CHAPTER 8
By the time Jeanette grew up money was tight, tighter than it had ever been, although she couldn’t really remember a time when there had been enough. She left school at the earliest possible opportunity and went to work. To be precise, she was told to leave school, and sent to work. A dead end job, naturally, one of a series in her youth, but one that contributed to the family finances. Given her background, she might well have joined the army of unpaid skivvies, young women made old before their time through looking after an ageing and ungrateful parent. That she didn’t could be laid at the door of Walrus. No, not a walrus. Not even The Walrus. This Walrus was simply a young man who had caught Jeanette’s eye at a party. She had almost turned the invitation down, having a slight cold at the time, but realising that party invitations didn’t come her way very often, had dosed herself with pills and powders, and sat in an armchair in the corner next to the fire, feeling only slightly miserable. It was then that a young man had come over to speak to her, and having joined her, stayed with her the entire evening, escorting her home afterwards.
They became regular friends, and clearly rather more than just friends. Not that he had so much money to splash about, but that never seemed to matter, as they were happy simply to be in each other’s company. Long walks and a cup of tea each in the local cafe was hardly high living, yet both were content. Conversation, often of an unusual nature, made up for what many another might see as a deficiency.
’Isn’t it about time you bought yourself another hat, Walrus?’ asked the girl on one of their regular meetings outdoors. ’The one you’re wearing looks awfully shabby.’
’I’m very fond of this hat,’ replied Walrus. ’I intend to propose to you in it.’
’The proposal I don’t object to, but that hat is something else. How about a nice tweed cap. It would make you look very distinguished and countrified.’
Walrus pondered the point for a moment, then shook his head sadly.
’I might be mistaken for a noble lord, and asked for my autograph,’ he said. ’I’m a shy person, really. Such fame is not for the likes of me. No, I think I’ll stick to the tried and tested. Besides, this hat could tell a story or two if it was asked.’
’It’s a lovely day, Walrus, why do you want to spoil it?’
Walrus looked around. A day it might have been, but by no stretch of the imagination could it be described as lovely. To say it was raining was an understatement. Other places have rain, he thought bitterly. Here it attacks. Assaults. Assails.
’Have you noticed the weather?’ he asked casually. ’The rain is coming down strong enough to strip the paintwork off a car.’
’It’s a bit heavy, I admit, but all I see on the ground is water. No pools of paint at all. Do you think that could be a tribute to the expertise of modern motor manufacturers?’
’Could be,’ said Walrus. ’Never having owned a car, I’m not really in a position to say.’
At least they were dry. Just. Streams of water ran rapidly past, only a handsbreadth from their feet. The tree under which they were sheltering had a thick enough canopy to keep out all but the occasional raindrop, most of which seemed to be aimed at the back of the neck. Even so, it was better than nothing. Half a dozen steps on the path outside would have been enough to soak anyone to the skin.
’Luckily I’m an outdoor girl. I don’t mind this sort of weather, although I have to admit I don’t really fancy getting wet.’
’If you did,’ said Walrus hopefully, but without any expectation, ’you could always come back to my place and change your clothing.’
’All my spare clothes are in my own place,’ she said, in a tone of voice which suggested that that line of conversation was firmly closed.
’You’re a lovely girl, you know. You can’t really blame me for trying.’
’I don’t. In fact, I’d be rather disappointed if you didn’t. But back to the hat. If you’re not going to buy another, you might at least let it tell one of the stories you claim it knows. After all, we can’t go anywhere until this rain eases, and if I snuggle in like this, you can keep me warm. Afterwards, you can buy me a nice cup of tea. And a sticky bun.’
’What!’ exclaimed Walrus, sounding aghast. ’You mean I have to pay you to listen to my stories? Wrong way round, my girl. They’re super stories. You’re supposed to pay me. That’s called tradition.’
’Alright,’ she said equably. ’I’ll buy you a nice cup of tea. And a sticky bun.’
’Don’t like sticky buns,’ said Walrus. ’They make a mess of my moustache. Eating first and drinking afterwards should wash the crumbs off, but it doesn’t seem to work very well. I could always cut it off, I suppose.’
’Don’t you dare,’ said the girl. ’I like that moustache. It tickles in all the right places.’
’You’re right. I have to keep it. It’s the only bit of hair I have on my head. I don’t really want to look like a new born baby. That’s why I wear a hat. It’s the only way to keep my head warm.’
’I know a better way of keeping warm,’ said the girl, as she snuggled in closer.
’So do I,’ said Walrus, ’but you won’t come back to my place.’
’Not in this rain,’ she said. ’And before you ask, not when it dries up either. Not as an innocent young spinster, anyway.’
‘As a guilty married woman, then?’ asked Walrus innocently.
Jeanette simply looked at him until he changed the topic.
’I’ve always hated rain and cold,’ said Walrus. ’That’s why I’ve travelled so much, in order to get as much sunshine as possible. Spain, Italy, Malta, Africa. That was years ago, of course, long before I met you. I had money then. Not rich, you understand, but I did have money.’
’Nonsense, Walrus. You’re the richest man I know. You’ve got me, remember? And as for not being able to travel, have you forgotten where we met? At Alison’s party, only last year. I know it was only ten miles away, but you had to take the bus to get there. And I’m going to buy you a cup of tea, once I’ve heard your story.’
’Don’t forget the sticky bun,’ said Walrus.
’I thought you said you didn’t like sticky buns.’
’Not totally true. It’s my moustache that doesn’t like them. Speaking for myself, I’m rather partial to them. And anyway, it’s not really my story. It’s my hat’s.’
’Well.’
’Oh, the story. Yes. Well, as I said, I’m rather partial to sunshine, and one of my favourite places in which to find it is Italy. I’ve been there several times. Florence at Easter is lovely.’
’Who is this Florence woman? You’re supposed to be engaged to me.’
’I haven't actually proposed yet, so officially I’m not engaged to anyone. I could do it here, but I’d get awfully wet. Probably get housemaid’s knee, or pneumonia, and you’d be a widow before getting married, if that’s not a contradiction in terms.’
’It is. Tell me about Florence.’
’She’s warm. Lots of culture. Very old. I’ll take you there one day, and you can have your portrait done by Scarfi outside the Uffizi. That’s if he’s still there, of course. He might be famous by now and charge a lot more than the 7500 lira he used to ask for. I’m not so rich.’
’You’re nice, Walrus. Sometimes I quite like you.’
’Anyway, this story isn’t really about Florence at all, but more about an incident that happened when on the way there. I was flying from Newcastle at the time. It’s only a small airport even now, and was a lot smaller then, but convenient and friendly.’
’I would have thought that only people could be friendly.’
’Doubtless you don’t know too much about airports,’ said Walrus consideringly. ’Why, Newcastle is one of the friendliest airports in the country.’
’What about all the security checks they do nowadays? I wouldn’t have thought that they were very pleasant.’
’But necessary, though. As it happens, this was in the early days of tightened security at airports, during the time when hijacking was becoming depressingly common. No matter where you intended going, it seemed to be a question of pure luck as to whether you would actually arrive at your set destination, or in some other, less hospitable part of the world. Not that I’ve been too particular about where I travel as long as there is sunshine at the end of the journey, but I prefer not to have my choices dictated at gunpoint.’
’That sounds reasonable,’ said the girl. ’If you’ve paid for Florence, I suppose it is Florence you want to see, though I’m not sure I approve of all these strange women I’ve never been introduced to, however old and respectable they may be.’
’Quite right. Of course, nothing was as sophisticated as you can find nowadays, but the airport did have its share of checks and strange looking machinery, and it did seem to do the job for which it was designed. At any rate, we did get to Pisa airport, which is where we were heading for, and on time too.’
There was a long silence. The rain eased, and the rivulets of water retreated half a pace. A sudden gust of wind blew a few splashes on to the sheltering couple. They gave a mutual shiver and tried to draw even closer together.
’Is that it?’ asked the girl.
’What?’ said Walrus.
’Is that the end of the story? Because if it is, I would like my cup of tea now.’
’Not quite,’ said Walrus. ’I was just remembering something. Before we were allowed on to the plane, everybody had to undergo a body search.’
’Nice, if you like that sort of thing.’
’I suppose it all depends on who is searching you. I could demonstrate if you like.’
’Some other time, Walrus. Maybe after we are married. If you ever get around to making that proposal you are always threatening.’
’Only maybe?’ asked Walrus, trying to sound disappointed and succeeding very well. ’Anyway, it was nothing rigorous or very exciting, consisting only of a security guard running his hands over people’s clothing.’
’I don’t think I would like a security guard running his hands over my clothing,’ said the girl. ’At least not if I wasn’t married to one.’
’Oh, I think they had women guards for that, although I don’t suppose you would care for that any better. When it came to my turn, I was asked to remove my hat, so the guard could check that there was nothing hidden inside.’
’That must have been quite a surprise to him. I think I can see the punch line coming up.’
’Yes. I did as he asked, naturally, but I told him that if he found anything underneath, please to let me know so that I could begin visiting the hairdresser again. That’s why I’m very fond of this hat. It brings back pleasant memories.’
’You’re not self conscious about losing your hair, are you?’ asked the girl.
’Of course not. When did you ever know me to be terribly self conscious about anything? I was thinking though, that it gives me a definition of middle age. It’s when you find more hair in the comb than on your head. Not that I’ve used a comb in years.’
The girl chuckled again. ’What about that cup of tea?’
’Don’t forget the sticky bun. I want mine with pink icing. White icing looks like grey hair in my moustache and all appearances to the contrary, I’m not old enough to have grey hair.’
’The odd grey streak in your hair is supposed to make you look distinguished,’ said the girl reflectively. ’At least if you’re a man. I forgot though, you don’t care for being mistaken for anyone famous and having to give your autograph. Not that I think there’s much chance of that happening here. You are fairly well known in the town, after all.’
They scurried away like excitable children, trying to dodge the still falling raindrops. The cafe, there was only the one, stood forlorn at the other end of the long main street. Lights, almost as dull as the day itself, struggled to pierce the gloom and offer a welcome to any passer by, a welcome not greatly extended by the assistant, who gave the impression of having the sort of day that starts off by being thoroughly depressing and goes rapidly downhill all the way.
’At least the tea is hot,’ said Walrus. ’Well, warm anyway.’
’How do you know? You haven’t tasted it yet.’
’I tripped on the mat and spilled some on my finger. It didn’t hurt a bit.’
’You’re very brave, Walrus, but you’re an awful liar. There is no mat. Not in this cafe. Never has been.’
’That’s very observant of you, but you have to understand that I tripped over where the mat would have been if there had been one. It’s the principle of the thing, you see. It all fits in with the sort of day it is.’
The girl gave her companion a steady look that gave a rise to a pleasant sensation inside, and almost, but not quite, made him feel uncomfortable.
’Apart from the fact that it is still raining, just what sort of day have you in mind?’ she asked.
Walrus returned with another question.
’Have you ever thought,’ he asked, ’that there are some aspects of life which are beyond the control of any ordinary man? Indeed, they may be beyond the control of anyone, ordinary or not.’
His companion gave him another steady look, but offered an encouraging smile to go with it. Walrus could be relied upon to while away an odd half hour on almost any topic that anyone cared to name. Not that the present circumstances appeared to offer any real possibilities, but better by far than a socially cold house. It had been, and still was, one of those dull, listless, uninteresting days when nothing seemed to be worth even the minimum effort. Wet, grey looking people scurried in to the cafe and slumped disinterestedly over a lukewarm drink that might have been almost anything, before wearily drifting out again. It was really Betty’s Olde Englishe Tea Shoppe, but Walrus always maintained that that was far too grand a title for what was just a very ordinary cafe. Even so, it was popular amongst all the classes of society to be found in that little market town, at least on any day that encouraged people to stir from the comfort of their own homes. Today though, the cafe was almost empty, so that Walrus and his companion were able to sit in the favoured corner seat undisturbed.
Walrus tugged gently at the double growth drooping almost forlornly from his upper lip, and which had given him his nickname. That he had another, real name, was almost certain, but what it was had been forgotten over the years by all except his closest intimates. It was a magnificent growth, albeit of an unusual shape. Anyone else would have been secretly proud of it. Walrus, being the sort of man he was, was openly proud.
’Do you ever get the feeling that inanimate objects are ganging up on you, as though in revenge for all the mistreatment they have to undergo at your hands? Not meaning your hands in particular, but hands in general,’ he asked.
’I know exactly what you mean,’ she replied with feeling. ’I broke a finger nail this morning, don’t ask me how. I hardly noticed it until the wretched thing scratched my leg in a place I’m not going to show you. And, of course, today is the one day I’m without either nail scissors or nail file. Yes, there’s a certain malevolence there, I’m sure.’
Walrus remonstrated gently. ’That’s not quite what I meant. Finger nails are not really inanimate, at least not in the way I was thinking of. I agree, they don’t do very much except get broken at inconvenient moments, but they do grow, and they are, to a certain extent, under your control.’
She shook her head in amusement.
’That may be,’ she said. ’But they are not very controlled today, I can assure you. But do go on. Tell me what you have in mind. You’re going to do so anyway, so I might as well give you my permission.’
’I think you like my stories,’ said Walrus.
’I do,’ said the girl. ’I’m waiting to hear one. The second today, don’t forget.’
’I like this girl,’ murmured Walrus, only half to himself. ’Why don’t we get married?’
’You haven’t asked me. Where’s the story?’
Walrus returned to the subject in hand. He glanced around the cafe and peered with difficulty into the rain soaked street beyond the misted up window.
’It’s on days like this that inanimate objects really come into their own,’ he mused. ’We are at a low ebb. Life is more than unusually difficult under these circumstances, as your nail let you know this morning. It’s hard enough simply to keep going and cope with the daily routine without having to watch out for the malignancy of things which don’t have the sense to behave in the way they ought.’
’Such as what?’
’You sound a trifle dubious. But bear with me. Now I admit that a cafe, even that rejoicing in an unnecessarily grand title such as the one this bears, seems to offer little to bear out my observations, but look around you. What do you see?’
’What I would expect to see in a cafe, I suppose,’ she said, not looking round at all.
’Well?’
’Well, tables, coat hooks, a serving counter, still with a miserable looking assistant behind it, though who could blame her on a day like this?’
’She only works here,’ said Walrus. ’Not being the owner, she obviously doesn’t feel the need to look especially pleasant. Not that the owner looks any better, mind you. Go on.’
’Benches around the tables. No problem there as long as you don’t get yourself wedged in the corner and can’t reach your cup properly. What else? Cups and saucers, of course. Spoons, milk jug, a sugar bowl.’
’What’s in the sugar bowl?’ breathed Walrus hoarsely.
’Sugar?’
’You’re getting close. What else?’
She inspected the sugar bowl gravely. ’I don’t suppose a couple of tea leaves is the answer you’re looking for. Well then. Sugar tongs.’
’Right,’ said Walrus, with a sigh of satisfaction, leaning back heavily. He gazed at her face with an expression partly, but not entirely connected with sugar tongs.
’Sugar tongs?’
’Sugar tongs. Look at them.’
She held them up before her eyes, turning them this way and that.
’They look quite ordinary to me. What am I supposed to see?’
’Observe them carefully,’ said Walrus, putting on his best schoolmaster’s voice. He wasn’t actually a schoolmaster, but was often mistaken for one. ’You will see that to all intents and purposes they are an ordinary pair of sugar tongs, chrome plated, stamped with the manufacturer’s mark on the inside where it is impossible to read, and apparently designed just for the purpose of picking up individual lumps of sugar.’
’Only if you happen to take sugar in your tea. Or coffee.’
’Exactly. Now in the interests of keeping your lovely slim figure - a thing I approve of wholeheartedly - you don’t do that, so you won’t have noticed anything sinister about these sugar tongs. Not only these, but every pair of sugar tongs that have ever been made. Now observe carefully.’
Picking up the tongs delicately, and taking care not to move the tips relative to each other, Walrus attempted to take hold of a sugar lump. He failed to do so. He tried again. Once again he failed. He offered them to the girl.
’You try,’ he said. ’Take care not to spread the tips at all.’
’I see what you mean,’ she said, after several futile efforts. ’The tips are too close together.’
’It’s always the same. I’ve never actually measured how wide a sugar lump is, and there are variations anyway, but whatever the measurement, the tongs that are in any given sugar bowl are always a fraction too small to grip the sugar lumps that are provided for it.’
She looked at him seriously, almost soberly. ’What do you think it all means?’ she asked.
’I don’t know, but I've called it Walrus’s First Sugar Tong Law.’
’You mean there’s another?’
’Yes. I call it Walrus’s Second Sugar Tong Law.’
’Fairly predictably,’ she said.
’As you say. But watch again.’
Carefully, Walrus spread the tips of the tongs and slid them over a sugar lump. Releasing the tips, and holding the other end in a conventional fashion, he lifted the tongs, by now with a lump of sugar gripped at the tips.
’That’s clever, Walrus. I doubt if many people would have thought of that.’
’You miss the point. This is only the start. Here, take the tongs and drop the sugar in your cup. Single handed, mind.’
She tried, and failed. The sugar lump stayed firmly in position. She gave a little shake. Nothing happened. Harder. Still nothing happened. She tried opening the tips a fraction, using only the one hand as she had been bid. The tongs twisted between her fingers as though they had a mind of their own, sugar went on a one way trip to the floor, and tongs clattered noisily on to the table top.
’I did that once,’ said Walrus. ’It hit the waitress in the eye. She wasn’t very pleased, but luckily she couldn’t decide who was responsible. I just paid my bill and walked out with head erect so she wouldn’t suspect it was me. But don’t worry. Nobody’s watching. They never do. I think it’s something to do with the fact that they don’t wish to get involved with something as mean and nasty as sugar tongs. We’ve all been through it, you see. You have nothing but sympathy. But you see what I mean? You can never pick anything up with the tongs, and if you do, you can never release it properly. I haven’t taken sugar in my tea in public for years, though goodness knows I would like to.’
’You’re an idiot, Walrus,’ said the girl. ’How do you account for it? The tongs, I mean.’
’Ah, well, I’m not too sure about that. I did have a theory once that it was just a matter of poor design, but there are so many designs of sugar tongs you wouldn’t believe me if I told you the number, and that’s in this country alone. They can’t all have been designed by the same person. Then I thought that perhaps the whole thing was due to someone with a grudge against places that call themselves Olde English, or something else which offends against natural decency. I once assumed that this mysterious person was going around with a pair of pliers and adjusting fractionally all the sugar tongs ever used. It was a jolly good theory, but it seems doubtful that anyone would have the time. Anyway, there’s nothing remotely Olde Englishe in Norway, and sugar tongs don’t work properly there, either. Incidentally, that’s a nice place. We might go there on honeymoon.’
’As I said, you’re an idiot, Walrus, but in the nicest possible way. I think I might marry you after all. If you ask me, of course. Then we might think about a honeymoon. Afterwards.’
’I could ask you here if you like. Would you like me to get down on one knee?’
’That won’t be necessary,’ she replied gravely. ’I don’t want you to kneel on the sugar lump I dropped. You might hurt yourself, and I would spend all my married life looking after a helpless invalid.’
’You’re very thoughtful,’ said Walrus, ’but I’ll do it anyway.’
Walrus bent before his companion, squeezing into a corner between bench and table.
’I say,’ he said. ’I can see where you scratched your leg this morning.’
The girl closed her knees firmly together, and she regarded him primly, though with a twinkle of amusement in her eyes.
’I’ve already told you I’m not showing you that, at any rate not before we put our relationship on a firmer footing.’
’Oh. Well in that case, Mary Elizabeth Ann, will you do me the honour of joining me in a state of holy matrimony just as soon as we can get the formalities put into motion?’
‘My name isn’t Mary Elizabeth Ann, as you very well know,’ she said in mock severity.
‘True. Very true. Well in that case, Jeanette, will you do me the honour of joining me in a state of holy matrimony just as soon as we can get the formalities put into motion?’
’Why Walrus, what a surprise. A young maiden must have time to think. All right, I’ve thought long enough. Yes please. You may consider yourself an engaged person.’
’There’s something else,’ said Walrus. ’The ring.’
She pursed her lips, and looked at him with an odd expression.
’The ring?’ she said hesitantly.
’Knew you’d forgotten something,’ said Walrus. ’It’s the strain of having new responsibilities, you see. Drove the matter clean out of your mind. What about this?’
So saying, he drew a box out of his pocket and opened it carefully. Nestling on a deep maroon velvet pad was a ring, whose small stones flashed and glittered in the weak overhead light.
’Oh Walrus, I think I’m going to cry.’
Trying it on, she exclaimed with delight. ‘It’s a perfect fit as well. You clever man. How did you guess my size?’
‘I didn’t. Guess, that is. I borrowed one of your gloves. You remember, that one you thought you’d lost and couldn’t find again. I tried to get it back to you later, but I couldn’t find an opportunity of doing so.’
‘You idiot Walrus,’ said Jeanette again. ‘But I love you for it.’
Walrus. Jeanette still thought of him with deep affection, even though he was no longer in the house, hadn’t been for years. Oh, they had got married in the face of Catriona’s opposition, one of the last occasions Jeanette had defied her mother. For a long time Catriona wouldn’t visit, but came round eventually with bad grace. Jeanette considered it was better when there was still an estrangement, but feelings of duty combined with not a little fear combined to make Catriona a regular, if unwanted visitor. She had interfered mercilessly in all their doings, carping and criticising constantly. Walrus, who by that time had reverted to his given name, had taken it especially badly when he wasn’t permitted a free hand in the upbringing of his own children. There had been arguments, leading later to open quarrels, quarrels which had led to the younger child Lynn crying and asking her parents why they were always fighting. It had all ended when her father left the house, very calmly, saying that he couldn’t take any more.
Jeanette had found him packing a suitcase after a particularly nasty scene during an unwanted and extended visit by Catriona.
‘What are you doing, Ted?’ asked Jeanette, a question that scarcely needed an answer, his actions being self evident.
‘Packing,’ he said in a level tone of voice. ‘I’m sorry Jeanette, but I can’t take any more of this. It’s time you stood up to your mother, refused her access to the house. At the least, move without telling her where we are going. But what’s the use. We’ve been through all this before. I’ve tried, I’ve really tried, but I cannot get on with her. This latest episode is the last straw. You do nothing to help, so I’m leaving.’
‘Leaving? How long for?’
‘For as long as it needs,’ he said.
‘But you’ll come back?’ begged Jeanette.
He looked grim. ‘Yes, when that interfering, vicious old busybody stops coming here and taking charge. I’ll leave you an address, Jeanette. Let me know when it happens.’
Well, it never had happened. The separation led inevitably to a more permanent estrangement. Jeanette lost her husband and Lynn her father, a father she remembered only dimly, yet with affection.