A Quiver Full of Arrows (17 page)

“Such a programme must take a considerable
amount of detailed planning,” suggested Victoria, her hazel eyes sparkling as
she listened to her future husband’s description of the promised tour.

“More tradition than organisation I would
say, my dear,” replied Henry, smiling, as they strolled hand in hand across
Hyde Park. “Although, I confess, in the past Barker has kept his eye on things
should any untoward emergency arise. In any case I have always had the front
carriage of the Fleche d’Or because it assures one of being off the train and
away before anyone realises that you have actually arrived in the French
capital. Other than Raymond, of course.”

“Raymond?”

“Yes, Raymond, a servant par excellence’ who
adored my father, he will have organised a bottle of
Veuve Cliquot
‘37 and a little Russian caviar for the journey. He
will also have ensured that there is a couch in the railway carriage should you
need to rest, my dear.”

“You seem to have thought of everything,
Henry darling,” she said, as they entered Belgrave Mews.

“I hope you will think so, Victoria; for
when you arrive in Paris which I have not had the opportunity to visit for so
many years, there will be a Rolls-Royce standing by the side of the carriage,
door open, and you will step out of the Fleche d’Or into the car and Maurice
will drive us to the George V, arguably the finest hotel in Europe. Louis, the
manager, will be on the steps of the hotel to greet you and he will conduct us
to the bridal suite with its stunning view of the city. A maid will unpack for
you while you retire to bathe and rest from the tiresome journey. When you are
fully recovered we shall dine at Maxim’s, where you will be guided to the
corner table furthest from the orchestra by Marcel, the finest head waiter in
the world. As you are seated, the musicians will strike up ‘A Room with A View’
my favourite tune, and we will then be served with the most magnificent
langouste you have ever tasted, of that I can assure you.”

Henry and Victoria arrived at the front door
of the general’s small house in Belgrave Mews. He took her hand before
continuing.

“After you have dined, my dear, we shall
stroll into the Madeleine where I shall buy a dozen red roses from Paulette,
the most beautiful flower girl in Paris. She is almost as lovely as you.” Henry
sighed and concluded: “Then we shall return to the George V and spend our first
night together.”

Victoria’s hazel eyes showed delighted
anticipation. “I only wish it could be tomorrow,” she said.

Henry kissed her gallantly on the cheek and
said: “It will be worth waiting for, my dear, I can assure you it will be a day
neither of us will ever forget.”

“I’m sure of that,” Victoria replied as he
released her hand.

On the morning of his wedding Henry leaped
out of bed and drew back the curtains with a flourish, only to be greeted by a
steady drizzle.

“The rain will clear by eleven o’clock,” he
said out loud with immense confidence, and hummed as he shaved slowly and with
care.

The weather had not improved by mid-morning.
On the contrary, heavy rain was falling by the time Victoria entered the
church. Henry’s disappointment evaporated the instant he saw his beautiful
bride; all he could think of was taking her to Paris. The ceremony over, the
Grand Psha and his wife stood outside the church, a golden couple, smiling for
the press photographers as the loyal guests scattered damp rice over them. As
soon as they decently could, they set offfor the reception at the Ritz. Between
them they managed to chat to every guest present, and they would have been away
in better time had Victoria been a little quicker changing and the general’s
toast to the happy couple been considerably shorter. The guests crowded on to
the steps of the Ritz, overflowing on the pavement in Piccadilly to wave
goodbye to the departing honeymooners, and were only sheltered from the
downpour by a capacious red awning.

The general’s Rolls took the Grand Pasha and
his wife to the station, where the chauffeur unloaded the bags. Henry instructed
him to return to the Ritz as he had everything under control.

The chauffeur touched his cap and said: “I
hope you and madam have a wonderful trip, sir,” and left them.

Henry stood on the station, looking for
Fred. There was no sign of him, so he hailed a passing porter.

“Where is Fred?” inquired Henry.

“Fred who?” came the reply.

“How in heaven’s name should I know?” said
Henry.

“Then how in hell’s name should I know?”
retorted the porter.

Victoria shivered. English railway stations
are not designed for the latest fashion in silk coats.

“Kindly take my bags to the end carriage of
the train,” said Henry.

The porter looked down at the fourteen bags.
“All right,” he said reluctantly.

Henry and Victoria stood patiently in the
cold as the porter loaded the bags on to his trolley and trundled them off
along the platform.

“Don’t worry, my dear,” said Henry.

“A cup of Lapsang Souchong tea and some
smoked salmon sandwiches and you’ll feel a new girl.”

“I’m just fine,” said Victoria, smiling,
though not quite as bewitchingly as normal, as she put her arm through her
husband’s. They strolled along together to the end carriage.

“Can I check your tickets, sir?” said the
conductor, blocking the entrance to the last carriage.

“My what?” said Henry, his accent sounding
unusually pronounced.

“Your tic... kets,” said the conductor,
conscious he was addressing a foreigner.

“In the past I have always made the
arrangements on the train, my good man.”

“Not nowadays you don’t, sir. You’ll have to
go to the booking office and buy your tickets like everyone else, and you’d
better be quick about it because the train is due to leave in a few minutes.”

Henry stared at the conductor in disbelief.
“I assume my wife may rest on the train while I go and purchase the tickets?”
he asked.

“No, I’m sorry, sir. No one is allowed to
board the train unless they are in possession of a valid ticket.”

“Remain here, my dear,” said Henry, “and I will
deal with this little problem immediately. Kindly direct me to the ticket
office, porter.”

“End of Platform Four, governor,” said the
conductor, slamming the train door annoyed at being described as a porter.

That wasn’t quite what Henry had meant by “direct
me”. Nevertheless, he left his bride with the fourteen bags and somewhat
reluctantly headed back towards the ticket office at the end of Platform Four,
where he went to the front of a long line.

“There’s a queue, you know, mate,” someone
shouted.

Henry didn’t know. “I’m in a frightful
hurry,” he said.

“And so am I,” came back the reply, “so get
to the back.”

Henry had been told that the British were
good at standing in queues, but as he had never had to join one before that
moment, he was quite unable to confirm or deny the rumour. He reluctantly
walked to the back of a queue. It took some time before Henry reached the
front.

“I would like to take the last carriage to
Dover.”

“You would like what... ?”

“The last carriage,” repeated Henry a little
more loudly.

“I am sorry, sir, but every first-class seat
is sold.”

“I don’t want a seat,” said Henry “I require
the carriage. “

“There are no carriages available nowadays,
sir, and as I said, all the seats in first class are sold. I can still fix you
up in third class.”

“I don’t mind what it costs,” said Henry. “I
must travel first class.”

“I don’t have a first-class seat, sir.

It wouldn’t matter if you could afford the
whole train.”

“I can,” said Henry.

“I still don’t have a seat left in first
class,” said the clerk unhelpfully.

Henry would have persisted, but several
people in the queue behind him were pointing out that there were only two
minutes before the train was due to leave and that they wanted to catch it even
if he didn’t.

“Two seats then,” said Henry, unable to make
himself utter the words “third class”.

Two green tickets marked Dover were handed
through the little grille. Henry took them and started to walk away.

“That will be seventeen and sixpence please,
sir.”

“Oh, yes, of course,” said Henry apologetically.
He fumbled in his pocket and unfolded one of the three large white five-pound
notes he always carried on him.

“Don’t you have anything smaller?”

“No, I do not,” said Henry, who found the
idea of carrying money vulgar enough without it having to be in small
denominations.

The clerk handed back four pounds and a
half-crown. Henry did not pick up the half-crown.

“Thank you, sir,” said the startled man. It
was more than his Saturday bonus.

Henry put the tickets in his pocket and
quickly returned to Victoria, who was smiling defiantly against the cold wind;
it was not quite the smile that had originally captivated him. Their porter had
long ago disappeared and Henry couldn’t see another in sight.

The conductor took his tickets and clipped
them.

“All aboard,” he shouted, waved a green nag
and blew his whistle.

Henry quickly threw all fourteen bags
through the open door and pushed Victoria on to the moving train before leaping
on himself. Once he had caught his breath he walked down the corridor, staring
into the third class carriages.

He had never seen one before. The seats were
nothing more than thin worn-out cushions, and as he looked into one carriage a
young couple jumped in and took the last two adjacent seats. Henry searched
frantically for a free carriage but he was unable even to find one with two
seats together. Victoria took a single seat in a packed compartment without
complaint, while Henry sat forlornly on one of the suitcases in the corridor.

“It will be different once we’re in Dover,”
he said, without his usual self-confidence.

“I am sure it will, Henry,” she replied,
smiling kindly at him.

The two-hourjourney seemed interminable.
Passengers of all shapes and sizes squeezed past him in the corridor, treading
on his Lobbs hand-made leather shoes, with the words:

“Sorry, sir.”

“Sorry, guy.”

“Sorry, mate.”

Henry put the blame firmly on the shoulders
of Clement Attlee and his ridiculous campaign for social equality, and waited
for the train to reach Dover Priory Station. The moment the engine pulled in
Henry leaped out of the carriage first, not last, and called for Albert at the
top of his voice. Nothing happened, except a stampede of people rushed past him
on their way to the ship. Eventually Henry spotted a porter and rushed over to
him only to find he was already loading up his trolley with someone else’s
luggage. Henry sprinted to a second man and then on to a third and waved a
pound note at a fourth, who came immediately and unloaded the fourteen bags.

“Where to, guy?” asked the porter amicably.

“The ship,” said Henry, and returned to
claim his bride. He helped Victoria down from the train and they both ran
through the rain until, breathless, they reached the gangplank of the ship.

“Tickets, sir,” said a young officer in a
dark blue uniform at the bottom of the gangplank.

“I always have cabin number three,” said
Henry between breaths.

 
“Of course,
sir,” said the young man and looked at his clip board. Henry smiled confidently
at Victoria.

“Mr. and Mrs. William West.”

“I beg your pardon?” said Henry.

“You must be Mr. William West.”

“I am certainly not. I am the Grand Pasha of
Cairo.”

“Well, I’m sorry, sir, cabin number three is
booked in the name of a Mr.

William West and family.”

“I have never been treated by Captain Rogers
in this cavalier fashion before,” said Henry, his accent now even more
pronounced. “Send for him immediately.”

“Captain Rogers was killed in the war, sir.
Captain Jenkins is now in command of this ship and he never leaves the bridge
thirty minutes before sailing.”

Henry’s exasperation was turning to panic.
“Do you have a free cabin?”

The young officer looked down his list. “No,
sir, I’m afraid not. The last one was taken a few minutes ago.”

“May I have two tickets?” asked Henry.

“Yes, sir,” said the young officer.

“But you’ll have to buy them from the
booking office on the quayside.”

Henry decided that any further argument
would be only time-consuming so he turned on his heel without another word,
leaving his wife with the laden porter. He strode to the booking office..

“Two first-class tickets to Calais,” he said
firmly.