The Aloe (8 page)

“Really”
said Beryl – But no, she could not bear that fool of a girl – She went into the dark drawing room and began walking up and down – She was restless, restless restless. There was a mirror over the mantelpiece she leaned her arms along and looked at her pale shadow in it – “I look as though I have been drowned” – said she –

Chapter Four

Children and Ducks

“G
ood Morning Mrs Jones.” “Oh, good Mrs Smith. I’m so glad to see you. Have you brought your children?” “Yes, I’ve brought both my twins. I have had another baby since I saw you last but she came so suddenly that I haven’t had time to make her any clothes yet and so I left her at home. How’s your husband.” “Oh he’s very well thank you. At least he had an awful sore throat, but Queen Victoria (she’s my grandmother you know) sent him a case of pineapples and they cured it immediately – Is that your new servant.” “Yes, her name’s Gwen. I’ve only had her two days – Oh Gwen, this is my friend Mrs Smith.” “Good morning Mrs Smith. Dinner won’t not be ready for about ten minutes.” “I don’t think you ought to introduce me to the servant, I think I ought to just begin talking to her.” “Well she isn’t really quite a servant. She’s more of a lady help than a servant and you do introduce Lady Helps I know because Mrs Samuel Josephs had one.” “Oh well, it doesn’t
matter
” said the new servant airily, beating up a chocolate custard with half a broken clothes peg. The dinner was baking beautifully on a concrete step – She began to lay the cloth on a broad pink garden seat. In front of each person she put two geranium leaf plates, a pine needle fork and a twig knife. There were three daisy heads on a laurel leaf for poached eggs, some slices of fuchsia petals for cold meat, some beautiful little rissoles made of earth and water and dandelion seeds, and the chocolate custard. Which she decided to serve in the pawa shell she had cooked it in – “You needn’t trouble about my children” said Mrs Smith graciously – “If you’ll just take this bottil and fill it at the tap – I mean in the dairy.” “Oh all right” said Gwen and she whispered to Mrs Jones “Shall I go an ask Alice for a little bit of real milk?” But some one called from the front of the house “children children” and the luncheon party melted away leaving the charming table leaving the rissoles and the eggs on the stove – to the little ants and to an old snail who pushed his quivering horns over the edge of the pink garden seat and began slowly to nibble a geranium plate. “Come round to the front door children. Rags and Pip have come.” The Trout Boys were cousins to the Burnells. They lived about a mile away in a house called Monkey Tree Cottage. Pip was tall for his age with lank black hair and a white face but Rags was very small, and so thin that when he was undressed his shoulder blades stuck out like two little wings. They had a mongrel dog too with pale blue eyes and a long tail that turned up at the end who followed them everywhere; he was called Snooker. They were always combing and brushing Snooker and treating him in various extraordinary mixtures concocted by Pip and kept secredy by him in a broken jug to be diluted in a kerosene tin of hot water and applied to the shivering creature but Snooker was always full of fleas and he stank abominably.

He would see Pip mix some carbolic tooth powder and a bit of sulphur powdered fine and perhaps a pinch of starch to stiffen up Snooker’s coat but he knew that was not all. There was something else added that Pip wouldn’t tell him of covered with an old kettle lid. Rags privately thought it was gunpowder. Even Rags was not allowed to share the secret of these mixtures. And he was never never on any account permitted to help or to look on because of the danger – “Why if a spot of this flew up” Pip would say, stirring the mixture with an iron spoon “you’d be blinded to death and there’s always the chance – just the chance of it exploding – if you whack it hard enough. Two spoon fulls of this will be enough in a kerosene tin of water to kill thousands of fleas.” Nevertheless Snooker spent all his leisure biting and nudging himself and he stank abominably – “It’s because he’s such a grand fighting dog” Pip would say. “All fighting dogs smell –” The Trout boys had often gone into town and spent the day with the Burnells but now that they had become neighbours and lived in this big house and bonzer garden they were inclined to be very friendly. Besides both of them liked playing with girls – Pip because he could fox them so and because Lottie Burnell was so easily frightened and Rags for a shameful reason because he adored dolls. The way he would look at a doll as it lay asleep, speaking in a whisper and smiling timidly and the great treat it was to him to stretch out his arms and be given a doll to hold! “Curl your arms round her. Don’t keep them stiff out like that. You’ll drop her” Isabel would command sternly.

Now they were standing on the verandah and holding back Snooker who wanted to go into the house but wasn’t allowed to because Aunt Linda hated decent dogs. “We came over on the bus with Mum,” they said “and we’re going to spend the afternoon and stay to tea. We brought over a batch of our gingerbread for Aunt Linda. Our Minnie made it. It’s all over nuts – much more than yours ever has.” “I shelled the almonds” said Pip. “I just stuck my hand in a saucepan of boiling water and grabbed them out and gave them a kind of pinch and the nuts flew out of the shells some of them as high as the ceiling. Didn’t they Rags?” “When they make cakes at our place,” said Pip “we always stay in the kitchen Rags and me and I get the bowl and he gets the spoon and the egg beater – Sponge cake’s best – it’s all frothy stuff then.” He ran down the verandah steps on to the lawn, planted his hands on the grass bent forward and just did not stand on his head – “Pooh!” he said “that lawn’s all bumpy, you have to have a flat place for standing on your head – I can walk all round the monkey tree on my head at our place – nearly, can’t I Rags?” “Nearly!” said Rags faindy. “Stand on your head on the verandah. That’s quite flat,” said Lottie. “No, smartie,” said Pip, “you have to do it on something soft see? Because if you give a jerk – just a very little jerk and fall over like that bump yourself something in your neck goes click and it breaks right off. Dad told me . . .” “Oh do let’s have a game,” said Kezia – “Do let’s play something or other –” “Very well” said Isabel quickly “we’ll play hospitals. I’ll be the nurse and Pip can be the doctor and you and Rags and Lottie can be the sick people” – But No, Lottie didn’t not want to play that because last time Pip squirted something down her throat and it hurt awfully. “Pooh!” said Pip “it was only the juice out of a bit of orange peel –” “Well let’s play ladies” said Isabel “and Pip can be my husband and you can be my three dear little children – Rags can be the baby –” “I
hate
playing ladies” said Kezia “because you always make us go to church hand in hand and come home again an go to bed” – Suddenly Pip took a filthy handkerchief out of his pocket – “Snooker, here sir” he called, but Snooker as usual, began to slink away with his long bent tail between his legs. Pip leapt on top of him – and held him by his knees – “Keep his head firm Rags” he said as he tied the handkerchief round Snooker’s head with a funny sticking up knot at the top. “What ever is that for” – asked Lottie. “It’s to train his ears to grow more close to his head, see” said Pip. “All fighting dogs have ears that lie kind of back and they prick up – but Snooker’s got rotten ears they’re too soft.” “I know” said Kezia, “they’re always turning inside out I
hate
that.” “Oh it isn’t that” said Pip “but I’m training his ears to look a bit more fierce see” – Snooker lay down and made one feeble effort with his paw to get the handkerchief off but finding he could not he trailed after the children with his head bound up in the dirty rag – shivering with misery. Pat came swinging by. In his hand he held a little tomahawk that winked in the sun. “Come with me now” he said to the children “and I’ll show you how the Kings of Ireland chop off the head of a duck.” They held back – they didn’t believe him it was one of his jokes, and besides the Trout boys had never seen Pat before – “Come on now” he coaxed, smiling and holding out his hand to Kezia.

“A real duck’s head” she said. “One from ours in the paddock where the fowls and ducks are” – “It is” said Pat. She put her hand in his hard dry one, and he stuck the tomahawk in his belt and held out the other to Rags – He loved little children. “I’d better keep hold of Snooker’s head, if there’s going to be any blood about” said Pip – trying not to show his excitement “because the sight of blood makes him awfully wild sometimes” – He ran ahead dragging Snooker by the knot in the handkerchief.

“Do you think we
ought
to” whispered Isabel to Lottie. “Because we haven’t asked Grandma or anybody have we?” “But Pat’s looking after us,” said Lottie.

At the bottom of the orchard a gate was set in the paling fence. On the other side there was a steep bank leading down to a bridge that spanned the creek and once up the bank on the other side you were on the fringe of the paddocks. A little disused stable in the first paddock had been turned into a fowl house. All about it there spread wire netting chicken runs new made by Pat. The fowls strayed far away across the paddock down to a little dumping ground in a hollow on the other side but the ducks kept close to that part of the creek that flowed under the bridge and ran hard by the fowl house – Tall bushes overhung the stream with red leaves and Dazzling yellow flowers and clusters of red and white berries, and a little further on there were cresses and a water plant with a flower like a yellow foxglove. At some places the stream was wide and shallow, enough to cross by stepping stones but at other places it tumbled suddenly into a deep rocky pool like a little lake with foam at the edge and big quivering bubbles. It was in these pools that the big white ducks loved to swim and guzzle along the weedy banks. Up and down they swam, preening their dazzling breasts and other ducks with yellow bills and yellow feet swam upside down below them in the clear still water. “There they are” said Pat. “There’s the little Irish Navy, and look at the old Admiral there with the green neck and the grand little flag staff on his tail.” He pulled a handful of grain out of his pocket and began to walk towards the fowl house lazily, his broad straw hat with the broken crown pulled off his eyes. “Lid-lid lid lid-lid lid” he shouted – “Qua! Qua Qua!” answered the ducks, making for land and flopping and scrambling up the bank – They streamed after him in a long waddling line – He coaxed them pretending to throw the grain shaking it in his hands and calling to them until they swept round him close round him quacking and pushing against each other in a white ring – From far away the fowls heard the clamour and they too came running across the paddock, their heads crooked forward, their wings spread, turning in their feet in the silly way fowls run and scolding as they came. Then Pat scattered the grain and the greedy ducks began to gobble – Quickly he bent forward, seized two, tucked them quacking and struggling one under each arm and strode across to the children. Their darting heads, their flat beaks and round eyes frightened the children – and they drew back all except Pip. “Come on sillies” he cried, “They can’t hurt, they haven’t got any teeth have they Pat – they’ve only got those two little holes in their beaks to breathe through.” “Will you hold one while I finish with the other” asked Pat. Pip let go of Snooker – “Won’t I! Won’t I! Give us one – I’ll hold him. I’ll not let him go. I don’t care how much he kicks – give us give us!” He nearly sobbed with delight when Pat put the white lump in his arms – There was an old stump beside the door of the fowlshed – Pat carried over the other duck, grabbed it up in one hand, whipped out his little tomahawk – lay the duck flat on the stump and suddenly down came the tomahawk and the duck’s head flew off the stump – up and up the blood spurted over the white feathers, over his hand – When the children saw it they were frightened no more – they crowded round him and began to scream – even Isabel leaped about and called out “The blood the blood” – Pip forgot all about his duck – He simply threw it away from him – and shouted “I saw it, I saw it” and jumped round the wood block –

Rags with cheeks as white as paper ran up to the little head and put out a finger as if he meant to touch it then drew back again and again put out a finger. He was shivering all over. Even Lottie, frightened Lottie began to laugh and point at the duck and shout “Look Kezia look look look” – “Watch it” shouted Pat and he put down the white body and it began to waddle – with only a long spurt of blood where the head had been – it began to pad along dreadfully quiet towards the steep ledge that led to the stream – It was the crowning wonder. “Do you see that – do you see it?” yelled Pip and he ran among the little girls pulling at their pinafores – “It’s like an engine – it’s like a funny little darling engine –” squealed Isabel – But Kezia suddenly rushed at Pat and flung her arms round his legs and butted her head as hard as she could against his knees; “Put head back put head back” she screamed – When he stooped to move her she would not let go or take her head away – She held as hard as ever she could and sobbed “head back head back” – until it sounded like a loud, strange hiccough. “It’s stopped it’s tumbled over it’s dead” – said Pip. Pat dragged Kezia up into his arms. Her sunbonnet had fallen back but she would not let him look at her face. No she pressed her face into a bone in his shoulder and put her arms round his neck –

The children stopped squealing as suddenly as they had begun – they stood round the dead duck. Rags was not frightened of the head any more. He knelt down and stroked it with his finger and said “I don’t think perhaps the head is quite dead yet. It’s warm Pip. Would it keep alive if I gave it something to drink –” But Pip got very cross and said – “Bah! you baby –” He whistled to Snooker and went off – and when Isabel went up to Lottie, Lottie snatched away. “What are you always touching me for Is a
bel.”

“There now” said Pat to Kezia “There’s the grand little girl” – She put up her hands and touched his ear. She felt something – Slowly she raised her quivering face and looked – Pat wore little round gold earrings. How very funny – She never knew men wore earrings. She was very much surprised! She quite forgot about the duck. “Do they come off and on,” she asked huskily?