Christopher and Columbus (46 page)

Always placid, her placidity at this moment had a shining
quality. Still smug, she was now of a glorified smugness. If one
could imagine a lily turned into a god, or a young god turned into
a lily and walking down the middle of a sun-flecked Californian
lane, it wouldn't be far out, thought Mr. Twist, as an image of
the advancing Twinkler. The god would be so young that he was still
a boy, and he wouldn't be worrying much about anything in the
past or in the future, and he'd just be coming along like that
with the corners of his mouth a little turned up, and his fair hair
a little ruffled, and his charming young face full of a sober and
abstracted radiance.

"Not much kidnapping there, I guess," said Mr. Twist
with a jerk of his thumb. "And you take it from me, Anna
I.," he added quickly, leaning over towards her, determined to
get off to the garage before he found himself faced by both twins
together, "that when next your imagination gets the jumps the
best thing you can do is to hold on to it hard till it settles down
again, instead of wasting your time and ruining your constitution
going pale."

And he started the Ford with a bound, and got away round the
corner into the yard.

Here, in the yard, was peace; at least for the moment. The only
living thing in it was a cat the twins had acquired, through the
services of one of the experts, as an indispensable object in a
really homey home. The first thing this cat had done had been to
eat the canary, which gave the twins much unacknowledged relief. It
was, they thought secretly, quite a good plan to have one's
pets inside each other,--it kept them so quiet. She now sat unmoved
in the middle of the yard, carefully cleaning her whiskers while
Mr. Twist did some difficult fancy driving in order to get into the
stable without inconveniencing her.

Admirable picture of peace, thought Mr. Twist with a sigh of
envy.

He might have got out and picked her up, but he was glad to
manoeuvre about, reversing and making intricate figures in the
dust, because it kept him longer away from the luncheon-table. The
cat took no notice of him, but continued to deal with her whiskers
even when his front wheel was within two inches of her tail, for
though she hadn't been long at The Open Arms she had already
sized up Mr. Twist and was aware that he wouldn't hurt a
fly.

Thanks to her he had a lot of trouble getting the Ford into the
stable, all of which he liked because of that luncheon-table; and
having got it in he still lingered fiddling about with it,
examining its engine and wiping its bonnet; and then when he
couldn't do that any longer he went out and lingered in the
yard, looking down at the cat with his hands in his pockets.
"I must think," he kept on saying to himself.

"Lunchee," said Li Koo, putting his head out of the
kitchen window.

"All right," said Mr. Twist.

He stooped down as though to examine the cat's ear. The cat,
who didn't like her ears touched but was prepared to humour
him, got out of it by lying down on her back and showing him her
beautiful white stomach. She was a black cat, with a particularly
beautiful white stomach, and she had discovered that nobody could
see it without wanting to stroke it. Whenever she found herself in
a situation that threatened to become disagreeable she just lay
down and showed her stomach. Human beings in similar predicaments
can only show their tact.

"Nice pussy--nice, nice pussy," said Mr. Twist aloud,
stroking this irresistible object slowly, and forgetting her ear as
she had intended he should.

"Lunchee get cold," said Li Koo, again putting his
head out of the kitchen window. "Mis' Bilton say, Come
in."

"All right," said Mr. Twist.

He straightened himself and looked round the yard. A rake that
should have been propped up against the tool-shed with some other
gardening tools had fallen down. He crossed over and picked it up
and stood it up carefully again.

Li Koo watched him impassively from the window.

"Mis' Bilton come out," he said; and there she was
in the yard door.

"Mr. Twist," she called shrilly, "if you
don't come in right away and have your food before it gets all
mushed up with cold I guess you'll be sorry."

"All right--coming," he called back very loud and
cheerfully, striding towards her as one strides who knows there is
nothing for it now but courage. "All right, Mrs. Bilton--sorry
if I've kept you waiting. You shouldn't have bothered about
me--"

And saying things like this in a loud voice, for to hear himself
being loud made him feel more supported, he strode into the house,
through the house, and out on to the verandah.

They always lunched on the verandah. The golden coloured awning
was down, and the place was full of a golden shade. Beyond it
blazed the garden. Beneath it was the flower-adorned table set as
usual ready for four, and he went out to it, strung up to finding
the Annas at the table, Anna-Felicitas in her usual seat with her
back to the garden, her little fair head outlined against the
glowing light as he had seen it every day since they had lived in
the inn, Anna-Rose opposite, probably volubly and passionately
addressing her.

And there was no one.

"Why--" he said, stopping short.

"Yes. It's real silly of them not to come and eat
before everything is spoilt," said Mrs. Bilton bustling up,
who had stayed behind to give an order to Li Koo. And she went to
the edge of the verandah and shaded her eyes and called,
"Gurls! Gurls! I guess you can do all that talking better
after lunch."

He then saw that down at the bottom of the garden, in the most
private place as regards being overheard, partly concealed by some
arum lilies that grew immensely there like splendid weeds, stood
the twins facing each other.

"Better leave them alone," he said quickly.
"They'll come when they're ready. There's nothing
like getting through with one's talking right away, Mrs.
Bilton. Besides," he went on still more quickly for she
plainly didn't agree with him and was preparing to sally out
into the sun and fetch them in, "you and I don't often get
a chance of a quiet chat together--"

And this, combined with the resolute way he was holding her
chair ready for her, brought Mrs. Bilton back under the awning
again.

She was flattered. Mr. Twist had not yet spoken to her in quite
that tone. He had always been the gentleman, but never yet the
eager gentleman. Now he was unmistakably both.

She came back and sat down, and so with a sigh of thankfulness
immediately did he, for here was an unexpected respite,--while Mrs.
Bilton talked he could think. Fortunately she never noticed if one
wasn't listening. For the first time since he had known her he
gave himself up willingly to the great broad stream that at once
started flowing over him, on this occasion with something of the
comfort of warm water, and he was very glad indeed that anyhow that
day she wasn't gagged.

While he ate, he kept on furtively looking down the garden at
the two figures facing each other by the arum lilies. Whenever Mrs.
Bilton remembered them and wanted to call them in, as she did at
the different stages, of the meal,--at the salad, at the
pudding--he stopped her. She became more and more pleased by his
evident determination to lunch alone with her, for after all one
remains female to the end, and her conversation took on a gradual
tinge of Mr. Bilton's views about second marriages. They had
been liberal views; for Mr. Bilton, she said, had had no
post-mortem pettiness about him, but they were lost on Mr. Twist,
whose thoughts were so painfully preoccupied by first marriage.

The conclusions he came to during that trying meal while Mrs.
Bilton talked, were that he would propose first to Anna-Rose, she
being the eldest and such a course being accordingly natural, and,
if she refused, proceed at once to propose to Anna-Felicitas. But
before proceeding to Anna-Felicitas, a course he regarded with
peculiar misgiving, he would very earnestly explain to Anna-Rose
the seriousness of the situation and the necessity, the urgency,
the sanity of her marrying him. These proposals would be kept on
the cool level of strict business. Every trace of the affection
with which he was so overflowing would be sternly excluded. For
instance, he wasn't going to let himself remember the feel of
Christopher's little head the afternoon before when he patted
it to comfort her. Such remembrances would be bound to bring a
warmth into his remarks which wouldn't be fair. The situation
demanded the most scrupulous fairness and delicacy in its
treatment, the most careful avoidance of taking any advantage of
it. But how difficult, thought Mr. Twist, his hand shaking as he
poured himself out a glass of iced water, how difficult when he
loved the Annas so inconveniently much.

Mrs. Bilton observed the shaking of his hand, and felt more
female than ever.

Still, there it was, this situation forced upon them all by the
war. Nobody could help it, and it had to be faced with calmness,
steadfastness and tact. Calmness, steadfastness and tact, repeated
Mr. Twist, raising the water to his mouth and spilling some of
it.

Mrs. Bilton observed this too, and felt still more female.

Marriage was the quickest, and really the only, way out of it.
He saw that now. The lawyer had been quite right. And marriage, he
would explain to the Annas, would be a mere formal ceremony which
after the war they--he meant, of course, she--could easily in that
land of facile and honourable divorce get rid of. Meanwhile, he
would point out, they--she, of course; bother these twins--would be
safely American, and he would undertake never to intrude love on
them--her--unless by some wonderful chance, it was wanted. Some
wonderful chance ... Mr. Twist's spectacles suddenly went dim,
and he gulped down more water.

Yes. That was the line to take: the austere line of
self-mortification for the Twinkler good. One Twinkler would be his
wife--again at the dear word he had to gulp down water--and one his
sister-in-law. They would just have to agree to this plan. The
position was too serious for shilly-shallying. Yes. That was the
line to take; and by the time he had got to the coffee it was
perfectly clear and plain to him.

But he felt dreadfully damp. He longed for a liqueur, for
anything that would support him....

"Is there any brandy in the house?" he suddenly flung
across the web of Mrs. Bilton's words.

"Brandy, Mr. Twist?" she repeated, at this feeling
altogether female, for what an unusual thing for him to ask
for,--"You're not sick?"

"With my coffee," murmured Mr. Twist, his mouth very
slack, his head drooping. "It's nice...."

"I'll go and see," said Mrs. Bilton, getting up
briskly and going away rattling a bunch of keys.

At once he looked down the garden. Anna-Felicitas was in the act
of putting her arm round Anna-Rose's shoulder, and Anna-Rose
was passionately disengaging herself. Yes. There was trouble there.
He knew there would be.

He gulped down more water.

Anna-Felicitas couldn't expect to go off like that for a
whole morning and give Anna-Rose a horrible fright without hearing
about it. Besides, the expression on her face wanted explaining,--a
lot of explaining. Mr. Twist didn't like to think so, but
Anna-Felicitas's recent conduct seemed to him almost artful. It
seemed to him older than her years. It seemed to justify the
lawyer's scepticism when he described the twins to him as
children. That young man Elliott--

But here Mr. Twist started and lost his thread of thought, for
looking once more down the garden he saw that Anna-Felicitas was
coming towards the verandah, and that she was alone. Anna-Rose had
vanished. Why had he bothered about brandy, and let Mrs. Bilton go?
He had counted, somehow, on beginning with Anna-Rose....

He seized a cigarette and lit it. He tried vainly to keep his
hand steady. Before the cigarette was fairly plight there was
Anna-Felicitas, walking in beneath the awning.

"I'm glad you're alone," she said, "for I
want to speak to you."

And Mr. Twist felt that his hour had come.

"Hadn't you better have lunch first?" he asked,
though he knew from the look on her face that she wouldn't. It
was a very remarkable look. It was as though an angel, dwelling in
perfect bliss, had unaccountably got its feet wet. Not more
troubled than that; a little troubled, but not more than that.

"No thank you," she said politely. "But if
you've finished yours, do you mind coming into the office?
Because otherwise Mrs. Bilton--"

"She's fetching me some brandy," said Mr.
Twist.

"I didn't know you drank," said Anna-Felicitas,
even at this moment interested. "But do you mind having it
afterwards? Because otherwise Mrs. Bilton--"

"I guess the idea was to have it first," said Mr.
Twist.

She was however already making for the tea-room, proceeding
towards it without hurry, and with a single-mindedness that would
certainly get her there.

He could only follow.

In the office she said, "Do you mind shutting the
door?"

"Not at all," said Mr. Twist; but he did mind. His
hour had come, and he wasn't liking it. He wanted to begin with
Anna-Rose. He wanted to get things clear with her first before
dealing with this one. There was less of Anna-Rose. And her dear
little head yesterday when he patted it.... And she needed
comforting.... Anna-Rose cried, and let herself be comforted....
And it was so sweet to Mr. Twist to comfort....

"Christopher--" began Anna-Felicitas, directly he had
shut the door.

"I know. She's mad with you. What can you expect, Anna
II.?" he interrupted in a very matter-of-fact voice, leaning
against a bookcase. Even a bookcase was better than nothing to lean
against.