Chapter 8
They all gathered for supper. Haddington, as he took his seat, glanced at Lee, who sat eating, all his attention apparently focused on his food, but the old man caught the eyes dart quickly to watch Cynthia and Winterhaiming and then back to the food.
Haddington shrugged his shoulders, he was on the verge of deciding he had made a mistake about Lee and was coming to terms about Winterhaiming. He looked down at Winterhaiming and heard his usual reply to any question or remark. “How tiresome.” The old man reached for a glass of wine with a grimace on his face.
“Sir Rupert?” Said Lady Marlebone suddenly.
“Where?” Asked Cloud jumping to his feet.
“That’s just what I was asking, Mr Cloud, where is Sir Rupert?”
“You mean to say he’s not here?” Said a blank-faced Haddington as he took another sip of his wine. “Gilmore, how could you let this happen?”
“I’m very sorry, sir.”
“Tell him at once, Gilmore.” Ordered Lady Marlebone.
“Yes, Gilmore,” smiled Haddington, “do you want him to get here when all the food is gone, imagine that voice stilled forever because of starvation?”
“I believe I know where the gentleman is, Your Lordship.” Gilmore turned and left the room.
“You do?” His smile slipped a little.
“The thought of a meal without the company of that wonderful man is unthinkable.” Sighed Lady Marlebone.
Cloud and Clarence glanced at each other and shook their shoulders in resignation.
“It’s so rare lately that I fear she’s right.” Muttered Haddington. “Well, Clarence, are all the preparations completed for tomorrow?”
“They are, Your Lordship.”
“Tell me, Clem, this shindig tomorrow what’s it supposed to be?” Asked Cloud.
“It’s a gathering of the local gentry, all the most respected citizens of the area.”
“I guess it ain’t to discuss some bright ideas of a local mayor, like at home?”
“Is that on the agenda, Clarence?”
“No, Your Lordship, we don’t have a local mayor.”
“We don’t have any bright ideas either.” Said Haddington.
“Oh, I don’t know.” Said Clarence.
At the far end of the table Winterhaiming and Cynthia were busy whispering and giggling totally ignoring everybody else.
“Politics are so tiresome.”
“It has nothing to do with politics.” Said Clarence.
“You mean it’s a party?” Asked Cloud.
“Yes.”
“With dancin’?”
“Of course.”
“Say, that sounds swell, don’t it, Two-Refs?”
“Yeah.” Said Lee dully.
“I do hope Mr Lee will not allow such unrestrained enthusiasm to go unchecked,” smiled Clarence, “why, he’ll frighten the ladies.”
They all had a good laugh.
Gilmore walked down the corridor until he came to the cloakroom door, he stood before it and leaned forward a little, he could still hear the murmur of a voice, the same voice he’d heard there as he passed an hour before. He knocked and waited.
“Come in, come in.” Gilmore opened the door. Sir Rupert had made himself comfortable in a corner of the cloakroom on a couple of suitcases. A small candle was at his feet casting a glow. Sir Rupert looked to the other side of the cloakroom to a large coat hanging there. “Do pardon me, old chap, I’ll see to this and get back to my sixteenth birthday, I think you’ll find it very interesting.” He looked up at Gilmore. “What is it?”
“Supper is served, Sir Rupert.”
“Is it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’ll be blowed, I had no idea it was so late.” Gilmore helped him to his feet. “I’ll say goodbye to you, sir.” Sir Rupert addressed the coat. “Let me just say this, never have I had a more sympathetic ear to my amazing life story. I want to shake your hand, sir.” Sir Rupert grabbed an empty sleeve, then dropped it and looked at Gilmore with a shocked expression on his face.
“He lost it in the Crimea, sir.”
“Poor lad. Poor lad.” Sir Rupert patted the shoulder and stepped outside. Gilmore blew out the candle and joined him. “What a frightful room the fellow has.”
“Yes, sir.” Gilmore led the way down the corridor.
“Who is he, anyway?” Sir Rupert glanced back over his shoulder, “some poor one-armed veteran my brother has taken in, I expect.” He remembered the feel of that shoulder, “a bit thin too.” Gilmore continued on in silence. “I say, have the police arrived yet?”
“The police, sir?”
“Yes, has my brother sent for the police?”
“I don’t believe so, sir.”
“What about the body?”
“The body, sir?”
“Yes, the body, the body.”
“What body would that be, sir?”
“You’re sure you’re a servant in Lord Haddington’s household?”
“I believe so, sir.”
“And you’ve not heard of the gory murder right in this house?”
“One cannot keep up with everything, sir.”
“Well, I’ll be blowed, one of your own kind, brutally murdered right under your own roof and you’re not even interested in the details.”
“Who did it, sir?”
“Oh, no you don’t, I’m not foolish enough to make any confession, not before I’ve spoken to Clarence.”
“I see, sir. I’m sure this murdered chap, whoever he may happen to have been met a just fate.”
“He did tend to provoke, I suppose I lost my temper.”
“Of course, sir.”
“Fought back, I can tell you, fought back like the devil. I suppose I’ll have to face his wife and children.”
“Yes, sir.”
“He did have a wife and children, did he?”
“I expect he did, sir.”
“Good worker, was he?”
Gilmore reached where the corridor took a turn.
“He’ll be sadly missed, sir.” He turned and walked on but Sir Rupert had his head down staring glumly at the floor as he walked on and didn’t see where he was going, he walked straight into a suit of armour.
“I say,” said Sir Rupert angrily, “there’s no need for you to take your anger out on me, your friend attacked me, I was compelled to defend myself. He was a rather sickly looking chap, and it may well be I’ve done the fellow a service.”
Gilmore had stopped and turned to watch in silence, for the first time he allowed a little expression to appear on his face, it was an expression of infinite boredom, he sighed deeply as he wondered whether it was worthwhile to retrace his steps to point out Sir Rupert’s error.
“Well, sir, what would you have done in my place? Well? Would you have allowed this crazed fiend to attack you at will without raising a finger to defend yourself? Well, speak up, sir?”
“……..I don’t call sixty people a small gathering.” Cloud was saying
“As I said, Mr Cloud, it’s just a small gathering.” Repeated Clarence.
“You see, Smokey,” said Haddington, “any less than that and it’s too quiet, you can hear your bones growing, conversation doesn’t flow…..”
“….haven’t you got a tongue, sir, God gave all his human creatures a tongue. You should cultivate its use, it might surprise you, sir….”
“Of course,” said Haddington, “a great deal depends on just who those sixty people are.”
“Quite.” Said Clarence as he took a long sip of his wine.
The vicar had finished his supper and decided to take his constitutional. He stood across the square to look back with pride at his magnificent church. Then in the growing darkness with his cane swinging in his hand he walked through the village, nodding a greeting to a villager here and there and raising his hat to any lady he encountered.
He decided to continue on and walk to Haddington’s estate, there was that little
matter to settle. He reached the end of the village and was passing Dobkin’s house, a terrible smell assailed his nostrils and he was compelled to put his handkerchief to his nose and keep it there until he was well and truly past the cottage.
He made a mental note to speak to George Dobkins about it, then it occurred to him the reason for the smell. “…….and some of the local farmers about honesty.” He said to himself as he went on into the gathering darkness.
He hadn’t gone very far along the road when he realised that if he were to take a short cut through the trees it would lessen his journey considerably.
He did so. He hadn’t gone far beyond the road when the darkness became very pronounced. He tried to smile and began to hum one of his favourite hymns. He took a step and there was the snapping of a twig off to his right. The vicar halted and stood in silence watching intently.
“Who’s there?” He asked in a hoarse whisper. It’s the mysterious stranger, he suddenly decided to himself. “Let me warn you, sir, I am armed, and if you do not reveal yourself this instant I shall fire.”
He held the cane as if it were a rifle and waited. A twig snapped behind him in the profound silence, the vicar spun and held his breath.
He stood waiting in trepidation, beads of sweat appeared on his brow. There was a sound, the vicar turned his head to look over his shoulder, a dark form came from behind a tree. The hair on the vicar’s neck under the hat stood up. A huge bulk towered over the bending form.
“You wouldn’t happen to have a sandwi…..”
“AAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!” The vicar took to his heels.
“Aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh!!!!!!” Dickie did the same in the opposite direction, scared out of his wits and deafened by some unearthly roar.
The vicar ran until he felt his lungs about to burst, he’d lost his hat and his cane and he stopped to lean against a tree panting for breath, and mopping his brow. Suddenly, he felt something, he looked up, level with him, just inches from his face were a pair of yellow glowing eyes.
“AAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!” He roared right into Miss Blackie’s face, with the fur on her back standing on end and her tail three times it’s normal width she flew from the sound.
The vicar was running once again. He ran until he had to stop for a rest, he stood with his back to a tree, his head thrown back with his mouth wide open gulping down air. A hand was placed on his shoulders.
The vicar’s mouth snapped shut as he brought his head down. He was looking into the face of a corpse in a deerstalker hat.
“AAAAHHHH!!!!!” He roared, realising it was no ghost because the body had felt so normal under his running feet.
This time the vicar fell to the ground and lay gasping for breath.
“Your servant, Lord….. “ He panted. “Calls on your divine aid as……his merciless enemies …… surround him.” He waited until he had his second wind and slowly got to his feet, there was a low hanging branch and he grabbed at it with determination, he pulled it this way and that but it would not come loose. “Lord, I call on you in my plight, take pity on me.” High above there was a snap and a small branch fell to the ground. “Thank you, Lord.” The vicar picked up the branch, it was not too heavy and not too light.
“What was that?” Came a faint voice in the distance.
The vicar looked off with narrowed eyes and took up a stance. “Send your worst, satan, with the Lord by my side you and your wicked menials shall surely be vanquished.” With a determined tread the vicar set off for the estate, completely unafraid.
He passed through the forest and stopped, there was movement just up ahead, something was eerily coming toward him, the vicar raised the branch over his head and waited. Suddenly the son of Satan himself appeared from behind a tree, the face was twisted into a hideous snarl.
“AAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!” Roared the vicar and brought the branch down on the monster’s head, then bounded off quickly.
The form lay under the branch unconscious for some time, finally it moved and rubbed a large bump on its head “What in the name of God was that?” Groaned Garth as he sat up to rub his head.
“……..I’m sure I don’t know.” Said Clarence as he and Cloud stood at the back of the house smoking cigars, they both stood looking toward the forest. “If I’m not mistaken, it sounded just like the trumpeting of an elephant.”
“You don’t mean you got elephants in this English forest?”
“I shouldn’t be at all surprised.” He replied calmly.
Haddington sat at his desk, a glass of wine at his elbow, he had his chin in his hand as he drummed on the desk with his other hand.
“The question is, Rupert, what is to be done?”
Sir Rupert sat across the desk facing his brother, he wore a glum, sorry expression. “I’m a worthless swine, Clemmie, just a worthless buffoon.”
“I know all that,” Haddington took up his glass, “if you think by repeating what everybody already knows will solve the problem, Rupert, you’re mistaken.” He took a drink.
“I’m not worth saving, Clemmie, not worth saving, I should be dragged out into the streets and hung from the nearest tree.”’
Haddington swung his swivel chair until his back was to his brother and he sat with a smile of sheer pleasure as he imagined such a scene, then his face settled back into its stern coldness and he returned to face his brother. “British justice doesn’t work like that.”
“Of course it doesn’t, Clemmie, no, not British Justice, it couldn’t work like that……”
“The servants…..”
“…..not our justice, British justice is held as the greatest…..”
“Shut up!” Sir Rupert jumped in his chair then sat in silence twisting a piece of cloth in his hand. “The servants have buried the body.”
“I’m most grateful to them, Clemmie, I’m most grateful to them, indeed I am.”
“I’ve decided not to go to the police.”
“I’m very grateful to you, Clemmie, most grateful, indeed I am.”
“The servants obey all my commands.”
“All of them, Clemmie, all of them, indeed they do.”
“And I’ve ordered them not to repeat a word of this to another soul.”
“They’ll obey it, Clemmie, they’ll obey it, indeed they will.”
“Therefore the matter is finished and forgotten.”
“Why, Clemmie, that is perfectly ripping of you, what a brother you are, a king, Clemmie,” Rupert had gotten to his feet, “I could not ask for more…..”
“Sit down and shut up!” Sir Rupert did so. “There is one condition, however.”
“Name it, Clemmie, all you need do is name it, go ahead, just say what it is.”
Haddington was rubbing his temples. “In my presence you will never repeat anything you say again, not on any occasion.”
“That’s an easy condition, Clemmie, very easy, I never repeat anything, never, do you remember mother? Once is enough, Rupert, she used to say, once is enough. I took that to heart, Clemmie, I took that to heart.”
“Rupert.” Haddington was now massaging his forehead.
“Yes, Clemmie, speak up, old boy, I’m at your service, you need only speak up.”
“I’m going to amend that condition.”
“Of course, old chap, of course, it’s your condition, amend it by all means, amend it.”
“You will not speak one word in my presence, not one word.”
“Not one word, Clemmie, not one word?”
“Not one word, Rupert, not one….” Haddington continued to massage his forehead. “I want you to maintain absolute silence in my presence.”
“That could be difficult, Clemmie, that could….”
“Not at all. You shall tell people that you have a sore throat and you have lost your voice.”
“But they’ll know, Clemmie, if I tell them I’ve…..”
“You will write it down.”
“Oh.” Sir Rupert nodded his head happily, “of course, how clever, w
hy didn’t I think of that.”
“Good. That’s settled.” Haddington refilled his glass.
“What about the …..victim’s family, Clemmie?”
“I’ll take care of his family.”
“I shall have to see them, I shall have to offer them my profoundest apology.”
“You can’t do that.” Haddington sipped his drink.
“Why not, Clemmie?”
“Because you can’t.”
“It would be ungentlemanly for me not to, I should never be able to live with myself if I didn’t.”
“I tell you, you can’t.”
“I don’t see why not, Clemmie.”
“Because……because he had no family, he was an orphan.”
“But you said……”
“Are you contradicting me, Rupert?”
“No, old chap, of course not.” He watched his brother take a drink. “What was the fellow’s name?”
“Ah…..ah……Mr Plant.”
“Mr Plant?”
“Mr Plant.”
“I say, I once had a servant working for me called Mr Tree, a terrible chap, pity it couldn’t have been him. Mr Tree……..Mr Plant……….” He began to chuckle, “I wonder if they were related.”
“That condition starts from now, Rupert.” Said Haddington sternly.
“But surely…..”
“You’re talking, Rupert.”
“Sorry.”
“Goodnight, Rupert.” Haddington drained his glass. Sir Rupert got to his feet.
“Well, good…..”
“You’re talking.”
Sir Rupert slapped a hand to his mouth and bowed, he walked to the door and with a wave of his hand stepped outside and closed the door.
“What a lovely night it is.” Smiled Haddington as he leaned back in his chair with his feet up on the desk.
“……have you seen Lady Marlebone or haven’t you, do you have a tongue or don’t you…….”
“Rupert?”
After a couple of silent seconds the door was opened by a humble Sir Rupert. “Yes, Clemmie?”
“I could hear you.”
”Sorry.”
“You’re talking again.”
“I won’t let it happen again, Clemmie, it won’t ……”
“Quiet!”
Sir Rupert bowed and withdrew in silence closing the door behind him.
Meanwhile to the south, just beyond the forest a visitor had just drawn up to the front door of George Dobkin’s cottage, the tall stately figure rapped on the door with the head of his cane. The door was opened by Grace.
“Good evening, madam,” the stranger raised his shiny top hat with one hand while he held his cane and a handkerchief close to his nose in the other.
“Evening.”
“I was in search of the residence of Mr Richard Dobkins.” George appeared suddenly behind Grace.
“Why?”
“Are you Mr Richard Dobkins?”
“No, I’m his brother.”
“May I speak to Mr Richard Dobkins?”
“Why?”
“May I suggest, sir, that we carry on this discussion indoors, there is a rather distressing aroma out here.”
“Is there? I never noticed.”
The stranger waited in silence for a few moments and then finally spoke.
“Well,” he pressed the handkerchief closer to his nose, “I’m afraid that if I do not receive some relief shortly I shall expire at your feet.”
George stood looking at him in sullen silence.
“Get out of the way, George,” Grace shoved him aside. “Please, come in.”
“Thank you, madam.” He stepped inside and George closed the door.
“Take his things, George.” The stranger handed his hat, coat and cane in silence to George who took them in equal silence to place on a chair. “Sit down if you please.” She indicated a chair and the stranger sat down with a nod of thanks. “Would you like a cup of tea?”
“That’s very kind of you, thank you.” While she bustled about preparing the tea, George and Charlie sat down at the other end of the table in silence, they both looked very sullen.
“Now, why do you want to see Dickie?” She asked coming back to the table with a pot of tea and a cup and saucer.
“It’ll cost us money.” Said Charlie.
“Quite the contrary, gentlemen. Thank you.” He took the full cup of tea offered by Grace. “If I could just speak to Mr Richard Dobkins.”
“You can’t.” Said George shortly.
“Why not, if I may ask, sir?”
“You may ask, he ain’t here.”
“If he were here it would be as a mangled body in that corner.” Said Charlie pointing.
“Oh dear, that is most disappointing.”
“Perhaps you could tell us what it’s all about,” said Grace sitting down at the table, “we’re his family.”
“In matters such as this, dear madam, I make it a point to always deal with the principal involved.”
“Richard Dobkins is a dying man……” Said George.
“Oh, dear me, I am sorry to hear that.”
“I expect he’s on his last hours of life right now.”
“Just depends how quickly we can get our hands on him.” Smiled Charlie.
“That makes it very difficult then,” the stranger took a sip of tea, “excellent tea, madam.” Grace smiled with pleasure. “My mission, gentlemen, was to do primarily with Mr Richard Dobkins.”
“You can deal with us. If Dickie owes you money just tell us the amount….”
“No, no, it’s nothing like that.” The stranger sat stiff-backed in his chair and looked at the three faces in turn. “I suppose there’s no harm in my discussing this matter with you, you may well be able to assist me.”
“We are his family.” Said Grace.
“As you say, madam, you are his family.” He cleared his throat. “My name is Andrew Clifford, I live in the next county, just beyond the old castle.”
“You’ve come a long way, sir.”
“As you say, madam, I have indeed come a long way.”
“Why?” Asked George curtly.
“It’s been drawn to my attention that a gentleman by the name of Mr Richard Dobkins was selling some of his coin collection, specifically,” he reached into his pocket to drop a couple of coins on the table, “such as these coins from Singapore.”
George and Charlie looked at the coins and then at each other slowly. The stranger continued. “I do wish Mr Dobkins had allowed me to bid on them before disposing of them.”
“Dickie carried them for years.” Said Grace as she picked up the coins to look at them.
“I’m not surprised, madam, they’re very rare and very valuable, Mr Richard Dobkins showed excellent taste.”
“He valued those coins.” Said George suddenly.
“No, he didn’t…..”Charlie got a kick under the table for his foolishness.
“I’m certain he did.” Said Clifford calmly.
“It was my idea to get him to sell a couple of them like that, I knew once you collector fellows heard about it, you’d come sniffing around.” Smiled George.
“You succeeded admirably, sir.” Clifford raised his handkerchief to his nose to smell its more pleasant fragrance, “I congratulate you on such a clever scheme.”
“The point is, how much are you willing to pay?”
“That depends on the condition of the coins and how complete the set is.”
“They’re in perfect condition and the set is complete, apart from those two.”
“Hmmmm.” Clifford stirred his tea, “I was thinking of in the vicinity of five hundred pounds.”
There was a profound silence.
“We were in that vicinity ourselves.” Said George thickly.
“Now, when can I see these coins?”
“Tomorrow night.” Said George without thinking.
“Very well, then.” Clifford got to his feet, “tomorro
w night at the same time.”
He walked over to the door to be handed his hat, coat and cane by a smiling George, he took Grace’s hand and shook it gently. “Goodnight, madam.”
He stepped out into the night and walked over to his waiting carriage, climbed in and was driven away.
The three of them stood in stunned silence at the door for a few seconds. Charlie turned from the door and walked back toward the table, followed by Grace.
“You’re the clever one, George, what do we do?” He turned to see an open door, he and Grace walked over to it and watched George running up the road.
“Dickie! Dickie!” He was calling at the top of his voice.
“So he’s the clever one, is he?” Asked a sceptical Grace with her hands on her hips. “Come on, help me pack some food.”
“Do come in, vicar.” Smiled Haddington and he got to his feet as Gilmore showed the vicar in.
“Your Lordship.” The vicar nodded as he took a seat.
“Some wine, vicar?” Haddington indicated the bottle and glass at the vicar’s elbow.
“As you know, Your Lordship, I do not hold with partaking of strong liquor, but tonight I think I am in need of a small drop.”
“Of course, help yourself.” Said Haddington as he watched the vicar fill his glass to near the brim. “Now, what brings you out so late at night vicar?”
“A delicate matter.” He took a sip of his wine and wiped his mouth with a silk handkerchief. “I am uncertain how to begin.” He frowned over it for a second. “A certain lady has entrusted me with this, yet it is most delicate.”
“Do I know the lady?”
“Yes, Your Lordship.”
“She lives quite close, does she?”
“Indeed she does.”
“A charming lady, young, pretty?”
“Utterly so, Your Lordship.”
“I believe I know the substance of this delicate matter, vicar.”
“Good Lord, sir, you’ve dragged it from me.” Smiled the vicar. “How say you?”
“How say I?”
“Indeed? Oh.” He noticed his glass was empty and quickly refilled it. “I know it’s a foolish thing.”
“I beg to disagree, vicar.”
“Do you? Upon my word, you sir, are the grandest fellow it has ever been my good fortune to encounter.”
“Are the arrangements complete?”
“They are, sir. My good lady wife said it would be an imposition but I said…”
“Good lady wife?”
“Indeed, sir, if the truth be known I would not have dared bother you with such a trivial affair.”
“She’s the charming, pretty, young lady?”
“As you so cleverly deduced, Your Lordship.”
“Perhaps, vicar if you could just explain……”
“You’re not going back on your word. Oh, that would be too, too cruel.”
“No, of course not.”
“You accede to my good lady wife’s request then, Your Lordship?”
“I do.”
“Ripping.” He took a long sip.
“Just what was the request, vicar?”
“The guests, sir, the guests.”
“Oh, yes, of course, the guests.” Said Haddington dubiously.
“I see,” he smiled, “I see, Your Lordship is playing the fool with me.” He chuckled.
“Devilishly well, I might add.” Said Haddington.
“Alright, I’ll join in the game if you insist.”
“I do.”
“As you know, on Wednesday it will be your seventieth birthday?”
“I had heard that.”
“With a wonderful function planned.”
“Yes.”
“You were kind enough to invite both myself and my good lady wife.”Haddington nodded. “It was a very generous gesture on your part of which I can only express my deepest appreciation.”
“Not at all, vicar.” Haddington refilled his own glass.
“However,” the vicar cleared his throat and leaned over to replenish his half empty glass.
“Are you trying to say that you’re unable to accept the invitation?” Haddington tried not to smile, the party looked like being a huge success, without the presence of the religious foghorn, its success would be assured.
“Dear me, Your Lordship, never, I would certainly never entertain such a notion.”
“Oh.”
“The problem is a delicate one. Your gracious invitation has caused a turmoil in the family.”
“Your family?”
“The good lady wife’s,” he took a long drink, “it’s almost a civil war, you can have no idea of the positive torture I’ve been through because of this wretched invitation.” He calmly took another drink.
“I am most sorry, vicar.” Haddington was equally calm.
“I cannot convey to you my frightful position.”
“Perhaps if there were something I could do.”
“Would you? That would be ripping, it really would.”
“All you need do is ask, vicar.”
“It’s my good lady wife’s brother, a wretched fellow, but he’s awfully put out at not receiving an invitation.”
“He doesn’t live locally, does he?”
“Manchester, he lives in Manchester.”
“It’s no wonder he didn’t get an invitation.”
“It would cheer him no end, Your Lordship, to be invited to your birthday celebrations.”
“The solution, vicar, is utterly simple, I shall send him off an invitation at once. Now, we can enjoy our wine.”
“Not quite.” He drained his glass. Haddington waited for him to go on. “There’s his wife, you see.”
“We’ll invite her too.”
“And their sons.”
“We’ll send them ……”
“And their wives.”
“We’ll invite…..”
“And his nephew.”
“Well…..” Haddington waited to see if there were more, the vicar was taking a sip of his drink. “I don’t see why we can’t….”
“And the nephew’s wife.”
“We can……”
“They have a son living in Cardiff.” The vicar seemed to be talking to himself.
“We….”
“His wife will have to be invited.”
“We…..”
“My father-in-law.”
“We…..”
“My mother-in-law, of course.”
“They can…….”
“The greengrocer.”
“The greengrocer?”
“My brother.”
“Of course.” Haddington drained his glass. “Vicar, why don’t you write out a list and……” The vicar got to his feet, reached into his pocket to take out a sheet of paper and handed it across the table. “I see.” He looked down the list as the vicar resumed his seat. “How many……..”
“Thirty five, Your Lordship, counting my good lady wife and myself.”
“By all means, your good lady wife and yourself. Thirty five, you say?”
“That’s all.” Smiled the vicar.
“I can see no problem.” Haddington put the list of names and addresses in his pocket and got to his feet.
“I knew you’d take it in that spirit, Your Lordship, I told the good lady wife how you’d take it in such a good spirit.” He drained his glass and also got to his feet.
Haddington came around the desk to put his hand on the vicar’s shoulder as he walked him to the door and out into the corridor.
“I’ll get Clarence to get the invitations out as soon as we possibly can, vicar.”
“So kind of you….. I say, that sounds like Lady Marlebone.” There was the sound of voices from one of the rooms.
“It is.” Haddington took out a cigar and lit it.
“I should so much like to see her before I leave.”
“By all means.” Haddington led the way down the corridor and into the room.
&
nbsp; “……I’m sure I’d be terrified, Sir Rupert, weren’t you afraid?” Asked Lady Marlebone as she sat on a divan with Clarence while across the room Lee, Cloud, Cynthia and Winterhaiming were playing cards.
Sir Rupert stood in the centre of the room with his back to the door holding a cane in his hand as if it were a sword.
“Never. I was fifteen, mind you, but I was completely self-possessed. I stood my ground, daring the heathens to attack. I turned to the General who stood behind me; I turned to him to make a few suggestions about the disposition of our troops. General, I said, General…..” Sir Rupert turned and caught sight of Haddington standing at the door smoking a cigar with his hands in his pockets.
“Yes, Sir Rupert, what did you say to the General?” Asked Lady Marlebone.
Sir Rupert opened his mouth a couple of times but nothing came out. “What did he say, Mr Clarence?”
“I have no idea, Lady Marlebone, I wasn’t there at the time, but having heard this story something like several hundred times, I can hazard a guess.” Sir Rupert looked at him with narrowed eyes.
“Is something wrong, Sir Rupert?” Asked the vicar. Sir Rupert put a hand to his throat and looked quickly about the room, he walked over to the table where the card game was in progress and wrote something on one of the score pads, tore out the page and came back to hand it to the vicar.
“What’s he written?” Asked Lady Marlebone.
“He’s written: ‘Lost my voice’.” The vicar held up the note for all to see, “twice.”
“Of course.” Said Haddington as he stepped out into the corridor, “Gilmore!”
“Your Lordship?” Gilmore quickly appeared.
“Sir Rupert is not well, he’s decided to retire early, please assist him to his room.”
As Gilmore helped him from the room, Sir Rupert looked at his brother levelly then leaned to whisper in his ear, “you swine.”
“Certainly, old boy,” smiled Haddington, “I’ll tell Mr Plant you were thinking of him.”
“No, Clemmie,” burst out Sir Rupert grabbing his brother’s arm, “I’m sorry.”
“A miracle.” Smiled the vicar.
“A temporary miracle, I believe, vicar.” Said Haddington, “am I right, Rupert?” Sir Rupert looked at his brother glumly.
“Speak, Sir Rupert.” Demanded the vicar. Sir Rupert opened his mouth a couple of times but nothing came out again. “Oh, what rotten luck.”
“Poor Sir Rupert.” Said Lady Marlebone as he shuffled out on the arm of Gilmore. “Now I shall have to wait to hear more of his fascinating life.”
“Yes.” Haddington wasn’t displeased.
“That does seem odd.” Said Clarence, “losing his voice like that and then regaining it and losing it again.”
“There’s nothing odd about it.” Said Haddington.
“No, it does happen.” Said the vicar.
“It struck me as odd.” Clarence was looking at Haddington closely.
“Sir Rupert without a voice,” said the vicar, “what a terrible ordeal it will be for him.”
“Yes.” Said Haddington.
“The house just won’t be the same.” Sighed Lady Marlebone.
“Yes.” Haddington smiled.
“Lady Marlebone,” the vicar came over to bow to her, “I dropped in to see his Lordship to discuss his celebration this coming Wednesday when I heard your voice, I simply had to speak to you and to say hello.”
“Charming man.”
“I saw your wonderful daughter and her young man and we discussed….we discussed….” He glanced down the room to see both Winterhaiming and Cynthia with their heads raised watching him carefully.
“Yes, vicar?” Asked Clarence.
The vicar caught sight of Sir Rupert’s note, he placed his hand to his throat and held up the note.
“Oh, dear.” Sighed Haddington. “Another victim of Rupert’s curse.”
“Odd.” Said Clarence half to himself. “Very odd.”
The vicar nodded goodnight to everyone, bowed to Lady Marlebone and strolled from the room, suddenly he poked his head back in.
“May I have a few words with you, Your Lordship?”
“A miracle, vicar.” Smiled Lady Marlebone. The vicar opened his mouth a couple of times and put a hand to his throat, “oh, what a pity.” The vicar grinned weakly and withdrew followed by Haddington.
“Yes, vicar?”
“I wonder if one of your servants could accompany me through the forest, once I reach the road I shall be able to go on alone, I don’t want to lose my way.”
“I’ll get one of my carriages to drive you.”
“No, that won’t be necessary, I prefer to walk.”
“Vicar.”
“Yes?”
“Your voice.”
He cleared his throat. “It must have been the stuffy room, once I came out here I could speak perfectly.”
“Of course. I’ll get you the best bodyguard in the place.” Haddington was returning to the room.
“I have no need of a bodyguard, Your Lordship.”
“Did I say bodyguard? I meant a guide.” He went up to whisper a few words to Lee and Cloud, both nodded, excused themselves and went out of the room. Haddington signalled Clarence and he went to the door with Haddington. “I’d like you to take the vicar through the forest.”
“He knows the way, Your Lordship.” Clarence was looking forward to a glass of wine and a good game of cards.
“I’d look upon it as a personal favour to me if you’d go with our two American guests and ensure that our vicar passes through the forest safely.”
“Surely he’d be safe with those two to guard his safety.”
“Why in Heaven’s name are you being so difficult, Clarence?”
“It’s a cold night, Your Lordship, and Lady Marlebone can’t begin the game without a fourth partner.”
“I shall be the fourth.”
“I can’t see why the vicar is worried, he’s travelled that forest many times.”
Haddington walked with him to the front door where Gilmore helped him on with his coat.
“Something’s frightened him, probably that mysterious stranger everybody keeps talking about.”
“Yes.” Clarence put on his hat. “Or elephants.” He stepped out and Gilmore closed the door.
“What did he say, Gilmore?”
“I believe Mr Clarence said elephants, Your Lordship.”
“When he comes back,” Haddington touched Gilmore on the elbow to emphasise his instructions, “not too much wine for Mr Clarence.”
“Yes. Your Lordship.”
Clarence caught up with the three.
“I was just telling the reverend here,” said Cloud, “about how we heard an elephant in the forest.”
“Yes, an elephant,” smiled the vicar , and cleared his throat.
“It certainly sounded like an elephant.” Said Clarence.
“It would be quite a novelty, an elephant in an English forest.”
“Oh, I don’t know, vicar,” said Clarence as he walked along beside the vicar and looked at him levelly, “you’d be surprised at the odd creatures that will stumble around in this forest at night.”
“Maybe it was an English elephant.” Suggested Cloud helpfully.
“HA, HA.” Said the vicar thinking Cloud was joking.
Dickie sat glumly at the foot of a tree, the perfect picture of abject misery, now and again his stomach would let out a tortured growl and he’d begin again a frantic search of his pockets. When he found them devoid of food for the ninth time within the past hour he settled back into his despair.
He could leave off the decision no longer, unless he wished to starve to death he would have to face his brothers, he knew they would thrash him but he also knew he’d survive, however, it would be a different story if Grace joined in. His face fell, but then lifted, maybe they’d feed him and then thrash him. He got up and was just about to step out when another thought occurred to him. What
if they thrashed him before they fed him?
Thrash, feed, he mused and leaned against the tree with a heartfelt sigh. That one word went through his mind again and again, feed. His mouth watered and he swallowed with difficulty. A new strength came to his soul, a new determination to face whatever lay in store for him.
He strode from the tree with his chin held high, his back ramrod-straight. He had to get sustenance for his body before the bones of his ribs came through his skin, something he felt they were perilously close to doing.
His steps were firm, his eyes steely, his fists clenched in determination, his stomach rumbled.
“Silence.” He muttered with a firm voice. He passed one tree striding along as if he were a guardsman on parade, he neared another tree and froze in his tracks.
“Dickie! Dickie!”
He stepped back to cower behind the roots of the tree as he heard that far off voice, his mouth hung slack, his eyes bulged with terror, he was trembling with fear. It was the voice of George. But to Dickie’s ears it sounded like a demented fiend.
“Face that,” said Dickie through shaking lips, “am I insane?”
“Dickie! Dickie!” The voice was growing nearer! Dickie scrambled to his feet and ran for his life, no longer the guardsman on parade more like a crazed fool fleeing the gates of hell.
“Naturally,” the vicar was saying, “Lord Haddington embodies all the virtues and graces of his station.”
“Yes.” Said Clarence dubiously.
“What was that?” Said Lee holding up the lamp in his hand and they all froze to the spot, the vicar moved closer to Clarence.
“What was it, Two-Refs?” Asked Cloud.
“I’m not sure, I thought I heard someone running.”
“Must be the wind.” Said Clarence.
“Yes, that’s what it was, the wind.” Smiled the vicar weakly as he looked about nervously.
“I think it was over there.” Said Lee walking away from Clarence and the vicar, to be followed by Cloud.
“I say, don’t go too far with that light.” Called Clarence softly, aware of just how dark it was. The vicar suddenly heard something in the opposite direction. He stared across at a tree, it seemed to sound as if it were breathing!
With a half smile on his face, a mixture of fear and of trying to reassure himself that it was nothing, the vicar came over to the tree, and then dropped to his hands and knees to crawl around it’s base. It was breathing, taking in great gulps of air, with a peculiar rumbling sound.
He crept around the tree and froze in his tracks, he could make out a large, dark mass against the tree. Suddenly it rose and towered over him.
“MY GOD,” roared the vicar, as only he could roar, “IT IS AN ELEPHANT!” Of course Dickie was long gone before the vicar had even finished his sentence, dazed and a little deafened, vowing breathlessly never to succumb to curiosity again.
Clarence was shaking his head as he stood not far from the tree, he too was slightly deafened. He saw the light through the trees as Lee and Cloud chased what they thought was an elephant.
“Damn fools.” Muttered Clarence as he walked over to the tree. There was no sign of the vicar, he stood trying to collect his thought when suddenly a form sprang from behind to grab him by the arms.
“Got you, Dickie, old son, my dear, dear brother.” Clarence tried to move but the grip was vice-like.
“Who the devil are you?” He demanded.
“It’s no use putting on a prissy voice, Dickie, I know it’s you.”
“Prissy voice?”
Suddenly another form appeared in front of him and placed a lamp up to his face blinding him.
“It ain’t him.” Said Charlie.
“Do you mind,” said Clarence, “that lamp is very…….”
“Of course it’s him.”
“I have no idea who you are, sir,” said Clarence, “but I can assure you that I am not called Dickie.”
“Why did you say you was then?”
“Pardon?”
“Why did you claim to be my brother? Did you think you’d get the money for yourself, is that it?”
“I don’t know just how much money it is you’re talking about, sir, but it would have to be a great deal before I’d claim to be the brother of some lunatic running loose in the forest.”
“It’s Mr Clarence, George.”
“George?”
“Mr Clarence?” There was a second of stunned silence then a low growl at Clarence’s ear and then the grip on his arms became tighter.
“Help!” Called Clarence in alarm.
“Let him go, George.” Said Grace appearing from nowhere. “Let him go.”
“Madam….” Gasped Clarence. She stepped up and lifted a heavy frying pan over her head and brought it down, there was a dull klunk and the grip on Clarence’s arms loosened. Clarence turned to see George Dobkins lying on the ground. “He should be locked up, has he gone mad?”
“He’s very worried about his brother, Mr Clarence.” Said Grace as she knelt down to nurse his head in her lap.
“Is his brother hiding from him?”
“Yes.”
“I’m not surprised.” The blood was starting to return to his arms. “Have you seen the vicar?” He asked Charlie.
“No, Mr Clarence.”
“I’ll be on my way before he wakes up.”
“Goodnight, sir.” Called Charlie.
Clarence strode off into the darkness shaking his tingling hands.
Dickie reached a tree and stood leaning against it on one arm as he gasped for breath. He glanced over his shoulder and caught the faint glimmer of a light through the trees. He brought his head around and hung it on his chest as he struggled for breath. Then he stopped, he was aware someone was standing in front of him, he lifted his head slowly to see a corpse standing face to face with him in a deerstalker hat. For the second time that night the mysterious stranger’s body was used as a platform for running feet.
Cloud and Lee stopped at a tree to rest. “Those elephants can really move, can’t they?”Asked Cloud, and Lee nodded. Suddenly they heard a voice off in the distance.
“Aha, to you, mate.” Whack.
“What was that, Two-Refs?”
“I’m not sure, it sounded like Mr Garth.”
“You know this forest seems to be alive tonight.” They walked off in the direction of the voice, they hadn’t got far when they heard another familiar voice off to their left.
“TAKE YOU HANDS OFF ME!” It roared.
“The vicar.” Smiled Cloud. Then there was another sound, a strange, metallic klunking sound.
They came upon the vicar strolling merrily along toward the road.
“Good to see you, gentlemen.”
“I don’t suppose you’ll need us now, vicar.”
“No, indeed, Mr Lee, it was very kind of you to accompany me, the road is just over there, goodnight, and God bless you.”
“Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.” They watched him march off into the darkness. “I sure would have liked to have caught that elephant.” Said Cloud.
“It wouldn’t have been easy bringing it back on a rope.” Smiled Lee.
“No, I guess you’re right.” But Cloud was still disappointed. As they made their way back to the house, Lee was looking around carefully. “What is it, Two-Refs?”
“Where’s Clarence?”
“What do you think of the estate?” Haddington and Winterhaiming were sitting out in the night air smoking cigars as they looked out across the forest.
“I think the estate is magnificent, Your Lordship.”
“What would you do if it were yours?”
“As you know papa, that is to say my foster-papa, has a very large estate in New Zealand so that I am not without some experience of large estates.”
“It’s a different thing when the estate is your own.”
They both looked to the forest as a voice was suddenly raised in protest.
“What do
you think you’re doing, let me go! Lads, help me, help me.” Klunk.
“That sounds like Mr Garth.” Said Winterhaiming.
“Yes.” Said Haddington calmly, “sounds as if his lads did help him.”
“I wonder what he’s doing out so late?”
“Mr Garth is Mr Garth.” Said Haddington in reply. “Now, where was I?” He puffed on his cigar. “An estate that belongs to another that is in your care is just a task, but if you own the estate it’s a different matter.”
“Of course.”
“What would you do if all this were suddenly yours?”
“I don’t believe you’d regret it, Your Lordship.”
“It doesn’t daunt you, the thought of so much responsibility?”
“Not at all, I pride myself on my abilities.”
“You mentioned your foster-parent’s estate in New Zealand,” Winterhaiming nodded, “he sold parts of it, didn’t he?”
“Certain uneconomical sections, primarily my papa is a business man. There were worthless sections that were draining our resources, so we disposed of them. We made quite a tidy sum really.”
“I’ve got some like that. Over the west, a large parcel of land, the locals call it ‘The Bog.’ Very popular with children,” he puffed on his cigar, “and apparently a favourite place for cows to get stuck in.” Winterhaiming gave a short smile. “What would you do with it?”
“I would need to see it before I could make such a decision.”
“You’ve no need to see it, just for the sake of argument, we’ll say the land is yours, what would you do with it?”
“It’s called ‘The Bog’? Haddington nodded, “I assume it’s a drain on your resources?”
“Absolutely.”
“Worthless, uneconomical acres?”
“That’s right.”
“I’d sell them.”
“I knew you would.” Haddington sat smoking in silence for a few seconds. “There are some families on them, old some of ‘em and poor, I let them stay without paying any rent, what would you do with them?”
“I must protest, Your Lordship, that really is most unfair.”
“I can’t see why you’d say that.”
“If you had told me about those people in the first place I would have said I would not sell the land.”
“I was just asking, old boy.”
“I have the feeling I was just given a test, and I failed.”
“Nonsense.”
“Would you have preferred that I lie to you, if the land was worthless and uneconomical and unoccupied, I would sell it. I believe you want me to be honest.”
“Of course.”
“I’m not a complete fool, Your Lordship, I know how deeply you are attached to your estate and the idea of selling any part of it is anathema to you.”
“I expect before too many years are out the matter won’t mean much to me either way.”
“I do not wish to sound boastful, Your Lordship, but I believe that I would treat this estate with all the care at my command and I would take all the responsibilities very seriously indeed. I believe with the right kind of wife by my side this whole area would be a centre of culture and inspiration to the whole country.”
“Any plans in that direction?”
“I confess, sir, I do have certain plans afoot. Nothing definite, mind you, but bordering on completion.”
“Yes.” Haddington stubbed his cigar out and got to his feet, “it’s quite late, I think I’ll retire.”
“Of course, sir, and there’s a busy day ahead for you.” Winterhaiming stood up.
“Yes, goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
Haddington shuffled off looking tired as Winterhaiming sat back down in his seat. He felt very pleased with himself, his intuition told him he’d done well in this encounter and as Mr Clarence kept telling him all he needed was to be patient.
It was very early in the morning, Dickie lay snuggled up against a tree trunk, he heard someone go running by and in the distance the snap of a branch.
“What was that?” He heard a faint voice off somewhere in another part of the forest. He tried to sit up and immediately became aware of two things. A small black cat lay snuggled up beside him and a couple of light, leafy branches lay covering him.
“Thanks, tree.” He sat up gingerly trying not to disturb the cat and yawned widely as he stretched his arms. The cat looked up at him with one sleepy eye open. Dickie patted her, for it was Miss Blackie, and got up trying to keep the branches in place.
He stood shivering in the chill morning air and looked about him, it looked like being a clear, sunny day, but there were pockets of cold morning mists here and there.
He was just about to take a step in the direction of where he thought the village lay when suddenly he heard faintly.
“Dickie! Dickie!”
“Oh, no.” He turned quickly and ran off in the opposite direction, he ran past trees and down a long slope, he passed over a small stream, climbed a fence, crossed a road and stood looking down into a valley.
A small village lay nestling against the side of the slope below, Dickie saw smoke filtering slowly from chimney stacks and his stomach rumbled, his mouth began to water and he swallowed with difficulty.
As he began to realise how hungry he was he lurched off to stumble down the slope. He came up the main street to pass a few early morning risers, a couple of women sweeping or beating mats. He heard the clatter of a cart on the cobblestone street somewhere in the distance. He turned a corner to see a couple of farm workers entering an inn.
He came up to them and looked up at the sign.
‘The Starved Sailor’ it said with a painting swinging in the morning breeze of a very thin tar.
“Not for long.” Smiled Dickie.
There was a small crowd scattered about the room smoking and talking hardly taking any notice of the stranger who pushed his way to the bar.
“Morning.” He smiled to one of the drinkers who nodded silently and took in his dirty state in an instant, his clothes carried the faint remains of a certain odour so that the drinkers on either side gave him plenty of room.
“What’ll it be, sir?” Smiled the jovial innkeeper behind the bar.
“Get your biggest glass and fill it to the top, and stand nearby to refill it.” Said Dickie smiling with anticipation and rubbing his hands to beat the cold.
“Certainly, sir.” The Innkeeper smiled broadly as he took in Dickie’s state.
“Something?”
“Money, sir, have you got any?”
“Of course I have, my man, I’m an Englishman, do you take me to be dishonest?”
“Not dishonest, sir, forgetful like.”
“I have money, sir, you insult me,” Dickie was looking through his pocket, “this establishment has lost my custom, I can tell you, I shan’t be drinking here again.”
“Without money, mate,” laughed one of the drinkers, “you won’t be drinking here at all.” And he drained his glass in one deft movement. Dickie watched every movement and swallowed as the empty glass was put down.
His search became more frantic, until he found a few coins and put them on the bar. The innkeeper looked at them and then at Dickie.
“Something?” Smiled Dickie.
“I said money, not medals.”
“What are you talking about, that’s money, from Singapore they are and very valuable.”
“Maybe they are in Singapore, mate, but this is not Singapore.”
“Look, innkeeper, you can trust me, keep these coins and I shall return this afternoon and redeem them.”
“Hey, Harry,” called one of the drinkers, “I got some buttons here from Japan can….”
“Just go on with what you’re doing, cheek, I’ve got enough to do with this tramp.”
“Tramp?”
“I don’t give credit to anyone, not even me own mother, if she drinks here, she pays for it. If you’ve got the money you can have a drink, if you
haven’t I shall have to ask you to leave these premises.” Dickie put the coins in his coat pocket.
Dickie went from drinker to drinker trying to borrow money for a drink and a meal but was pushed away roughly or laughed at.
“You don’t want that.” He said to one puny, little, old man with a half-empty glass.
“Yes, I do.” He held it firmly and Dickie couldn’t shift his little arm even an inch, as he tugged in vain, he saw a lit cigarette on a window sill nearby, quickly he grabbed it and applied the lit end to the seat of the drinker’s trousers, who let out a yelp and released the glass.
But it was too sudden for Dickie who fell backwards with the glass to send the contents flying over his head. As he lay on the floor Dickie heard the room let out a gasp and go strangely silent.
“What is it now, God, what have you got planned for me?” He got to his feet keeping his back to the door, he looked at all the drinkers, not one movement came from any of them as they stared frozen at something behind Dickie.
He gulped and slowly turned.
A giant stood at the doorway with a disgusted face, he was rubbing the palm of his hand over a wet spot of beer on a garishly coloured vest, a very new garishly coloured vest.
“He did it, sir,” Dickie grabbed the old man and pushed him at the giant, “he threw the beer at me.”
“Are you alright, father?” Boomed the giant.
“Father?”
“Yes, son, this fool burnt me with a cigarette and ruined me drink.”
“That’s alright, father, I’ll tear out his arms and you can have ‘em.”
“That would be nice, son.” The old man sat down calmly to smoke his pipe. Dickie fled in terror to the bar. “In the name of God, help me.” He pleaded to the innkeeper.
“You’re a religious man, then?” Smiled the innkeeper.
“Yes.”
“Good, we’ll make it a lovely funeral.” He ducked down behind the bar. Strange tearing noises came from the door, Dickie turned around to see the giant tearing a table to pieces, testing each leg to see which would make the best weapon.
“Give us another drink, Harry, before he wrecks the place and gets blood everywhere.” Ordered one of the drinkers and a full glass appeared from below to be placed at his elbow.
The giant came lumbering toward Dickie who moved hurriedly down the bar into a corner and sat cowering on the floor. The giant knocked the arm of a drinker who was just raising a glass to his lips.
“Watch me glass, watch me glass…..” He turned to see the giant towering over him. The giant slammed down the table leg he was carrying to smash the glass to pieces. “That’s better.” Smiled the drinker and made himself scarce.
A huge paw came down to pick Dickie up by the front of his shirt.
“I beg of you, sir, spare me, think of my wife and my little children.” Dickie had his hands joined in prayer held up to the glaring face of the giant. The arm with the table leg was raised high.
“Not here, Rufus.” Two men sat smoking pipes at a nearby table playing draughts. “This is a new set, you wrecked the last ones we had, we couldn’t get the blood off ‘em.” Said one of them not bothering to take his eyes from the game.
“Oh, yeah, sorry lads.” He moved away still holding his victim in the air as if he were as light as a feather.
“Lads, lads.” Called Dickie.
“We know you’re going to scream, mate,” said the other player to Dickie, “so try and scream quietly.”
“Lads, lads.”Dickie was becoming frantic. “Think of my relatives who depend on me,” the table leg was being raised again, the giant was growling with pleasure.
“Think of my dog, think…..”
“Dog?” The arm froze in mid-air. “Have you got a dog?”
“Yes, a little dog….”
“With a black nose?”
“He does have a black nose.”
“And little black eyes?”
“Two of ‘em.”
The giant’s face softened and he lowered both Dickie and the table leg, he put a huge arm around Dickie’s shoulder and dragged him over to the bar.
“’arry, a drink for me mate.”
“Right away, Rufus.”
“I’ve got a dog.” Said the giant to Dickie with a proud smile.
“Ain’t ya gonna bash his brains out, Rufus?” Asked an old man at Dickie’s side.
“No.” Said Dickie between clenched lips, “he ain’t gonna bash me brains out.”
“He’s got birds, ain’t ya?” Asked an old man of Dickie.
“Of course,” Dickie took the glass of beer placed in front of him and was about to raise it to his lips, he thought he was dealing with an animal lover. “We’ve had birds now for…..”
“I hate birds!” The giant smashed the glass in Dickie’s hand with the table leg.
“So do I,” smiled Dickie, “nasty little things…..”
“Birds are vicious.”
“Vicious, nasty creatures, I made my wife give them away, filthy little things.”
“They belong in cages.”
“They do, Rufus, vicious creatures, should all be in cages.” Smiled Dickie.“Innkeeper, another glass if you please.”
“They attacked me dog.”
“He was trying to eat ‘em.” Said the old man.
“What kind of birds were they?” Asked Dickie.
“Hawks. From the Guv’nor’s mansion, they was.” Said the old man.
“Hurt him, too.” Said the giant.
“How big is the dog?”
“He’d fit in your hat.” The old man looked at the battered bowler on Dickie’s head, “and leave room for your brains, the ones you’ve got don’t take up much room.” He cackled. Dickie pretended to be watching the innkeeper coming with his fresh glass of beer and gave the old man a swift kick in the backside.
“Rufus, Rufus.” He bleated.
“What is it, Uncle Daniel?”
“Uncle?” Dickie stood frozen with his glass half way in the air.
“This fool kicked me.”
“I think you deserve it.” Dickie let out a sigh.
“You ruined me day.” Said the old man to Dickie, “I wanted to see blood.”
“You stick around, Uncle,” said Dickie with a frozen smile on his face, “and I promise you, you’ll see blood.”
“He’s an old mug.” Said the giant to Dickie.
“Yes, he certainly is.”
The old man shuffled away slowly and said to the next drinker. “Anyway I hate dogs, shoot ‘em, I say, shoot the lot of ‘em.”
With his arm still on Dickie’s shoulder, the giant seemed to explode.
“I didn’t say it, I didn’t say it.” Said Dickie with his glass halfway to his lips, the giant glared down at him and then at the glass, “mind me glass,” he smiled weakly, the giant took in a long breath and Dickie tried to save his beer, “smash…smash the glass.” Thinking the giant would not do so.
Rufus obliged him and left him holding the dismembered handle in his hand, he grabbed Dickie about the head with his arm and dragged him across the floor as he went after Uncle Daniel.
“Rufus, I say, Rufus.” Pleaded Dickie as he gasped for air. The giant lightly tapped his uncle on the head and dropping the table leg took up the unconscious old man in the other arm. With an angry growl he kicked over one of the tables.
“He’s gone berserk, he’ll kill the lot of us, let’s get out of here.” Everyone in the room made a wild rush for the door. Using Dickie and his uncle, Rufus spun around to knock them all back against the far wall. He threw Uncle Daniel at them and then raised Dickie over his head.
“Rufus, Rufus, I like dogs.”
The giant growled and threw him at them. He fell among them as they all lay scattered about, then as they got to their feet Dickie was raised and caught in the crush as a fresh attack was made at the door.
“Lads, lads,” suddenly the press of bodies brought him face to face with the giant who wa
s busily knocking down everyone he could, Dickie stood transfixed as the giant grabbed him by the lapels of his coat with one hand and a giant fist came roaring into his chin.
Dickie was bodily lifted into the air and flew backwards to slam against the wall and slide down to the floor unconscious.
When he woke up a short time later he found he was sitting on Uncle Daniel’s chest. He got to his feet and stood swaying. His bowler hat was gone, his coat hung in threads about his shoulders, one of his trouser legs was gone and so was one of his shoes.
He shook his head and then moaned as he realised that was a mistake. He stood holding his throbbing head and looked through glazed eyes to see Rufus just finishing off the innkeeper with the table leg.
The giant swayed with exhaustion and lumbered over to the bar to lean against it. His chest was heaving as he watched Dickie stumble over to lean on the bar just down from him. With an effort Rufus stood up and turned to face Dickie.
“I better finish you off as well.” He clenched his fists as he panted for breath. He took one step toward Dickie who calmly picked up the table leg from the bar where the giant had placed it and raised it over his head. Rufus just stood there, he was too exhausted to do anything else.
“Don’t take one more step.” Warned Dickie. The giant did so and the leg came down with a whack. The giant stood looking at Dickie with a stupid expression on his face and then fell forward to send up a cloud of dust.
Dickie still carried the leg as he stumbled out into the middle of the room. He stood there blinking as ghostly figures got unsteadily to their feet to nurse sore heads or damaged limbs.
“Anymore of you blighters feel like a fight, come on.” Dickie stood aggressively.
“Ain’t you done enough damage?” Came the voice of Uncle Daniel lying on the floor.
“Come on, old man, I’d like to put a dent in your head.”
“Put that thing down,” said one of the men in the corner of the room getting to his feet unsteadily.
“D’you want to take it off me, see what I did to Rufus?” He pointed to the giant.
The man came lumbering at him and Dickie raised his arm quickly over his head, as he raised the leg quickly backwards it came into contact with something.
Dickie froze, with wide eyes the man stopped and went backwards, all around the room they all stood silently looking at something on the floor behind Dickie.
“What are you all looking at?” He didn’t dare look.
“He’s knocked out the constable.” Said one.
“He’s knocked out the constable.” A few voices repeated.
Dickie raised his eyes to the roof.
“Please, God, don’t let it be me they’re talking about.” He turned slowly and looked down at the floor then raised his head to the roof. “Don’t you hear these prayers up there?” He dropped the leg and was about to take to his heels. The semi-conscious policeman managed to grab his foot in a vice-like grip. “Help, police, help!” Called Dickie instinctively.
Dickie sat in misery on the edge of the bed in the cell, his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands. He sighed in misery. The sun streamed in through the only window above his head.
A policeman came along the corridor to stand at the door made up of bars. “Got some visitors for you.”
A smiling George, a smiling Charlie and a smiling Grace appeared. Dickie fled to the furthest corner to cower in fear.
“Can we go in?” George asked the policeman.
“Sorry, sir. You’ve got ten minutes.” He walked off.
“Dickie, old son, how are you?” Asked George.
“Fine.” Gulped Dickie.
“Have they treated you well, lad, did they feed you?” Asked Charlie.
“Yes, they gave me a good breakfast.”
“Look at the state of your clothes, Richard, dear.” Said Grace.
“I’m comfortable.”
“We’ll send you some fresh clothes later.” Smiled George.
“Aren’t you going to greet your family?” Asked Charlie.
“That wall, George, that wall weren’t my fault.”
“We know that, Dickie.” Smiled Charlie.
“That yank bloke, he did it.”
“We’re sorry, Dickie, aren’t we George?”
“We certainly are, Charlie.”
“Aren’t you going to come to us?” Asked Grace.
They all stood smiling and holding out their hands through the bars. Timidly Dickie took a step forward and then another one, then he began to chuckle and they all laughed and suddenly he was at the bars.
While his brothers each took a hand to shake, Grace stroked his face.
“It’s alright for me to come home, then?”
“Of course it is,” soothed Grace, “once we get this terrible business out of the way.”
“Why were you fighting, Dickie?”Asked George.
“I didn’t start it, some overgrown maniac went berserk, it was horrible, horrible.”
“I said that, didn’t I, Charlie, I said it wasn’t our dear brother who would begin such a thing?”
“You did, George, they were your exact words.”
“Richard, dear, do you remember those coins you had?” Asked Grace.
“Coins?” Frowned Dickie.
“You know, those silly little things from Singapore or something?”
“Oh, yeah, I remember.”
“You used some didn’t you?” Asked George.
“I was cheated, I was…….”
“We know that, Dickie,” smiled Charlie, “but you’ve still got some haven’t you?”
“Oh, yeah, I still got some.”
“Where are they, Richard, dear?”
“Here, in my……” He patted his non-existent coat pocket. “What do you know?”
“What is it, Richard dear?”
“I’ve lost the damn things, I must have lost them at the inn.” Three faces were looking at him with frozen smiles. “They weren’t important, were they?”
Down the corridor at his table the policeman was just pouring himself a cup of tea.
“Help, police, help!” He dropped the pot and ran up the corridor. The two brothers had Dickie pulled against the bars by his arms, George was thumping him on the top of the head, while Charlie was stamping on the toes of his bare foot and then kicking him in the shin, Grace was busy choking the life out of him with her bare hands.
The constable got in among them and freed Dickie who limped to the furthest corner and stood rubbing his throat.
“You’ll have to leave; all of you will have to leave.” Ordered the constable.
“You better pray, Dickie,” said George shaking his fist through the bars, “pray they lock you away for a long time if we can’t find those coins.”
“It’s no good my praying, He doesn’t listen.”
The constable escorted them down the corridor while Dickie limped over to his bed to sit on the edge. He alternated rubbing the top of his head, his chin where the giant struck him, his throat, a painful shin and sore toes. He was muttering to himself when the policeman returned to poke his face through the bars.
“Don’t worry, son, when a bloke becomes a criminal some families take it that way, I’ve seen a lot of ‘em. Would you like a cup of tea?”
“Yeah, thanks.” As the constable walked away Dickie limped to the bars, “who are you calling a criminal?” Then painfully he hobbled back to the bed.
He sat in misery, with his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands.
* * * * *