The Caxley Chronicles (6 page)

'I believe you want to discuss business matters,' she said, rising. 'I'll be with the children if you need me.'

Dan leapt to his feet in alarm.

'Don't go! Please, Mrs Howard, don't go! The business concerns you too, I assure you.'

Wonderingly, Edna slowly resumed her seat. Dan, still standing, wasted no more time but swiftly outlined his proposal. It would be doing him a great honour. He realised that she was very busy. Any time which would suit her
convenience would suit his too. It
was usual to pay
sitters, and
he hoped that she would name her fee. He would try to do justice to her outstanding good looks.

The words tumbled out in a vast torrent now that he had begun. Edna gazed upon him in amazement, her beautiful eyes wide and wondering. Sep grew paler as the scheme was unfolded. What impudence, what idiocy, was this?

At last Dan came to a halt, and Edna spoke shyly.

'It's very kind of you, I'm sure. I don't quite know what to think.' She looked at Sep in perplexity. Clearly, she was a little flattered, and inclined to consider the project.

Sep found his voice.

'We'll have nothing to do with it,' he said hoarsely. 'I'm not having my wife mixed up in things of this sort. We don't want the money, thank God, and my wife wouldn't want to earn it that way, I can assure you. I mean no offence, Mr
Crockford. Your affairs are your own business, and good luck to your painting. But don't expect Edna to take part.'

Dan was frankly taken aback by the force of the meek little baker's attack. The thought that there would be such fierce opposition had not entered his mind. He spoke gently, controlling his temper, fearing that Edna would be surely lost to him as a sitter, if it flared up now.

'Don't close your mind to the idea, please,' he begged. 'Think about it and talk the matter over with your wife, and let me know in a few days. I fear that I have taken you too much by surprise. I very much trust that you will allow me to paint Mrs Howard. She would not need to sit for more than three or four sessions.'

Calmer, but still seething inwardly, Sep acknowledged the wisdom of discussing the matter. His old timidity towards those in the social class above him began to make itself felt again. One could not afford to offend good customers, and although his face was firmly set against Edna's acceptance, he deemed it wise to bring the interview to an outwardly civil close.

He accompanied Dan to the door and showed him out into the market square.

'We will let you know,' he said shortly, 'though I must make it plain that I don't like the idea, and very much doubt if Edna will agree.'

He watched Dan swing across the square on his homeward way. His red hair flamed in the dying sun's rays. His chin was at a defiant angle. Dan Crockford was a handsome man, thought Sep sadly, and a fighting man too.

Suddenly weary, conscious that he must return to face Edna,
he caught sight of Queen Victoria, proudly defiant, despite a pigeon poised absurdly on her bronze crown.

'And what would she have thought of it?' wondered Sep morosely, turning his back on the market place.

The scene that ensued was never to be forgotten by poor Sep.

'Well, that's seen the back of that cheeky rascal!' announced Sep, on returning to the parlour. He assumed a brisk authority which he did not feel inwardly, but he intended to appear as master in his own house.

'Who says we've seen the back of him?' asked Edna, dangerously calm.

'I do. I've sent him about his business all right.'

'It was my business, too, if you remember. Strikes me you jumped in a bit sharp. Never gave me time to think it over, did you?'

'I should hope a respectable married woman like you would need no time at all to refuse that sort of invitation.' Sep spoke with a certain pomposity which brought Edna to her feet. She leant upon the table, eyes flashing, and faced her husband squarely.

'You don't appear to trust me very far, Sep Howard. I ain't proposing to stand stark naked for Mr Crockford—'

'I should hope not!' broke in Sep, much shocked.

'It was me he wanted to paint. And I should have had the chance of answering. Made me look no better than a stupid kid, snapping back at him like that, and leaving me out of things.'

Sep buttoned his mouth tightly. He had become very pale and the righteous wrath of generations of staunch chapel-goers began to make his blood boil.

'There's no more to be said, my lady. It was a shameful suggestion and I'll not see my wife flaunting herself for Dan Crockford or anyone else. I don't want to hear any more about it.'

If Sep had been in any condition to think coolly, he must have realised that this was the best way to rouse a mettlesome wife to open rebellion. But he was not capable of thinking far ahead just then. He watched the colour flood Edna's lovely face and her thin brown hands knot into tight fists.

'You don't want to hear any more about it, eh?' echoed Edna. Her voice was low, and throbbing with fury. 'Well, let me tell you, Sep Howard, you're going to! I should like to have my picture painted. Dan Crockford don't mean anything more to me than that chair there, but if he wants to paint my picture, I'm willing. You can't stop me, and you'd better not try, unless you wants to run the shop, and the home too, on your own. I won't be bossed about by you, or anyone else!'

It was at this dangerous moment in the battle that Sep should have given in completely, apologised for his arrogance, told Edna that he could not do without her, and that of course she could sit for Dan Crockford if she wanted to so desperately. Edna's defiance would have abated at once, and all would have been forgotten. But Sep made the wrong move. He thumped the table and shouted.

'I forbid—' he began in a great roaring voice which stirred the curtains.

'Forbid?' screamed Edna. 'Don't you take that tone to me, you little worm! Who d'you think you're talking to—our Kathy? I'm going up to bed now, and tomorrow morning I'm going round to Dan Crockford's to tell him I'll sit for him!'

She whirled from the room, her gold and green dress swishing, leaving Sep open-mouthed. Here was flat rebellion, and Sep knew full well that he had no weapon in his armoury to overcome it.

Morning brought no truce, and Edna set out purposefully across the square as soon as her house was set to rights. Sep watched her go, dumb with misery.

By the time market day came round again the whole of Caxley buzzed with this delicious piece of news. Fat Mrs Petty, chopping cod into cutlets, shouted boisterously above the rhythmic noise of her cleaver.

'No better'n she should be! Once a gyppo, always a gyppo, I says! And us all knows what Dan Crockford's like.'

'It's her poor husband I feel so sorry for,' nodded her customer lugubriously. Her mouth was set in a deprecating downward curve, but her eyes were gleaming with enjoyment. Gossip is always interesting, and this was a particularly exciting snippet for the good folk of Caxley.

'It won't surprise me to hear that Sep Howard turns her out,' continued the customer with relish. 'Been brought up proper strict, his lot—chapel every Sunday, Band of Hope, and all that. You never know, it might all end up in the court!'

She looked across at Caxley's Town Hall, standing beside
St Peter's. Two magistrates were already mounting the steps, dignified in their good broadcloth, for the weekly sitting. Mrs Petty broke into loud laughter, holding up two fat hands, sparkling with fish-scales.

'Court?' she wheezed merrily. 'Ain't no need to take Edna Howard to court! All her husband needs is to take a strap to her!'

In this, Mrs Petty echoed most people in Caxley. If Sep's wife behaved like this, they said, then Sep was at fault. He knew what he'd taken on when he married her. He should have been firm.

The Norths watched the affair closely, and with dismay. Bender was inclined to dismiss it as 'a storm in a tea-cup'. Edna would come to her senses in time. But Hilda felt some inner triumph. Hadn't she always said that Edna wasn't to be trusted?

'One thing,' she admitted, 'it's bringing our Ethel round to seeing the truth about Dan Crockford. Pa said she was quite cool with him when they met in the street. And Jesse Miller's no fool. He's been up at Pa's every evening this week, hanging up his hat to our Ethel.'

'It don't do to make bad blood anywhere,' rumbled Bender, especially in a little place like Caxley. 'We've all got to rub along together, come fair, come foul, and the sooner this business blows over the better. No need to fan the flames now, Hilda.'

His wife bridled, but said no more.

But the flames ran everywhere, fanned smartly by the wind of gossip. That this should have happened to meek little Septimus Howard, strict chapel-goer, diligent baker, and
earnest father, made the affair even more delectable. It was said that Edna went twice a week to Dan's studio, unchaperoned, in the evening, and that no one could really tell what happened there, although, of course, it was easy enough to guess.

Even the children heard the tales, and young Bertie asked the two Howard boys if their mother really had let Mr Crockford paint her picture. To his everlasting horror, one boy burst into tears and the other gave him such a swinging box on the ear that he fell into the thorn bush and was obliged to lie to his mother later about how he had become so severely scratched. Certainly, Edna's portrait created enough stir.

In actual fact the sittings were few and rather dull. They did occur, as rumour said, twice weekly and in the evening, but after six sessions Dan assured his model that he could finish it without troubling her further. Her beauty delighted him, but her dullness bored him dreadfully. Her independence having been proved, Edna was quite willing to make things up with her unhappy husband, and outwardly at least, harmony once again prevailed in the Howards' household.

But the matter did not end there.

The picture was enchanting. Dan knew in his bones that this was the best piece of work he had ever done. Edna glowed from the canvas, gay and vivid, in her gipsy costume. She made a compelling figure, for Dan had caught her warmth and grace magnificently. Furthermore, he had painted a perfect woodland background in minute detail. All the fresh haziness of a May morning sparkled behind Edna—a smoke-blue wood, with pigeons like pearls sunning themselves in the branches, above a grassy bank, starred with daisies, and almost
golden in its May newness. He had caught exactly the spirit of wild young life in all its glory. Dan put it aside carefully to be sent to the Academy early next year. This one, surely, would find a place on those august walls.

Meantime, while the gossip ran rife, Howard's bakery suffered a temporary decline. A few self-righteous families refused to deal with a baker whose wife behaved so loosely. Others were embarrassed at facing Sep and preferred to slip into other bakers' establishments until the family affairs were righted. It was an unfortunate set-back for poor Sep who felt his position keenly. There were times when he longed to shut up the shop and flee from Caxley, from the sidelong glances, the whispers behind hands, the wretched' knowledge that all knew his discomfiture.

He had said little to Edna after that first terrible encounter. There was so little to say which did not sound nagging, pompous and bitter. Sep told himself that 'the least said soonest mended' and continued doggedly with his business affairs. Apart from a certain coolness, Edna continued her household duties unconcerned. When the sittings came to an end, tension between the two relaxed slightly, but, for Sep at least, things could never be quite the same again.

In time, of course, Caxley began to lose interest in the affair as other topics took the place of the portrait painting as a nine days' wonder. The scandal of the erring alderman, the bankruptcy of an old family business, the elopement of a local farmer's son with a pretty dairymaid, and many other delightful pieces of news came to the sharp eyes and ears of Caxley folk and engaged their earnest attention. It was not until the following year that the Howard scandal was suddenly revived
and bathed now in miraculous sunlight instead of shadow.

For Dan Crockford's picture was accepted by the Hanging Committee of the Royal Academy and was one of the paintings of the year.
The Caxley Chronicle
printed this wonderful news on the front page, with a photograph of Dan Crockford and another of the portrait. The headline read: 'Well Deserved Success for Distinguished Local Artist', and the account mentioned 'the beauty of Mrs Septimus Howard, captured for posterity by the skill of the artist's brush.'

This put quite a different complexion on the affair, of course. If
The Caxley Chronicle
thought Dan Crockford was distinguished, then the majority of its readers were willing to believe it. And say what you like, they told each other reasonably, when they met the following week, he'd made a proper handsome picture of Sep's wife and it was a real leg-up for Caxley all round.

People now called at the bakery to see the celebrated Mrs Howard, and poor bewildered Sep found himself accepting congratulations in place of guarded condolences. It was a funny world, thought Sep, that kicked you when you were down, and patted you when you were up again, and all for the same reason.

Nevertheless, it was pleasant to find that the takings had risen sharply since the news came out. And he readily admitted that it was pleasanter still to be greeted warmly, by all and sundry, as he carried his hard-earned money across the market square to the bank. Pray God, thought Sep earnestly, things would now go smoothly for them all!

T
HINGS WENT
very smoothly indeed in the early part of the century. Trade was brisk generally, and despite the high new motor-cars which began to sail majestically down Caxley High Street like galleons before the wind, though with somewhat more noise, the stablemen, coachmen, farriers and the multitude of men engaged in ministering to the horse, still thrived.

It was true that Bill Blake's cycle shop at the marsh end of the High Street had begun repairing cars, and had taken over a yard at the side of the premises for this purpose. Under the shade of a vast sycamore tree against the rosy brick wall, Bill and his brother investigated the complicated interiors of the newcomers, surrounded by the enthusiastic small fry of Caxley. But the idea of the motor car ever superseding the ubiquitous horse was never really considered seriously by those who watched with such absorption.