As the Crow Flies (32 page)

“First-class
girl,” I assured him.

“Yes,
sir, I agree. But I’m afraid she’s pregnant.”

I
confess that I had already learned this news some days before from Becky
herself, but as I had given the lady my word not to tell anyone, including
Charlie, I feigned surprise. Although I realize times have changed, I knew
Becky had been strictly brought up and in any case she had never struck me as
that sort of girl, if you know what I mean.

“Of
course, you’ll want to know who the father is,” Charlie added.

“I
had assumed... “ I began, but Charlie immediately shook his head.

“Not
me,” he said. “I only wish it was. Then at least I could marry her and wouldn’t
have to bother you with the problem.”

“Then
who is the culprit?” I asked.

He
hesitated before saying, “Guy Trentham, sir.”

“Captain
Trentham? But he’s in India, if I remember correctly.”

“That’s
right, sir. And I’ve had the devil’s own job persuading Becky to write and let
him know what’s happened; she says it would only ruin his career.”

“But
not telling him could well ruin her whole life,” I suggested testily. Just
imagine the stigma of being an unmarried mother, not to mention having to bring
up an illegitimate child. “In any case, Trentham’s bound to find out
eventually, don’t you know.”

“He
may never learn the truth from Becky, and I certainly don’t have the sort of
influence that would make him do the decent thing.”

“Are
you holding anything else back about Trentham that I ought to know about,
Trumper?”

“No,
sir.”

Trumper
replied a little too quickly for me to be totally convinced.

“Then
you’ll have to leave the problem of Trentham to me,” I told him. “Meanwhile you
get on with running the shops. But be sure to let me know the moment it’s all
out in the open so I don’t go around looking as if I haven’t a clue what’s
going on.” I rose to leave.

“The
whole world will know before much longer,” Charlie said.

I
had said “leave the problem to me” without the slightest idea of what I was
going to do about it, but when I had returned home that night I discussed the
whole affair with Elizabeth. She advised me to have a chat with Daphne, who she
felt confident would know considerably more about what was going on than
Charlie did. I suspected she was right.

Elizabeth
and I duly invited Daphne to tea at Tregunter Road a couple of days later. She
confirmed everything Charlie had said and was also able to fill in one or two
missing pieces of the jigsaw.

In
Daphne’s opinion Trentham had been Becky’s first serious romance, and certainly
to her knowledge Becky had never slept with any other man before they had met,
and only once with Trentham. Captain Trentham, she assured us, was unable to
boast the same blameless reputation.

The
rest of her news did not augur well for a simple solution, as it turned out
that Guy’s mother could not be relied on to insist that her son do the decent
thing by Becky. On the contrary, Daphne knew the woman was already preparing
the ground to ensure that no one could possibly believe that Trentham could be
in any way responsible.

“But
what about Trentham’s father?” I asked. “Do you think I should have a word with
him? Although we were in the same regiment we were never in the same battalion,
don’t you know.”

“She’s
the only member of that family I really care for,” Daphne admitted. “He’s the
MP for Berkshire West, a Liberal.”

“Then
that has to be my approach route,” I replied. “I can’t abide the man’s
politics, but that won’t stop him from knowing the difference between right and
wrong.”

Yet
another letter sent on club notepaper elicited an immediate reply from the
major, inviting me to drinks at Chester Square the following Monday.

I
arrived punctually at six, and was taken into the drawing room where I was
greeted by a quite charming lady who introduced herself as Mrs. Trentham. She
was not at all what I expected after Daphne’s description; in fact she was a
rather handsome woman. She was profuse in her apologies: it seemed that her
husband had been held up at the House of Commons by a running three-line whip,
which even I knew meant he was unable to leave the Palace of Westminster on
pain of death. I made an instant decision wrongly I realize in retrospect that
this matter couldn’t wait a moment longer and I must relay my message to the
major through his wife.

“I
find this is all rather embarrassing actually,” I began.

“Do
feel free to speak quite openly, Colonel. I can assure you that I am fully in
my husband’s confidence. We have no secrets from each other.”

“Well,
to be frank with you, Mrs. Trentham, the matter I wish to touch on concerns
your son Guy.”

“I
see” was all she said.

“And
his fiancee, Miss Salmon.”

“She
is not, and never has been, his fiancee,” said Mrs. Trentham, her voice
revealing a sudden edge.

“But
I was given to understand... “

“That
promises were made to Miss Salmon by my son? I can assure you, Colonel, that
nothing could be further from the truth.”

Slightly
taken aback, I was unable to think of a diplomatic way of letting the lady know
the real purpose behind my wanting to see her husband. So I simply said, “Whatever
promises were or were not made, madam, I do feel that you and your husband
should be aware that Miss Salmon is expecting a child.”

“And
what has that to do with me?” Mrs. Trentham stared directly at me with no fear
showing in her eyes.

“Simply
that your son is undoubtedly the father.”

“We
only have her word for that, Colonel.”

“That,
madam, was unworthy of you,” I told her. “I know Miss Salmon to be a thoroughly
decent and honest girl. And in any case, if it were not your son, who else
could it have possibly been?”

“Heaven
knows,” said Mrs. Trentham. “Any number of men, I would have thought, judging
by her reputation. After all, her father was an immigrant.”

“So
was the King’s father, madam,” I reminded her. “But he still would have known
how to conduct himself had he been faced with the same predicament.”

“I’m
sure I don’t know what you mean, Colonel.”

“I
mean, madam, that your son must either marry Miss Salmon or at least resign
from the regiment and make suitable arrangements to see the child is properly
provided for.”

“It
seems I must make it clear to you once again, Colonel, that this sad state of
affairs has nothing whatsoever to do with my son. I can assure you that Guy
stopped seeing the girl some months before he sailed for India.”

“I
know that is not the case, madam, because... “

“Do
you, Colonel? Then I must ask what exactly this whole business has to do with
you in the first place?”

“Simply
that Miss Salmon and Mr. Trumper are both colleagues of mine,” I explained.

“I
see,” she said. “Then I suspect you will not have to look much further to
discover who is the real father.”

“Madam,
that was also uncalled for. Charlie Trumper is not... “

“I
cannot see any purpose in continuing this conversation, Colonel,” Mrs. Trentham
said, rising from her chair. She began to walk towards the door, not even
bothering to glance in my direction. “I must warn you, Colonel, that should I
hear this slander repeated in any quarter I shall not hesitate to instruct
solicitors to take the necessary action to defend my son’s good reputation.”

Although
shaken, I followed her into the hall, determined to see that the matter was not
allowed to rest there. I now felt Major Trentham was my only hope. As Mrs.
Trentham opened the front door to show me out I said firmly, “May I presume,
madam, that you will recount this conversation faithfully to your husband?”

“You
may presume nothing, Colonel,” were her final words as the front door was
slammed in my face. The last occasion I received such treatment from a lady had
been in Rangoon, and I’m bound to say that the girl in question had
considerably more reason to be aggrieved.

When
I repeated the conversation to Elizabeth as accurately as I could recall my
wife pointed out to me in that clear, concise way of hers that I had been left
with only three choices. The first was to write to Captain Trentham directly
and demand he do the decent thing, the second would be to inform his commanding
officer of everything I knew.

“And
the third?” I asked.

“Never
to refer to the subject again.”

I
considered her words carefully, and chose the middle course, dropping a note to
Ralph Forbes, a firstclass fellow who had succeeded me as colonel, acquainting
him with the facts as I knew them. I chose my words most judiciously, aware
that if Mrs. Trentham were to carry out her threat any legal action she took
could only bring the regiment’s good name into disrepute, perhaps even
ridicule. However, I did at the same time decide to keep a fatherly eye on
Becky, as she now seemed to be burning the candle at both ends, not to mention
in the middle. After all, the girl was trying to prepare for her exams, as well
as act as an unpaid secretary and accountant to a thriving little business,
while everyone who passed her in the street must have known that it could only
be a matter of weeks before she was due to give birth.

As
those weeks passed, it worried me that nothing seemed to be happening on the
Trentham front despite the fact that I had received a reply from Forbes
assuring me that he had set up a panel of inquiry. Certainly when I inquired
further of Daphne or Charlie neither of them seemed to be any better informed
than I was.

It
was in mid-October that year that Daniel George was born, and I was touched
that Becky invited me to be a godparent, along with Bob Makins and Daphne. I
was even more delighted when I learned from Becky that she and Charlie were to
be married the following week. It wouldn’t stop wagging tongues, of course, but
at least the child would be considered legitimate in the eyes of the law.

Elizabeth
and I, along with Daphne, Percy, Mrs. Salmon, Miss Roach and Bob Makins,
attended the simple civil service at Chelsea Register Office, followed by a
boisterous reception in Charlie’s flat above the shop.

I
began to think that perhaps everything had worked out for the best until some
months later Daphne telephoned, asking urgently to see me. I took her to lunch
at the club, where she produced a letter that she had received from Captain
Trentham that morning. As I read his words I became painfully aware that Mrs.
Trentham must have learned of my own letter to Forbes warning him of the
consequences of a breach-of-promise suit, and immediately taken matters into
her own hands. I felt the time had come to let her son know that he had not got
away with it.

I
left my guest to have coffee while I retired to the writing room and with the
help of a stiff brandy began to compose an even stiffer letter, I can tell you.
I felt my final effort covered all the necessary points in as diplomatic and
realistic a way as was possible given the circumstances. Daphne thanked me, and
promised she would send the letter on to Trentham verbatim.

I
didn’t have another conversation with her again until we met at her wedding a
month later, and that was hardly an appropriate time to broach the subject of
Captain Trentham.

After
the service was over I strolled round to Vincent Square where the reception was
being held. I kept a wary eye out for Mrs. Trentham who I assumed had also been
invited. I had no desire to hold a second conversation with that particular
lady.

I
was, however, delighted to catch up with Charlie and Becky in the large marquee
that had been erected especially for the occasion. I have never seen the girl
looking more radiant, and Charlie could almost have been described as suave
standing there in his morning coat, gray cravat and topper. The fine half
hunter that hung from his waistcoat turned out to be a wedding gift from Becky,
left to her by her father, she explained, although the rest of the outfit,
Charlie reported, had to be returned to Moss Bros. first thing the following
morning.

“Has
the time not come, Charlie,” I suggested, “for you to purchase a morning coat
of your own? After all, there are likely to be considerably more of these
occasions in the future.”

“Certainly
not,” he replied. “That would only be a waste of good money.”

“May
I inquire why?” I asked. “Surely the cost of a... “

“Because
it is my intention to purchase a tailor’s shop of my own,” he interjected. “I’ve
had my eye on Number 143 for some considerable time, and I hear from Mr.
Crowther that it might come on the market at any moment.”

I
couldn’t argue with this piece of logic, although his next question baffled me
completely.

“Have
you ever heard of Marshall Field, Colonel?”

“Was
he in the regiment?” I asked, racking my brain.