by Anne Morice
‘Well, you certainly told her off that time,’ I said. ‘You sounded a bit like a sledge hammer yourself.’
‘I meant to. Tiresome woman! Who does she think I am?’
‘I don’t know, Robin. Who is she meant to think you are?’
‘Not the half wit she apparently took me for. Did you ever hear such a farrago? She might at least have paid me the compliment of inventing a slightly more plausible tale than that.’
‘Was it the veiled accusations against the brave men of the Fire Brigade which annoyed you so much?’
‘And not so veiled either, were they? You’ll have noticed that when I asked her outright if her husband believed they were responsible, she made no attempt to deny it?’
‘Well, naturally you’re prejudiced in their favour and quite right too, but is it to be completely ruled out? Supposing all that junk had been collected in one room, which hadn’t been so badly damaged as the rest, and one of them had noticed this at the time. Isn’t it possible that he could have come back later and packed them into his own car?’
‘Rather a risky errand for such a trivial reward, wouldn’t you say? And you seem to have forgotten an earlier conversation we had with her, before they knew anything had been salvaged. At that time she told us repeatedly that everything had been left just as though they were still living there.’
‘No, I hadn’t forgotten.’
‘So it conjures up a peculiar sort of life style, doesn’t it? Here we have a room necessarily on the ground floor, since the house was gutted, and these are some of the things it contained: a collection of medals, an ivory chess set and a washstand basin and jug. What kind of a room was that?’
‘Well, why not a study or workroom, filled with cast-offs which had been weeded out from other parts of the house, as fashions changed? I rather picture the boys doing their homework there in the evenings.’
‘Oh, so do I. I have the complete list of these objets trouvés in my mind and I can picture it vividly. There they are, these two rumbustious lads, working away by the light from an art nouveau lamp. When they have finished, they put away their books and wash their inky hands in a china bowl, with water from the matching jug, before taking a brief rest on the patchwork quilt. After that, of course, they feel refreshed enough to light up their cigars, pin on their medals and take each other on at a game of chess. Whyever not?’
‘I haven’t got your filing cabinet mind, of course, and I must admit that it does sound rather bizarre. On the other hand, Mrs Fellowes seemed uncertain where all these things had been, so perhaps there is some other explanation.’
‘Without doubt, there is some other explanation, which is that she had fallen into a trap of her own making. She had realised by then that they could not possibly have been removed unless they had all been together in one room, so she tried to get out of it by pretending that it might have been so. Well, I hope I have brought the curtain down on that little farce. The dress rehearsal having fallen flat on its face, the first night will be postponed, pending further attention to the script.’
‘You think that’s what it was, then? Just rehearsing on you, to get an audience reaction?’
‘Precisely! And I’m getting tired of being the pawn in her ivory chess set.’
‘And, after all, why does she bother? Why not just say that they have no idea how these things happen to have been rescued and shut up about it?’
‘Because she evidently believes that such a negative reaction would not be enough. For some reason, which she’s not telling, it’s important to her to root out any suspicion that the house was burnt down after it had been burgled.’
‘Yes, but why? That’s what I’d like to know.’
‘So would I,’ Robin said. ‘I wouldn’t half like to know too.’
(2)
In contrast to its former depressing emptiness, with the arrival of the Godstow contingent Mattingly Grange had become depressingly overpopulated. Only three of them were staying there, these being the host, his daughter and his daughter’s friend, the others having been farmed out to a guest house, but their sublime disregard for other people’s existence made them as obtrusive as three times that number. They also had the knack of taking over whatever part of the premises they happened to be in, and when Robin and I returned from our obligatory walk round the garden, after our talk with Mrs Fellowes, we were disgusted to find the invaders in full possession of the terrace.
Half the floor space was occupied by Diana and Stephanie, both wearing bikinis and lying face down on inflatable mattresses, apparently with the optimistic intention of acquiring a Moroccan tan from the pale spring sunshine. Still more offensive was the sight of two of the guest house overflow playing backgammon at the very table which, after three days, we had come to regard as our exclusive property.
After a consultation with Toby, we decided to protect ourselves from further outrages of this kind and to spend the day exploring the countryside, the only debatable point being which part of it.
My proposal of seeing what the shops of Taunton had to offer having been outvoted, I next suggested that we should take Roberta up on her invitation to lunch. This found more favour, but also raised a further problem. Robin had now become obsessed by the determination not to allow the management to do him out of so much as a sausage roll and he maintained that, if we were not to eat lunch at the hotel, then the hotel must fulfil the terms of its contract by providing us with lunch to eat elsewhere.
‘We could invite Max and Bobbie to a picnic in their own garden,’ he suggested. ‘Judging by last night’s effort, there is sure to be enough to go round and it would be a more gracious way of descending on them at an hour’s notice. Let us go and arrange matters with Verity. This happens to be one of the rare mornings when she is on duty. At least, Mr God’s presence is keeping the staff on its toes.’
He was right too, and when the smiling, welcoming Verity had made her eager enquiry as to whether there was anything we needed and had been told what it was, she actually remembered that there had been a telephone message for Robin, while we were out on our walk, although unable for the moment to recollect what she had done with it.
‘In my pigeon hole, beside the key?’ he suggested.
‘No, I was going to put it there, naturally, but everything’s got a bit out of gear this morning. Let’s see now! Perhaps if I try a little total recall, it’ll come to me. I do remember that I was talking to Miss Gayford when the phone rang.’
‘Miss Gayford?’ I repeated. ‘Don’t tell me she’s moved in here too?’
‘Oh no, God forbid, but she’s mislaid a pair of specs and she thought they might have dropped out of her bag when she was dining here. Which reminds me, I must remember to ask Kenneth about it some time. They haven’t turned up in the dining room, but I suppose she might have left them in the bar.’
‘In the meantime. . . .’ Robin said.
‘Yes, that’s right, your message. Oh, just look, staring us in the face!’ she said, opening the Visitors’ Book and removing a slip of paper, which looked as though it had been put there to mark the place. ‘Let’s see now! It came through at nine forty-five, or as near as, and was to ask you to ring this number as soon as you came in.’
‘No name?’ Robin asked, when he had read it for himself.
‘Sorry, no, he didn’t give his name.’
‘But it was a man?’
‘Oh yes, and another thing I can tell you is that it’s the Chissingfield code number.’
‘How odd! I didn’t think I knew anyone in Chissingfield . . . unless, of course . . . Well, the only thing is to find out, isn’t it? Would it be all right to use this telephone while you fly about organising our picnic? If anyone comes, we’ll tell them you’ll be back in five minutes.’
Verity did not look too pleased to be given her flying orders in this way, but the motto of the house prevailed and she sauntered away towards the kitchen.
‘And, if they should need their keys, or any little
service of that kind,’ Toby remarked, ‘Tessa will be here to deal with it.’
Robin, having dialled the number, waited for half a minute, then replaced the receiver, lifted it again and dialled the same number, with the same negative result.
‘Did you think it might be the local police station?’ I enquired.
‘Quite right, it did seem the only answer. Can’t be, though. At least, I hope not, since there seems to be no one there.’
‘Unless, of course, Verity wrote it down wrongly?’
‘And why wouldn’t she? You’d better ring Roberta and warn her what’s in store, while I look them up in the book.’
Two minutes later I reported: ‘They’re at home and looking forward to seeing us. How about yours?’
‘No go. The number is so entirely different that not even Verity could have confused them. Never mind, I’ll try again this evening.’
The flyer returned with the news that our picnic baskets would be ready in half an hour and the request to Robin to hand over his car keys. Jake would then personally ensure that everything was packed in the boot right side up.
‘What service!’ he said, putting them down on the counter.
‘Oh well, we aim to please, as they say. Any luck with your call?’
‘Unfortunately not. I suppose. . . .’
‘Yes?’
‘There couldn’t be any mistake, could there? I realise you’ve had a lot of extra work pushed on to you this morning and just wondered if you were absolutely sure the message was for me and not one of the other guests?’
‘No, no, I’m quite sure. I distinctly remember that the first thing he asked was whether there was a Mr Robin Price staying here, so I said yes and that you’d gone for a walk and then he asked me to write down the number and read it back to him, as it was rather urgent. So there’s no way I could have got it wrong, is there?’
‘You sounded quite bothered about it?’ I suggested, when we had moved upstairs to study the map and work out a scenic route.
‘No, just irritated. Unlike you, I don’t care for mysteries.’
‘Then I have good news for you,’ Toby announced. ‘The mystery can be cleared up all too soon for Tessa’s liking. Obviously, your caller was Anthony.’
‘Anthony Blewiston?’
‘That’s the one. Didn’t you tell me, Tessa, that he had a horse entered for one of the races? What more natural than that he should now get in touch, to announce his presence and find out if you are still here?’
‘Several things more natural. One is that he would have asked for her and not me. Another is that he would have given his name; and, if you want me to wrap it up and throw it away, by no stretch of the imagination could he have considered it a matter of urgency that I should ring him back.’
‘Well, I can see that you are determined to go on being mystified and irritated, so you must dree your own weir.’
‘No, I shall stop being a bore and accept the way you have dreed it for me. It has always been evident that Anthony inhabited an earlier and more chivalrous world than ours and I quite see that he would consider it the height of caddishness to bandy a lady’s name on the telephone. I shall think no more about it.’
Such resolutions are easier made than kept, however. This one showed signs of wavering during the first part of our drive, steadied itself as we jostled our way down the Chissingfield street market, where the fish and produce stalls were set out cheek by jowl with racks of tatty garments and tables piled high with plastic toys, and fell flat on its face when we arrived at the Grayles’ cottage. This was because the first of the three people to leap up from their garden chairs to greet us was my old friend, Anthony Blewiston.
(3)
‘Where’s your young man?’ I asked Bobbie, who had escorted me upstairs for what Louisa would have called a scrub up.
‘Got a matinée, poor old lamb.’
‘So he’s recovered from his injuries?’
‘Not entirely. He’s still got the bandage on, but it won’t show under all those cuffs and gauntlets. The sling has been discarded. He’s had to give up that silly pretence.’
‘Was it a pretence?’
‘I’m afraid so. He came down to breakfast wearing, it and Max had to slice up his toast for him and make some brave soldiers to dip in his boiled egg, but unfortunately I was tactless enough to go into the bathroom while he was shaving. He seemed to be managing quite well without it.’
‘So what’s the game?’
‘I really couldn’t tell you, Tessa. Maybe just plain old-fashioned lead swinging. Who can say?’
‘Because he hates this job he’s stuck with at the Old Mill? No one could blame him, but it’s not like Jimmie to be unprofessional and let other people down. And it could hardly be to draw attention to himself because, God knows, he gets enough of that from you and Max without even trying.’
‘Yes, I know and, in a funny way, he’s just as dependent on Max as he is on me. That’s probably what most infuriates his real father. Hence my base suspicion that he had set out to get Jimmie drunk at his party. It would be a way of getting back at both of us. However, your saying that he left soon after eleven has given me a different idea.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Well, you see, he wasn’t back here until after two. He came in very quietly and he doesn’t know I heard him, but when you get to my age the slightest sound can wake you after an hour or two’s sleep and I’ve had more than my share in the past of lying in bed, waiting for the reveller to return in the small hours.’
‘But if he’s under the illusion that you don’t know what time he came in, why this elaborate pretence of having damaged his wrist? What would be the point of that?’
‘Oh, I’m certain he did hurt himself in some way and that he genuinely was in pain the next morning. What I don’t believe is that it happened in the way he described. There’s something going on that he doesn’t want me to know about. Some young lady at the bottom of it, I shouldn’t wonder.’
‘Why on earth should you say that?’
‘Well, it’s happened before, you know, more than once. It seems to coincide with the Galahad mood, funnily enough. Perhaps it makes a nice occasional change from being the beamish boy at home.’
‘What does the Galahad mood do for him?’
‘Oh, you know, Tessa! Taking up with some girl who’s had a rotten deal, or unhappy childhood, or something. Two or three years ago, I remember there was someone. It didn’t last, they never do, but this one became pregnant, or said she had, and got it into her head they were going to be married, which scared him right off. He’s much too immature for the husband and father role. Still, he was bound to grow up one day and I shouldn’t complain. I’ve had a good innings, as you cricket fans say, and I must learn how to leave the field gracefully, if the time for that is now coming.’
I did not argue with her because, much as I regretted it, I had to admit that she was probably right, so I moved on to the subject of Anthony and she said:
‘We didn’t know he was coming until he rang up last night. It was a lovely surprise. I hadn’t seen him since he gave up the unequal struggle to be an actor, but Max ran into him in London the other day, when he was lunching with his publisher, and he must have given him our telephone number. He doesn’t remember doing so, but you know how flustered he always gets on these occasions? Goes burbling on, out of sheer nerves and half the time he has no idea what he’s saying. Anyway, it’s fun to see Anthony again and he seems much happier now that he’s so rich.’
‘Where was he ringing from? Chissingfield?’
‘No, Sussex. He started out at six this morning and arrived here a few minutes before you did.’
‘Could it really take him so long?’
‘Every bit. He came in his Land Rover, with the head lad and the horse box behind, so they couldn’t do more than forty miles an hour.’
‘Is he staying with you?’
‘No, I think he may have been fishing
for an invitation, but we simply haven’t room. Max had offered to drive him over to Chissingfield this afternoon, but perhaps you could take him instead? Poor Anthony, he’s had a run of bad luck.’
‘Why, what’s happened to him?’
‘He’d been invited to stay with some of his grand friends, but a day or two ago his hostess fell off her horse and broke her pelvis, so that’s out. Then he tried the place where you’re staying, but he’d no sooner got that all fixed when they rang him back to say there’d been some muddle over the bookings and they hadn’t got a room for him, after all. Now he’s hoping to get in at some little pub he knows. Not that it bothers Anthony where he stays. He wouldn’t miss this meeting, if it meant spending the night in the horse box.’
‘Where do you want to be dropped?’ Robin asked him.
‘Just the other side of Chissingfield, if you’d be so kind, old boy. Little dump called the Weston Arms. Bit out of the way, I’m afraid, but we don’t need to go through the town. I can show you the back doubles.’
‘I’ve heard of the Weston Arms,’ I said, ‘but blowed if I can remember where or when.’
‘You must be one of the few. It hasn’t much of a reputation nowadays. Neither quaint nor comfortable, if you follow me? Still, as long as they can find a bed for me, that’s all that matters.’
‘All the same, I wish I could remember who was telling me about it. It’s going to annoy me.’
‘Think about something else and it’ll come to you in a blinding flash. On second thoughts, Robin, old scout, it might be a good idea to go through the town, after all, if it’s not asking too much of you?’