Helen Simonson - Major Pettigrew's Last Stand

“Oh, no, please, I’m feeling very much better,” whispered Grace. “I think I just had a bit of a reaction to some of the spices.”

“I’m afraid we’re not contributing to the good impression your son was anxious to make,” said Mrs. Ali.

“Oh, not at all, not at all,” said the Major. “Don’t even think about it. Roger will be delighted to see you both.” He swung his cane absently and had taken the heads off of three late dahlias before he realized it. He looked up to see Roger jogging up the lawn with a glass of water slopping over his hand. His son wore a look of concern that closely resembled a scowl.

“Mrs. Augerspier said one of your friends needed a glass of water,” said Roger. In a quieter voice he added, “You invited people along?”

“You remember Miss DeVere, Roger,” said the Major, passing the glass of water to Grace. “And this is Mrs. Ali from the village shop.”

“How do you do,” said Mrs. Ali. “We are so sorry to intrude.”

“Not at all,” said Roger in an indifferent tone. “Only I do need to borrow my father for a few minutes.”

“I remember when you were just a little boy, Roger…” said Grace, wiping her eyes. “Such a lovely little boy with all that unruly hair.”

“Is she drunk?” whispered Roger to the Major. “Did you bring a drunken woman here?”

“Certainly not,” said the Major. “Just a little touch of something from our rather large Indian luncheon.”

“Do you remember that time you boys stayed out smoking cheroots in the woods?” asked Grace. “Your poor mother was convinced that you were trapped in an abandoned refrigerator in some ravine.”

“Sorry, got to run, ladies,” said Roger already turning away. As the Major found himself being hustled along back to the house, he heard Grace’s voice ramble on.

“Stole them from the Vicar’s coat during services and made themselves sick as dogs…”

“Roger, you were very rude,” he said.

“Rude?” said Roger. “How could you bring them here? Mrs. Augerspier is all nervous now. She keeps peering out the window.”

“What on earth for?” said the Major.

“I don’t know. But we’ve gone from being the right sort of people to being a strange bunch with a circus of hangers-on. For God’s sake, one’s Pakistani and one’s tipsy-what were you thinking?”

“You’re being ridiculous,” said the Major. “I won’t have my friends subjected to such rudeness.”

“You promised to help me,” said Roger. “I suppose I’m not as important as your friends? And since when did you count shopkeepers as friends? Are you best friends with the milkman now?”

“As you know perfectly well, there hasn’t been a milkman in Edgecombe St. Mary for twenty years,” said the Major.

“Hardly the point, Dad, hardly the point,” said Roger. He opened the cottage door and stood aside as if waiting to shepherd in a troublesome child. The Major fumed as he was marched in.

Sandy was sitting on the rickety sofa with a fixed smile on her face. Mrs. Augerspier was once again peering from the window.

“It’s just that I’ve been so nervous since that couple last week,” she said, holding her hand to her heart. Sandy nodded in apparent sympathy.

“Mrs. Augerspier was just explaining to me about a very rude couple who came to see the cottage last week.”

“I only told them that since they were used to a warmer climate, I thought they would find the cottage much too damp. They were quite unreasonable about it.”

“Where were they from?” asked Roger.

“I think you said from Birmingham, Mrs. A.?” asked Sandy, her eyes stretched to wide innocence.

“But they were from the islands originally; the West Indies,” said Mrs. Augerspier. “Such rudeness-and from doctors, too. I told them I’d report them to the medical board.”

“So naturally Mrs. Augerspier is feeling a little intimidated around strangers,” said Sandy. “But only until she knows them.”

“A lady is comfortable around all persons once properly introduced,” opined Mrs. Augerspier. “I am proud to say that I have not a bone of bias in me.”

The Major looked at Roger whose mouth was open, making slight movements but no sound. Sandy looked unperturbed. She even seemed to be enjoying herself.

“Mrs. Augerspier, you are an unvarnished original,” said Sandy. “I can’t wait to hear your opinions on-oh, on everything.”

“I must say, for an American you are very civil,” said Mrs. Augerspier. “Are your family originally from Europe?”

“Roger, are you finished looking around?” asked the Major. He hoped his tone was abrupt enough to register his disapproval of the widow without creating a direct confrontation. Mrs. Augerspier gave him a vague smile which indicated that while he had avoided any rudeness, he had failed miserably to deliver a snub.

“We really shouldn’t take up too much of your time,” said Roger. He walked over to pat Sandy on the shoulder. “Are you done, darling?” The Major flinched at the casually delivered endearment, the verbal equivalent of tossing a stranger the keys to the family house.

“I could move in right now,” said Sandy. “What’s it going to be, Mrs. A.? Are we suitable, do you think?”

Mrs. Augerspier smiled, but her eyes narrowed in an unpleasant fashion. “It is important that I find just the right people…” she began.

Sandy turned to look at Roger and patted his hand like a mother to a small boy who has forgotten his manners.

“Oh, yes, I forgot,” said Roger. He dug in his coat pocket and flourished a brown envelope. “My fiancée and I took the liberty of bringing a cashier’s check for six months’ rent just in case you could let us have it right away.” He opened the envelope and handed a check to Mrs. Augerspier, who appeared fascinated.

“Roger, are you sure you’re not being too spontaneous?” asked the Major, his mind struggling to process the word “fiancée.” He focused instead on watching the widow examine both back and front of the check. Her eyes wobbled in delight. She pursed her lips and gave him a frown.

“Well, I believe I could agree to six months-on a strictly trial basis,” she said. “But I won’t have time to effect any repairs, you know. It will take all my strength just to pack up my dear aunt’s personal effects.”

“We’ll be happy with it just as it is,” said Sandy.

The widow put the check in her jacket pocket, being careful to push it all the way down. “It will take me a few days to sort out which of the personal effects I might be able to part with.”

“Take all the time you need,” said Roger, shaking her hand. “Now, what say we all go and have a cup of tea somewhere to seal the deal?”

“That sounds very lovely,” said Mrs. Augerspier. “I believe there’s a local hotel that offers a wonderful afternoon tea-now where did I put my rental form?” The Major personally thought chewing stinging nettles and washing them down with a pint of ditch water might be more pleasant than watching the widow bob her feathers over a mountain of whipped cream.

“Major, you look as if you have some pressing engagement,” said Sandy, winking at him. Roger looked up and gave the Major a pleading glance.

“I rather think I must get the ladies home,” said the Major. “Grace is quite unwell.”

The door opened and Mrs. Ali put her head around it.

“I’m so sorry to interrupt you,” she said. “I wanted to let you know that Grace is feeling much better.” The Major experienced a sense of panic. It was all he could do to keep from shaking his head at Mrs. Ali. He must have made some small involuntary spasm because she smoothly changed her emphasis.

“However, I do think it would be preferable to get her home as soon as possible, Major.” She held out the empty water glass, which the widow hurried over to take from her.