The Serial Garden: The Complete Armitage Family Stories (18 page)

"Harriet, will you stop making all that noise, please. I shall have to give you a hundred lines for talking in here."

"But I have a visitor with me."

"Don't talk nonsense, please."

"Here, give her these lines,” said Mr. Peake's voice in her ear. “Doubtless the subject matter is of no importance? I always travel with some reading material.” And he pulled out a parchment (from his doublet presumably), and passed it to Harriet, who handed it on to Madeline, absently noticing that it seemed to be about ship money. Madeline's jaw dropped.

"Where in the name of goodness did you get this,” she began. “It's just the subject I was reading up—” But Harriet quickly dragged Mr. Peake away and persuaded him that there was nothing else in the school worth looking at. She reported herself to her house-mistress and they went out into the little town of Ham's Street, where Harriet was quickly pounced on by two senior girls coming back from shopping.

"Harriet! What are you doing out by yourself? You know it's not allowed."

"I'm not by myself, I'm with Mr. Peake,” Harriet said miserably.

"Be at ease, the little wench is under my care,” Mr. Peake reassured them.

"Mr. Peake's had a rather bad cold—that's why you can't see him very well,” Harriet said desperately.

"I can't see him at all,” said Gertrude, the elder girl.

"Perhaps this will certify you of my presence, my fair sceptic.” Mr. Peake presented her with a flower, apparently from his buttonhole. It was something like a wild rose but white, with a very sweet scent. They left Gertude and her friend staring at it in perplexity and walked on.

Harriet decided that it would be best if they went to the cinema. It was something of a strain being out with Mr. Peake, and she felt that sitting down in the sheltering dark would be a relief. She suggested this plan to him.

"I have never been in one of those places,” he replied, “but one is never too old to do something new. Let us go by all means."

When they came to the Paramount, Ham Street's only cinema, they found that it was showing
The Nineteenth Man
, an “A” film.

"Two two and three's, please,” said Mr. Peake, prompted by Harriet.

"You can't go in without an adult, ducks,” said the cashier, looking through him at Harriet. “Sorry, it's a smasher, but the manager's just over there."

"But I've got an adult here—he's in front of me,” explained Harriet rather hopelessly. Mr. Peake rapped with his two half-crowns on the cash desk and the cashier let out a shriek which fetched over the manager.

"Two seats in the pit, if you please,” demanded Mr. Peake.

"Now, now, none of your nasty ventriloquism tricks here,” he said, scowling at Harriet. “Go on—hop it, afore I rings your headmistress."

"This town boasts a river, does it not?” inquired Mr. Peake, as they walked once more along the High Street. “Should we adventure in a boat?"

Harriet privately thought it rather a chilly pursuit for a November afternoon, but perhaps Mr. Peake was pining for a taste of his nautical past. She tucked her arm through his, feeling rather sorry for him, and they went down to the boathouse by the bridge, where a few punts and canoes were still being hired out.

"No one under the age of sixteen to go out unaccompanied by an adult,” said the man, pointing inflexibly to a framed copy of the by-laws on a notice board.

"But I
am
accompanied by an adult."

"One who, moreover, has countless times weathered the Spanish Main,” added Mr. Peake. “Be more polite to your betters, sirrah."

"Blimey,” said the man, scratching his head. “Ought to go on the halls, you ought. Run along, now, scram, before I give you in charge."

"It is an uncourteous city,” said Mr. Peake, as they stood irresolutely on the bridge.

"
I
know,” exclaimed Harriet, seeing a bus approaching. “We'll go and look at Ravensburgh Castle—I've always wanted to."

They had no trouble on the bus, apart from the conductor's displeasure with the Queen Anne six pence which Mr. Peake absently tendered him (change from rent paid to the last landlord but five, he explained to Harriet). Presently, as the bus filled up, people began to look meaningly at the empty seat next to Harriet, but Mr. Peake solved this problem by taking her on his lap. It is a very strange feeling to ride on a ghost's lap in a bus.

Once Mr. Peake remarked: “The horseless carriages in this county are indifferent well sprung,” and the woman on the seat in front of them jumped and looked round at Harriet indignantly.

The sky was clouding when they reached Ravensburgh on its hill, and it was almost cold enough for snow. Harriet shivered and wished that they were allowed to wear duffel coats instead of uniform ones.

"Shall we go up on the ramparts?” Mr. Peake inquired. “I believe one could achieve a view of the sea from them."

As they were making the circuit of the top they heard shouts from below, and gathered that a uniformed attendant was trying to tell Harriet she should not be up there on her own.

"I fear this is not a very happy outing for you,” said poor Mr. Peake.

"Oh no, I'm loving it,” lied Harriet gallantly. As a matter of fact she did feel that to walk in the icy dusk hand in hand with a spectre round the battlements of Ravensburgh was rather a grand thing to do, even though the spectre was such an old friend as Mr. Peake. But she would have liked her tea, and wondered what sort of reception they would have if they went into a café.

They came down to a wide room that had once been an upstairs banqueting hall.

"Why, bless my soul,” said Mr. Peake, pausing, “if that isn't—or is it—yes, it is—my old boon companion, Sir Giles Harkness!"

"Where?” asked Harriet, looking all round and seeing nothing.

But Mr. Peake had left her side and was exclaiming:

"Giles! My old messmate! How fares it with you?"

"Gregory! Gregory Peake! By my halidome! Well met after three hundred years. What brings you here? You must come and meet my lady—we lodge in the East Tower here. Do you remember that time off Madeira when we were in the pinnace and we saw the three galleons coming up to windward?"

They launched out into a flood of reminiscence.

"Oh dear,” thought Harriet, bored and shivering. “Now they'll go on for hours; grown-ups always do."

She tried to climb into one of the embrasures, slipped, stumbled, and turned her ankle rather severely.

"What ails you, lass?” said Mr. Peake, turning from his conversation. “Oh, Giles, this is my little godchild, Mistress Harriet Armitage."

"Your servant, madam,” said the invisible Sir Giles gravely. “But there is something amiss? You have injured your foot? My lady shall bind it up straightway."

Between them the two friends supported Harriet back to the rooms in the East Tower, never for one moment ceasing their flow of chat.

"And do you remember when Francis boarded you in the night and stole all your powder and ball and was away before dawn with none of your men any the wiser? Ah, Frank was a rare one for a jest."

In the East Tower a lady with a very friendly voice skillfully bound up Harriet's ankle with what felt like a strip of silk.

It was curious to sit among people that one could not see and listen to them talking. Harriet did not think that she should like it for long. She felt inquisitively at the heavy carved arms of her chair, which she could not see either, and wondered if they were made of pale bright new oak.

"Ah, here is our little Hubert,” said Lady Harkness. “He and the little maid should fadge well together—th'are much of an age."

As usual on such occasions Harriet took an instantaneous unreasoning dislike to little Hubert. She was sure that he was a pale, puffy little boy in a ruff and imagined him staring at her with his finger in his mouth.

Comfits were served round, very sweet and chewy, and drinks of Hippocras, which Harriet did not care for. Hubert snatched a bit of Harriet's comfit while his mother was busy pouring out the drinks, and Harriet dealt him what she hoped was a kick on the shin—she heard him squeak.

Then his elder brother Giles came in, a cheerful-sounding boy who told Harriet about his boat, which he kept on the estuary, and invited her to go sailing with him next summer.

"I will if I can,” she promised, wondering if one can go sailing with a ghost. The whole party was becoming more and more dreamlike.

"Mr. Peake,” she said, “I'm afraid we should be going, as I haven't got permission to be out late.” She stood up, and then let out a cry as her ankle gave way under her.

"The wench can't walk on that ankle!” said Sir Giles. “I'll lend you my mare, Black Peg—she'll have you home like a flash of lightning and find her own way back here again."

"We are greatly obliged to you,” replied Mr. Peake. They left amid cordial invitations to come again.

As far as Harriet could make out, Black Peg had wings; they could not of course be seen, but she could feel feathers. She wondered if the mare was any relation of Pegasus. They covered the distance to Ham Street in ten minutes, though it had taken an hour to come by bus. It was a pity that Black Peg sailed through the school dining-room window. To be deposited by a ghost horse and rider in the middle of a school's Saturday night supper is not the best way to avoid a reputation for peculiarity.

"Harriet,” said the house-mistress coldly. “Your godfather did not go to see the headmistress, as you should have told him to do before he took you out. And please get rid of that invisible horse and eat your supper."

Black Peg galloped off through the window again, thinking of spectral oats in her phantom stable no doubt, and Harriet sat down miserably to cold spam and beet root.

It was all right, though. Miss Drogly pronounced Mr. Peake to be a most interesting and delightful man—history was her own subject, and they had had a long chat about the Duke of Medina Sidonia. And Mr. Peake gave Harriet a dear little pouncet box with a clove orange in it before leaving, and she hugged him and said it had been a lovely party and promised to starch all his ruffs for him next holidays.

Next week Harriet had a letter from her mother.

"Aunt Adelaide was sorry that she had unintentionally prevented our outing, and asked me to send you this to make amends."

This
was sent under separate cover and turned out to be a small folding helicopter, so Harriet's reputation for being quite a perfectly ordinary girl with normal healthy interests was quite restored.

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The children had had whooping cough, rather badly, and although they were now well past the distressing stage of going black in the face, crowing, and having to rush from the room, they were still thin, pale, and cross. Mrs. Armitage decided that they had better lose a bit more schooling and go to stay with Grandmother for a change of air. Mark and Harriet received the news listlessly. There seemed to be so many snags and prohibitions about going to Grandmother's.

"You'll have to wear rubber-soled shoes all the time."

"Why, can't Granny stand noise?” asked Harriet.

"No, it's not that, but the floors are so highly polished; well I remember the time your father broke his leg coming downstairs. And of course you must amuse yourselves and not bother Grandmother. She hasn't much time for children."

"Wouldn't it be better if we stayed at home?’ Mark's tone was glum.

"No; a change is what you need. And we shall all be so busy here, with this wretched by-election.” Mark's mother's tone showed slight relief, indeed, at the thought that her children would be out of the way at this time; they had been known to upset local arrangements.

Grandmother's house was huge, old, and dark; Mark and Harriet tiptoed about in it like two white mice in a cave. Not that Grandmother was unkind; in her vague way she seemed pleased to see them. But after they had been staying with her a day or two, Mark and Harriet understood better what their mother had meant when she said that Granny hadn't much time for children. The old lady was not exactly busy, but most of the time her attention was very much elsewhere.

"Put away that bayonet, Roger,” she would say absently, “how many times do I have to tell you that it will rust if you don't give it a rub when you bring it into the tent? And hang up your balaclava and ask that Sepoy what he thinks he is doing."

For Granny was very, very old, and had traveled with Grandfather (dead long ago) all over the world, and seen many battles, from Inkermann to Mafeking. She was also extremely deaf and seemed to understand only about a tenth of what the children said to her as she sat knitting, placid and withdrawn, by the fire that always burned in the great hearth. They got most of their advice and information from Nursie, who was almost as old as Grandmother, but was not deaf and took an active interest in their goings-on.

"Why is there a telephone in the orchard?” Harriet wanted to know.

"Ah, there, Miss Harriet, dear. Always asking questions like your father before you. Why should it be there but in case your granny wanted to ring up the orchard, then?"