House That Berry Built (11 page)

“Joseph,” said I, “why didn’t you mention your uncle? I think he’s the man for us.”

“Monsieur,” was the reply, “one should not commend one’s relations, however good they may be. But I am very glad you have found him. His work will be very well done; and, for me, it is always pleasant to labour with someone one knows.”

That day the plans were passed and Felix Arripe, plumber, was appointed to practise his mystery on our behalf.

We felt that the choice was wise. His showroom was not garnished with coloured porcelain baths; but on his shelves were the catalogues of all the principal firms. He had but three workmen; but then he worked himself. About wholesale and retail prices he was almost distressingly frank. His reference was first-class. Finally, we were quite sure that, had he been Joseph’s twin, Joseph would not have commended a man whom he did not trust.

By the first of September, Hadrian’s Wall and its wings were twenty-seven feet high.

Within the space which the wall and its wings enclosed, ten pillars or piers had been founded, to carry the beams upon which the platform would rest. Pillars, piers, beams and platform would all be of ferro-concrete, and all would be welded together into one whole.

The doorway in the western wing not only was now finished but admitted to a fine level floor, some ninety feet long by fifteen; and the brothers had already arranged for a cable to be run from the valley which would bring electricity up; so that when they started work upon the platform, the men who were working below should have plenty of light. But that work could not be begun, till Hadrian’s Wall had reached its appointed height.

Ferro-concrete is this – rods or grilles of steel, sunk in a very strong mixture of pebbles, sand and cement. The steel must be laid in position: and when it is as it should be, the mixture is poured and rammed all round the steel. The mixture must, therefore, be liquid – not, of course, like water, but rather like very thick gruel. But gruel will not stick to a thing, unless it is held. So, beneath or around the steel, there must be a layer or coffer; and this is of wood. Once the concrete has set, the wood can be taken away: but it must be there to hold up the steel and the concrete, until the latter has set. Such work is called shuttering – and costs very nearly as much as the ferro-concrete itself. Since the area of the platform would be some six thousand square feet, six thousand square feet of shuttering had to be done: and every pier and beam must be coffered, or boxed about.

Already the lorries were bringing up piles of rough planks and pit-props…

The site was becoming an eyesore – a scar on the countryside.

The weather was still very fair and the days were immensely hot. We had had next to no rain, and only once had a storm interfered with the work. The
ruisseau
was running low, but still gave water enough for the masons’ needs. So far we had had no frost.

Everyone now was working with all his might.

On Monday, September the seventh, the steel began to arrive. The rods were of all sizes – some as thick as a pencil and some as thick as my wrist.

“Ah,” said Jonah. “And now we can do something better than lend a hand.”

He hastened in search of Joseph, and after a moment or so, the two went into the hut.

When they emerged, Jonah beckoned…

“Joseph is going to teach us to make a grille. He’s going to make one as a pattern. And when he has made it, then we shall make the rest. That will mean he has four more men to put on the other work.”

“Four?” said Berry.

“Four,” said Jonah. “You’ll soon get into the knack.”

“It is hard on the hands,” said Joseph, and picked up a pair of cutters, as long as my arm.

We followed him up to the doorway, set in the western wing. Behind us, two workmen were bearing a sheaf of rods.

As we all passed on to the concrete—

“Observe, Messieurs,” said Joseph, “the very great value of a work-room right on a building site. It is, indeed, without price.”

In a flash he had drawn his rule, had measured a length on the concrete and marked it off: very soon he had chalked a rectangle, roughly six feet by three. Then he picked up a rod, measured a length of two metres, took the cutters from Carson and cut the piece off. Ten such lengths he cut: then he laid them upon the rectangle which he had chalked. Then he cut twenty lengths of one metre and laid these across the lengths already in place. More or less evenly spaced, they made a rough grille.

“Messieurs will observe,” said Joseph, “that the ends of the rods protrude from the rectangle which I have drawn.”

He picked up a coil of soft wire, snipped two inches from this and tied together a couple of rods where they crossed. This he did again and again, until, when he lifted the grille, the rods did not move. Then he turned the grille about and bent the protruding ends over, two at a time. But he only bent over the ends of the one-metre rods.

“The others I leave,” he explained, “for they will hook on to the bars which wait to receive them, which will hold the grilles in their place.” He rose to his feet. “Well, Messieurs, there is the pattern. Of these, we shall need thirty-six; but the others will not be so big. It is but dull work, but it must be carefully done. And, as I have said, you will find it hard on the hands.”

“That’s quite all right,” said Jonah. “A pair of pliers, perhaps, just to bend the ends of the rods.”

“I send them at once,” said Joseph, and left us alone.

“Now let’s get this straight,” said Berry, possessing himself of the rule. “I’ll do the measuring off, Carson can do the cutting, Boy will lay them in place and you’ll tie them up.”

“Give me the rule,” said Jonah. “Two to a grille.”

With that, he drew a fresh rectangle, six feet away from the first.

As he stood up—

“You’ll work with me – I know you. And Carson will work with Boy.”

Berry swallowed.

“As you please,” he said. “All the same—”

“I shall do the cutting and laying, and you will do the ties.”

“I shall lacerate my fingers,” said Berry.

“Just to begin with,” said Jonah, mercilessly.

I picked up Joseph’s grille, to lay it aside. To my surprise, I found that it weighed a great deal. And Joseph had turned it about, as though it were a page of a book.

And there you are.

Joseph had made his grille in ten minutes of time. And he had been working alone. Carson and I took eighteen minutes exactly; and the others – thanks to Berry – took twenty-four. I felt most deeply ashamed…

Still, we did improve.

Before the day was out, Carson and I held the record with eight minutes dead; and Jonah and Berry had done it in under ten.

Joseph had left us alone – except that from time to time more rods were brought up. But at four o’clock he appeared, to see what we had done.

When he saw the piles of grilles, he pulled off the little beret he always wore.

“Messieurs,” he said, “I make you my compliments. If I had four workmen like you, what could I not achieve? What is more, I need not check them. I know they are true to the pattern in every way.”

“It’s our house,” said Berry, licking the blood from his fingers and wiping the sweat from his face.

Joseph smiled.

“And if it was not, Monsieur, they would be just the same. I know. It is
amour propre
. If one were to do bad work, one would not be able to sleep.”

Between us, we made all the grilles, while the men who should have made them did other work.

The steel cores of the pillars were boxed in the next two days, and, before the week was out, they had been embedded in concrete for almost the whole of their height. In every case a foot of steel was left bare; this would run into the beam which the pillar would help to support, so that pillar and beam would be locked together with concrete – so locked that even an earthquake could never tear them apart.

On Thursday the wings were finished; the cores of the beams were laid on that and the following day; and, as they were laid, they were coffered. By Saturday afternoon this work had been completed, and all the coffers were propped. And on Saturday evening Hadrian’s Wall was done – six weeks to the day since we saw its foundations laid.

It was, I think, a great triumph to have raised such a wall in six weeks; but a much more signal achievement remained to be won. In a word, in the following week, the steel-work of the platform had to be laid – and tied to that of the beams as well as to that of the girdle which was to lie on the top of the wings and the wall; and the platform had to be shuttered – that is to say, a staging had to be built beneath where the platform would lie, to hold up steel and concrete, until the latter had set. All this must be done in one week. And then, if the weather permitted, the concrete could be run in.

Till now I have said nothing of the interest our venture aroused not only in Lally and Besse but the neighbouring countryside. Any building upon Evergreen was bound to excite remark; rumour apart, such a thing could be seen for miles. Husbandmen could see it from the meadows and shepherds could gaze upon it from many a mountain lawn; from a third of the rooms in Lally, observation upon its progress could well be kept: and every car that used the main road on the farther side of the valley could keep the construction in view for more than a mile. Any building on such a site was bound to arrest the eye; as for Hadrian’s Wall…

I tremble to think of the number of working hours which were lost in contemplation of that great work of men’s hands. Husbandmen neglected their labour; flocks and herds cared for themselves; people sat still at windows, propping binoculars; the road between Lally and Besse became a promenade; and once I counted six cars drawn up by the side of the way, directly across the valley, two crow’s miles off. At first we declined to believe that people journeyed from Pau to see what we had done, but Therèse declared it was so, and at last I proved it myself.

On the Sunday morning which followed the actual completion of the wall, Berry and I walked leisurely up to the site. Daphne and Jill and Jonah had gone to Church. As we passed the elegant meadow, we saw four people ahead in the midst of the way – two men and two women, all French, engaged in argument. Their gestures left no doubt that they were discussing the wall.

As we made to pass by—

“
Pardon, Messieurs
,” said a voice.

The elder of the two men was speaking.

“It is possible that you can assist us. You see, we have come from Pau, to see this important construction of which we have heard. Even now, we dispute the matter.”

“How can I help you?” I said.

“Monsieur, we were informed that a château was being built. Very well. The walls are there: before long the roof will go on. But where are the windows that such a château should have?”

“That’s not the house,” I said. “That wall will support a platform upon which the house will be built.”

The other man put in his oar.

“I cannot accept that,” he said. He pointed to the construction. “Those are plainly the walls of the château, and there on the left is the doorway in which the front door will be hung. Some steps, no doubt, will approach it: and a porch of glass will protect it against the rain.”

One of the women leaned forward.

“My husband,” she said, “is expert. His cousin is a building-contractor with whom we are on excellent terms.”

Berry picked up his cue.

“A building-contractor?” he cried. He took off his hat. “I salute a colleague. I have a step-aunt who is a bricklayer’s mate.” He laid a hand upon my shoulder. “I present my wife’s brother – also, alas, my cousin. He has spent many years in prison, but is reformed. He will very shortly take orders.”

The eyes of his audience were starting out of their heads.

“And now for the problem,” said Berry. “Did I understand you to say that a flight of steps will protect the porch from the rain?”

With a visible effort, ‘the expert’ marshalled his wits.

“The – the château has no windows,” he stammered. “We perceive a doorway worthy of such a house: but we have been finding it strange that there should be no windows through which the occupants might consider this very beautiful view.”

Berry roared with laughter and clapped him upon the back.

“My old friend and colleague,” he chirruped, “you are behind the times. An architect from Paris has designed this residence. Those who live there will do so by artificial light. It is the rage, you know. In all the best quarters of Paris the windows are being filled in.”

The Frenchman swallowed.

“But that,” he said, “is formidable. To build a house in the sunshine and live in the dark.”

“Everyone to his taste,” said Berry. “And how did you leave my uncle?”

The other put a hand to his head.

“Monsieur, I think, mistakes me for somebody else. I have not the honour—”

“You are Monsieur Le Dung,” said Berry. “We met in Montmartre one morning at two o’clock. My uncle was regrettably drunk; and you and Fifi were—”

“Never,” shouted the other. “I am not Monsieur Le Dung.”

“That was the name,” said Berry, “which Fifi used. Ah, Fifi!” He blew a kiss into the air. “Never mind. The next time you see my uncle—”

“I tell you,” screamed the other, “that you have made a mistake. I do not know this Fifi. As for your uncle…”

Berry was looking back, whistling, as though for some dog.

Then he returned to our companions.

“Never keep a bear,” he said gravely. “A dog, yes. But a bear is disobedient.”

“A bear?” cried one of the women.

“I used to have two,” said Berry; “but one took a fancy to babies and so I gave it away. I’m not too sure about this one. They get very jealous, you know. If they see you talking to someone…” He turned to me. “See if he’s coming, will you? I want to get on.”

I walked back towards Lally, calling “Butcher!”

By the time I looked round, Berry had the road to himself.

He led the way to our ledge and threw himself down.

“We shall get into trouble,” I said, “if you go on like this.”