Lucia Triumphant (32 page)

‘
I ought to go and visit my sisters,' broke in Georgie. ‘I haven't seen them for ages.'

‘
Your mention o' the Highlands fills me with a sudden longing to see the bonny heather again,' said the Padre hurriedly. ‘What do you say, wee wifie?'

Evie said that it was a splendid idea; indeed had her husband declared that he had heard the call of missionary work in Mashonaland, she would probably have consented to go with him, for the thought of being left behind as Elizabeth's only remaining subject would have been far more terrifying than going to dwell in the Dark Continent. At that moment, however, Elizabeth arrived with Major Benjy, looking very hot and uncomfortable in his second-best suit and a stiff collar, for as the husband of the Mayor's (unofficial) deputy, he had been called upon to dress respectably.

‘
How cosy this is,' said Elizabeth brightly as she sat down at the tea-table. ‘So sorry I'm late, Evie dear, but I had to pop into the Town Hall on my way. Any news?'

There was an awkward silence, and Georgie became aware of Elizabeth's eye upon him, fixing him like a butterfly to a collector's tray.

‘
I might be going to stay with my sisters,' he said. ‘It's so long since I went to see them last and they did send me a card at Christmas.'

‘
Mr. Georgie!' exclaimed Elizabeth. ‘How could you think of such a thing! Is it not bad enough that we should be without poor Lucia?' (Elizabeth always called her ‘poor Lucia' these days, rather as in Homer the sea is always described as ‘wine-dark'.) ‘No, we cannot allow you to go away and leave us all.'

Georgie did his mental arithmetic and worked out that without him, even if she pardoned Diva, Elizabeth could not compose two tables for Bridge. He realised suddenly that she would not permit him to leave; he was a prisoner in Tilling, chained, like a slave to a treadmill, to Elizabeth's Bridge-table. He uttered a faint groan, which Elizabeth seemed to take for a symptom of indigestion, for she told him not to eat his cake so quickly. The would-be fugitives looked at each other in despair.

‘
Such a pity that Diva could not be here,' Elizabeth continued. ‘Poor thing, she does take on. Just because I had occasion to utter a mild rebuke—that dog of hers, so unruly—she has become as sullen as a spoilt child and won't come out of her house.'

‘
Surely not?' quavered Georgie. He had not realised that Diva was under house arrest.

‘
I haven't seen her since,' said Elizabeth. ‘How that wretched animal causes trouble for her, knocking things over and damaging people's property. I wouldn't blame her if she got rid of it.'

‘
But she's very attached to it, isn't she?' murmured Evie.

‘
Perhaps. But she will have to choose which she values most, her dog or her friends. I won't have it in the house, and I advise you to do the same. Such a dreadful creature, forever tracking mud all over the carpets. My Benjy is quite firm that if he ever sees it in our garden again he will add it to his other trophies.'

A look of horror crossed the Major's face, for he was appalled at the thought of such a brutal and illegal act.

‘
Steady on, girlie,' he said, and nearly upset the cake-stand.

‘
Well, I hope such a course of action will not prove necessary,' said Elizabeth firmly. ‘I expect that when Diva realises how unpopular she is becoming as a result of that animal's activities, she will give the wretched thing away or send it to a dog's home. Now, let us talk of more pleasant things.'

Georgie escaped from the tea party as soon as he could and stopped off at Wasters to tell Diva of the threat to Paddy. Diva had been taking solace in violent gardening and had, after a long struggle, succeeded in defeating a forsythia.

‘
There,' she said, surveying the battlefield, ‘it'll look twice as good next year.'

Georgie looked at the devastated shrub and averted his eyes. ‘I'm sure it will,' he said with a shudder. ‘Listen, I've got some very bad news for you.'

Then he told Diva what Elizabeth had said, whereupon Diva wailed loudly and rushed into the house. Georgie followed her, fearing that she might do something desperate.

‘
She can't,' cried Diva, ‘not Paddy. All he did was dig up a petunia—and it was dead already, Elizabeth had been mulching it. I shall have to go away! I'll go and stay with my sister-in-law in Harrogate. She wouldn't follow me there.'

‘
She wouldn't let you go,' said Georgie. ‘She needs you to make up two tables for Bridge.'

At that moment Paddy himself appeared, with a long-dead thrush held lovingly in his jaws. Diva, in an access of tenderness, tried to clasp him to her, making him sprint for the safety of the cupboard under the stairs.

‘
Why doesn't Lucia come back?' sobbed Diva, and Georgie, who was much moved, in spite of his fear of dogs, took his leave without another word.

 

Still more letters awaited Georgie at Mallards and he sat down to redirect them all to Riseholme. He had finished the last one when he realised that it was addressed to himself and not to Lucia. It was in Olga's handwriting. He opened it with his finger, cutting himself with the thick paper as he did so, and devoured the contents:

 

Dear Georgie,

Don't be surprised at all those letters arriving for Lucia, and be sure to send them on to Riseholme as quickly as you can.

Love, as ever,

Olga

 

After several attempts, Georgie gave up trying to understand this cryptic message and had gathered up Lucia's mail, readdressed to the Ambermere Arms and ready to be posted, when Foljambe, her normally impassive features betraying a certain excitement, told him that Mrs. Pillson was on the telephone. Georgie hurled himself into the telephone-room and lifted the receiver.

‘
Yes?' he panted.

‘
Georgino caro
,' warbled Lucia, ‘
come
sta? Va
bene
?'

‘
M
olto
bene
, thank you,' gasped Georgie, ‘and all the more
bene
for hearing your voice!'

‘
How
dolce
of you to say so,
caro
. Such a delightful
vaccazione
I've been having. All well with you, I hope. Any news?'

It was as if nothing had happened. Of course, she would have read his letters and from them found out that the awful mistake had been discovered and that everyone was truly sorry. Nevertheless, to chirrup away in Italian as though the horrors of the past week had not occurred—Olga was right. Lucia was bigger than anyone in the entire world, and with her giant stride she could cross chasms and abysses as though they were mere cracks in the pavement.

‘
Now listen carefully,
mio caro sposo
, Lucia has some-fink to tell
Georgino.
Can
Georgino
guess?'

‘
No,' said Georgie—then feeling that he might have seemed rather abrupt, he added,
‘Georgino so
vewwy
stupido.'

A silvery laugh, untarnished by distance, tinkled in his ears. ‘Nonsense, and me
cattiva
Lucia to tease 'oo. But tell me first, have you missed me? And has Elizabeth been simply dreadful?'

‘
Yes to both questions. She's been opening things and laying foundation stones as if she were the real Mayor, and she's making Diva get rid of Paddy.'

‘
No!' For a moment the serenity of Lucia's voice might have been disturbed and steel seemed to replace silver. ‘We must see about that when I get home.'

‘
You're really coming back?' cried Georgie.

‘
Of course,
caro
. I shall be arriving at eleven-o'clock tomorrow. But don't you want to know the answer to my riddle?'

‘
Yes, please. Is it something exciting?'

‘
Very exciting. All those lovely letters you've been sending on to me—guess who they're from? No? Very well. They're from all those people we invited to take part in the Tilling Festival last year—you remember, when they were too busy and couldn't accept. Well, now they've all written to ask if we are having a festival this year and can they take part—and some others, too, whom I do not recall having invited, very important people, some of them. Remarkable,
non è
vero
?
'

‘
Astonishing,' replied Georgie. ‘So what are you going to do?'

‘
Do? Why, organise a festival for them all to come to, of course. Georgie, there's not a moment to be lost. I am writing to them all, just to tell them that there
will
be a festival and that I will send them the details soon. Then, tomorrow I'll get to work properly.
Arrivederci, Georgino.'

Georgie hung up the receiver and, hazy with bewilderment, sat down and tried to get on with his embroidery. But he could not concentrate and his mind kept dwelling on Olga's peculiar note and Lucia's extraordinary revelation. When the truth finally dawned on him he became so excited that he accidentally speared himself with his needle and did not notice for several minutes. He badly needed to tell somebody, but there was nobody that he could tell.

He could not continue with anything as mundane as embroidery so he went upstairs to his
bibelot
cabinet and reverently drew out the stone bird with the grapes in its mouth. Although it was not his day for dusting and polishing his collection, he rubbed the bird delicately with his softest duster. As he did so, he pondered whether he should tell Lucia when she arrived; but she would probably rather not know that it was Olga who had begged, cajoled or bullied all those terribly famous people into offering their talents to the Tilling Festival. How Olga had managed it he couldn't imagine, but, of course, to Olga all things were possible.

Even now he was restless and went into the telephone-room to tidy it up before Lucia's return. The pile of readdressed letters need not be posted now, but traces must be removed of things that might have an unpleasant association for her when she came to start work on this great new project. Once again, his eye fell upon the little book with the notes on Mayoral duties that Lucia had been translating and the thought of one passage came into his mind. He found the place and read it through again.

Soon it would be time to dress for dinner at Starling Cottage. The start of Elizabeth's reign had been one long succession of social events, all of them so far perfectly horrible. With Diva still under embargo, three of them would have to sit and watch while the other four played Bridge. Then he remembered that this tyranny would soon be over, that Lucia was coming back. There was some news to cheer up the miserable gathering. It occurred to him then that although
he
did not like surprises, he had no reason to believe that Elizabeth felt the same way; or, for that matter, Lucia ....

 

When Elizabeth and Benjy rang the bell of Starling Cottage they could hear the sound of merry, cheerful conversation, with frequent cries of ‘No!' and ‘How fascinating!', such as had not been heard in Tilling for a little while. Everyone seemed particularly pleased to see them and there was no shortage of volunteers to yield places to them at the one Bridge-table that could be furnished. Elizabeth had Mr. Wyse for her partner, and Benjy had Susan, and, as the rubber progressed, Elizabeth strained to hear what Georgie and the Bartletts, sitting at the other end of the drawing-room, were saying. But their voices, although excited, were low and indistinct, and so she gave up the attempt and tried to concentrate on the game, which she and Mr. Wyse were winning by a large margin. Benjy, too, seemed to be acting strangely, although he showed no obvious signs of intoxication. Was he up to something too? Elizabeth thought hard and deduced that his strangeness of manner—a rather pronounced obsequiousness, an unwonted note of chivalry in his Bridge-playing—had begun shortly after he had come in from drinking his port in the dining-room ....

 

‘
Do you think it was wise to let Benjy in on the secret?' whispered Evie nervously.

‘
Of course,' replied Georgie. ‘He suffers more than any of us.'

‘
Oh look,' said Evie, ‘they've finished their rubber. Now?'

‘
Now,' said Georgie firmly, ‘and be careful.'

‘
Let me see,' Elizabeth was saving, ‘I make that three shillings and sixpence you owe us, Benjy-boy.'

‘
Are you sure?' said Benjy. ‘I made it four shillings myself.'

‘
Nonsense,' said Elizabeth. ‘Three and six.'

Benjy insisted on paying Susan's losses as well as his own, saying that his errors had brought about the disaster, and he counted out the money into Elizabeth's hand.

‘
Thank you, dear. Now shall we have another rubber for the poor outcasts?'

‘
Not for us, thank you,' said Georgie, ‘we've had such fun just watching. You played that last hand splendidly, Elizabeth.'

The praise was, in fact, merited, for Elizabeth had revoked quite palpably and the skill with which she had covered up this error was of a high order. She thanked Georgie for his compliment and Georgie thanked her back. Then there was silence and the Padre nudged Georgie with his elbow. But Georgie seemed speechless, and so the Padre said: