Louis de Bernières - The Dust That Falls From Dreams

Millicent hesitated. ‘Well, sir, she plays the violin, like an angel she does.’

‘We thought she’d given up. When does she do it?’

‘When everyone’s out, sir, ’cept me and Cookie, ’cause we don’t count. She takes that big Bible off the lectern thing in the morning room, and she puts her music there, and she plays like nobody’s business. It’s like nightingales, sir, all sad and lovely. And if she sees anyone coming in the drive, she packs it all up straight away, and the Bible goes back on the stand, like she’s ashamed or something.’

‘Well, gracious me. I never would have guessed.’

‘She’s as good as anyone could be,’ said Millicent. She looked up at him and bit her lip. ‘Not that I know about it much, sir.’

‘There’s something else, isn’t there?’

‘Well, sir, she’s as good at golf as Mr McCosh is, and it was ’er when she was ladies’ captain who got the rules changed at the club, so the ladies could play on the men’s.’

‘And could the men play on the ladies’?’

‘Dunno, sir.’

‘There’s something else, isn’t there?’

‘Well, sir, please don’t, like, pass it on, sir.’

He held up two fingers. ‘Scout’s honour.’

‘Well, sir, when she was young she was led on something rotten by that Lord Denmore. Right up the garden path, sir, and it nearly did for her altogether, sir. That’s why she married so late in life, sir. She’s older than the master, by a long chalk.’

‘How long is a long chalk?’

‘’Bout five years, sir. And another thing, sir, the mistress was a suffragette. Caused quite a stir.’

‘I seem to remember Miss Rosie telling me that once. A suffragette? Not a suffragist?’

‘No, sir, a proper “ette”. She was out and about with them Pankhursts. Going to them WSPC meetings at the Queen’s Head, and them suffragette teas.’

‘Good Lord — was she throwing bricks at windows and jumping out in front of horses, and getting force-fed?’

‘Don’t know, sir. The coppers didn’t get her, far as I know. She was on the Conservative Association too, sir. Still is.’

‘And what did Mr McCosh think of her being out and about with the Pankhursts?’

‘Mr McCosh has always been a bit ahead, hasn’t he? He said as far as he was concerned she damned well ought to have the vote. And me too, come to that. Excusing the language, sir.’

‘How do you know all this, Millicent?’

‘Gets passed down the servants, sir. We know more about that lot than they do.’

‘Millicent, do you like compliments?’

‘My mum said never trust a gentleman with compliments.’

‘Your mother was right, but nonetheless, I want to say that I think you’re a delightful girl. I hope everything works out for you.’

‘Can I tell you something what’s been bothering me, sir?’

‘Yes, Millicent, of course.’

‘You won’t take it wrong of me?’

‘I very much doubt it.’

‘Well, sir, if you don’t mind me saying, sir, I think you should take Miss Rosie to France and go and visit Mr Ashbridge’s grave.’

‘Do you? Good Lord, I never —’

‘I did something like that, sir. I went to see my Hutch. I went with Dusty, and now me and Dusty’s married, and everything’s all right.’

‘It worked for you, eh?’

‘Yes, sir.’ She looked around, as if suspicious of being watched. ‘The mistress will tell you off for helping me, you know, sir. Improper and all that, she’ll call it.’

‘I rather fear that she will.’

That evening Daniel was in the conservatory enjoying the light pattering of rain on the glass, when Fairhead came in.

‘Ah, there you are. Avoiding the lady of the house again, I take it? Not on deep patrol today?’

‘No, I’m not avoiding her. I’m beginning to think I should make more allowance, in fact. I’ve received some sobering revelations. People have a far greater hinterland than you can possibly imagine, don’t you think? Besides, as you know, she’s recovering in bed.’

‘From having her finger severely bitten by a parrot when she called on Mrs Smart,’ said Fairhead. ‘You’d think that a woman of her age and experience would know better than to offer her finger to a parrot.’

‘You would. Anyway, to get back to your question — they’re all playing cards, and I really don’t enjoy cards any more. We played a vast amount in the Flying Corps, when the weather was dud. If you got hold of a book, it was like finding the Holy Grail. Thank God I could read books in French. Obviously they were easier to find. I used to like chess, but my opponent got a Blighty wound, and when he came back he was shot down the day after. It’s surprising how quickly one lost the knack. Have you noticed that there aren’t any gasbag cars any more?’

‘I have now that you’ve mentioned it. You don’t seem very cheerful. Got a fit of the glums?’

‘Feeling a bit useless. What exactly am I for, Fairhead?’

‘I think you’re for giving Esther and Rosie the best possible life.’

‘I’m really not useful unless there’s a war on,’ said Daniel.

‘Twitchy, eh?’ said Fairhead. ‘Don’t blame you actually. Comes to me often enough. When you’ve been biting on red meat for years, you’ve got no patience for fairy cake and meringue, have you?’

‘Everything I learned will be lost,’ said Daniel. ‘I am an encyclopedia of redundant information.’

‘Example?’

‘Well, a tank trail looks exactly like a snail trail, except with a tank on the end of it. And if you want to hear what shells sound like when they’re passing by, you can just switch off the engine. And, if you want to go out and shoot down a balloon, you should load the belt in groups of three. First a Sparklet, so you can see where the bullets are going, then a Brock to blow the fabric open, and then a Pomeroy or a Buckingham to set the gas on fire.’

Fairhead absorbed this information, got out his pipe, packed it thoughtfully and lit it.

‘I see what you mean,’ he said at last. ‘That’s pretty damned useless.’

‘DANIEL, DEAR BOY, how do you feel about being my partner in a four ball against the One-Armed Golfers Association team? You’re reasonably good, aren’t you?’

‘I’m down to fourteen, sir.’

‘Perfectly acceptable. You can’t make any allowances for these one-armed fellows, you know. It’s going to be tough. One of them’s almost scratch. And how is it going at Henley’s?’

‘Very well, sir. The turnover is good, and all the new ideas are working out. The oil-cooled Bradshaw engine’s a big success, and we’ve got a supersport version with Blackburne engines and a sidecar. We win a great many races, and that’s how you sell.’

‘Still driving everywhere in a truck? Delivering?’

‘Yes, sir, but I do a lot more than that. We’re setting up in France.’

‘Um, well, my boy, I have cornered you in this manner because I am well aware that the situation cannot go on as it is.’

‘The situation, sir?’

‘Yes, the situation. The antagonism between you and Mrs McCosh is painful to all of us, including yourselves. Let me put this all in order, eh? Firstly, you have to keep coming here to be with your wife and daughter, and secondly, Rosie havers and dithers about leaving this house and going to live with you in Birmingham, even though you’ve got a lovely house in a pretty village.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘And thirdly, you and Mrs McCosh have become mortal enemies, and fourthly, the occupation you currently have is somewhat below your natural level of ability.’

‘I wouldn’t say that, sir. It’s very interesting, and not at all easy. As you know, I’m very set on engineering. Engineering is the whole future of the world. And naturally one often has to start at the bottom and work up, and, as I said, I expect to be going to France quite a lot.’