Paws for Alarm (11 page)

‘Don't you worry about me.' Arnold collapsed on the sofa with evident relief. ‘I'll make it, Babe.' His eyes gleamed with fanatical fervour. ‘I won't let you down.'

‘Okay, okay.' I lowered him against the cushions and slid my supporting arm away. ‘Are you
sure
you're all right?'

‘I don't know.' He tugged at the adhesive tape. ‘I can't look. Just check, will you, Babe?'

‘Easy does it – Steady on –' I wavered between cultures as I inched the tape away from the wound, ‘we're doing fine –'

‘You mean
I'm
doing fine –' Arnold opened one indignant eye as I eased the gauze and cotton wool off the stitches. ‘Stop sounding like an idiot!'

‘Okay, if that's the way you want it.' I ripped the final covering off.

‘Aaaagh!'

‘You're doing great,' I assured him. ‘Not one stitch has burst.'

‘Are you sure?' He flexed the muscles of his arm tentatively and winced.

‘Positive.' I began replacing the bandages. A flicker of ginger movement by the door caught my eye.

‘Esmond!' White whiskers twitched and a furry head began backing out of sight. The twins are looking for you.' Esmond was unconcerned by this information. If anything, it hastened his retreat.

‘You just go and catch those mice –' I called after him. There had been faint off-and-on scrabbling noises all day, now that I came to think of it. ‘What do you think you're here for?'

‘Call that a cat?' Arnold was restored to good humour. He even sealed down the edges of the adhesive tape himself. ‘I'd like to see him tangle with Errol. He'd never know what hit him.'

‘That's not fair! Errol is – is –' Suddenly, homesickness swept over me. I wanted Errol and our house in Cranberry Lane. I wanted Pixie tootling the
Habanera
on the horn of the Welcome Wagon as a signal to come out and go for a ride with her. I wanted to know what was happening to Patrick – and even Celia.

‘Excuse me –' I broke away and ran from the study. ‘I have to write some letters.'

It was still wet and watery on Wednesday, but I didn't care. I didn't even mind getting breakfast ready an hour and a half ahead of time.

‘Are we still going to go?' Donna worried nervously. ‘It's raining outside.'

‘This is England,' I said. ‘If they let a little thing like rain stop them, they'd never get anything done. They'd still be living in the Dark Ages.'

‘
Through rain and sleet and gloom of night –'
Arnold began quoting, neatly mixing an entire nation up with the United States Postal Service.

‘That's right, dear.' Under the guise of putting more toast on his plate, I managed to slide my hand across his forehead to try to assess his temperature. It seemed to be within reasonable limits, but I realized I would have to keep a close watch on him. He was not as normal as he was trying to pretend.

‘Angela and Peregrine have to go to school today,' Donna informed us complacently. ‘They're furious because they can't come.'

‘Too bad,' Arnold said mechanically, buttering another slice of toast. Beside him, a pad of paper was covered with oblique calculations about the exchange rate, comparative prices according to the brochure he had picked up in a travel agency, and the current state of the Harper budget. He took a large bite of toast and jotted down a few more figures.

‘
We
don't have to go to school in summer,' Donald said smugly. ‘Angela and Perry would love to move over to the States to live.'

‘Fine.' I poured more milk into his glass. ‘Just let them convince their parents to move.' (And
don't
let them move anywhere near New Hampshire. I'd already had enough of dear Lania to last me a lifetime.)

‘Oh, hurry –' Donna was jiggling with impatience. ‘We'll miss the bus. They'll go without us.'

‘We've got plenty of time, honey.' But Arnold began clearing his place, putting his notes into his pockets. Donald gulped down his milk.

‘Not so fast – you'll choke.' The remark could have been addressed to either husband or child. Arnold was now demolishing his toast at a rate of knots. I looked at them both suspiciously.

‘Are you sure you're feeling well enough for this trip, Arnold?'

‘Sure, honey. There's no problem. Somebody else is doing the driving. I'll be sitting down most of the way, then we'll just have a gentle stroll around Boulogne. If I get tired, we can go into a café and have a drink and a rest.'

‘Well ...' I transferred my concern to Donald. ‘Are
you
all right for walking around? How's your blister?'

‘Huh?' He looked at me blankly, then recovered. Oh, that. I told you. It's okay now. All gone. I'm fine.' He pushed back his chair and darted for the bathroom.

I watched him closely. He didn't seem to be limping this morning. Maybe he was doing okay, or maybe – I looked at Donna. She had no trace of a limp, either. Whatever had been bothering them had obviously cleared up of its own accord.

Nevertheless, I resolved to keep a careful eye on my little flock and make sure they didn't overdo things in the excitement of the outing.

The coach was loading as we got there. I sent Arnold and the kids ahead to get seats while I parked the car. Most of the passengers seemed to know each other and there were cries of greeting, jokes and much happy laughter.

Hazel was standing to one side – with the party but not of it. She acknowledged greetings, but stayed where she was. Until Arnold came along. Then she moved forward and touched his arm. He turned and smiled down at her; the twins welcomed her enthusiastically. She walked to the coach with them and they all boarded together.
She
might have been the woman of that family.

I parked the car in record time and dashed on to the coach. At least she hadn't had the nerve to usurp my seat beside Arnold. Not yet. She was sitting, however, in the seat directly across the aisle. I gave her a frosty smile (I'd picked it up from Lania) and sank into my seat firmly.

‘Would you like to change places, honey?' Arnold had bagged the window seat and the offer was half-hearted.

‘No, thanks, this is fine.' It cut Arnold off from the chance of chummy conversation with Hazel all the way to the coast. Of course, that meant that I was stuck with passing the occasional comment and I determined that it was going to be
very
occasional.

‘Heavens,' I said to Hazel. ‘I'm exhausted. It's such a rush getting everyone ready on time ...' I leaned back against the seat and closed my eyes.

The twins had taken the seat immediately in front of us and were squabbling already. I kept my eyes closed.

‘You can take turns –' Arnold decreed. ‘Donna can sit next to the window on the way down and Donald can have it on the way back.'

‘It will be dark on the way back,' Donald protested.

‘Never mind, there'll be lights along the way and you'll be able to see as much as you want.' They'd probably both fall asleep on the way back, but he wasn't mentioning that. ‘That's what your mother and I are going to do.'

Oh no we weren't.
Not if Hazel continued to occupy the seat across the aisle. I slitted my eyes and caught her smiling sympathetically at Arnold. Fortunately, he was too busy with the kids – to notice.

There was a sudden rustle of suppressed excitement through the coach and I opened my eyes wide, expecting to see that the driver had boarded and we were off.

But it was Lania, looking, as usual, like a fashion plate. Behind her, Piers loomed like a specially-painted backdrop, in faultless casual wear. They both provided complete contrast to the rest of us, who had dressed for comfort and rain. Especially Piers, who might have come from a different planet than the other men in the coach, most of whom were wearing country tweed jackets of a faintly green hue which made them look as though they had moss gently creeping over them.

The only seats remaining were at the back of the coach. Lania and Piers moved down the aisle in stately progression, nodding right and left as they passed their seated friends. Even Arnold and I came in for a gracious nod. I noted a hum of muted comments in their wake, but could not distinguish any words.

‘Good news, you lot —' This time, it
was
the driver. He bounded aboard, beaming. ‘Weather's improving down at the coast, the Channel is smooth – and the sun is shining in Boulogne!' He leaped into his seat and started the motor.

There was a spontaneous cheer as the coach rolled off. We were all set for a good day.

I wouldn't have called the Channel smooth myself. In fact, if this was smooth, I'd hate to see rough. The twins were loving every minute of it, however, and Arnold seemed quite happy, so I slumped down on a bench on deck and concentrated on fighting down nausea and trying to be a good sport.

Just as I was losing the battle, Hazel appeared in the distance. She drew a bead on Arnold and went straight to him. Arnold said something to her and she looked over at me, that sympathetic smile coming into, play again. Then she laid her hand on Arnold's arm and fluttered her eyelashes up at him. He bent closer to hear what she was saying ...

It was faster and more effective than Dramamine. I was on my feet before I knew I was thinking about it.

‘You're feeling better.' Arnold greeted me as I came up to them. ‘I told you it was just a matter of your inner ear adjusting and then you'd be fine.'

‘You were
so
right, Arnold,' I cooed, claiming his other arm. ‘I don't know
what
I'd do without you.'

Arnold looked considerably startled, but Hazel got the message, all right.

‘I was just telling Arnold about an absolutely super little place to eat in Boulogne,' she said hastily.

‘Were you?” I smiled at her vaguely. ‘How kind of you. But I was thinking it might be fun if we just wandered around by ourselves and made our own discoveries.'

‘Oh, yes. Of course.' She seemed to retreat without actually moving. That's much the best fun when you're in a new place. I'm sorry I won't be able to show you around. I'd have liked to, but I have an appointment for a fitting with a marvellous little French dressmaker I've discovered. She's making several things for me and it will take a couple of hours.'

“That's
quite
all right –' I was still cooing and Arnold was beginning to look distinctly nervous. ‘We'll manage.'

‘Are you sure you're all right, honey?' Arnold asked.

‘Positive.' It was true. I felt a lot better. ‘Why don't we take a turn around the deck? Where are the kids?'

‘They went down to have something to eat. Would you like something?'

‘No –' A sudden lurch of my stomach told me that I mustn't get overconfident. ‘I'd rather wait until we land.'

As we walked into the supermarket, my first reaction was: this is more like it! English supermarkets are all very well, but they lack a lot Americans are used to – like a wide variety of choice, departments other than food, and sheer size. Also, most of them don't have a liquor section.

Arnold came to a rapt halt in front of shelves full of tantalizing bottles, whipped out his pocket calculator and began giving it a workout. It was obvious that he was good for a couple of hours.

‘Come on –' I turned to the kids and found that they had already disappeared. ‘Oh, damn!'

‘Don't worry, honey, they won't go far.' Arnold picked up a bottle and squinted at the label. ‘Try the candy section. I'll wait for you here and you can head them off at the Pass.'

‘Good thinking.' I wheeled my cart around and began a systematic quartering of the sales floor until I spotted a familiar form at the end of a row. The lettering on the packet was unfamiliar, but the shape and scent were unmistakable. I wheeled briskly down that aisle, keeping a sharp eye on the turnings.

Sure enough, second turning along, I found them. They had – as I had suspected – taken possession of a trolley of their own and it was already heaped with enough confectionery to keep them in the dentist's chair for the next decade.

‘Hey, Mom!' Donald hailed me. ‘We're learning French – without even one lesson.
Confiserie
means candy,
chocolat
means chocolate,
gateau
means cake, g
lace
means ice cream –'

‘And
Non
means Not Bloody Likely!' I pounced on their trolley and began dealing items back on to the shelves whence they had come.

‘Aw, Mom!' Donald made hapless flailing motions as I denuded the trolley. ‘We'll pay for it ourselves. You can take it out of our allowance.'

‘I'll take it out of your hides if you don't behave yourselves!'

Donna said nothing. Her demeanour suggested that she had not really expected that they could get away with it, but I noticed that her gaze rested longingly on certain things.

‘I want to be fair,' I said. ‘You can have three things each – but you've got to choose. Your father and I can't afford to buy out the whole store.'

‘Okay.' They brightened immediately, but Donald wanted to bargain. ‘How about three each – and three together? That would be fair, Mom. Look at all you and Dad are getting.'

‘Hmm ...' I glanced at my empty trolley, knowing that Arnold was already piling his high. ‘We'll see ...' I had better get back and see what Arnold was doing. Not only were his selections going to be a lot more expensive than those of the twins, but they could get us into more serious trouble if we got caught taking them through the Green Lane when we hit English Customs.

Several people hailed me on my way back to Arnold. Hazel had been right: this
was
a good way to get to know more of the townsfolk. There was a common air of camaraderie and shared conspiracy that was already acting as a bonding agent.