Uncle Fred in the Springtime (26 page)

‘You
wish me, I take it, to find Polly and tell her not to be among those present
when Valerie arrives?’

‘Exactly.’.

‘She
shall be removed. Indeed, I rather think that none of us will be here to
welcome the dear girl. I remember telling my nephew Pongo not long ago that the
Twistletons do not clear out, but there are exceptions to the rule. If Valerie
were in a position to report to GHQ that she had found me at B landings Castle
posing as a brain specialist, the consequences might well be such as would
stagger humanity. But if I am gone before she gets here, it seems to me that I
am up against nothing that stout denial will not cover. So rest assured, my
boy, that I will lose no time in collecting my young associates, and you shall
drive us back to London in your car. Unlike the Arabs, who paused to fold their
tents before silently stealing away, we will not even stop to pack.’

‘But
how can I get at the car? I left Ricky standing guard over it.’

‘I
think I shall be able to adjust your little trouble with Ricky satisfactorily.
My first move shall be to go and explain things to him. I would suggest that
you remain here till my return. If you prefer to hide in the cupboard in case
your uncle happens to look in, by all means do so. Make yourself quite at home.’

The evening was cool and
fragrant and a soft wind whispered in the trees, as Lord Ickenham made his way
down the drive. Despite the peril that loomed, his mood was serene. He was
sorry to be obliged to leave Blandings Castle, which he had found a pleasant
spot full of interesting personalities, but he could see that time had come to
move on. And, after all, he reflected, his work was done. Polly had her money,
Pongo had been promised his, and the Empress was safe from the Duke’s clutching
hand. There was really, he felt, nothing to keep him. All he had to do now was
to speak a few soothing words to this explosive young poet of Polly’s, and an
agreeable episode might be considered closed.

He was
about half-way to the castle gate when he heard the sound of footsteps. A small
figure was coming towards him through the dusk.

‘Polly?’

‘Hullo.’

It
seemed to Lord Ickenham that there was a flat note in the girl’s usually
musical voice, and as he halted beside her he detected in her bearing a
listlessness which struck him as odd.

‘What’s
the matter?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Don’t
be evasive, child. The visibility may not be good, but I can see that you are
drooping like a tired flower. Your depression is almost Pongoesque. Come on,
now, what has happened?’

‘Oh,
Uncle Fred!’

‘Hullo!
Here, I say! Dash it, what’s all this about?’

It was
some moments later that Polly drew away, dabbing at her eyes.

‘I’m
sorry. I’ve been making a fool of myself.’

‘Nothing
of the kind. A good cry is what we all want at times. I shall recommend it to
Pongo. I think I can guess what is wrong. I take it that you have been having a
talk with your young man. You went to meet Horace at the gate, and found Ricky.
And from your manner, I gather that the plug-ugly rather than the poet was
uppermost in him.’

‘He was
awful. Not that you can blame him.’

‘Of
course not, bless his heart, the little pet.’

‘I
mean, I can understand how he must have been feeling. I had promised I would
never see Horace again, and there I was, sneaking off to him.’

‘Don’t
be so infernally broadminded, child. Why the devil shouldn’t you see Horace as
often as you like? What right has this sweet-singing baboon to tell you whom
you shall see and whom you shan’t see? What happened?’

‘He
raved and yelled at me. He said everything was over.’

‘So he
did a couple of days ago, after that Ball. But you smoothed him down.’

‘I
couldn’t this time.

‘Did
you try?’

‘No. I
lost my temper, and started being as beastly as he was.’

‘Good
girl.’

‘It was
horrible. He hated me.’

‘Do you
hate him?’ ‘Of course I don’t.’

‘You
mean that in spite of everything you love him still?’

‘Of
course I do.’

‘Women
are amazing. Well, I’ll soon fix things. I’m on my way to interview him now.’

‘It won’t
be any use.’

‘That’s
what they said to Columbus. Don’t you worry, my dear. I can handle this. I know
my potentialities, and sometimes they absolutely stun me. Are there no limits,
I ask myself, to the powers of this wonder-man? I am still completely unable to
comprehend why you should want the chap, but if you do you must have him.’

He
walked on, and coming presently to the gate found the Bingley standing at the
roadside. Pacing up and down in its vicinity like a tiger at feeding-time he
perceived a sturdy figure.

‘Mr
Gilpin, I presume?’ he said.

17

So many disturbing things
had happened to Ricky Gilpin in the course of this April day that it is
scarcely to be wondered at that his mood was not sunny. In a world congested
with dukes and Potts and Horace Davenports and faithless girls, it is only an
exceptionally philosophical man who can preserve his amiability unimpaired,
and Ricky had never been that. He scowled darkly. He did not know who this
elegant stranger was, but he was prepared to dislike him.

‘Who
are you?’

‘My
name is Ickenham.’

‘Oh?’

‘I see
that it is familiar. No doubt Polly has spoken of me?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then
in reciprocal spirit I will now speak of Polly.’ A quiver passed through Ricky
Gilpin’s solid body. ‘No, you won’t. I’ve finished with her.’

‘Don’t
say that.’

‘I do
say that.’

Lord
Ickenham sighed.

‘Youth,
Youth! How it flings away its happiness like a heedless child,’ he said, and
pausing for a moment to think what heedless children flung away added ‘blowing
bubbles and throwing them idly into the sunlit air. Too bad, too bad. Shall I
tell you a little story, Mr Gilpin?’

‘No.’

‘Years
ago’ — it would have taken a better man than Ricky to stop Lord Ickenham
telling stories — ‘I loved a girl.’

‘You
haven’t by any chance seen Horace Davenport, have you?’

‘Loved
her dearly.’

‘If you
do, tell him it’s no use his skulking away. I intend to wait here for weeks, if
necessary.’

‘We
quarrelled over some trivial matter. Bitter recriminations ensued. And finally
she swept out of the room and married a rubber planter.’

‘Sooner
or later he will have to present himself and be torn into little pieces.’

‘And
years afterwards there arrived a simple posy of white violets, together with a
slip of paper bearing the words: “It might have been.” Tragic, eh? If you will
allow an old man to advise you, Mr Gilpin — an old man who has suffered — an
old man who threw away his happiness just because he was too proud to speak the
little word that —’

There
was a metallic clang. Ricky Gilpin appeared to have kicked the fender of the
car.

‘Listen,’
he said. ‘I may as well tell you at once that you’re wasting your time. I know Polly
sent you to try to talk me round —’

‘Sent
me to talk you round? My dear fellow! You little know that proud girl.’

Lord
Ickenham paused. Ricky had moved into the golden pool spread by the headlights,
and for the first time he was able to see him as more than an indistinct figure
in the dusk.

‘Tell
me,’ he said, ‘was your father a chap named Billy Gilpin? In ‘some Irish
regiment?’

‘His
name was William, and he was in the Connaught Rangers. Why?’

‘I
thought so. You’re the living spit of him. Well, now I know that, I’m not so
surprised that you should have been behaving in this idiotic way. I used to
know your father, and I wish I had five pounds for every time I’ve sat on his
head in bars and restaurants in a painstaking effort to make him see reason. Of
all the fly-off-the-handle asses that ever went about with a chip on the
shoulder, taking offence at the merest trifles —’

‘We won’t
discuss my father. And if you’re suggesting that it’s the merest trifle, the
girl who’s supposed to love you going and hobnobbing with Horace Davenport
after she had promised —’

‘But,
my dear boy, don’t you understand that it was precisely because she loved you
that she did hobnob with Horace? … Let me explain, and if when I have
finished you are not bathed in shame and remorse, you must be dead to all human
feeling. In the first place, nothing but her love for you could have dragged
her to that Ball at the Albert Hall. You don’t suppose a girl enjoys being seen
in public with a fellow wearing the costume of a Zulu warrior and
tortoiseshell-rimmed spectacles, do you? Polly went to that Ball because she
was prepared to endure physical and spiritual agony in order to further your
interest. It was her intention to catch Horace in mellow mood and plead with
him to advance you the sum which you require for that onion soup bar of yours.’

‘What!’

‘For
weeks she had been sedulously sweetening him by giving him dancing lessons, and
that night was to have marked the culmination of the enterprise. She was hoping
to be able to come to you and tell you that the weary waiting was over and that
you and she could get married and live happy ever after, dishing out onion soup
to the blotto survivors of bottle parties. By your headstrong conduct you
ruined her plans that night. A girl can’t try to borrow money from a man while
he’s being taken off to Marlborough Street Police Station. Her instinct tells
her that he will not be in the mood. So she had to wait for another
opportunity. Learning that Horace was expected here, she came, too. She met
him. She got the money —’She — what?’

‘Certainly.
It’s in her possession now. She was bringing it to you.’ ‘But how did she know
I was here?’

For
perhaps a third of a split second this question had Lord Ickenham in
difficulties.

‘Woman’s
intuition,’ he suggested. ‘But —’Well, there it is,’ said Lord Ickenham
bluffly. ‘What does it matter how she knew you were here? Suffice it that she
did know, and she came running to you with the money in her hand like a child
about to show some cherished treasure. And you — what did you do?. You behaved
like a cad and a scoundrel. I’m not surprised that she feels she has had a
lucky escape.

‘Oh, my
gosh! Does she?’

‘That
is what she was saying when I saw her just now. And I don’t blame her. There
can be no love without trust, and a pretty exhibition of trustfulness you gave,
did you not?’

To
Horace Davenport, could he have seen it at this moment, Ricky Gilpin’s face
would have come as a revelation. He would scarcely have been able to believe
that those incandescent eyes had it in them to blink so sheepishly, or that
that iron jaw could have sagged so like a poorly set blancmange. The future
Onion Soup King was exhibiting all the symptoms of one who has been struck on
the back of the head with a sock full of wet sand.

‘I’ve
made a fool of myself,’ he said, and his voice was like the earliest pipe of
half-awakened birds.

‘You
have.’

‘I’ve
mucked things up properly.’

‘I’m
glad you realize it.’

‘Where
is Polly? I must see her.’

‘I
wouldn’t advise it. You don’t appear to understand what it means, behaving to a
girl of spirit as you have behaved to Polly. She’s furious with you. It would
be madness to see her. There is only one thing you can do. When are you
returning to London?’

‘I had
meant to catch the evening train.’

‘Do so.
Polly will be back at her home shortly. As soon as she arrives, go and buy her
chocolates — lots of chocolates — and send them round with a grovelling note.’

‘I will.’

‘You
might then plead for an interview. And when I say plead, I mean plead.’

‘Of
course.’

‘If you
display a sufficiently humble and contrite spirit, I see no reason for you to
despair. She was fond of you once, and it may be that she will grow fond of you
again. I will talk to her and do what I can for you.’

‘That’s
awfully kind of you.’

‘Not at
all. I would like to do a good turn for the son of an old friend. Good evening,
Gilpin, my boy, and remember … chocolates — humble, remorseful chocolates —
and plenty of them.’

It was perhaps fortunate
that Pongo Twistleton was not present when his uncle, rejoining Polly,
concluded the recital of what had passed between Ricky Gilpin and himself, for
there ensued an emotional scene which would have racked him to the foundations
of his being.