VIII

Tim Allerton leant back in his wicker chair and yawned as he looked out over the sea. He shot aquick sidelong glance at his mother.

Mrs. Allerton was a good-looking, white-haired woman of fifty. By imparting an expression ofpinched severity to her mouth every time she looked at her son, she sought to disguise the fact ofher intense affection for him. Even total strangers were seldom deceived by this device and Timhimself saw through it perfectly¹.

He said: “Do you really like Majorca, Mother?”

“Well,” Mrs. Allerton considered, “it’s cheap.”

“And cold,” said Tim with a slight shiver.

He was a tall, thin young man, with dark hair and a rather narrow chest. His mouth had a verysweet expression: His eyes were sad and his chin was indecisive. He had long delicate hands.

Threatened by consumption some years ago, he had never displayed a really robust² physique.

He was popularly supposed “to write,” but it was understood among his friends that inquiries³ as toliterary output were not encouraged.

“What are you thinking of, Tim?”

Mrs. Allerton was alert. Her bright, dark-brown eyes looked suspicious.

Tim Allerton grinned at her:

“I was thinking of Egypt.”

“Egypt?” Mrs. Allerton sounded doubtful.

“Real warmth, darling. Lazy golden sands. The Nile. I’d like to go up the Nile, wouldn’t you?”

“Oh, I’d like it.” Her tone was dry. “But Egypt’s expensive, my dear. Not for those who have tocount the pennies.”

Tim laughed. He rose, stretched himself. Suddenly he looked alive and eager. There was anexcited note in his voice.

“The expense will be my affair. Yes, darling. A little flutter on the Stock Exchange. Withthoroughly satisfactory results. I heard this morning.”

“This morning?” said Mrs. Allerton sharply. “You only had one letter and that—”

She stopped and bit her lip.

Tim looked momentarily undecided whether to be amused or annoyed. Amusement gained theday.

“And that was from Joanna,” he finished coolly. “Quite right, Mother. What a queen ofdetectives you’d make! The famous Hercule Poirot would have to look to his laurels⁵ if you wereabout.”

Mrs. Allerton looked rather cross.

“I just happened to see the handwriting—”

“And knew it wasn’t that of a stockbroker⁶? Quite right. As a matter of fact it was yesterday Iheard from them. Poor Joanna’s handwriting is rather noticeable—sprawls about all over theenvelope like an inebriated⁷ spider.”

“What does Joanna say? Any news?”

Mrs. Allerton strove to make her voice sound casual and ordinary. The friendship between herson and his second cousin, Joanna Southwood, always irritated her. Not, as she put it to herself,that there was “anything in it.” She was quite sure there wasn’t. Tim had never manifested asentimental interest in Joanna, nor she in him. Their mutual⁸ attraction seemed to be founded ongossip and the possession of a large number of friends and acquaintances in common. They bothliked people and discussing people. Joanna had an amusing if caustic¹⁰ tongue.

It was not because Mrs. Allerton feared that Tim might fall in love with Joanna that she foundherself always becoming a little stiff in manner if Joanna were present or when letters from herarrived.

It was some other feeling hard to define—perhaps an unacknowledged jealousy¹¹ in the unfeignedpleasure Tim always seemed to take in Joanna’s society. He and his mother were such perfectcompanions that the sight of him absorbed and interested in another woman always startled Mrs.

Allerton slightly. She fancied, too, that her own presence on these occasions set some barrierbetween the two members of the younger generation. Often she had come upon them eagerlyabsorbed in some conversation and, at sight of her, their talk had wavered, had seemed to includeher rather too purposefully and as if duty bound. Quite definitely, Mrs. Allerton did not likeJoanna Southwood. She thought her insincere, affected¹², and essentially¹³ superficial. She found itvery hard to prevent herself saying so in unmeasured tones.

In answer to her question, Tim pulled the letter out of his pocket and glanced through it. It wasquite a long letter, his mother noted¹⁴.

“Nothing much,” he said. “The Devenishes are getting a divorce. Old Monty’s been had up forbeing drunk in charge of a car. Windlesham’s gone to Canada. Seems he was pretty badly hitwhen Linnet Ridgeway turned him down. She’s definitely going to marry this land agent person.”

“How extraordinary! Is he very dreadful?”

“No, no, not at all. He’s one of the Devonshire Doyles. No money, of course—and he wasactually engaged to one of Linnet’s best friends. Pretty thick, that.”

“I don’t think it’s at all nice,” said Mrs. Allerton, flushing.

Tim flashed her a quick affectionate glance.

“I know, darling. You don’t approve of snaffling other people’s husbands and all that sort ofthing.”

“In my day we had our standards,” said Mrs. Allerton. “And a very good thing too! Nowadaysyoung people seem to think they can just go about doing anything they choose.”

Tim smiled. “They don’t only think it. They do it.

Vide Linnet Ridgeway!”

“Well, I think it’s horrid¹⁵!”

Tim twinkled at her.

“Cheer up, you old die-hard! Perhaps I agree with you. Anyway, I haven’t helped myself toanyone’s wife or fiancée yet.”

“I’m sure you’d never do such a thing,” said Mrs. Allerton. She added with spirit, “I’ve broughtyou up properly.”

“So the credit is yours, not mine.”

He smiled teasingly at her as he folded the letter and put it away again. Mrs. Allerton let thethought just flash across her mind: “Most letters he shows to me. He only reads me snippets fromJoanna’s.”

But she put the unworthy thought away from her, and decided⁴, as ever, to behave like agentlewoman.

“Is Joanna enjoying life?” she asked.

“So so. Says she thinks of opening a delicatessen shop in Mayfair.”

“She always talks about being hard up,” said Mrs. Allerton with a tinge¹⁶ of spite, “but she goesabout everywhere and her clothes must cost her a lot. She’s always beautifully dressed.”

“Ah, well,” said Tim, “she probably doesn’t pay for them. No, mother, I don’t mean what yourEdwardian mind suggests to you. I just mean quite literally¹⁷ that she leaves her bills unpaid¹⁸.”

Mrs. Allerton sighed.

“I never know how people manage to do that.”

“It’s a kind of special gift,” said Tim. “If only you have sufficiently¹⁹ extravagant²⁰ tastes, andabsolutely no sense of money values, people will give you any amount of credit.”

“Yes, but you come to the Bankruptcy²¹ Court in the end like poor Sir George Wode.”

“You have a soft spot for that old horse coper—probably because he called you a rosebud²² ineighteen seventy-nine at a dance.”

“I wasn’t born in eighteen seventy-nine,” Mrs. Allerton retorted with spirit. “Sir George hascharming manners, and I won’t have you calling him a horse coper.”

“I’ve heard funny stories about him from people that know.”

“You and Joanna don’t mind what you say about people; anything will do so long as it’ssufficiently ill-natured.”

Tim raised his eyebrows²³.

“My dear, you’re quite heated. I didn’t know old Wode was such a favourite of yours.”

“You don’t realize how hard it was for him, having to sell Wode Hall. He cared terribly aboutthat place.”

Tim suppressed the easy retort. After all, who was he to judge? Instead he said thoughtfully:

“You know, I think you’re not far wrong there. Linnet asked him to come down and see whatshe’d done to the place, and he refused quite rudely.”

“Of course. She ought to have known better than to ask him.”

“And I believe he’s quite venomous about her—mutters things under his breath whenever hesees her. Can’t forgive her for having given him an absolutely top price for the worm-eaten familyestate.”

“And you can’t understand that?” Mrs. Allerton spoke²⁴ sharply.

“Frankly,” said Tim calmly, “I can’t. Why live in the past? Why cling on to things that havebeen?”

“What are you going to put in their place?”

He shrugged²⁵ his shoulders. “Excitement, perhaps. Novelty. The joy of never knowing what mayturn up from day to day. Instead of inheriting a useless tract⁹ of land, the pleasure of making moneyfor yourself—by your own brains and skill.”

“A successful deal on the Stock Exchange, in fact!”

He laughed. “Why not?”

“And what about an equal loss on the Stock Exchange?”

“That, dear, is rather tactless. And quite inappropriate today…What about this Egypt plan?”

“Well—”

He cut in smiling at her: “That’s settled. We’ve both always wanted to see Egypt.”

“When do you suggest?”

“Oh, next month. January’s about the best time there. We’ll enjoy the delightful²⁶ society in thishotel a few weeks longer.”

“Tim,” said Mrs. Allerton reproachfully. Then she added guiltily: “I’m afraid I promised Mrs.

Leech²⁷ that you’d go with her to the police station. She doesn’t understand any Spanish.”

Tim made a grimace²⁸.

“About her ring? The blood-red ruby²⁹ of the horse-leech’s daughter? Does she still persist inthinking it’s been stolen? I’ll go if you like, but it’s a waste of time. She’ll only get some wretchedchambermaid into trouble. I distinctly saw it on her finger when she went into the sea that day. Itcame off in the water and she never noticed.”

“She says she is quite sure she took it off and left it on her dressing³⁰ table.”

“Well, she didn’t. I saw it with my own eyes. The woman’s a fool. Any woman’s a fool whogoes prancing³¹ into the sea in December, pretending the water’s quite warm just because the sunhappens to be shining rather brightly at the moment. Stout³² women oughtn’t to be allowed to batheanyway; they look so revolting in bathing dresses.”

Mrs. Allerton murmured, “I really feel I ought to give up bathing.”

Tim gave a shout of laughter.

“You? You can give most of the young things points and to spare.”

Mrs. Allerton sighed and said, “I wish there were a few more young people for you here.”

Tim Allerton shook his head decidedly.

“I don’t. You and I get along rather comfortably without outside distractions³³.”

“You’d like it if Joanna were here.”

“I wouldn’t.” His tone was unexpectedly resolute³⁴. “You’re all wrong there. Joanna amuses me,but I don’t really like her, and to have her around much gets on my nerves. I’m thankful she isn’there. I should be quite resigned if I were never to see Joanna again.”

He added, almost below his breath, “There’s only one woman in the world I’ve got a realrespect and admiration³⁵ for, and I think, Mrs. Allerton, you know very well who that woman is.”

His mother blushed and looked quite confused.

Tim said gravely: “There aren’t very many really nice women in the world. You happen to beone of them.”

 

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