2
For a few days Tom led the life of an invalid, waited upon and cosseted by everybody in the house. Stephen was his devoted fag, running to fetch a paper for him to read, or a shawl to put round his shoulders, and sitting upon his bed and talking to him. Tom found it so pleasant that he might have remained an invalid for a good deal longer if it had not been for Dennis Weatherby’s visit … but Dennis was arriving on Tuesday and it was essential to make an effort so that Dennis might be properly received.
By Tuesday Tom was so much better that he was able to take the car to the station to meet his friend. They had never seen each other out of uniform before so it was natural that they should be a little surprised at each other’s appearance — and natural that they should comment upon the fact in uncomplimentary terms. Tom certainly looked queer for he had had no time to buy clothes and was wearing a very old suit of Roger’s which had been discarded by its owner long ago and for some reason had escaped Nell’s eagle eye when she was looking out garments for the Jumble Sale. Dennis, on the other hand, was arrayed in brand new grey flannel trousers and a lovat-tweed jacket of immaculate cut.
“Oh, my dear paws!” exclaimed Tom. “The perfect little gentleman!”
“You’re jealous of my nice new clothes,” retorted Dennis.
“I think it was pretty low of you to rob the Amberwell scarecrow, but perhaps he’d finished with those togs and was getting a new rig-out.”
Having established relations as usual they both laughed cheerfully.
Dennis was carrying a suitcase and a large brown-paper parcel, curiously shaped, which he put very carefully into the back of the car.
“The body, I suppose?” inquired Tom — but Dennis did not reply.
They drove through the town and up the avenue.
“Great Scott, are those palm trees?” Dennis exclaimed.
“Yes,” replied Tom. “My father put them in. He was very proud of them. I think they’re ugly and out of place.”
But Amberwell House was not ugly and Tom slowed down to give his passenger a good view of his home … and Nell and Stephen, who were waiting upon the doorstep were relations of whom Tom could be proud.
Tom was rather disappointed at the formal manner in which Dennis greeted Nellie, for he had hoped they would be friends — but of course Dennis had no use for girls. Tom liked girls, and girls usually liked Tom. Sometimes they liked him too much which was rather tiresome.
The large parcel was removed from the car and bestowed upon Stephen who fell upon it with cries of delight and tore off the paper.
“Oh, it’s a teddy-bear!” exclaimed Stephen joyfully. “Look, Aunt Nell! It’s the biggest teddy in the world!”
Stephen’s rapture broke the ice and they were all chatting and laughing in a friendly manner when they went into the morning-room where Mrs. Ayrton was sitting waiting for them to have tea.
“This is Tom’s friend, Commander Weatherby,” said Nell. She had explained about Commander Weatherby before so it was all right: Mrs. Ayrton greeted the guest graciously and congratulated him on his promotion.
After that the conversation did not thrive very well for although Tom had a great deal to say to his friend he could not talk naturally with his stepmother listening to every word he said — and Nell was always silent.
“I hear you want to have a protégé of yours in the garden,” said Mrs. Ayrton. “I hope he’s a hard-working boy.”
“He’s nothing to do with Dennis,” said Tom quickly. “Bob is my protégé — or rather I’m his. I thought you understood. Besides, it’s not settled yet.”
Mrs. Ayrton looked bewildered. She was apt to forget things nowadays and rapid conversation muddled her.
“It’s almost settled,” said Dennis. “Mr. Glaister is very pleased for Bob to come to Amberwell. He intends to sell his boat and retire. Bob doesn’t want to be a fisherman, he’s always wanted to work on the land, so it all fits in beautifully. I said you would write and fix it.”
“I’ll write,” said Tom. “If he’s not wanted at Amberwell I’ll find him something else.”
“Of course we want him at Amberwell,” declared Nell. “We will give him a trial,” said Mrs. Ayrton. “If he’s a suitable boy, and hard-working —”
“I’ve told you,” Tom interrupted. “If you don’t want Bob here I’ll find him another job.”
There was a slightly uncomfortable silence.
“I could call him Winnie, like Winnie the Pooh,” said Stephen thoughtfully. “But I think perhaps he’d rather have a name of his very own. Don’t you, Uncle Tom?”
This was a very welcome change of subject. Various names were suggested by Tom and Dennis and Nell but none of them met with approval.
“He’s a very special bear,” explained his owner. “It’s very important to get a name to suit him. I think I’ll wait and ask Mrs. Duff. She’s very clever.”
This statement, though uncomplimentary to the present company, was good for another laugh and for explanations about Mrs. Duff.
“Will you have some more tea, Commander Weatherby,” asked Nell.
“Yes please, Miss Ayrton,” he replied.
“Oh, for goodness’ sake!” exclaimed Tom laughing. “You must call her Nell. Nobody calls her Miss Ayrton.”
“I should like to, if I may — and if she will call me Dennis,” said Dennis looking at her gravely.
“Why don’t you call her Aunt Nell?” suggested Stephen, “that’s what I call her, you know.”
They all laughed again — and Nell felt relieved, for now she need not reply to the question. Tom’s friend was nice but she did not know him well enough to call him Dennis. It took Nell some time to get used to strangers, and he was quite different from what she had expected. He was not like Tom, in fact he was Tom’s opposite in every way. If he had been Roger’s friend she could have understood it.
“Nell,” said Mrs. Ayrton. “Stephen is talking too much. You had better send him up to the nursery.”
Nobody agreed with this; they were all grateful to Stephen.
“Stephen’s all right,” declared Tom. “Dennis likes kids, don’t you, Dennis?”
Stephen had got down off his chair with a piece of bread and butter in his hand. He looked at Nell to see what she wanted him to do.
“It’s all right,” said Tom, picking him up and putting him back on his chair. “We like to hear you talking. You finish your tea, Stephen, and then we’ll take the bear out for a walk in the garden.”
Mrs. Ayrton was annoyed. “Really, Tom —” she began.
“Do you know Harrogate, Mrs. Ayrton?” asked Dennis, throwing himself into the fray.
“Harrogate?” echoed Mrs. Ayrton vaguely.
“My home is about three miles from Harrogate,” explained Dennis. “I just wondered if you knew that part of the country at all.”
Fortunately Mrs. Ayrton did — and when it was discovered that Dennis knew the house which had belonged to an aunt of Mrs. Ayrton’s, and in which Mrs. Ayrton herself had stayed when she was a girl, the situation was saved and peace was established.
Nell was ashamed. It seemed dreadful that a guest should have to step in and save the situation; she herself ought to have been able to cope. Tom was naughty, of course. There was constant friction between him and his stepmother; he resented her dictatorial rule, and especially resented her attitude to Stephen. Tom saw no reason why he should be tactful; indeed it was doubtful whether he could have been tactful if he had tried. When they were alone the friction did not matter so much — Nell could bear it — but it was very uncomfortable when a stranger was present.
Oh dear, thought Nell in dismay. He is to be here for five whole days. We shall have to try to entertain him.
3
Nell need not have worried about their guest for he was a peaceful sort of person and, what was even better, he had a peaceful influence upon Tom. He made it clear that he did not want to be entertained but preferred to share the life of the household; he
settled down comfortably into its ways. Fortunately the weather was fine so he and Tom were out most of the time, wandering round the gardens or playing with Stephen.
Dennis was particularly interested in the bowling-green and evinced a desire to play bowls. Neither of the young men had played the game before but that did not deter them, and after some search they found a box of bowls in the attic and carried it down to the green. Fortunately there was an ancient Book of Rules in the box and when this had been read and the green had been mown by Dennis they began to practise.
The game had been started in fun, but soon they became enthralled and clamoured for Nell to join them. They also enlisted Mr. Gray. Neither Nell nor Mr. Gray was free to play during the day but after tea the four of them met and enjoyed a game. It was then discovered that Mr. Gray was an expert (or at least an expert compared with his fellow-players) so he was able to give them valuable instruction and improve their style.
Mr. Gray and Nell took on the Navy, and beat them, and were immediately challenged to a return match the following evening. After that it became a definite part of the day’s routine. The bowling-green, which for so long had been merely a sheltered part of the garden for the children to play in, came into its own again and echoed to the click of “woods” and to shouts of joy and cries of dismay.
One morning Tom and Dennis went up to the woods taking with them a waterproof sheet, some writing materials and a flask of coffee. They settled down comfortably near the old mossy stone which was a favourite spot of Tom’s. It was sheltered and peaceful, the grass was soft to lie upon and the view of Amberwell and its surrounding gardens was enchanting. Beneath the shade of the budding trees there was lily-of-the-valley, growing wild, and the scent of the tiny bell-like flowers filled the air with fragrance.
Tom lay spread out upon the waterproof sheet and Dennis sat beside him. The drank their coffee and chatted for a bit and then Dennis started to write.
“Letters are a bore, aren’t they?’’ said Tom after a long silence. “I ought to write letters, but I’m too lazy.”
“It isn’t a letter,” replied Dennis. “It’s — well, it’s a poem — or at least it’s meant to be.”
Tom was not unduly surprised for he was aware that his friend had cultivated a neat turn of verse. Dennis Weatherby’s poems were valued by his brother officers; they were usually of a ribald nature and roused gales of laughter. The most popular of all was a parody of Drink to Me Only With Thine Eyes which was excruciatingly funny and quite unprintable. This being so Tom was eager to read his friend’s latest composition.
“Let’s see it,” said Tom, holding out his hand.
Dennis hesitated for a moment. “You’ll laugh at it,” he declared.
“I bet I’ll laugh,” agreed Tom. “Come on, old boy, hand it over.”
“Oh well — it’s one way of telling you,” said Dennis enigmatically and handed it over forthwith. Then he lighted a cigarette and waited somewhat nervously for Tom’s reaction.
LILY OF THE VALLEY
The lovely lily of the dell,
With pale green leaves and pearly bell,
Grows in the woods of Amberwell
When Spring is there.
Unlike the proud and gaudy flowers
Which glory in the sunny hours
It hides itself in woodland bowers
And scents the air.
How like the lily of the dell
Is lovely Nell of Amberwell!
More beautiful than words can tell,
More good and fair.
She’s full of gentleness and grace;
The peace of God shines in her face;
She makes the world a sweeter place
In which to dwell.
Tom read the poem carefully: he had been prepared to laugh his head off so it was several minutes before he got the hang of it and realised that it was not intended to be funny at all.
“Gosh, it’s a real poem!” said Tom at last. “I say — look here — I suppose it’s meant to be Nell?”
“Yes,” replied the poet simply.
“She’ll be awfully pleased —”
“You ass! I’m not going to show it to her!” cried Dennis, snatching it away and proceeding to tear it up into very small pieces.
“But it’s good! Nell would like it!”
“It’s rotten — the last line is all wrong — and Nell would hate it. Nell doesn’t know me well enough to love me. Perhaps some day she will, and then I’ll write a much better poem; the poem of my life.”
Tom sat up and gazed at his friend in astonishment.
“But I thought you didn’t like girls!”
“I don’t,” agreed Dennis gravely. “I never could be bothered with the silly creatures, but Nell’s different. I love Nell and I mean to marry her.”
“Oh, my sainted aunt!” murmured Tom.
“You don’t object, I hope.”
“Object? Good lord no! There’s nobody in the world that — that I’d rather. It’s only —”
“Well, that’s all right,” said Dennis hastily. “I just thought I’d warn you. That’s why I came to Amberwell. I shouldn’t have come, really, because there’s such a lot to do at home and I’m off to Burma next week.”
“That’s why you came to Amberwell?”
Dennis nodded. “I fell in love with her voice when I spoke to her on the phone, so I had to come and see whether she was — I mean whether she was like what I thought she was — if you see what I mean — and then, when I saw her, I realised that she was sweet and kind and good — and a million times more wonderful and beautiful than I had imagined.”
Nell’s brother was speechless. He was very fond of Nellie of course, but —
“I’ve thought about it a lot,” continued Dennis, who had dug a little hole in the moss and was burying the fragments of his poem. “The trouble is there’s no time to do anything about it before I go off to Burma. Nell isn’t the sort of girl to be rushed.”
“But you’ll tell her —”
“Don’t you understand?” asked Dennis impatiently. “I’ve got to go to Burma next week. I couldn’t get out of it if I tried. There’s no time to make friends with Nell.”
“I think she likes you.”
“She likes me because I’m your friend, that’s all. She doesn’t know me. It would be hopeless to try to rush her. If I said anything now she would be scared to death; it would spoil everything and I should never have another chance. Nell is perfectly happy here at Amberwell; she’s got a full-time job looking after the place and bringing up Stephen. She wouldn’t give up her job if I asked her — and I shouldn’t dream of asking her. When I come back from Burma things may be different.”
“You don’t mean you’re going off to Burma without a word to Nellie?”
“That’s exactly what I mean.”
For a few moments there was silence. Tom did not know what to say. It was all so utterly unexpected. To think that Dennis Weatherby, who had never looked at a girl in his life, should have fallen for Nellie!
“Nell is very shy,” continued Dennis. “To me that’s part of her charm, I wouldn’t have her otherwise for the world, but it will take a long time to — to make friends with her and — and to win her trust.”
This was true, thought Tom. He realised that Dennis knew quite a lot about Nell — which was odd considering he had only known her for three days. “Yes, but what are you going to do about it?” inquired Tom doubtfully.
“I shall write her long friendly letters and when I come home I shall ask her to marry me. That’s what I’m going to do.”
This plan of campaign seemed extraordinary to Tom. “I wouldn’t if I were you,” he declared. “Honestly, old boy, it won’t work. I mean I know much more about these sort of things than you do, and —”
“You know nothing about these sort of things,” exclaimed Dennis with some heat. “You’ve never been in love with a girl in your life. You’ve had lots of ‘affaires’ — kissing and cu
ddling in corners — but that isn’t the same sort of thing at all. It’s not only different in degree but different in kind.”
For once Tom was crushed. He was so crushed that he could not even be angry: he could find nothing to say.
“Never mind,” said Dennis smiling a little. “You don’t understand, that’s all. Perhaps some day you’ll meet the right one — the girl you want to marry — and then you’ll understand. You’ll love her so dearly that you’ll be willing to wait years, if need be, as long as you get her in the end.” He rose and added, “Come on, it’s getting a bit cold. We’d better go in.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Nell was sorry when Dennis Weatherby’s visit was over, for he had been a delightful guest and his influence upon the mercurial Tom had been extremely good. It would be too much to say that she missed Dennis, but certainly she thought of him occasionally in a friendly way and she was quite pleased to listen when Tom sang his praises. Dennis had asked Nell to write to him, explaining that letters from home were very welcome to an exile, and Nell had promised to do so — she could not refuse — but she did not feel very happy about this new commitment, for it was one thing to write to Roger and tell him about Amberwell and quite another to write to a stranger who knew nothing about Amberwell at all. Nell’s life was so busy, and yet so uneventful, that it would be difficult to find anything to say. For instance she knew Roger would be interested to hear that, after six years of war she had at last been able to get a man from Westkirk to paint the outside woodwork of the greenhouses; that a recent storm had cast up a great deal of seaweed upon the shore, and that they had carted it up to the garden and used it for manure, and that Nannie’s nephew was getting married and Nannie was going to Edinburgh for a week to stay with her sister and join in the jollifications. These were the sort of things she told Roger, but these were not the sort of things she could tell Dennis; they would not interest him in the least.
Amberwell (Ayrton Family Book 1) Page 18