The Old Jest (18 page)

I have to look after Grandfather tomorrow while Aunt Mary and the two Miss Brabazons go racing. I hope he won't be too potty.

The Daimler drove away down the avenue about midday, filled with the three ladies in hats and gloves, a picnic hamper and a bottle of gin. The wind was soft and rain promising, though the sun was shining brightly. Round the horizon great piles of clouds waited their moment.

Nancy and the old man ate their lunch in silence, and then she pushed him to the window and placed the glasses on his knee. He smiled courteously. ‘Thank you, my dear.'

She took a cushion and went out on to the terrace and sat down with her back against the warm grey wall of the house. She could hear the intermittent crooning of his voice and the wheezing that came from his lungs when he moved. Down at the bottom of the hill Maeve was at the piano again. Nancy wondered if Harry were there, sitting on the floral sofa, wearing his adoring, listening face.

‘Probablement,'
she whispered, and smiled at the idiotic sound of the word. She must have fallen asleep, because when Grandfather called to her, she gave a little jump of surprise.

‘Child.'

‘Oh!'

‘We didn't wear khaki when I was a young man.'

The clouds were moving now across the sky, still high, obscuring the sun from time to time.

‘No. No.'

He raised his glasses once more and lapsed into silence.

She frowned down towards the railway. Nothing moved.

‘That was of course when I was a young man. Later on things changed. Everything changed.'

A large raindrop burst on the ground beside her.

‘Things change.'

She got up and brought the cushion into the house.

‘Change and decay in all around I see,' he sang.

She closed the window down.

‘Khaki.'

She laid the dining-room table for Bridie. The white lace mats neatly framed by the silver forks and spoons and knives always gave her pleasure. A large bowl of roses filled the room with scent. The rain began to pour down, blowing in through the open windows and scattering drops on the floor. Bridie ran out into the yard to bring in the washing, piling the white towels and tablecloths over her shoulder as she pulled them off the line. ‘Glory be, glory be!' she panted. The cat sat in a doorway scornfully, lazily watching her panic. Nancy went back into the drawing room.

‘Will I bring you over to the fire, Grandfather? You won't be able to see anything till that goes over.'

‘No, no,' he said, irritated at the thought of having to be moved. ‘The rain will pass. I will be able to watch again. Steam rises up from the earth after the rain has passed.'

‘Not here, Grandfather, only in hot countries.'

‘Yes. Hot countries. Did I ever tell you that we were the first up Talana Hill?'

She shook her head and wondered where Talana Hill had been.

‘It was a hard fight. We lost a lot of men and then, from behind, our own artillery began firing on us.'

‘Oh Grandfather, how terrible!'

‘Yes. Terrible. Terrible would be the only word. Hold your fire. I stood up, right up in the middle of it when I realised what was happening. Hold your fire. I held my arms up in the air in the hopes … hold your fire. It wasn't any use. The Boers were bad enough, but that … we lost … I don't remember.'

‘Was that where you got your field glasses?'

‘I beg your …?'

‘Your glasses. You told me you got them from a man in a shell hole.'

‘Ridiculous.' He thought for a while. ‘I can't … the picture has gone. It was …' His head fell forward for a moment, and then with an effort he pulled it up again.

‘It is very demoralising to be fired upon by your own men.'

‘It would be.'

‘I can't remember. Where is Mary?'

‘She's at the Curragh. She'll be back for dinner.'

‘I should have died there.'

‘Oh Grandfather, don't say such silly things.'

‘Brave days!'

His head drooped again and this time his eyes also drooped, and soon he was asleep.

The rain stayed. Thick and low the clouds swooped. Soon I'll be able to touch them, she thought, feel their softness, squeeze them in my fist and watch the water seeping out through my fingers.

Seven o'clock came and went and there was no sign of the Daimler.

The old man allowed himself to be pushed over to the fire, where he sat and sang to himself, beating time with his frail hand. Nancy sat in the corner of the sofa reading. Bridie fussed in and out of the hall and along the passage to the kitchen.

‘They should have gone in Her car. She's never late back.'

‘There's probably been a hold-up of some sort. They'll be here at any minute.'

‘It's not like Her.'

‘No.'

‘If they're not here soon, the dinner'll be ruined on them, so it will be.'

‘You're fussing, Bridie.'

‘I am not fussing. Only who gets the blame if the dinner's ruined?'

‘Fuss, fuss.'

‘I hope they haven't had an accident.'

‘It's a long drive from the Curragh.'

‘Them motors.'

She marched down the passage again, her shoes squeaking with each angry step. Nancy wandered to the hall door and looked out at the grey avenue, grey trees, grey grass.

‘Chiaroscuro. That's what it is.'

She thought of Talana Hill, wherever it was, and the men in khaki shooting each other, and the heaps of khaki dead on the grey stony hillside. She wondered if it had been a hill like the hill at the back of the house. Inhospitable, she supposed, with grey slippery rocks and steaming earth. Unlike here, where the whitethorn and fuchsia hedges would hide the frightened men from other frightened men, and the beech wood would shelter them from the sun. But then of course the shells would rip through the hedges and uproot the beech trees, and then the two hills might look the same.

‘Is there any sign?' Bridie interrupted her nightmare.

‘Sister Anne, Sister Anne, is there anyone coming?'

‘What's that?'

‘No sign.' But as she spoke, the Daimler came round the bend in the avenue and the horn growled.

‘Here they are.'

‘God is good.' The car drew up outside the door and the three ladies climbed out.

‘Hurray!' said Nancy. ‘You're terribly late. Bridie's going a little potty.'

She looked at their faces. ‘What's the matter? What's happened?'

Aunt Mary was pale and old. Red lines ringed her eyes as if she had been crying. The small Miss Brabazon, as usual, put out her hand to be shaken. ‘We've had the most terrible time!'

‘An accident …?'

‘Oh God, no!' said Miss Celia. ‘We'll tell you all when we've cleaned ourselves up a bit and had a drink. Mary's a bit shaken. Aren't you, dear?'

‘Yes. We're all a bit shaken, I think. It's all right, Nancy. Nothing to worry about. We … we're all right.'

‘I refuse to hang about. My bladder won't hold out much longer.' Miss Celia dashed up the stairs, followed more sedately by the other two.

They came down eventually looking more composed. The old man opened his eyes as they came into the room. ‘Ah, Mary!' He paid no heed to the visitors. ‘My rug has slipped.'

Aunt Mary kissed his cheek and bent to rearrange his rug.

‘Celia, dear, get everyone a drink, will you? There pet, that should keep the draughts out. Have you had a good day?'

‘There were soldiers in the field.'

‘Goodness gracious!'

She patted him soothingly on the arm.

‘I saw them.'

‘That must have been interesting. Something new for you to look at.'

‘We didn't wear khaki when …'

‘Do tell me what happened … I'm dying of curiosity.'

‘Good, strong drinks,' said Miss Celia, handing them round. ‘Nancy?'

‘I'll get myself a glass of sherry, thank you. Don't you bother.'

Aunt Mary and Miss George settled themselves by the fire. Miss Celia paced the room, sometimes holding her glass at such an angle that the whisky slopped out on to the carpet.

‘The most awful thing happened …' began Aunt Mary.

‘Let me tell her.'

‘Oh Celia, you weren't there. Not with us.'

‘We'll all have to tell you little bits. You start, Mary.'

‘It was just after the third race …'

‘Starting to spot rain.'

‘But looking awfully black.'

‘And I thought,' said Aunt Mary, as if neither of the others had spoken, ‘that I'd better go and get my macintosh from the motor.'

‘And so did I, and Celia, who never minds getting wet, stayed behind talking to Freddy Hennessy …'

‘Just looked like a shower to me.'

‘We took a few minutes to get to the motor …'

‘We always try to park near the road, it's so much easier to get out. We'd just go there …'

‘This man … a soldier and a young girl passed us …'

‘His wife.'

‘That doesn't matter.'

‘Yes, it matters. A pretty girl. Young. They were hurrying, they didn't want to get wet. Laughing …'

‘Oh George, do let Mary get on!'

‘Details are important.'

‘What happened?' asked Nancy.

Grandfather appeared to be listening. His eyes moved from one speaker to the other. ‘A soldier,' he said.

‘Well, we got to the motor and I was standing there while George was opening the door. A man came out from behind the motor …'

‘From behind our car. Our Daimler. He must have been waiting there.'

‘I saw him casually walking. He had something in his hand … I didn't see. I wasn't really looking … I wouldn't have expected …'

‘I was searching for my brolly.'

‘And then there was this bang and the soldier was lying on the ground. Just like that. I didn't really know what had happened. There was this bang.'

‘I said “What's that bang, Mary?” and she didn't answer and, then the girl suddenly started to scream.'

‘It was all most peculiar, as if the world had stopped for a moment. I can't explain. We went over to them. Ran really once we realised that something awful had happened. There was no sign of the man. Only the girl screaming and the …'

‘Dead.'

‘Dead? Oh how dreadful!'

‘There wasn't any blood. You always expect blood.'

‘Well, there was a little.'

‘I put my macintosh over him in case he was cold.'

‘My dear Mary, he wouldn't have needed that if he were dead,' said Celia.

‘I had to do something. I thought he might be cold and wet and well … then suddenly there were hundreds of people all around us and the poor girl …'

‘Screaming her head off. “Slap her,” I said to Mary. It's the only thing to do. But Mary just stood there as if she were planted and I couldn't bring myself to slap her.'

‘Hundreds of people … and then we heard the other shots and then a sort of panic took over.'

‘Not where we were. We were just at the paddock gate and we heard these poppings. “Funny,” Freddy said, “just like shots,” and I said don't be a blithering idiot, not that he can help it. Anyway no one paid any attention. Then a few minutes later someone said that General Macready had been murdered and then someone else said they'd caught and killed Michael Collins. All sorts of idiotic things people were saying and I thought I'd better go and look for the others. Freddy insisted on coming too and we found them, and crowds, and police and soldiers, and the poor young man lying there covered with Mary's macintosh.'

‘What happened to the wife?'

‘We tried to get her to sit in the Daimler, out of the rain at least, but she wouldn't. She sat on the grass beside him until some woman came along and took her away.'

‘And him,' said Aunt Mary. ‘They took him away too.'

‘And Mary's macintosh.'

‘I wouldn't have wanted it again anyway.'

‘And the other shots? … Were they …?'

‘Twelve soldiers dead. They must have been following each one of them. No one was caught.'

‘Then the police kept us for ages asking questions.'

‘I really didn't see what the man looked like. He just had a hat and a coat on like everyone else. That's all I could tell them.'

‘I didn't see him at all.'

‘She was looking for her brolly.'

‘But they kept asking the same questions over and over again. And it rained.'

‘You should have had a bath, Mary, when you got back.'

‘I was perfectly dry by then.'

‘The chaos was terrible, with everyone trying to get home.'

‘I didn't see what he had in his hand.'

‘Even if you had, dear, what could you have done?'

‘Dinner is ready,' announced Bridie. ‘And it won't wait.'

‘Thank you, Bridie. We'll be straight in. We've had a terrible day.'

‘I heard. Jimmy heard in the village and he came out to tell me. That's twelve less English soldiers to torture our poor boys.'

‘That's a point of view, Bridie. Just one point of view.'

‘It's my point of view.'

‘And it's my point of view,' said Nancy to her own surprise.

‘My dear Nancy, you know nothing about it at all.'

‘I'm learning.'

‘Don't be cheeky to your aunt, she's had a hard day. If the dinner's spoiled, yez have only yourselves to blame.' She turned and made her creaking way back to the kitchen.

No one wanted to talk during dinner. No one really seemed to want to eat either, but fear of bringing Bridie's anger round their heads made them all do their best. The old man beat out the tune of whatever song he was singing in his head with a finger on the edge of the table. The three women's faces were stiff with loneliness and unease. From time to time Miss George coughed politely into her small lace handkerchief.