No Laughing Matter (3 page)

Marcus, the youngest, spoke. ‘But there weren't any buffaloes, were there?'

His father smiled, ‘Trust His Nibs to have noticed that deficiency.' He bent down and putting his face close to his small son's, ‘No, Markie, and a very good thing too. Performing animals can only be trained by cruelty. Jack London proved that. Not that I should wish to criticize circuses. A wonderful people, the circus folk. But wild animals should
be
of the wild. I've often thought of writing the story of the last great bull buffalo roaring out his defiance of the Paleface on the prairies.'

‘Oh, you should write it, Will,' said his mother, ‘shouldn't he, children?'

‘I hope,' said Miss Rickard, ‘that if you do, you'll remember that they're bison, William. Buffalo's an entirely Yankee word for bison. The true buffaloes are only to be found in Asia and Africa. You see them wherever rice grows. Great patient creatures with huge sad eyes. What the school text books of my day called “friends to man”.'

Once again young Mrs Matthews put out her small gloved hand. This time she turned and placed it on Miss Rickard's grey shantung arm. ‘Darling Mouse.'

Old Mrs Matthews blew a little under her veil. ‘Will's always had the power to bring places to life, no matter whether he's seen them or not. Do you remember, dear boy, how you startled them all at Joppins with your tales of life in Peking! Peking! And he was only six and a half. You couldn't have been more because Porter was still with us. Oh dear! Such happy days! Major Cayley said then you would be a writer. You must have travelled everywhere, Miss Rickards.'

‘Enough to have a number of the usual tedious travellers' tales. Though
they
are true.'

‘The places you sent me postcards from, Mouse, when I was little! There was one of cowboys, children, I perfectly remember it. You must tell them all about that, Mouse. But not till we've found
somewhere
for tea. I'm dying for a cup of tea. The dust and the heat!' Young Mrs Matthews let her whole hour-glass figure wilt and even the grey ostrich plumes in her hat seemed suddenly bedraggled. ‘Find us tea, Billy. You'd like a cup of tea, wouldn't you, Stoker?'

‘Yes, Mum.'

‘And you enjoyed the cowboys?'

‘Yes, Mum.'

‘Good. Take Master Marcus' hand, will you?'

The square, red-faced woman did as she was asked. Her blue skirt and coat were neat, but her greying carroty hair crept erratically around the brim of her cherry-decorated hat. ‘Will you make one of yer drawings of them orses, Master Marcus?' she asked him with grave interest, and very gravely he answered, ‘Yes, I think I shall, Stoker.'

‘Our only Pole Star is the Big Wheel,' Mr Matthews announced. ‘I don't want a Pole Star, Billy darling. I want tea.'

‘It's quite difficult to see ahead with this crowd,' her mother-
in-law
observed. ‘The world and his wife are here.'

‘This way then,' Mr Matthews pointed with his stick to where the Big Wheel sparkled and flashed high up against the sky's clear blue. The twins and Rupert began to sing once more as the party moved on.

‘Oh! No! Not again, children,' said their mother. ‘We may
recognize
the world and his wife but we don't want to attract their attention.' But she stopped their singing lovingly.

‘I'm afraid we're bound to, Clara dear. It's Mr Polly. They always stare at him.' Miss Rickard scratched the parrot's feathered head. Mr and Mrs Matthews smiled to one another.

Quentin said, ‘I should have thought that the
horses
had been trained, Father.' He stopped, blushing.

‘Of course they were trained. What a rotten silly thing to say.' His younger brother Rupert mocked him.

‘I meant cruelty.'

‘The horses! The darling lovely horses,' Sukey cried.

But her twin sister Margaret said, ‘It was all beautiful. It all went together. You can't
just
say the horses.'

‘I only liked the horses,' Sukey insisted.

‘I wish I'd been the man who straddled the two white horses with his arms spread out. Crippen! Didn't everyone cheer.'

‘Oh, Rupert dear, please don't use that expression. To keep on reminding us of that dreadful little man.'

‘I liked the tall cowboy with the black hair. He looked so strong.'

‘Gladys is being soppy,' Rupert told them.

‘Not at all. I'm only glad to see Podge has such a good eye.' Mrs Matthews patted her daughter's plump rosy cheek. ‘They
were
handsome, darling. You're quite right. And their great chests! How the perspiration ran down them, poor things.'

Her mother-in-law coughed.

‘So the dust is troubling
you
now, Grannie. Never mind. Here's relief. The Geisha Tea Gardens. Look, children, at the waitresses all dressed in kimonos.'

‘I hope,' said Miss Rickards, ‘that we shan't be made to kneel. I haven't done that since I was in Japan twenty years ago. My bones would creak nowadays. No, I'm too old for kneeling.'

‘Except in church,' Mrs Matthews senior amended.

‘We don't kneel at the Circle,' Miss Rickards told her.

Once again Mr and Mrs Matthews were united in smiling
complicity
, and on this occasion they even extended the conspiracy to include Gladys and Quentin, their two eldest. Later when the children had finished three stone bottles of pop between them, Rupert and Quentin became restless, despite all the waitresses dressed up as geishas and even little Marcus showed a sort of lordly boredom. ‘Such ugly colours,' he said. But the twins were riveted to the gaily coloured kimonos until Margaret cried, ‘They're just dressed up in dressing gowns, aren't they, Mother?' and Sukey amplified, ‘Servants dressed up,' then seeing Stoker busy with a bath bun, she blushed. But the spell was broken and now the girls' restiveness was added to the boys'.

‘Now just sit still, darlings, and your great aunt will tell you all about the real cowboys.'

‘Yes, give us Texas, Mouse,' Mr Matthews agreed.

‘Indeed I will not. They don't want an old woman's stories. They want to explore all the wonders here.' Miss Rickard gave Quentin half a crown out of her huge Morocco leather handbag. ‘See that everyone has a share.'
Old Mrs Matthews added a florin. ‘I think two shillings is enough for children.'

‘My dear mother, you're spoiling them.'

‘Yes, Mouse, you're naughty.'

But neither parent spoke very convincingly.

‘Oh, no,' said the old lady, ‘it's a special day.'

And the middle-aged one said, ‘My dear Clara, when we've all enjoyed ourselves so much it's sheer hypocrisy to deny the children.'

Even Stoker intervened. ‘I'm sure, Mum, they've been very good. And we all like to get up to our own larks, don't we?'

Young Mrs Matthews laughed. ‘Do we, Billy? Do we like to get up to our own larks?'

‘Yes, my dear, I think we do.' He put his hand on hers.

‘Oh what a heavenly summer. Especially here out of the dust. Oh Billy, I have a feeling that your Regency boxing novel is going to be a tremendous success. And we'll have lots of money and travel
everywhere
. Japan will be nothing. You haven't seen the half of it, Mouse.'

‘My dear, you shall live like a queen yet.'

This time Miss Rickard exchanged a glance with old Mrs Matthews. Her niece perhaps caught sight of it, for she turned almost sharply to the children. ‘Well, your father and I are in a good mood for once. Run off and make the most of it.'

Led by Quentin the children wandered across to the great Union Jack made out of geraniums, white candytuft and lobelias, and there, out of the adults ‘hearing, they argued the spending of the money. They hoped for the water chute
and
the big wheel but prices were against them so, of course, first choice had to be the wheel – the wheel on which, heavenly thought, years and years ago, twenty-four people had been stranded all night. But, delicious though it proved to be, whirled out into the heavens high above the houses and streets of Kensington, faster and faster until Gladys felt that she had frighteningly swallowed a piece of blue sky and Marcus' laughter had turned to screaming, they were giddy and white faced without luck, for the wheel eventually returned them to the ground. Now there was
nothing
for it but the shooting ranges or the fortune telling machines, and over these they were divided equally between boys and girls. A
decision
might never have been reached if Marcus had not been seized with one of his screaming fits. That these were taken for granted at home did not make passers by the less curious at the sight of a young
boy in long-trousered sailor suit standing apart and uttering a loud prolonged ‘Aah!' to the world at large, so that soon a small crowd had gathered and his siblings became aware that Marcus could prove an embarrassment abroad. It was Gladys who thought of the laughing mirrors, but Quentin, the eldest, who agreed rather savagely. ‘It won't matter if he
does
scream his head off in there.'

He gave the money to the boy with no front teeth in the little entrance booth and they filed slowly through a dark corridor, even Marcus silenced by the sudden shocking-soothing chill air after the dust-laden heat outside. They were alone. Sukey, always so
determined
and practical, was the first to risk seeing her comic image. But the result was generally voted a bore. ‘It's all fuzz and muzz,' Marcus said. He hated uncertain lines. ‘She's all soppy smiles,' Rupert announced. ‘Oh, Sukey!' her twin cried, ‘you look like a melting jelly.' Not a pleasant verdict for the trim, neat, rosy cheeked, flaxen haired girl.

But she had her own back when her tall sister stood before the next mirror. ‘Oh, look, Mag's swallowed a lemon.' ‘Doesn't she look thin and gawky, like a candle,' Gladys cried, perhaps in defence of her own bulk. ‘And sour, she's sourpuss, sourpuss,' Rupert told them. They all knew Stoker's word for their great aunt, though none of them had let on before. So ‘Sourpuss! Sourpuss,' they cried until Quentin tactfully said, ‘Here goes.' And here he went. ‘It's the devil!' Marcus was frightened, but to hide this he repeated in a comic
singsong
, ‘There's the devil. There's the devil.' ‘Quentin's ears
do
look long. And your mouth Quentin, it's all sneery.' Margaret's analysis confirmed young Marcus' emotions.

Rupert dawdled up to the further mirror. He knew he'd look rather good, he always did. But the result disappointed all. His face, his body, everything was pulled out at each side like elastic. ‘It's all wobbly and misty,' Quentin said, ‘You look jolly soppy.' ‘And all of a tremble,' Gladys cried.

But little Marcus meanwhile had sidled up to a vacant mirror and gave a scream. ‘Oh, Lor. Not again. He can't be taken out.' Quentin was decisive. But Margaret, looking at her little brother's reflection – all flashing black eyes and beaky features, called out, ‘It's Her. It's Her.' And, frightened, they crowded around to confirm.

There was nothing for it, Gladys thought, but to make them laugh. After all, she'd suggested the mirrors, so she couldn't let them spoil
the afternoon. But when she saw herself she was too disconcerted at first to speak. ‘Look,' Sukey cried, ‘Gladys is upside down.' And so it proved – at the top of the glass, white boots in reverse; at the base, a plump face grown red with surprise. They all at last could laugh. To keep the fun going Gladys stood on her head on the shiny, linoleum floor. Sure enough there she was right way up, her flushed, straining face coming out of her tumbled skirts and petticoats and down below a great expanse of knickers and stockings. At that moment a party of common children came in, looked at Gladys's rude show, and began to jeer. When Quentin showed signs of offering fight, Marcus began to scream and the Matthews children, aghast, fled.

As they came near to the Japanese Tea Garden with its masses of pink and orange and pistachio green lanterns they all sensed at once that the adult mood had changed. Even Sukey said, ‘Oh bother them. It's too bad. Let's not go back yet. Let's walk down to the boating pool.'

But already their mother's voice was projected sharply upon them, ‘Children, come here! Why have you been so long?'

‘We haven't really,' Quentin tried to remember his prep school prefect's voice. His Father's memory seemed more up-to-date; he spoke as to a Westminster Under-School squirt. ‘Shut up, Quentin. Don't contradict your mother. She doesn't like it.'

‘I don't think he meant to contradict, Will dear. He's always such a polite helpful boy at home, aren't you, Quintus?'

‘I'm sorry, Granny. But you must not interfere with our discipline in front of our faces. You will do what you like, of course, behind our backs. We can't stop you. You've taken Quentin from us …'

‘Taken him from you? He lives with his old Granny only at
your
request, Clara.'

‘Only at the request of my poor Billy's bank balance, shall we say?'

‘To have sold out those Australian shares. I don't know what your father would have said, Will.'

‘If we come back to those shares again this afternoon I shall scream.'

Miss Rickard turned for a moment from the parrot she had
preferred
to involvement. ‘You have done little else for the last ten minutes, Clara. You might as well have married a fishmonger for all the effect it's had on your deportment.' She looked at Mr Matthews but he was not to be drawn. He addressed himself exclusively to his mother.

‘The Guvnor, Mother, with all due respect, is where there is no selling or buying of shares. Though how he passes his time without those activities, I confess to be beyond my comprehension.'