“Anything she leaves him will be held in trust for him, I expect. She would see to it that he could not touch it until he comes of age. By that time he would be off our hands and would (rightly) have no further use for us.”
“That is in two years’ time, but she is not dead yet. I don’t think we need count any chickens.”
Gamaliel joined them. “We could have a picnic today,” he said, “with some of the things my great grandmother packed up for me after the party.”
“Why haven’t you gone to school?” asked Bluebell.
“The O level people are excused. We are to study at home for the rest of the week because the examinations begin on Monday.”
“Well, you had better go off and study, then.”
“No picnic?”
“We will have lunch here on the terrace. Won’t that do?”
“Oh, yes, if you say so. When shall I see my great grandmother again?”
“You asked me that yesterday. You must wait to see her again until she invites you to her house.”
“She has promised that her groom will teach me to ride.”
“It will make you bandy-legged.”
Gamaliel looked down at his bare, brown, handsome limbs. He was wearing nothing but a pair of the briefest of shorts and looked superb.
“I will go and study,” he said. “I am not looking forward to my O levels. I am taking nine subjects, far too many. My mind has not that number of sides to it.”
“If you pass in five we shall be satisfied. I myself think nine is too many,” said Bluebell. “When we know how well you have done, we shall know what to choose for your A levels.”
“The school will choose those for me if I stay on, but I don’t want to stay on. I am entitled to leave school at sixteen and that is what I want to do.”
“I thought you wanted to be head boy next term. It would help your career to end up like that.”
“It would not help the career I have chosen.” He turned and went indoors.
Bluebell seated herself in one of the basket chairs on the verandah and gazed out to sea. Beyond the narrow cove with its bare rocks and its smugglers’ cave rose a high green hill up which a narrow, well-worn path climbed slantingly to a rounded shoulder below which the sea rolled in against a tiny spit of sand. From the shoulder of the hill, but out of sight from where she sat, Bluebell knew that a narrower path, rough, steep, and uneven, made a walker’s short cut to the woods around Campions the house occupied by Rupert and Diana. There was a much longer way to it by a road through the village past the hotel and the pub, a road which branched off into a bridle-way. This would be the route, Bluebell reflected, by which her mother and Fiona would travel, for surely Romula would not refuse them the services of her car and chauffeur, however bitterly she had quarrelled with them.
Parsifal stood irresolutely beside his wife’s chair for a few moments and then said: “I feel like a good stiff walk. How would it be if I toddled over to Campions and had a word with Diana? She will be on her own with Rupert at his desk or out botanising and the two children at school. She may have gathered more of your grandmother’s intentions than we did and she will be interested to hear the news about your mother and Fiona.”
“To take a walk will only follow your usual custom. It is barely half-past nine, so on your way back you could call at the hotel for a packet of their crab sandwiches. Gamaliel likes those and they will help to make lunch out here into more of a picnic. Ask Garnet whether you shall also bring him some beer. Gamaliel likes that as well, and Garnet will pay for it. There will be a bottle for you, too, I dare say, and perhaps you could bring me a bitter lemon drink if you are bringing beer. Take Diana the smaller of my two sponge sandwiches. It will make an excuse for calling on her.”
Parsifal took a haversack and his favourite ashplant, descended to the basement and the back door, went through the garden to the stepping-stones in the tumbling little stream and mounted the grass-grown steps cut long ago by the smugglers. At the top an ill-defined path followed the line of the cove and led to the back door in the oldest part of the hotel. He went to the bar and gave his order for the sandwiches and drinks then he crossed the road which led down to the shore and the fisherman’s boats and climbed the hill which overlooked the tiny harbour. As he walked, the open sea came in sight, but he lost it again when he turned inland to take the path which led to his objective.
The little bare trackway mounted and dipped, mounted and dipped until, at the top of the hill, it reached an open space whose outcroppings of rock offered the chance of a seat and a view, once again, of the sea. Far to east and west, the long headlands ran out into the Channel, helping to shelter innumerable tiny coves, each with its spit of beach. There were also a couple of large, clean, sandy bays, sought after every summer by holiday-makers with children.
Parsifal unhitched his haversack, dropped it upon the ground and seated himself upon a flat outcrop. Around him were bracken and gorse and patches of ciliate heath, the Cornish heather, green-growing but not yet in flower. Far out in the Channel a ship the size of a toy was voyaging from Southampton to Cork. Parsifal took a notebook from the breastpocket of his bush shirt and put down some rough notes and a first line which he intended to extend into a sixteen-line poem for one of the women’s magazines which sometimes took his work.
When he resumed his way the path became rougher and less well-defined. At one place an almost perpendicular descent of ten or twelve feet necessitated sliding down it on the seat of his khaki shorts, but after that the going was easier and it was not long before he came upon a broad stretch of turf and could see the woods which surrounded Campions.
He did not expect to find anybody about except Diana, and there she was in the big, uncared-for garden surrounded by what Parsifal might have thought were Walt Disney’s 101 Dalmatians except that they happened to be dachshunds and numbered only five: the sire, the bitch and three ecstatic puppies.
He paused at the wicket-gate which opened on to the rough lawn, for the whole tribe of dogs had set up a staccato chorus and had lolloped up to the gate at his approach.
Diana followed and screamed at them. Pandemonium reigned until she got them under control and into their wire-mesh cages. Then she came up to the gate again. “Well!” she said. “Surprise, surprise!”
“Yes, I suppose it is,” said Parsifal. “If I’m not interrupting anything I’d like to speak to you.”
Diana unlatched the gate. “Come in,” she said. “What’s it all about?”
Parsifal did not answer until they were seated in a large room which would have been pleasant had it been tidier. “I’d better come straight to the point,” he said. “Have you heard that my mother-in-law and Fiona have had a fracas with Mrs. Leyden and are going to leave her house?”
“No, I hadn’t heard. I can’t say I’m surprised after the way she behaved at the dinner party. I have nothing against Gamaliel, but the fact remains that he is “family” only by adoption. I am certain she called us all together to tell us something. That something, or so Rupert and I concluded, was to do with her will and who was to get what, so long as they behaved themselves. But, except for vague hints and what Rupert and I interpreted as veiled threats, nothing of any interest came out at all. Right?”
“Right. She took this sudden, and, as you say, irrational interest in Gamaliel and, by this time, may have changed all her plans.”
“Maria and Fiona must believe that she has, otherwise they would never have quarrelled with her and threatened to leave her house.”
“It is more than a threat, I’m afraid. They propose to come and plant themselves on us.”
“Well,” said Diana, sharply, “you’ve got plenty of room for them at Seawards.”
“We wondered whether, if we took my wife’s mother, you and Rupert would have Fiona.”
“Oh, now, look here, Parsifal!”
“Just a moment. Hear me out.”
“There is no point in my doing that. Your mother-in-law is your business
, of course, and I quite see that you must do what you can for her. Fiona, on the other hand, is nobody’s business. Mrs. Leyden adopted her unofficially and she is nobody else’s responsibility. If she chooses to quarrel with her benefactor, that’s up to her. She can’t expect any of us to interest ourselves in the matter.”
“So you won’t have her here if we agree to have Blue’s mother? I wonder what Rupert will say when I put the point to him? After all, this is his house, not yours.”
His tone was so full of meaning that Diana looked venomous, but, instead of the outburst of which Parsifal knew she was capable, all she said was: “There are reasons why neither Rupert nor I would want to have Fiona here. You may or may not understand what I mean. If you don’t, there is no explanation I should be willing to give you; if you do, then you should have known better than to suggest such an arrangement.”
“I see,” said Parsifal, “and I apologise. I’m afraid that, from our point of view, it was any port in a storm.”
“This port,” said Diana, “is open only to well-found, properly insured vessels, not to drifting wrecks that no underwriter will look at.”
“I see,” said Parsifal again. “Oh, well, that’s that, then.” He picked up his haversack which he had dumped by the side of his chair, where it struck no incongruous note in the untidy room, and walked towards the door. “I just thought I’d put you in the picture.”
“Shall you let Gamaliel go and live with Mrs. Leyden if that is what she wants?” asked Diana, before he reached it.
Parsifal turned round. “It will depend upon what he wants,” he said. “Blue and I would not stand in his way.”
It was Diana’s turn to say that she saw.
“I see,” she said. “Oh, well, we have very few expectations for ourselves or our children. She thinks Quentin and Millament come of tainted stock since Rupert’s father did not marry his mother. Unto the third and fourth generation is her contention, I suppose, plus visiting the sins of the fathers upon the children, but it’s hard luck on our two brats, especially as the last thing they did at the dinner party was to make a hit with the giver of the feast.”
“Millament couldn’t help knocking over her glass.”
“Quentin couldn’t help spilling his soup. They are not usually clumsy or boorish at table. All the same, they hardly endeared themselves at a time when it mattered most that they should. Come and sit down again, Parsifal, and we’ll have a glass of sherry.”
“Thank you, Diana, but I must be getting back. I have to stop and pick up some food from the hotel. Gamaliel has school lunch at soon after twelve, but he has permission to be at home today to study for his exams, and will be getting hungry.”
“Well, will you make me a promise?”
“To say nothing to Rupert about my visit here this morning?”
“You are always so intuitive, Parsifal. No wonder you are a poet.”
Parsifal knew the compliment was a false one and that in reality Diana despised both him and his work, but he felt gratified, none the less, by her words. “I won’t say anything at all to Rupert unless he asks me a direct question,” he said. “If that happens, I shall, of course, feel bound to give him a straight answer.”
Diana looked at him. “I think he’ll pay for Fiona’s keep if I put it to him in the right way. You’d be glad of that, so you need not threaten me,” she observed.
Parsifal looked astonished. “Very glad indeed of it. It would ease matters all round. But, well—” he began.
“I know all about Rupert and Fiona. That’s why—I may as well speak frankly—neither Rupert nor I could possibly have her here,” said Diana, still eyeing him.
“It will be better for her and Blue’s mother to remain together. It was only a question of the expense,” said Parsifal, still looking mystified by Diana’s sudden offer of help.
“Think no more about that. It will be taken care of. If ever you go to prison, Parsifal, it will be for blackmail.”
“Blackmail?” said Parsifal blankly, more and more indicating that he was out of his depth.
“Well, isn’t that what this visit of yours has meant?”
“Certainly not, Diana! How can you suggest such an ugly interpretation of my call! I simply have no idea what you’re getting at.”
“Sorry! I thought you were cleverer than you look,” said Diana spitefully. “Are you calling at Headlands as well as coming here?”
“Why should I do that?”
“I thought perhaps your grocery bill was due.”
CHAPTER 5
Hallucination or Fact?
By walking through the woods to the cliff-top and then taking a track (well-marked thanks to Diana’s Easter-tide students earlier in the year) which followed the line of the coast, Parsifal took his homeward way intending to return by a longer route than the one he had used on his outward journey.
He had emerged from the tangle of trees and bushes which hid Campions from view when, hitching his haversack a bit higher, he remembered the sponge sandwich which was supposed to have been bestowed upon Diana.
He did not want to go back. Her spiteful reference to blackmail had put him out of countenance and he was still wondering how she knew that he sponged on Mrs. Leyden. Meanwhile still in his possession was the edible gift. Bluebell, he knew, would be disappointed if it were not delivered. She had very few things to give away. He sighed, half at the thought of retracing his steps and carrying out his errand, half in sympathy with a wife who accepted poverty so unselfishly and with so much patience and good grace, and who had never reproached him over the years for failing to give her a child of her own or for being unable to keep her in the manner which, as Romula’s granddaughter, perhaps she had a right to expect.
Sighing, but conscious of where his duty lay, he turned about and made his way back through the tress. As he approached the back fence of Campions, he heard women’s voices and, from the fact that the dachshunds were not barking, he deduced that one of the voices belonged to Diana.
As he drew nearer he heard one of the women say, “There is no need for me to come in and sit down. I am not in the least fatigued. There is just one question I would like to put to you. Where did my grandson, Garnet Porthcawl, sleep last night?”
“Good heavens, how should I know?” The voice, Parsifal decided, was most certainly that of Diana. “Why do you ask?”
“I am not to be deceived or hoodwinked, Diana. You will answer me.”
“But what business is it either of yours or mine where he slept?”
“I would have supposed it was very much your business, since Rupert slept at my house and therefore was not at home last night to know what went on in his own.”
Parsifal decided that it was high time he made his presence known. He broke into song and stepped out briskly.
I will give my love an apple without e’er a core;
I will give my love a house without e’er a door;
I will give my love a palace wherein she may be,
And she may unlock it without any key,
carolled Parsifal in a thin but not unpleasing tenor. He emerged in view of the startled women.
“Good gracious me!” exclaimed Diana, who was leaning on the wicket-gate while Romula stood like a ramrod outside it. “What on earth have you come back for?”
“Ah,” said Parsifal. He unshipped his haversack and opened it. “Blue sent you a sponge sandwich.” He produced a package. “I daren’t go back with it after she made it especially for you.”
“I bet that isn’t true,” said Diana, taking the gift as Parsifal handed it over the gate and Romula stepped back. “Thank her, all the same. She’s a better cook than I am, Gunga Din.”
“Since you are here, Parsifal,” said Romula, “you may escort me home, or as near my house as your way takes you. I shall be glad of your company along the cliff-top. I had a very unpleasant experience on my way here. As I have told Diana, I nearly fell on to the rocks below the cliff.”
&
nbsp; “Indeed, Mrs. Leyden? I am sorry to hear that,” said Parsifal, preparing to follow her along the woodland path. “Missed your footing on the cliff-top, did you? I really think you would do well to take a companion when you go on these treacherous walks.”
“It is not the walks which are treacherous, Parsifal.”
“Landslides?”
“I have not known of one in this part of the countryside.”
“Then somebody in a hurry, perhaps, brushed against you in passing and upset your equilibrium a little. People can be very clumsy at times.”
“Parsifal, I shall require you to protect me.”
“Of course, Mrs. Leyden.”
“Dead! And never called me Mother!” said Diana.
Romula turned on her as though she could have struck her. “If I am found dead at the bottom of the cliffs, I shall come back and haunt you. You are a strumpet,” she said. “Come, Parsifal.”
Thankful that the uncomfortable interval was over, Parsifal followed her until the trees thinned and they were in the open. “You don’t really mean that you were attacked on your way over here, do you?” he asked, falling in beside her.
“I don’t know what else I mean. Which way did you come?”
“By the hill path. It is more difficult than this route, but a good deal shorter and, of course, more easily reached from Seawards. I shall have to rejoin it later on. I must pick up some things at the hotel.”
“Oh, well, that will do for me, too. I can telephone from there and tell Lunn to bring the car. I have had a shock, Parsifal.”
“I am sorry.”
“I was bending down to dig up a root of sea-pinks with my little trowel—I have a blue pot at home in which I thought the little plant would look well—when I was heavily struck by a human body and sent over the edge of the cliff.”
“Some loutish holiday-maker who could not wait until there was room to pass.”
“Nonsense! I was not impeding anyone. I was not on the path; but on the grass verge between the path and the cliff-edge.”
“You might have been killed! Did you see anybody?”
Mingled With Venom (Mrs. Bradley) Page 5