Christopher and Columbus (39 page)

At lunch in the hotels, and everywhere where people were
together, the signposts were discussed. Miss Heap heard them being
discussed from her solitary table, but was so much taken up with
her own exciting thoughts that she hardly noticed. After lunch,
however, as she was passing out of the restaurant, still full of
her unshared news and still uncertain as to whom she should tell it
first, Mr. Ridding called out from his table and said he supposed
she was going too.

They had been a little chilly to each other since the afternoon
of the conversation with the Twinklers, but he would have called
out to any one at that moment. He was sitting waiting while Mrs.
Ridding finished her lunch, his own lunch finished long ago, and
was in the condition of muffled but extreme exasperation which the
unoccupied watching of Mrs. Ridding at meals produced. Every day
three times this happened, that Mr. Ridding got through his meal
first by at least twenty minutes and then sat trying not to mind
Mrs. Ridding. She wasn't aware of these efforts. They would
greatly have shocked her; for to try not to mind one's wife
surely isn't what decent, loving husbands ever have to do.

"Going where?" asked Miss Heap, stopping by the table;
whereupon Mr. Ridding had the slight relief of getting up.

Mrs. Ridding continued to eat impassively.

"Following these new signposts that are all over the
place," said Mr. Ridding. "Sort of paper-chase
business."

"Yes. I'd like to. Were you thinking of going, Mrs.
Ridding?"

"After our nap," said Mrs. Ridding, steadily eating.
"I'll take you. Car at four o'clock, Albert."

She didn't raise her eyes from her plate, and as Miss Heap
well knew that Mrs. Ridding was not open to conversation during
meals and as she had nothing to say to Mr. Ridding, she expressed
her thanks and pleasure, and temporarily left them.

This was a day of shocks and thrills. When the big
limousine--symbol of Mrs. Ridding's power, for Mr. Ridding
couldn't for the life of him see why he should have to provide
a strange old lady with cars, and yet did so on an increasing scale
of splendour--arrived at the turn on the main road to San Blas
which leads into Pepper Lane and was confronted by the final
signpost pointing up it, for the first time The Open Arms and the
Twist and Twinkler party entered Miss Heap's mind in company.
So too did they enter Mr. Ridding's mind; and they only
remained outside Mrs. Ridding's because of her profound
uninterest. Her thoughts were merged in aspic. That was the worst
of aspic when it was as good as it was at the Cosmopolitan; one
wasn't able to leave off eating it quite in time, and then,
unfortunately, had to go on thinking of it afterwards.

The Twist house, remembered her companions simultaneously, was
in Pepper Lane. Odd that this other thing, whatever it was, should
happen to be there too. Miss Heap said nothing, but sat very
straight and alert, her eyes everywhere. Mr. Ridding of course said
nothing either. Not for worlds would he have mentioned the word
Twist, which so instantly and inevitably suggested that other and
highly controversial word Twinkler. But he too sat all eyes; for
anyhow he might in passing get a glimpse of the place containing
those cunning little bits of youngness, the Twinkler sisters, and
even with any luck a glimpse of their very selves.

Up the lane went the limousine, slowly because of the cars in
front of it. It was one of a string of cars, for the day was
lovely, there was no polo, and nobody happened to be giving a
party. All the way out from Acapulco they had only had to follow
other cars. Cars were going, and cars were coming back. The cars
going were full of solemn people, pathetically anxious to be
interested. The cars coming back were full of animated people who
evidently had achieved interest.

Miss Heap became more and more alert as they approached the bend
in the lane round which the Twist house was situated. She had been
there before, making a point of getting a friend to motor her past
it in order to see what she could for herself, but Mr. Ridding, in
spite of his desire to go and have a look too, had always, each
time he tried to, found Mrs. Ridding barring the way. So that he
didn't exactly know where it was; and when on turning the
corner the car suddenly stopped, and putting his head out--he was
sitting backwards--- he saw a great, old-fashioned signboard, such
as he was accustomed to in pictures of ancient English village
greens, with

The Open Arms

in medieval letters painted on it, all he said was, "Guess
we've run it to earth."

Miss Heap sat with her hands in her lap, staring. Mrs. Ridding,
her mind blocked by aspic, wasn't receiving impressions. She
gazed with heavy eyes straight in front of her. There she saw cars.
Many cars. All stopped at this particular spot. With a dull
sensation of fathomless fatigue she dimly wondered at them.

"Looks as though it's a hostelry," said Mr.
Ridding, who remembered his Dickens; and he blinked up, craning his
head out, at the signboard, on which through a gap in the branches
of the pepper trees a shaft of brilliant late afternoon sun was
striking. "Don't see one, though."

He jerked his thumb. "Up back of the trees there, I
reckon," he said.

Then he prepared to open the door and go and have a look.

A hand shot out of Miss Heap's lap at him.
"Don't," she said quickly. "Don't, Mr.
Ridding."

There was a little green gate in the thick hedge that grew
behind the pepper trees, and some people he knew, who had been in
the car in front, were walking up to it. Some other people he knew
had already got to it, and were standing talking together with what
looked like leaflets in their hands. These leaflets came out of a
green wooden box fastened on to one of the gate-posts, with the
words
Won't you take one
? painted on it.

Mr. Ridding naturally wanted to go and take one, and here was
Miss Heap laying hold of him and saying "Don't."

"Don't what?" he asked looking down at her, his
hand on the door.

"Hello Ridding," called out one of the people he knew.
"No good getting out. Show doesn't open till to-morrow at
four. Can't get in to-day. Gate's bolted. Nothing
doing."

And then the man detached himself from the group at the gate and
came over to the car with a leaflet in his hand.

"Say--" he said,--"how are you to-day, Miss Heap?
Mrs. Ridding, your humble servant--say, look at this. Teapot Twist
wasn't born yesterday when it comes to keeping things dark. No
mention of his name on this book of words, but it's the house
he was doing up all right, and it is to be used as an inn.
Afternoon-tea inn. Profits to go to the American Red Cross. Price
per head five dollars. Bit stiff, five dollars for tea. Wonder
where those Twinkler girls come in. Here--you have this, Ridding,
and study it. I'll get another." And taking off his hat a
second time to the ladies he went back to his friends.

In great agitation Miss Heap turned to Mrs. Ridding, whose mind,
galvanized by the magic words Twist and Twinkler, was slowly
heaving itself free of aspic. "Perhaps we had best go back to
the hotel, Mrs Ridding," said Miss Heap, her voice shaking.
"There's something I wish particularly to tell you. I
ought to have done so this morning, directly I knew, but I had no
idea of course that this...." She waved a hand at the
signboard, and collapsed into speechlessness.

"Albert--hotel," directed Mrs. Ridding.

And Mr. Ridding, clutching the leaflet, his face congested with
suppressed emotions, obediently handed on the order through the
speaking-tube to the chauffeur.

"It's
perfect
," said the twins, looking round the
tea-room.

This was next day, at a quarter to four. They had been looking
round saying it was perfect at intervals since the morning. Each
time they finished getting another of the little tables ready, each
time they brought in and set down another bowl of flowers they
stood back and gazed a moment in silence, and then said with one
voice, "It's
perfect
."

Mr. Twist, though the house was not, as we have seen, quite as
sober, quite as restrained in its effect as he had intended, was
obliged to admit that it did look very pretty. And so did the
Annas. Especially the Annas. They looked so pretty in the sea-blue
frocks and little Dutch caps and big muslin aprons that he took off
his spectacles and cleaned them carefully so as to have a
thoroughly uninterrupted view; and as they stood at a quarter to
four gazing round the room, he stood gazing at them, and when they
said "It's
perfect
," he said, indicating them with his thumb,
"Same here," and then they all laughed for they were all
very happy, and Mrs. Bilton, arrayed exactly as Mr. Twist had
pictured her when he engaged her in handsome black, her white hair
beautifully brushed and neat, crossed over to the Annas and gave
each of them a hearty kiss--for luck, she said--which Mr. Twist
watched with an odd feeling of jealousy.

"I'd like to do that," he thought, filled with a
sudden desire to hug. Then he said it out loud. "I'd like
to do that," he said boldly. And added, "As it's the
opening day."

"I don't think it would afford you any permanent
satisfaction," said Anna-Felicitas placidly. "There's
nothing really to be gained, we think, by kissing. Of course,"
she added politely to Mrs. Bilton, "we like it very much as an
expression of esteem."

"Then why not in that spirit--" began Mr. Twist.

"We don't hold with kissing," said Anna-Rose
quickly, turning very red. Intolerable to be kissed
en famille
. If it had to be done at all, kissing should be
done quietly, she thought. But she and Anna-Felicitas didn't
hold with it anyhow. Never. Never. To her amazement she found tears
in her eyes. Well, of all the liquid idiots.... It must be that she
was so happy. She had never been so happy. Where on earth had her
handkerchief got to....

"Hello," said Mr. Twist, staring at her.

Anna-Felicitas looked at her quickly.

"It's merely bliss," she said, taking the corner
of her beautiful new muslin apron to Christopher's eyes.
"Excess of it. We are, you know," she said, smiling over
her shoulder at Mr. Twist, so that the corner of her apron, being
undirected, began dabbing at Christopher's perfectly tearless
ears, "quite extraordinarily happy, and all through you.
Nevertheless Anna-R." she continued, addressing her with
firmness while she finished her eyes and began her nose, "You
may like to be reminded that there's only ten minutes left now
before all those cars that were here yesterday come again, and you
wouldn't wish to embark on your career as a waitress hampered
by an ugly face, would you?"

But half an hour later no cars had come. Pepper Lane was still
empty. The long shadows lay across it in a beautiful quiet, and the
crickets in the grass chirruped undisturbed. Twice sounds were
heard as if something was coming up it, and everybody flew to their
posts--Li Koo to the boiling water, Mrs. Bilton to her raised desk
at the end of the room, and the twins to the door--but the sounds
passed on along the road and died away round the next corner.

At half-past four the
personnel
of The Open Arms was sitting about silently in a
state of increasing uneasiness, when Mr. Ridding walked in.

There had been no noise of a car to announce him; he just walked
in mopping his forehead, for he had come in the jitney omnibus to
the nearest point and had done the last mile on his own
out-of-condition feet. Mrs. Ridding thought he was writing letters
in the smoking-room. She herself was in a big chair on the
verandah, and with Miss Heap and most of the other guests was
discussing The Open Arms in all its probable significance. He
hadn't been able to get away sooner because of the nap. He had
gone through with the nap from start to finish so as not to rouse
suspicion. He arrived very hot, but with a feeling of dare-devil
running of risks that gave him great satisfaction. He knew that he
would cool down again presently and that then the consequences of
his behaviour would be unpleasant to reflect upon, but meanwhile
his blood was up.

He walked in feeling not a day older than thirty,--most
gratifying sensation. The
personnel
, after a moment's open-mouthed surprise,
rushed to greet him. Never was a man more welcome. Never had Mr.
Ridding been so warmly welcomed anywhere in his life.

"Now isn't this real homey," he said, beaming at
Anna-Rose who took his stick. "Wish I'd known you were
going to do it, for then I'd have had something to look forward
to."

"Will you have tea or coffee?" asked Anna-Felicitas,
trying to look very solemn and like a family butler but her voice
quivering with eagerness. "Or perhaps you would prefer frothed
chocolate? Each of these beverages can be provided either hot or
iced--"

"There's ice-cream as well," said Anna-Rose,
tumultuously in spite of also trying to look like a family butler.
"
I'd
have ice-cream if I were you. There's more
body in it. Cold, delicious body. And you look so hot. Hot things
should always as soon as possible be united to cold things, so as
to restore the proper balance--"

"And there's some heavenly stuff called
cinnamon-toast--hot, you know, but if you have ice-cream at the
same time it won't matter," said Anna-Felicitas, hanging
up his hat for him. "I don't know whether you've
studied the leaflets," she continued, "but in case you
haven't I feel I oughtn't to conceal from you that the
price is five dollars whatever you have."

"So that," said Anna-Rose, "you needn't
bother about trying to save, for you can't."

"Then I'll have tea to start with and see how I get
on," said Mr. Ridding, sitting down in the chair
Anna-Felicitas held for him and beaming up at her.