannie had gone downstairs to have her usual chat with Mrs. Duff. The table-maid had finished clearing the dinner and the housemaid had turned down the beds and drawn the curtains. The house was perfectly quiet.
The four children crept down the nursery stairs into the garden. It was quiet here too; the moonlight poured down in a silver flood. The night was warm and there was not a breath of wind, the leaves of the trees hung down in a tired sort of way as if they were resting after the day of sunshine. The scent of the night-stock in the border was almost overpowering.
Nell was a little frightened as she pattered along the path after the others. It was such a huge adventure, it was so dreadfully naughty. Supposing somebody found out? But Roger waited for her and took her small hand in his and they went on together. Tom had run ahead. Although he was younger than Roger it was usually he who took the lead in any escapade … and this was his “special thing” for it was he who had watched Mr. Gray oiling the mechanism of the fountain. It was he who knew how to turn it on.
The lily-pool lay still in the moonlight, it was like a big round mirror. In the middle was the black rock with the mermaid sitting upon it. Tom took off his coat and rolled up his sleeves, he went round the pool and leaning over the edge of the stone rim, plunged his arm into the water.
“It’s a sort of handle,” he said, looking up. His face was very earnest and a lock of dark hair had fallen over his brow. “You had better stand back,” he added. “We don’t want the kids to get wet.”
Roger and the two little girls retreated to the steps … the next moment a jet of silver water shot up from the shell in the mermaid’s hand. It shot up in a stream which curved at the top and fell in a shower of rain over the mermaid and into the quiet pool.
It was lovely. It was the prettiest sight imaginable. A pale opalescent rainbow formed amongst the silvery drops as they fell. The mermaid, half hidden by the veil, seemed to stir, seemed to come to life and relax her position as she felt her own element of water falling upon her head and shoulders.
“She’s happy,” murmured Anne.
Nobody else said anything. The gentle sound of drops pattering into the pool was the only sound.
For a little while they stood and watched in ecstasy and then Tom crept to the edge of the pool and turned it off. The jet of water faltered and died, the rainbow vanished, the pattering ceased and all was still … but the mermaid was bedewed with drops which glistened like diamonds in the moonlight.
Nell drew a long breath. It had been even more beautiful than she had imagined. There were no words to describe how marvellous it had been.
“Off with you!” cried Roger, shooing them along the path. “Cut along back to bed as quick as you can. Nannie may be up any minute …”
The two little girls picked up their long nighties and scampered away — along the path and up the stairs as fast as they could go — they were breathless when they reached the nursery floor and crept into bed and pulled up the bedclothes.
“Wasn’t it fun!” whispered Anne.
“It was lovely,” breathed Nell. “Oh, it was lovely.”
“Were you frightened?”
“Just a wee bit —”
“I was terrified. It was heavenly,” declared Anne and she began to chuckle.
“Anne, you’re not to laugh,” said Nell earnestly. She knew only too well that when Anne began to laugh there was no stopping her.
“I can’t help it,” chuckled Anne. “It was — so funny —”
“Stop laughing at once — or — or I’ll hit you. Listen! I can hear Nannie coming along the passage!”
Anne managed to stop. They lay and listened, holding their breath.
“It isn’t,” said Anne. “There isn’t anybody. You imagined it.”
“Well, anyhow, I made you stop,” replied Nell. She turned over and snuggled down.
Later, when Nannie came in to look at them, as she always did before she went to bed, they were both fast asleep. She smiled as she looked at them: they were so sweet and good. She had brought them up from babies and she knew everything that went on in their dear little heads. It was a shame that they were not to be allowed to see the fountain — it really was.
As Nannie turned to come away she was a little surprised to see some damp footmarks on the linoleum but it did not worry her unduly for she was no Sherlock Holmes. She just made a note in her mind to remember to tell the under-housemaid about it to-morrow morning.
3
Perhaps Nannie would have taken more interest in the damp footmarks if her mind had not been full of the interesting conversation which had taken place that evening in Mrs. Duff’s room. All the usual habitués had been there and the talk had been about the party to-morrow night.
“It’ll be a grand show,” declared Mr. Gray. “We’ve got wee fairy-lights to string up in the trees — all different colours they are — but if the moon’s as bright as to-night we’ll scarcely need them.”
“I’m sick of the whole thing,” declared Janet, the head housemaid. “Mrs. Ayrton’s been after me all day t
elling me to polish this and polish that … and Miss Ayrton’s coming to-morrow.”
“I thought she’d be coming,” said Nannie with a sigh.
The others said nothing. None of them was fond of Beatrice Ayrton.
“Poking her nose into everything,” continued Janet. “Every time Miss Ayrton comes her room has to be spring cleaned — and that on the top of everything else, mind you.”
“Well, ye get paid for yer work,” said Mrs. Duff.
Janet laughed scornfully. “I’d get better pay in a shop and half the work … and I’d not have Her nosing after me.”
“That’s no way to talk,” reproved Mrs. Duff.
“Ye should boo tae the bush that bields ye,” added Mr. Gray.
“That’s an old-fashioned notion,” retorted Janet. “I’ll not boo to any bush. I’m as good as her any day. I’ll not demean myself.”
Mr. Gray leaned forward and shook his finger at her. ‘“That’s foolish talk,” he said. “There’s nothing demeaning in showing a proper respect for yer employer — if you respect him he’ll respect you. And there’s nothing demeaning in an honest day’s work. Ye can stand up and look the whole wurrld in the face. It’s the shirkers that need to look sideways.”
“I’d as lief be my own master,” declared Janet, somewhat taken aback.
“And how would you be that?” asked Mrs. Duff tartly. “If ye worked in a shop ye’d have a master, wouldn’t ye?”
“And maybe a less considerate one,” put in Nannie.
“That’s a true word,” nodded Mr. Gray. “Ye’re looked after in a place like Amberwell. Ye get yer pay regular and ye’ve no cause to worry. My brother’s got a wee cycle shop in Dumfries. He’s doing well but there’s a deal of worry in it and I wouldn’t change with him. My father was in the South Lodge for forty years — and now I’ve got it. That makes ye feel safe — if ye see what I mean.”
“Och, you’ve no ambition!” exclaimed Janet.
“That’s no way to speak to Mr. Gray,” said Nannie.
“I’m not worrying,” said Mr. Gray smiling. “It’s true I’m a contented man and I’ve no desire to better myself, but I’ve got a few wee ambitions all the same. I like to see the gardens well kept. I’ve done my best to have everything in apple-pie order for to-morrow. And then there’s the Show … the roses are nice this year and I’ve a marrow that’ll be hard to beat. Och, yes, I’ve got ambitions.”
Amberwell (Ayrton Family Book 1) Page 4