A Dismal Thing To Do (11 page)

Young Charlie could. He was himself taking lessons on the trombone and practiced every afternoon out in the barn, to entertain the cows on these dull late-winter days. For this act of charity he was loudly praised and much encouraged by his entire family. He offered to play right now for Aunt Janet and Uncle Madoc. Janet suggested instead that they come out tomorrow afternoon and listen along with the cows, provided she felt up to it and Uncle Madoc didn’t have to go off detecting somebody.

Getting back to the Bergerons, as Madoc gently insisted they do, Marie-Claire was her Aunt Cecile all over again. If she didn’t stop mooning around over books and music and that Clarence McLumber from Bigears, she was going to wake up one of these days and wish she had, was Annabelle’s none too humble opinion. Sam, however, had it on good authority that Clarence McLumber seemed to be less interested in Marie-Claire these days than he was in hanging around with Blaise and Etienne and the enigmatic Pierre Dubois.

“Where do they hang around?” Madoc wanted to know.

“Out in the woods, mostly. Admirin’ nature with a six-pack o’ Moosehead apiece, though I guess they cut a little cord wood for Armand now an’ again when the spirit moves ’em,” Sam answered.

“Any more in their crowd go with them?”

“Shouldn’t be surprised. Lyon Grouse an’ his cousin King McLumber was over to the Busted Antler with Dubois a couple o’ nights ago.”

“Sam means the Deerhead Restaurant,” Janet explained to Madoc. “The one with all those dozens of deer horns nailed all over it. We stopped there once on our way here, remember?”

“Whatever for?” cried Annabelle. “Didn’t you think I was going to feed you?”

“You weren’t here. It was that time your mother was sick and you went down to take care of her. All we had was a sandwich and a piece of pie, as I recall. It wasn’t too bad, for restaurant food.” Actually it had been quite good, but Janet wasn’t about to praise anybody else’s food in Annabelle’s kitchen. “What happened to that pretty granddaughter of Perce’s, the one with all the curly hair? Yvette, wasn’t it?”

“Yvette’s okay,” said young Bert gruffly, his voice by now having completed the change that had sent it careening from squeaks to rumbles for the past year or so.

“Not so okay as the little Williamson girl, eh?” said Bert Senior.

“Aw, Dad, cut it out before the brats start on me again.”

As umbrage was being taken by the brats and quelled by the parents, Fred Olson showed up with Janet’s washstand, scrubbed and made as presentable as possible. She of course was delighted and Annabelle only a few degrees less so for Janet’s sake. Fred was made a great fuss of and Bert urged to get that silly toaster out of the way so Fred could sit up to the table and have a piece of pie, not that he needed it as he himself remarked and as the overstrained seams of his trousers attested.

“How you doin’, Madoc?” he asked with his mouth full.

“Well, I’ve visited the scene of the crime.” Madoc gave his wife one of his sad little smiles. “I may as well come clean, Jenny. That washstand isn’t exactly an outright gift. Fred made me do a dicker for it.”

“Aha, the great two-by-four robbery,” said Bert, neatly picking up the cue. “Was Jase Bain surprised you’ve called in the Mounties, Fred?”

“Haven’t asked him. I expect he’ll take it as his natural due. This is mighty good pie, Annabelle. Why thanks, I don’t mind if I do. What’d he say, Madoc?”

“About what you’d expect.” Madoc gave them a somewhat embellished account of his interview with Bain, knowing full well the boys would spread it all over school and their friends would take it home to their parents. That was fine with him. It looked as if he might be around Pitcherville for a while, so the locals might as well know he had a reason for staying, even if it did lead them to assume he was using Bain to wangle a paid holiday with his in-laws out of the RCMP.

“So I may be here a bit longer than I expected, if that’s all right with you and Bert, Annabelle.”

It couldn’t have been righter. Annabelle said so at considerable length. So did the boys, who felt their prestige greatly enhanced by having a Mountie for an uncle. Bert only gave Madoc a grin and a nod, and went on screwing the toaster back together.

“There, by Jesus. Want to get me a piece of bread, Charlie, and we’ll give her a try?”

Much to the boys’ disappointment, the toaster worked fine. “Aw Dad,” Ed protested. “It was more fun the other way.”

“Never you mind,” snapped his mother. “If you think it’s any fun standing over a hot stove first thing in the morning frying bacon with hunks of toast flapping past my ears, you’ve got another think coming. Now get along upstairs, the pack of you.”

“Aw, Ma, tomorrow’s Saturday,” Bert protested.

“I don’t care. I’m not having you sprawled out in bed all morning when your father’s got chores for you to do. Janet, you’d better go, too. Your eyes look like two burnt holes in a blanket.”

Fred Olson said he guessed he’d better mosey along before his wife sent out the bloodhounds. Madoc neatly pocketed Bert’s oil can. After half an hour’s sorting out, the party was over.

While Janet was washing her face and brushing her teeth, Madoc de-squeaked the bedsprings but a fat lot of good it did him. Between the long ride and having so many people around her, Janet hadn’t had much chance to rest. She was asleep almost before she got through kissing him good night. After that, there wasn’t much for Madoc to do but go to sleep himself, so he did.

E
VEN THE ROOSTER SLEPT
late the next morning. It was half-past eight before Annabelle got them all gathered around the breakfast table for fried eggs, fried ham, hot biscuits, and a few other things. Bert and the boys had been out to the barn, of course, because the livestock always came first, and Julius had got his saucer of cut-up ham, not that Julius exactly counted as livestock.

“Ol’ Jule’s just one of the farmhands like the rest of us,” Charlie was arguing. “You spoil him, Ma. Go filling him up with ham and he won’t want to be bothered catching the mice.”

“How’d
you
like to get stuck with a cold mouse for breakfast?” Ed yelled back.

“Could we please change the subject?” Janet asked her nephews. “I feel a bit queasy.”

“You do?” exclaimed Annabelle.

“It’s not that kind of queasy,” Janet protested, knowing full well what was in her sister-in-law’s mind. “But I think I’ll skip the ham and eggs all the same, if you don’t mind. In fact, I think I’ll go on back to bed for a while.”

Madoc leaped up so fast he upset his chair. Bert grinned.

“Don’t panic yet a while, Madoc. You’ll have plenty of time for that later. Sit down and eat your breakfast.”

“I don’t see why Uncle Madoc’s flapping around like a wet hen just because Aunt Janet’s got a bellyache,” Ed remarked, helping himself to about half a jar of strawberry jam. “You going to be like that when you get married, Bert?”

Annabelle and Bert Senior had stern rules about fisticuffs at the table, but they were still trying to enforce them as Madoc helped Janet back to their bedroom. “I’d like to know what people have kids for anyway,” Bert was roaring, plenty loud enough for Madoc to hear and take warning.

“Good question,” Madoc murmured into his wife’s ear. “Do you want to reconsider, Jenny love?”

“I just want to get back to bed,” she told him. “I think it was the smell of that ham frying that put the kibosh on me.”

“I wish you’d let me take you to a doctor.”

“Madoc, I’d know if there were anything really wrong with me. I overdid it a little yesterday, that’s all. Now go back and finish your breakfast before you start a panic.”

“If you say so.”

But Madoc was back in the bedroom as soon as Bert and the boys had gone about their chores and Annabelle had shooed him out of the kitchen because she wanted to put her bread to rise and that was one thing she never cared to do and talk at the same time. When he slipped into the room, though, he found Janet fast asleep, breathing normally and not looking as if she were about to develop any alarming symptoms. He stayed there watching and wondering for a while, then went off to the hardware store and bought a can of stuff to strip paint off washstands with.

The stuff smelled awful and looked worse, but it did the trick. Madoc worked out in the woodshed for the rest of the morning. By the time Annabelle rang the dinner bell, he’d got all six layers of paint off. The washstand looked worse than before, in his opinion, but no doubt Janet had some plan afoot to turn it into a thing of beauty, or something near enough to satisfy herself and his mother.

After he’d cleaned up, he went to check on Janet, who was awake and not queasy any more. “I think Julius and I will take it easy today, though,” she told him. “What have you been up to all morning? Not out to Bain’s again, I hope?”

“No, I’ve been stripping your table for you.”

“That was sweet of you.” Janet grabbed a fistful of his hair, which was black and almost but not quite curly, and pulled him down to be kissed. “How does it look now?”

“Queasy.”

“That’s all right. I’d decided to paint it regardless. It’s nothing so very special, you know.”

“I never supposed it was.”

“But you went ahead and bartered your soul to Fred Olson for it anyway.”

“Well, darling—”

“I know, you don’t have to tell me. A poor excuse is better than none. Have you decided how you’re going to weasel your way in with the Grouses and the McLumbers?”

“I thought I might begin by stepping out with another woman. How do you think Bert would take it if I invited Annabelle over to Armand’s lodge tonight to enjoy the floor show? For that matter, how do you think Annabelle would react?”

“I think they’d both be tickled silly. So would Maw Fewter and a few more around town.”

“Yes, well, there’s that. Have you a better idea?”

“Nope. Go ahead and let ’em talk. But why don’t you want Bert along with you?”

“Because I want him here keeping an eye on you. He doesn’t have his Owls’ meeting on Saturdays, does he?”

“Thursday, if they haven’t changed the date since we were last here. We’ll be home by then.”

“What makes you so sure?” Madoc growled into her neck. “Going psychic on me like Aunt Blodwin?”

“Nope, just thinking about all we’ve got to do before your mother comes. You might just mention to one or two people that Bert and I had some family business to hash over so you and Annabelle decided the pair of you might as well clear out and leave us to it. That ought to start them wondering if Uncle Sid out in Saskatchewan’s finally kicked the bucket and left us his fortune. Or if Cousin Henry scooped the pot and we’re trying to figure out a way to claim undue influence. I’ll be interested to know how much they run it up to before they find out he’s still alive and kicking. So will Uncle Sid, I expect. He’s never had two cents to rub together in his whole life, that I know of. I don’t suppose you’d care to drive back over to the hardware store before you leave me in the lurch, and pick up a can of dusty blue paint in case I feel up to finishing that washstand tomorrow?”

“And how will I know which shade of dusty blue paint to get?”

“How many shades do you think they’ll have, for pity’s sake? Get whichever one they’ve got. A pint should be plenty. The satin finish, not the shiny. Mr. McLumber will help you pick it out.”

“Ah, I see. You’re being clever again.”

“Well, there’s no sense wasting the afternoon, is there? I can’t imagine he’s the man you’re after, but he’s pretty easy to get into a conversation with. Tell him you bumped into Eyeball Grouse yesterday in Fredericton and see what he says.”

“Darling, Eyeball Grouse is not a name to be bandied about in hardware stores. I’m not supposed to know he even exists.”

“Then couldn’t you say you met a relative of Mr. McLumber’s but you can’t recall offhand what his name was?”

“Why don’t I simply ask him which of his male relatives has fallen in with evil companions and developed a knack for felonious assault?”

“Well, you’re the policeman. I’d try sort of wiggling my way around to it myself. Not that I’d get far, I don’t suppose. They’re a pretty clannish bunch Out in Bigears. Still, it never hurts to try, as Great-aunt Winona said when she put mittens on the cat so he wouldn’t scratch up her new chesterfield.”

“Are you two coming down to dinner or not? Ma wants to know so she can dish up the stew.” That was Ed, clattering up the stairs three at a time. “Ma says she’ll fix you a tray if you’d rather stay abed, Aunt Jen.”

“How about it, Jenny?” Madoc asked her. “Could you eat something?”

“I’d love a cup of tea,” she admitted. “Run back and get me one, would you, Ed? No sugar, remember. Tell your mother I wouldn’t mind a piece of that bread she baked this morning and about half a teaspoonful of stew, but I’d as soon wait for that till she can come up and talk to me while I eat. You go along with Ed, Madoc. No sense in your keeping the rest of them waiting.”

So Madoc went. He’d barely got a foot inside the kitchen when everybody was asking, “How’s she feeling?”

“She’s clamoring for hot bread and dusty blue paint,” he reassured them.

“She’s going to paint the bread?” Charlie wondered.

“It’s for the washstand,” snapped his mother. “Stop trying to be funny and eat your dinner if you’re so wild to get to the hockey rink. Bert, you make sure your brothers stay up at the shallow end of the lake. This is a treacherous time of year.”

It was as good an opening as any. “Speaking of treachery, Annabelle,” said Madoc, “how’d you like to sneak out on your husband tonight?”

“Madoc, whatever do you mean?”

“I thought you might like to go out to Armand Bergeron’s lodge with me and catch the show. It’s rather the in thing with Pitcherville society these days, isn’t it?”

“Such as it is, I suppose you might say so. It appears to be respectable enough, from what I’ve heard. But it’s mostly the young crowd that go there for the dancing.”

“And what are we? Come on, Annabelle, be a sport.”

“Go ahead, Belle, do you good,” said Bert. “You know damn well you’ve been yammering at me to take you. Now I won’t have to.”