A Haddington Manifestation

  Chapter 6

  “Well, boys, we’re finished.” It was after lunchtime Tuesday, and George stood with his hands on his hips as he surveyed the wall.

  “The way you were driving us,” said Dickie, “I thought you were building a bleeding pyramid, pick that up, carry that brick.” He mimicked.

  “What, Dickie, you carry a brick?” Asked Charlie.

  “And ruin those beautiful hands?” Laughed George.

  Dickie pulled a face as he walked over to the wall to brush away a piece of hair carefully. George had hired two local men to help get the job done quickly, now they all stood admiring their handiwork.

  “Come out and see your wall, woman,” called George, “She’s plagued me for weeks to get it built now it’s done there’s no sign of her.”

  At this stage an open carriage was going past on the road, it struck a hole and bounced in the air to land heavily, shattering one of the wheels, it ground along on an axle until Rogers could stop the horses.

  Lee sat squeezed with Winterhaiming and Clarence on one seat while Haddington and Cynthia sat on the other.

  By the time the workmen had reached them Haddington was nursing Cynthia who had fainted. Dickie was waddling up at a steady rate when he caught sight of Haddington, he stopped and looked back at the wall. Then a dejected figure, he walked back to sit under the shade of a tree near the house. George’s wife came out with a tray holding a jug of beer and glasses.

  “I’ll take them, missus.”

  “Where is everybody?” She asked as she walked over to allow Dickie to help himself to the beer.

  “Your wall’s gone, you know, you can wave goodbye to it.”

  “What are you talking about?” She glanced up at the carriage.

  “Lord Clumsy’s here.”

  “Has there been an accident?”

  “Of course there has, woman, I just told you Lord Clumsy was here.” She dropped the tray but Dickie managed to save the jug and a glass. Lee came walking down to where Dickie sat.

  “I wonder if I might borrow that,” he pointed to the jug, “we’ve got a lady who fainted up there.”

  Gracie hurried up to the carriage to see if she could help.

  “Its beer, mate, ladies don’t drink beer.”

  “I think we can bend that rule a little just this once.”

  “It’s him, ain’t it, it’s Lord Clumsy, he’s here, ain’t he?”

  “It’s Lord Haddington, if that’s who you mean?”

  “It’s gone, of course, he’ll destroy it.” Mumbled Dickie to himself.

  “Destroy what?”

  “Our wall, see, over there, that wall, he’ll destroy it now.”

  “It looks as solid as a house.” Lee walked over to look at it, Dickie continued to mumble to himself as he poured more beer into his glass. Lee put a hand to the wall and pressed.

  “Don’t touch that wall!” Roared George as he ran down to join Lee, the workmen came after him.

  “Yeah, bring him down,” mumbled Dickie, “come on Lord Clumsy, we got a wall here for you.” He drained his glass.

  “That character over there,” Lee indicated Dickie, “seems to think this wall is about to be destroyed.”

  “If you go sticking your big ugly paws all over it, it soon will be.”

  “Look, pal, I ain’t touching it, see.” Lee dug his finger into George’s chest.

  Dickie saw Haddington taking a few steps away from the carriage. “LOOK OUT!” He roared, Haddington thought it was a warning that something was happening at the carriage so he retraced his steps. But Dickie’s warning startled the workmen gathered at the wall, both of them turned around and stepped back to bump Charlie who in turn bumped George who knocked Lee against the wall.

  “Watch it, you clot.” Warned George.

  “Who are you calling a clot?”

  “The one with a face like a clot.”

  “Do you mean me, mister?”

  “Yes, mister, I mean you.”

  Lee took up a stance and George raised his fists to defend himself. Lee lunged forward but tripped on a brick and managed to knock Charlie to the ground. He danced around to hit George and knock him against the wall. George bounced back to get a second punch that sent him against the two workmen and they all fell to the ground.

  “Anybody else think I’m a clot?” Asked Lee defiantly.

  “Stop that, stop it.” Called Gracie as she came down from the carriage.

  “Save your breath, missus, your wall’s gone.” Said Dickie calmly as he drained the last of the beer from the jug. She gave him a look that was unmistakable to which Dickie grinned stupidly.

  She ran down to start hitting out at Lee with her open hands. He tried to protect himself by holding his hands up to his face, while she managed to bounce him off the wall a couple of times.

  “He’s hitting a woman.” Said one of the workmen to the other in shocked surprise. They got to their feet and ran at him together. He sidestepped Gracie who continued striking out blindly until she came in contact with the wall.

  Dickie leaned back against the tree and folded his arms on his chest. Clarence and Haddington stood watching with interest.

  Lee knocked one, then the other to the ground and turned to grab Gracie by the shoulders as she continued striking at the wall. George and Charlie came at him, he stepped away from Gracie to meet them and knocked them to the ground.

  Dickie found a piece of stale cake in his pocket and was munching on it contentedly. The two workmen took up a heavy piece of wood between them and came running at Lee, he jumped out of the way and they slammed into the wall. Dickie closed his eyes.

  Lee knocked one and then the other to the ground, Gracie sat on the ground exhausted. Lee stood brushing his hands together.

  “Upon my soul….” Began Haddington. Lee leaned with one hand on the wall. This proved to be too much for the edifice, it groaned and began to lean over dangerously, Lee stepped back as the wall slowly fell away from his hand with a roar, a huge cloud of dust rose in the air and began to settle on the six people.

  Haddington waited until the dust had settled and in the heavy silence said with admiration. “There had to be a record somewhere in there, Clarence.”

  But Clarence was running down to see if he could help. Dickie had been startled by the noise so that he’d dropped his piece of cake, he scrambled on all fours as Haddington also came running down to step on his hand.

  “Do get out of the way, sir.”

  “Sorry, Your Lordship.” He said holding his injured hand in the air while he picked up the piece of cake with his other hand.

  Much later, after the troublemakers had had the carriage repaired and driven away, four very dejected men sat on a fallen tree staring glumly at the demolished wall. Dickie sat on a pile of rocks eating a piece of cake from the house.

  “This is good, missus, have you got any more?”

  “It was supposed to be for four people, maybe if I’d have made it for five somebody besides yourself would have gotten some.”

  “No more, is there? Pity.”

  “All that work,” said Charlie in disgust, “all for nothing.”

  “You make him pay for this, George.” Said Gracie.

  “Don’t you worry about that, woman.”

  “We’ve got to start again.” Said Dickie searching in vain in his pockets for more food.

  “Not until we make that clot pay for this damage,” George got to his feet, “come on lads, we’ll go pay the fellow a visit.”

  George went trudging off to be followed by Charlie, the two workmen sat with their chins in their hands staring at the mess. Dickie sat back comfortably on his pile of bricks.

  “Aren’t you going with your brothers?” Asked Gracie as she leaned against the house with her arms folded on her chest.

  “No, missus, I need to conserve me strength to start work again when they get back.”

  “Don’t you think they might need your help?” She asked coldly.


  “No, missus, you see I’m the sensitive one of the family, they’re the brawn.”

  “Well, Mr Sensitive, I think you should go with them.”

  “No, missus, I need me rest.”

  “You’ve had more than enough rest.”

  “You’re disturbing my rest, woman.”

  “If you don’t go to help your brothers, Mr Sensitive, you’ll get no supper tonight,” a breeze went past her, “do you hear…..” the pile of bricks was empty.

  “All that work, George,” Charlie was saying as Dickie caught up with them, “It’s a disgrace.”

  “A disgrace.” Panted Dickie.

  “Don’t you worry lad, he’ll pay for it.”

  They came upon an overturned barrow, with fruit all over the ground, a crowd of children were helping themselves. Charlie and George continued on but Dickie decided to rest under the shade of a tree where he saw an old man with his head against the tree reading a newspaper.

  Dickie picked up an apple and sat down beside him to watch the children. “Your barrow?” He asked, the old man looked over from his paper.

  “That’s right, brother.”

  “Lord Clumsy?” Dickie took a bite of the apple.

  “That’s right, brother, Lord flippin’ Clumsy, you met him?”

  “Too often, brother.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m laughin’.”

  “I can see that.” He continued to munch on his apple.

  “I’ll say this much for Lord flippin’ Clumsy, he pays well.”

  “Does he?” Dickie was interested.

  “He does, brother.”

  “He paid for all this, did he?”

  “He did, a fine man, but flippin’ clumsy, worse than any herd of bulls in any flippin’ china shop.”

  “And he paid for all the damage?”

  “Flippin’ twice over, brother.”

  “Thanks, brother.” Dickie got to his feet. “Have a nice rest.”

  “I flippin’ well intend to, brother.” He went back to his paper, as Dickie ran off to join his brothers.

  “All that work, George.”

  ‘Looks like I missed nothing.’ Thought Dickie as he came up to them with a spring in his step.

  She watched them trudging back in the rain, three very dejected men. She slammed the door shut and locked it and went to the window.

  George, Charlie and Dickie stood out in the pouring rain facing her.

  “How much did you get?”

  “Not one farthing, missus,” said a disgruntled Dickie, “threatened to put their dogs on to us, they did.”

  “Scared of a few mongrel dogs, are we?” She asked coldly.

  “The dogs we could have handled,” said Dickie, “they set this old geezer onto us, ‘off my land,’ he said, he must have said it a thousand bleedin’ times, like a bleedin’ echo, ‘off my land, bunch of twerps,’ lovely language I must say it was.”

  “What happened, George?”

  George and Charlie stood in bitter silence with their collars held up to their throats.

  “They said they owed us nothing.” Said George finally.

  “He always pays for what he does.” She said.

  “Mr Clarence said His Lordship was not to blame, it was some American called Lee.”

  “Isn’t he a guest of His Lordship?”

  “Mr Clarence said His Lordship can’t be held responsible for what his guests do.”

  “Ah, missus,” Dickie was sniffing the air, “are you cooking, by any chance?”

  “My supper. Couldn’t you get something from the American, after all he did it?”

  “Just what is there for supper, missus?”

  “For you, you mean?”

  “Yes.”

  “Nothing. Well, George?”

  “Mr Clarence said he hasn’t got any money.”

  “So, who is to pay for a new wall?”

  “Us.”

  She looked at them coldly for a long time. “Seeing as you’re all brothers, you can all have the same for supper.” She slammed the window closed.

  The three stood in the pouring rain and exchanged glances, finally Dickie broke and ran to pound on the door.

  “Missus, missus, these are not my brothers, I’m a foundling.”

  “I’ll say this much for him, Charlie, he’s consistent.”

  “Missus, missus,” he pounded on the door, “only a cold-hearted, mean-fisted creature with the face of a witch could be this cruel to a fellow human-being.” Her angry face appeared at the window and Dickie stopped pounding, she drew the curtain. “Don’t listen to me, missus, I’m a liar, missus.”

  He crept forward in the darkness, through the pouring rain, slowly carefully he moved a branch aside to squint across the clearing. There she sat under the protecting branches of Waldo, the villain, the evil hand-maiden of the devil.

  Garth shifted the net from one hand to the other and crept through the grass, he wore a twisted smile as he put one foot in front of the other, Miss Blackie suddenly looked off to her right and he froze. He looked up at Jeffrey towering over him and put a finger to his lips.

  Carefully he raised the net and was about to take another step when a vivid streak of lightning flashed through the sky followed by a roar of thunder.

  Miss Blackie got to her feet and Garth lunged forward but she had just decided to run to the next tree so Garth came down on empty space. He sprang out after Miss Blackie who went loping off through the rain totally unaware of her pursuer.

  Garth slipped on the wet grass and fell on his face. There was another flash of lightning. “Hello.” He said as he saw something in the mud, a foot-print, a fresh foot-print, but he didn’t recognise it, Garth knew everyone who would need to come among his trees. There was a stranger among them, and on a night like this, he took a firmer grip on the net and got to his knees.

  Suddenly there was another flash of lightning and Garth saw him.

  He stood by one of the trees in a dark cloak, he wore a deer-stalker hat, with a white corpse-like face he stood looking silently at Garth.

  Garth opened his mouth to scream in fear, but it was drowned out by a clap of thunder. His eyes rolled to the top of his head and he fell into a swoon his mouth wide open.

  When he returned to consciousness he lay in the rain, soaked to the skin. He picked up the net and got to his feet and approached the spot where he’d seen the stranger but it was empty. He stood scratching his head.

  “Who the devil was he,” he thought to himself, “well, lads,” he said out loud, “who was he?” He put his hands to his ears. “Quiet, quiet, you’re all like a pack of silly women, one at a time. Alright, I know he scared you, you bunch of…..” He walked over to one of the trees. “Well, Rupert, you tell me?” He stood wiping his wet face with a wet handkerchief. “I know what I saw….I… I…saw…. He was……Be quiet for one minute, you wooden fool! That’s better, now, why are you talking like that, Wupert?”

  Haddington came down the stairs humming to himself merrily puffing on a cigar, he was approaching the corridor.

  “A tongue, sir, a tongue …….”

  “Oh, good Lord.” He sighed and cut through one of the side rooms.

  “I say.” Said Winterhaiming suddenly as he sat beside Cynthia, “I certainly don’t want to be tiresome.”

  “Poor devil,” smiled Cloud to Lady Marlebone, “perhaps if he keeps trying, he’ll make it one day.

  “I believe I should say ‘gin’ at this stage.” She said.

  “Only if you put all your cards down.” Said Cloud.

  “Gin.” She said as she did so. Cloud exchanged glances with Clarence.

  “Alright Winterhaiming,” said Lee as he sat across the room sipping a drink, “you don’t want to be tiresome, but go ahead anyway.

  “Yes, Reggie, what is it?” Asked Cynthia.

  “I thought I saw a face at the window.” Said Winterhaiming

  “Nonsense,” said Clarence dealing the cards again, “only a fool would be out o
n a night like this.

  “Probably Garth.” Said Cloud.

  “It looked like a corpse.”

  “It was Garth.” Cloud smiled as he looked at his hand. “You can deal all night if you want to, Clarence, old friend.” He took a turn and looked at Lady Marlebone.

  “Oh dear,” she said, “don’t say it’s my turn.”

  “It’s your turn, Lady Marlebone.” Smiled Cloud.

  “Oh dear.”

  “Come along, old girl, there’s nothing to be afraid of.” Said Cloud.

  “Promise me you’ll not be angry.”

  “We promise, we promise.” Smiled Cloud.

  “Gin!”

  “You’re not to deal again, Clarence, do you hear?”

  “Lady Marlebone is just an excellent player.”

  “Yeah, well it helps when you have some heavy-handed jerk dealing the cards.” They were in the midst of a violent argument when Haddington came strolling in.

  “Ah, all ready for a pleasant night of cards, are we?” He smiled as he looked at Cloud and Clarence.

  “Reggie thought he saw a face at the window, Your Lordship.” Said Cynthia.

  “Nonsense, my dear, no one in his right senses would be out on a night like this.”

  “I did see a face, Your Lordship.”

  “Probably our Mr Garth.”

  “It looked like a corpse.”

  “There you are, it was Garth.” Haddington took a seat facing Lady Marlebone.

  Lee stood looking out of the window, there was a flash of lightning and the muted sound of thunder.

  “I can’t see anything out there.” He said.

  “If there was a chap foolish enough to be out there,” said Winterhaiming, “I’m sure he wouldn’t stand there for you to see him.”

  “Probably gone back to his grave.” Muttered Lee as he returned to his seat.

  “Gentlemen, can we please change the subject.” Said Lady Marlebone with a shudder.

  “You’ve hired a lot of mutes, Clem.” Said Sir Rupert as he came strolling in, “the fellows won’t open their mouths, a lot of confounded mutes, I can use some of them at my house, a lot of chatterboxes I’ve got, constantly chattering away, repeating themselves day and night, they are,” there was a flash of lightning, “I say,” he said suddenly. “I just saw a face at that window.”

  “No one would be out on a night like this.” Said Cloud.

  “Must have been Garth.” Said Haddington.

  “Fellow looked like a corpse.”

  “I wonder, gentlemen,” said Clarence rubbing his temples slowly, ”if we could put all this another way, we are getting dangerously close to all sounding like a certain repetitive person.”

  “What on earth do you mean, Clarence,” smiled Haddington, “what on earth do you mean?”

  “He was an ugly fellow.” Said Winterhaiming.

  “He certainly was.” Agreed a smiling Haddington.

  “Lord Haddington,” said Clarence, “would you please send the servants out to check on this confounded face at the window?”

  “Certainly not. If two guests of mine are a little too liberal in their intake of certain fine beverages made so readily available and begin to see faces of corpses at my windows, why should my servants be discomfited. On the other hand if some silly corpse has taken it into his head to roam the land on a night like this, then that is his concern.”

  “Pardon me, Your Lordship.”

  “Yes, Gilmore, what is it?”

  “You wanted me to inform you as soon as Miss Blackie returned for the night.”

  “Thank you, Gilmore.” He wore a pleased smile as he rubbed his hands together vigorously. “Now, shall I deal?”

  “Anyone who wants to can deal,” said Cloud, “except Clarence.”

  It was quite late when the game finally came to an end. Haddington sat in one corner finishing a last glass of whisky with Lee while they looked across at Cynthia and Winterhaiming.

  “She’s a very fine young woman.” Said Haddington, Lee knew who he was talking about.

  “Yes, she is.” He took a drink.

  “She has exceptional qualities, all she needs is to find the right husband to draw out those qualities and the community will have a valuable asset.”

  “So too would the husband.” Smiled Lee.

  “That’s very true, my boy.”

  “Reggie seems to have some idea about that position.”

  “A real rival would give him a run for his money.” Lee looked at him with a faint smile on his lips. “It looks as though they’re leaving.”

  Cynthia and Reggie got up linked arms and strolled from the room, Lee was just replacing his glass on the table behind him so that only Haddington caught sight of Cynthia casting a very quick glance in his direction.

  “Why don’t you go after them?”

  “Why would I do that, Your Lordship?”

  “You could walk her to her room, you could ensure that young rascal doesn’t take any liberties with her, that’s the least a rival would do.”

  “I’m not a rival.” Haddington looked at him quickly with a grim expression. “I believe Miss Marlebone can make up her own mind.”

  “Bah,” said Haddington testily, “women can’t make up their own minds, they are incapable of doing so, why do you think they have husbands.”

  “I’m sorry, Your Lordship, I don’t happen to agree with you.”

  Haddington drained his glass and got to his feet grumpily.

  “You Americans have a most descriptive phrase,” Lee looked up at him calmly, “it’s called being a quitter. Goodnight, sir.” He stomped from the room, Clarence left Cloud in mid sentence to follow him. “Gilmore!”

  “Coming, sir.” Gilmore came from nowhere with a tray holding a bottle of whisky and a glass.

  “Good man, take it to my room.”

  “May I speak to you, Your Lordship?” Asked Clarence.

  “Certainly.” He signalled Gilmore to go on up the stairs, “what is it, Clarence?”

  “I was just wondering,” he watched Gilmore with a slight frown as he disappeared up the stairs, “how much longer you intend to keep young Winterhaiming in the dark over his future.”

  “Did you see the way that spineless jelly-fish acted?”

  “Yes, Your Lordship.”

  “No grandson of mine would act that way, it’s entirely foreign to the Haddington nature.”

  “Conversely, young Winterhaiming has acted perfectly.”

  Haddington looked at him grimly and then lit a cigar. “It does seem that way, doesn’t it?” He said bitterly.

  “You know my feelings on this matter, Your Lordship.”

  “You’re calling Lee a liar, do you know that, in fact, worse than a liar.”

  “That’s right, that’s exactly what I’ve said from the first.” Haddington sat down in a chair and put his arm on a table and rested his chin in his hand, he let out a long sigh. “My recommendation is that you make a formal announcement on this first thing in the morning.”

  “I liked that boy.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with Winterhaiming.” Haddington looked up at him coldly. “We’re discussing natural justice, Your Lordship, there’s no place for sentiment.”

  Haddington got to his feet and went to the foot of the stairs. “I can tell you this much,” he said firmly, “I’m certain that no punch-drunk buffoon from Chicago could remotely resemble my grandson.”

  “May I tell Winterhaiming that, Your Lordship?”

  Haddington puffed on his cigar deep in thought for a second. “Yes, you can tell him that.” He went on up the stairs.

  “Goodnight, Your Lordship.” Clarence was very pleased.

  “Goodnight.”

  Lady Marlebone was also very pleased, in fact, she was ecstatic. She had been standing just off from the stairs in a side room smoking a cigarette, a terrible weakness she had, and had heard every word. With a pleased smile on her face at having made the right decision, she used a
small statue to put out the cigarette putting the stub in her handkerchief and was walking away from the stairway so she didn’t hear the next exchange.

  “Oh, Clarence.” Said Haddington from the top of the stairs.

  “Yes, Your Lordship?”

  “On second thought I prefer that you not mention what I just said to anyone.”

  “Not even Winterhaiming?”

  “Especially not Winterhaiming.”

  “Very well, Your Lordship, but I think you’re making a mistake.”

  “Thank you, good night.”

  Clarence watched him disappear and then slammed his fist into his open palm. “Damn!” He hissed.

  “I say,” Sir Rupert was stepping out of a side room and Lady Marlebone ran into him.

  “I beg your pardon, Sir Rupert.”

  “Dear lady,” he smiled, “the fault is all mine, I was just inspecting some of the family portraits, would you care to join me? Fascinating things they are.”

  “What a delightful idea, Sir Rupert.”

  By the third painting Lady Marlebone had become panic-stricken, she knew she had to get away from Sir Rupert and his constant repetition or she would be seriously considering running a spear through his body.

  They drew up before a portrait and stood near a suit of armour.

  “Now this fellow is interesting, very interesting, a very interesting fellow indeed, grandfather Walter, an interesting fellow. He used to nurse me on his knee, it’s true, on his knee, he did, on his knee he used to nurse me.” Discretely Lady Marlebone slipped his hand from around her arm and onto an arm of the suit of armour and quickly made her escape. “There are a great many of my relatives who tell me I look just like him, of course I haven’t got the grey beard, or the squinty eyes or that scar down the left side of his face…..”

  She went quickly to Cynthia’s room and put her head inside.

  “Cynthia, tomorrow you will cut Mr Lee.”

  “No, mother.” She said calmly as she sat on the edge of her bed.

  “That’s a good girl.” The head was withdrawn and the door was closed. Suddenly the door was flung wide open. “What did you say?”

  “I said I would not cut Mr Lee, tomorrow or any other day.”

  “Oh, yes, you will, my girl.” Her mother advanced on her. “You are going to marry Mr Winterhaiming.”

  Cynthia sat demurely staring into the distance and then finally spoke. “Yes, mother.”

  “That’s better, from now on you will do everything to please him, you will even go to the lengths of showing him he has no rival.”

  “I will not cut Mr Lee.”

  “Don’t be a silly goose……”

  “Reggie is jealous of Mr Lee.” She said suddenly.

  “Is he?” Her mother was pleased at that idea and sat down beside her. “Mr Lee could be very useful, he might help to make poor Reggie reach his decision.”

  “Yes, mother.”

  “Has he said anything, my dear?”

  “Not yet, but I think he soon will.”

  Her mother patted her hand. “Your father will be pleased, he’ll be so very pleased,” she walked over to the door, “not to mention relieved. Goodnight, dear.”

  “Goodnight, mother.”

  “Spineless.” Muttered Haddington with disgust as he refilled his glass, he sat on the edge of his bed and drained it in almost one gulp. Miss Blackie sat by his side purring as he stroked her, he refilled his glass again. “Spineless. One small setback and he gives up, would you do that? Would I? Of course we wouldn’t. How can I turn all this over to a spineless jelly-fish, he’ll have to be a fighter, a real fighter. This place is not easy to run, you know that. If he quits at the first obstacle….” Haddington shook his head and got to his feet, he walked up and down and stopped before the rain streaked window and then looked back at Miss Blackie. “How would you like Winterhaiming being in charge around here?” She looked at him with wide eyes. “Nor would I.” He refilled his glass.

  It was the early hours of the morning before Haddington finally fell asleep with Miss Blackie purring in the crook of his arm.

  He woke up in a foul mood but dressed quietly and left the room trying not to wake Miss Blackie who had her throat flat on the bed, snoring.

  He went straight to his office not bothering to see his guests or having any breakfast and locked himself in where he finished off another bottle.

  The maid looked over her shoulder at Gilmore who was removing the empty bottle from Haddington’s bedroom.

  “Will you look at this,” she held up a pillow for Gilmore to see, “What did the pillow do to him? The slip was hanging in tatters.

  “There is no necessity for any uncalled for comment, just place the pillow in a new slip, if you please.”

  “So long as His Lordship is aware I am not responsible for this.”

  “His Lordship is well aware of where the responsibility lies.” Gilmore looked at an innocent faced Miss Blackie sitting watching him from the window sill.

  Cloud was coming down the corridor with his hands behind his back and a cigarette dangling from his lips, he stopped to look at a suit of armour which just happened to be near the door of Haddington’s office.

  With a crash the door flew open and Haddington came striding out carrying a walking stick and tying a cloak around his throat.

  “Good morning, Clem.”

  “Get out of my way, you confounded fool!” He snapped as he strode past. “Gilmore!”

  “Yes, sir?” Gilmore appeared near Cloud, who stood with his mouth wide open, his lit cigarette at his feet.

  “Has Rogers got the carriage ready?” Asked Haddington, who came striding back.

  “He has, Your Lordship.” Gilmore bowed slightly as Haddington went by, then His Lordship stopped and looked back.

  “You! You, sir, with the ugly face.” Cloud looked over his own shoulder and then looked back with raised eyebrows. “If you ever dare to presume to address me in that repulsive fashion again I shall take the greatest delight in making that face of yours even uglier. If that were possible.” He spun on his heels and disappeared.

  “What did I say?” Cloud asked Gilmore.

  “His Lordship is not himself this morning, sir.”

  “Well, I don’t know who he is, Gilmore, but the next time you see him, you tell him that if he talks to me like that I’ll do some facial work of my own.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Cloud stomped off angrily.

  “Where’s Dickie?”Asked Charlie.

  “I think there’ll be no more rain today.” Said George looking up at the cloudy sky. “I don’t know where he is, I haven’t seen him since last night.”

  “Did he have breakfast?” Gracie snorted loudly from the house.

  “Knowing that sound, and knowing Dickie, I would say he had breakfast.”

  “I wonder where he’s got to, we’ll need his help to build the new wall.”

  “You don’t mean to say you think he helped us with the old wall?” Asked George.

  “I thought he did.”

  “He supplied us with directions, and not very worthwhile directions at that.”

  “And ate.” Called Gracie.

  “Alright, woman, we know that.” Said George.

  She came to stand at the door with a broom in her hand. “If I were you two, I’d build that thing before he causes more trouble.”

  “Alright, woman.”

  Dickie leaned against the wall of the house reading a newspaper, a barrow laden with fish stood at his elbow, there was a light breeze and Dickie wrinkled his nose to move a little further away from the barrow, he glanced up the road, saw no sign of a carriage and went back to his paper.

  “Hey, mister.”

  Dickie lowered his paper to see an old woman standing at the barrow, feeling one piece of fish after the other, she sneezed violently and wiped her nose on a handkerchief.

  “What do you think you’re doing, missus?”

  “I want to b
uy some fish for my family’s dinner, how much is this one?”

  “Get away from there, go on, we ain’t got no fish.”

  “What do you call this then, a cabbage?” She held up the fish.

  “They’re reserved.”

  “Reserved? Who reserved them?”

  “I did, now hop it, missus.” She sneezed violently, “and stop spreading your bleeding germs on me fish, do you want to kill ‘em?” He wiped one with his sleeve, caught a whiff of it, dropped it and stepped back.

  “Your sign says fish for sale.” She pointed to the sign on his barrow.

  “So it does.” He smiled, he picked up a piece of chalk from the barrow and wrote ‘no’ in front of the sign. “Now, missus, satisfied?”

  “I want to buy a piece of fish for my family.”

  “Look, it’s a lovely day, why don’t you buy ‘em a nice piece of cheese.” He caught sight of a carriage just coming into the street. “You’ll have to excuse me, missus, I’ve got a customer coming.” She stood in front of his barrow and folded her arms on her chest. “Don’t make me run over you, missus,” he warned as he picked up the end of the barrow, “I don’t want to damage me barrow.”

  “I’ll not move till I buy me fish.”

  “Blimey, it’s him.” Said Dickie as he recognised Haddington’s carriage, he ran to the front of his barrow, “which one did you want?” She pointed silently and he picked it up to drop it into her hands then he grabbed her about the shoulders to move her aside.

  “How much do I owe you?”

  “Nothing.” Dickie ran back to the end of the barrow to raise it. “Call it the Queen’s birthday gift.”

  “It’s not the Queen’s birthday.”

  “I’m late.”

  “It’s in a few weeks.”

  “I’m early.” He was puffing as he pushed the barrow past her.

  “I’ll not take charity.”

  “Missus, with a face like that, charity is all you’re gonna get.” Her eyes widened with affront, she turned on her heels to stride away. “And about time too, you old…..” The carriage went gliding past. “Typical, isn’t it?” He asked one of the fish with disgust.

  “Rogers, halt!” Boomed Haddington. The carriage halted, Haddington stood up and looked back at Dickie.

  “Fisho, fresh fish, fisho.” Called Dickie smiling broadly. Haddington waited for the footman to open the door and stepped out, he came striding up to Dickie, “morning, sir some fish?”

  “Where did you get this fish from?”

  “Fresh caught, sir, all my fish are fresh caught.”

  “Stolen from my streams you mean, is that where your poacher friends got them from?”

  “Oh, no, no. I get them from the city, sir.”

  “From the city, you mean they’re fresh caught from the city?”

  “Well, yes and no, sir, if you get my meaning.”

  “I do get your meaning, oaf, you mean they’re from the city but they’re not fresh caught.”

  “Oaf?”

  Haddington stepped up to smell them. “Whew! My God, they must have been fresh caught about a month ago.”

  “These are the best fish in the area, sir, just feel them.”

  Haddington picked one up as Dickie tied his cloak around one of the spokes of a wheel of the barrow.

  “How long have you had this one, six months?”

  “Fresh they are, sir, fresh.”

  Haddington stepped around to pick up another one and the spoke went with him, Dickie watched with hooded eyes as it had no effect on the barrow.

  “You can’t call this a fish.” He held up a thin piece of leathery-looking stuff and dropped it on the ground. Dickie threw himself on the ground in front of Haddington with visions of his hand being stepped on.

  Haddington caught sight of the sign: ‘No fish for sale.’

  “What’s this, an honest tradesman?” He stepped over the hand and walked back to his carriage, climbed in and drove away.

  Dickie lay on the ground watching.

  “I wonder if he has a twin brother?” He muttered as he got to his feet, he leaned on the edge of the barrow on his elbows until he caught a whiff of the fish and stepped back hurriedly.

  “Did you sell this piece of fish?” Came a voice behind Dickie.

  “We’re closed.” He said with disgust as he stood with his arms folded on his chest watching the carriage disappear in the distance.

  “I asked you a question, sir.”

  “Look, mate, are you stone deaf, is that it? Stupid…” Dickie turned around. “Lovely morning, constable.”

  “Did you sell this piece of fish?” The old woman stood by the constable holding the fish.

  “Good heavens, no, constable, this silly old thing must have stolen it.”

  “Are you aware, sir, that this fish is bad?”

  “Of course it’s bad, constable, I was cleaning out my stock and was just on my way out of the village to bury them.”

  “This fish is not fit for human consumption.”

  “You’re absolutely right, constable.”

  “Then why did you give this piece……”

  “Did she tell you that, constable? You naughty old thing, it’s wicked to tell lies like that. You must not listen to her, constable, she’s a poor old thing, hangs around all the barrows, she does, she doesn’t mean to lie, her minds’ gone, you see.”

  “Is this the man, mother?”

  “Mother?”

  “It is, Brian.”

  “I think you’d better come along with me, sir.”

  “What about me barrow?”

  The constable walked over to stand near it. “I think we can leave it here for now,” he squinted at it, “is it safe?”

  “Safe! Constable, that is a unique piece of British craftsmanship.” With that the barrow gave a groan, a wheel fell off and one side dropped to the ground as the constable, his mother and Dickie looked on in silence. There was another groan and the barrow slipped from the other wheel and crashed to the ground, the wheel stood motionless for a second and then fell over, onto Dickie’s foot.

  “Looks like a public nuisance.” Said the constable. “The magistrate’s got a busy morning ahead of him.”

  “Charming.” Gasped Dickie as he massaged his foot.

  “And he insulted me, Brian.”

  “You know that’s impossible.” Said Dickie.

  “You said I had an ugly face.”

  “I was giving an honest observation.”

  “You’re only making it worse for yourself, sir.” Dickie was on his knees in front of the constable.

  “I’m innocent, constable, I was walking along this street and I saw this abandoned barrow with all this rotten fish, I was just pushing it aside so none of the village people would have to smell the foul stuff.”

  “You bought the barrow and the fish off old farmer Willow.” Said the constable.

  “Did he tell you that? He’s a liar, he’s an old man jealous of young, handsome tradesmen like myself.”

  “My brother has never told a lie in his life.” Said the old woman.

  “Brother?”

  “You’d better come along with me, sir.”

  “For Heaven’s sake, constable, take me along before I say something else.” Pleaded Dickie.

  “I believe I know Mr Dobkins.” Said the magistrate grimly.

  “He’s a Buddhist.” Said the recorder.

  “Of course, the Buddhist.”

  Dickie did his little act of holding his joined hands to his head, bowing and mumbling a few words of gibberish.

  “Dear me, Mr Dobkins, selling bad fish.” The magistrate shook his head.

  “Well, your honour, yes and no.”

  “Indeed, Mr Dobkins?”

  “You see today is a very special day to all Buddhists, it’s called ‘bad fish day’.”

  “Bad fish day?”

  “Buddhists believe that to save the souls of all people we must give them bad fish, we do this on
ce a year.”

  “And are the people expected to eat the fish?”

  “If they wish to enter paradise, your honour.”

  “Do you realise if anyone were to eat any of the fish you had, they very likely would have been entering the gates of paradise shortly thereafter?”

  “But their souls would have been saved.”

  “I’ve never heard of this ridiculous ‘bad fish day’.” Said the recorder testily.

  “Do we have to have him here, your honour?” Asked Dickie.

  “Hold your tongue, recorder, if you please.”

  “I’ve spoken to my nephew about what Mr Dobkins said, your honour.”

  “Southern Punjab Buddhists always lie.”

  “He is not a Southern Punjab Buddhist.”

  “Recorder…..”

  “Did he tell you that?”

  “Mr Dobkins……”

  “He did.”

  “And I suppose he said he’s not heard of my sect?”

  “He did.”

  “Born liars they are.”

  “Silence!” The gavel came down with a whack that made the room jump.“You,” said the magistrate to the recorder, “will not say another word.”

  “That’s right, your honour, religious intolerance is a horrible thing, it’s un-English.” Smiled Dickie, when the judge turned a pale, grim face on him, Dickie went through his blessing act.

  “Now, Mr Dobkins.”

  “Yes, your honour?”

  “You are perfectly at liberty to practice your faith in my area.” Dickie blessed him again. “But you must not try to poison my people.”

  “My ignorance, your honour, a simple misunderstanding.”

  “No doubt. But you were also selling your fish without a permit.”

  “Beg pardon, your honour, with all due respect to you and to your constable here, I was not selling the fish, I was distributing them in an honest endeavour to help my fellow creatures.”

  “No doubt. But next time you decide to distribute fish to the citizens of my area, do be sure to get a permit, won’t you?”

  “I will, your honour,” he blessed the magistrate and turned to go.

  “One moment, Mr Dobkins, where are you going?”

  “I have been suitably chastised, your honour, I accept my punishment and thank the court.”

  “Punishment, Mr Dobkins?”

  “Public humiliation, your honour, I have been shown the error of my ways by your good self and am resolved to correct them.” Dickie blessed him again.

  “Oh, we’ve not finished with you yet, Mr Dobkins.”

  “Could it be, your honour, I have unwittingly been the cause of further complaint from the court?”

  “Indeed, Mr Dobkins, indeed.”

  “I am shattered, your honour.” Dickie hung his head.

  “Your barrow was a hazard to the people of my area, it was unsafe and threatened an innocent passer-by.”

  “Alas, your honour, its short life is passed, it can harm no-one now.”

  “But it did harm someone before its demise, I believe?”

  “Someone of no account, your honour, a ruffian of the road deserving of punishment.” Dickie could feel his foot throbbing.

  “I would hardly call our constable a ruffian of the road.” Said the magistrate.

  “Oh, no, your honour, no indeed.” Dickie turned to bless the constable.

  “Our constable got a nasty splinter from your barrow, Mr Dobkins.”

  “I had to shift it from the road, sir.” Said the constable to the magistrate.

  “Are you smiling, Mr Dobkins?”

  “I am just pleased, your honour, the miserable sod….I mean the miserable piece of wood did no more harm than that.”

  “Quite so. You also insulted one of our most respected citizens?”

  “Who might that have been, your honour?”

  “The mother of our constable.”

  “I was beside myself with grief, your honour, I had no idea what I was saying, I had failed to distribute my fish and I was tormented by my failure.”

  “Of course, of course. And then you even desecrated your Sabbath?”

  “Oh, no, your honour. I only distributed fish.”

  “Our constable said he could smell alcohol on your breath.”

  “I may have taken a little refreshment at the local inn, your honour, to greet the day. Just one small glass.”

  “With Farmer Willow?” Dickie blessed him. “With the innkeeper?” Another blessing. “With Mr James?” Another blessing. “With Mr Andrews?”

  “My vocation is to carry the Buddhist message to all who will listen.”

  “I understand that, Mr Dobkins, that’s why I’m going to be lenient with you.”

  “I’d rather your honour not be lenient with me.”

  “I’m going to fine you two pounds.”

  “Two…..two……..”

  “I do hope the amount doesn’t displease you, Mr Dobkins, I can amend it if you wish?”

  “I bow to your honour’s generous kindness and all knowing wisdom.” Dickie blessed him.

  “Southern Punjab.” Snorted the recorder.

  “You won’t get away from me this time.” Garth stood on one branch with the net in his hand as he edged it forward, intending to drop it onto Miss Blackie clawing her way to the end of another branch.

  Suddenly the branch leaned down to near the ground, Miss Blackie jumped off and went lopping off.

  “You clumsy fool.” Said Garth to the tree.

  “Upon my word.” Came the voice of Sir Rupert on the other side of the tree, Garth edged his way back to the trunk and carefully looked from between two branches. Sir Rupert stood looking at the roots of the tree with a cigarette in his hand. “It was an honest mistake, Mr Tree, I didn’t mean to burn you, I’ve often put my cigarettes out on your friends and none of them have ever said a word.”

  “That’s because they knew it would be a waste of breath trying to talk to human fools like yourself.” Said Garth with an evil grin.

  “But you’re talking to me.”

  “Then that makes me a bigger fool.”

  “I say are all trees as polite as you?”

  “Oh, no, some of us are almost human, we call them the rude ones.”

  “I do hope I don’t run into any of them.”

  “You’d regret it if you did.”

  “I say, old boy, you won’t tell Mr Garth that I burnt you, will you?”

  “He’ll have to be told.”

  “I know he’ll go funny, I just know he’ll go funny.” Sir Rupert was wringing his hands.

  “You’ll not say anything against our beloved Mr Garth, not unless you want a branch across your back.”

  “Naturally, naturally, old boy, I have nothing but the highest regard for the chap.”

  “Deservedly so.”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “You’re not Lord Haddington, are you?”

  “Oh, no, I’m his brother, Sir Rupert.”

  “You’re the one who is stupid?”

  “Am I?”

  “That’s what most of the lads call you.”

  “The lads? Oh, you mean….you mean………….your leafy friends?”

  “The trees.”

  “Yes, the trees. They talk about me do they?”

  “Whenever we feel like talking about stupid humans who seem to enjoy destroying our friends.”

  “Your friends? You mean………you mean……”

  “Trees.” Said Garth rolling his eyes to the sky.

  “Yes, trees. And you trees talk about me do you?”

  “Constantly.”

  “Bless my soul.” Smiled Sir Rupert who was very pleased. “Do you fellows talk in English or do you have a foreign language of your own?”

  “We’re English, aren’t we?”

  “No, not all of you, we’ve got some Ash trees over there Clemmie got in Europe…….”

  “We trees are very patriotic.”

  ??
?No doubt, no doubt.”

  “We’re planted in English soil, we’ve grown up in English soil, therefore we’re English right down to our boot straps.”

  “Trees don’t have boots.”

  “Are you correcting me?”

  “No, by no means, I merely point out trees do not have boots, no feet you see, no feet, only roots just roots, they don’t really go anywhere, do they?”

  “How do you know?” There was a period of silence and Garth finally took another peek. Sir Rupert was scratching his head.

  “You mean, you fellows move, you move about?”

  “My friend over there was originally to the north of London.”

  “How did he get here?”

  “That’s a stupid question.”

  “It was rather, yes it was, wasn’t it?”

  “He certainly didn’t catch a train, did he?”

  “I would imagine that would have been a good idea.”

  “Don’t patronise me, Sir Rufus.”

  “Sir Rupert, Sir Rupert.”

  “What?”

  “You called me Sir Rufus.”

  “Then why do you call yourself Sir Rupert, if it’s Sir Rufus?”

  “It’s not Sir Rufus, no not Sir Rufus.”

  “What are you talking about, you stupid man?”

  “I’m Sir Rupert, yes that’s right, Sir Rupert.”

  “You mean to say you’ve got two names?”

  “Have I? Have I?”

  “Sir Rupert, and Sir Rufus.”

  “Not really, no no, my friends call me Sir Rupert and my enemies, my enemies call me……call me……”

  “Stupid.”

  “Yes, yes as a matter of fact that’s exactly what they call me, they do, yes.”

  “Well, who is this Sir Rufus?”

  “I don’t know really, I don’t know.”

  “Why did you bring him up?”

  “Did I?”

  “I’m just a tree, I certainly didn’t.”

  “No, I don’t suppose you did. Sir Rufus? Sir Rufus? I don’t know anyone by the name of Sir Rufus.”

  “Maybe it’s your name?”

  “My name, my name, oh, no, it’s not my name, my name is….is…..”

  “Sir Rufus.”

  “That’s right.” Sir Rupert smiled, but the smile fell. “No, no, that doesn’t sound right.”

  “You’d better make up your mind, if you go about with two names you only confuse the lads.”

  “The lads, the lads? Oh, you mean….you mean….”

  “The trees!” Snapped Garth.

  “Yes, trees. Well, I’m sorry I can’t help you old man, I just don’t know anyone by the name of Sir Rufus. Never heard of Sir Rufus. If you don’t mind waiting I’ll go and ask Clemmie, I’m sure he’d know, yes, he’d know.”

  “Rupert.” Came the voice of Haddington suddenly and Garth froze. “Rupert who are you talking to?”

  “That’s right, I’m Rupert, Sir Rupert, thank you, Clemmie, perhaps you could tell my friend here who Sir Rufus is?”

  “What friend, Rupert?”

  “Mr Tree.”

  “Mr Tree?”

  “Yes, he was asking me about some chap called Sir Rufus, do you know him, do you, Clemmie?”

  “Rupert, where is Mr Tree?”

  “Here, here, right in front of you, just here.”

  “That’s a tree.”

  “That’s right, that’s right, what would you expect me to call him, Mr Dog?”

  “What does he call you, Mr Mad?”

  “We were having a nice quiet chat, a quiet chat, I was a little foolish…..”

  “A little foolish.”

  “I accidentally burnt the poor fellow with my cigarette, he took me to task, you see, for the burning you see, with the cigarette that is, yes, took me to task for my silly actions.”

  “If he took you to task for every silly action you did, Rupert, he would have a very busy time ahead of him.”

  “How foolish of me, how very foolish, I should introduce you two.”

  “That was foolish of you.”

  “Lord Haddington this is Mr Tree, yes Mr Tree. Mr Tree this is Lord Haddington.”

  “That is very interesting.” Smiled Haddington as he bowed to the tree.

  “What’s interesting, Clemmie?”

  “What Mr Tree just said about his recent visit to Coventry.”

  “He hasn’t said anything about Coventry.”

  “Oh, dear me, it was Mr Rock here at my feet.”

  “Mr Rock? Mr Rock? Clemmie, are you alright?”

  “You, a man who talks to suits of armour, to paintings and to trees, ask me if I’m alright?”

  “But Mr Tree spoke to me, Clemmie, he did, I heard him.”

  “It was the bats, Rupert, the bats in the belfry you heard.”

  “There are bats around here as well? I never knew that, Clemmie, I never knew you had bats, I’ve never seen them, no, never.”

  Haddington stepped forward and wrapped his arms around the trunk of the tree.

  “Are you insane, Rupert, this is a tree, trees do not speak.

  “I heard him, Clemmie, he spoke, he did, I heard him speak.

  “Only lunatics like Garth and yourself hear trees speak.” He seemed to have super-human strength as he rocked the tree back and forth, Garth had to hold on for all he was worth, otherwise he would have been pitched to the ground. “You see, Rupert, it’s just a tree. Did it cry out when I nearly tore it from the ground?”

  “Well, no…….”

  “Then come along, you demented fool, before you start lending it money.” Haddington stalked off.

  “But he did speak to me, Clemmie.” Said Sir Rupert as he followed him. “He did.”

  Garth watched them through the branches with narrowed eyes.

  “Shut up, Albert, alright he scared the life out of you, what do you think he did to me? Now, shut up.”

  “I believe I can talk to you, Lee, your friend seems determined not to listen.”

  “If you’ve got something to say, Mr Clarence, Smokey will listen to you.”

  Clarence and Lee were just walking away from the house, passing the garden chairs, the shorter, slightly stooped solicitor walked with his hands behind his back as Lee smoked a cigarette.

  “I was fully resolved to go through with my plan on Monday, but I decided to give you one last chance to reconsider.”

  “There’s nothing to reconsider.”

  “It could be very messy if the police came in on this, you know, we have very harsh penalties for people who indulge in frauds.” Lee said nothing as he walked on. “If you’re not thinking of yourself, think of how it would affect Lord Haddington.”

  “Has it ever occurred to you, Mr Clarence, that maybe I am Lord Haddington’s grandson, that maybe I’m not a fraud?”

  “Do you think you’re his grandson?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you’re a fool. You’re not Lord Haddington’s grandson.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  “Reginald Winterhaiming is his grandson, and I can tell you this, in a couple of days His Lordship is going to publicly declare it. Now, you can save yourself a lot of bother by leaving quietly as soon as you can.”

  “I’d like to be around when His Lordship makes his announcement, that will be a very interesting day.”

  “I warn you, Lee, if you and your friend are still around at that time, something I doubt, I shall institute legal proceedings against the both of you.”

  “You wouldn’t be trying to frighten me, Mr Clarence, would you?” Smiled Lee.

  Clarence caught sight of Haddington and his brother coming toward them through a row of trees.

  “Let’s just go this way, shall we?” Clarence grabbed Lee’s arm to steer him into another row of trees.

  “You know, Mr Clarence, the way you’re pushing Winterhaiming it’s as if you had something to gain.”

  “I’m English, Lee, not American, you chaps
just wouldn’t understand. All I’m worried about is Lord Haddington, I’ll not stand by to see him cheated by a pair of cheap, foreign tricksters.”

  “You have the darndest way of coming close to getting a punch on the nose, Mr Clarence, do you know that?”

  “I see, you’ll resort to physical violence, will you, to quieten anyone who dares to raise doubts as to just how genuine you really are?”

  “It ain’t that. It’s being insulted I don’t take kindly to. Foreign, trickster even fraud is okay, but never cheap.” He smiled.

  “Lord Haddington is a kind man.”

  “I know that.”

  “Sometimes too kind, there is a certain type of person who will not hesitate to take advantage of that kindness. But His Lordship will not make any decision without consulting me.”

  “There you are, so what are you worried about?”

  “I don’t like criminals. I certainly don’t like criminals who prey on my friends.”

  “If I see any, Mr Clarence, I’ll let you know.”

  “I don’t need to be told, I’ve had experience with the criminal class, I know a criminal when I see one. I don’t want to bring the authorities in on this, but I’m not going to hold back for much longer. For all I know they could be on your track right now.” Clarence turned to look about him suspiciously, Lee looked at him and then calmly looked about.

  “Expecting someone?” He asked calmly.

  “Our police force is the best in the world.”

  “Yeah, I’ve heard that.”

  “Once they go after a man, they never give up.”

  “I’ve heard that too.” Lee strolled on calmly smoking his cigarette.

  “Time is just about up for you and your friend,” called Clarence, “soon it will be out of my hands. And His Lordship won’t be able to help you.”

  Clarence stood with his hands behind his back, Lee waved his hand as he strolled on, he hadn’t gone far when he heard a loud crack and groan of timber, there was the sound of a falling tree that hit the ground with a thud.

  Lee looked back to see a tree laying on the ground, the mauling he had received at the hands of Lord Haddington had proven too much for Albert.

  “I’d better get out of here before Garth jumps up and accuses me of doing that.” Thought Lee as he threw his cigarette away. “That’s funny, where’s Clarence?” He shrugged his shoulders and walked quickly away.

  * * * * *