Midnight is a Place (27 page)

"People, a dog, a cat, a bird, and a baby," said Anna-Marie. "All we need is a fish."

When she was in bed she said sleepily, "You must show Meester Ookapool your tuning fork tomorrow,
Grand'mère.
I think he will like to see it."

Lucas who had been very silent all evening, went to bed without saying more than a bare good night to anybody.

He was terribly unhappy.

First, he found the story of Sir Denzil Murgatroyd almost too sad to be borne. Secondly—although he was ashamed of it—he could not help feeling that there was a kind of tie, knitting together the other three—Lady Murgatroyd, Anna-Marie, Mr. Oakapple—and that it did not include him. He was outside their circle. And, third, he had a private worry of his own, related to the increasingly strange behavior of Mr. Gudgeon. But there was no point in mentioning this to the others. It had nothing to do with them.

Mr. Oakapple took several weeks to recover from the setback occasioned by his suddenly being obliged to get up, and the exhausting trip from hospital. He was feverish, and in some pain, and slept a good deal of the time.

"It was to be expected," said Lady Murgatroyd. "But there is no need to worry. He has a strong constitution, and the tansy tea is helping him. And I have some oil of almonds that we will rub on him presently which will reduce the inflammation and help his skin to heal quickly. All he needs at present is good nourishing broth, milk, and eggs; really there is very little difference between feeding him and feeding Bet."

"You are a great comfort,
Grand'mère,
" said Anna-Marie. "Really I not think that I and Luc could have managed to look after Monsieur Ookapool very well on our own."

Anna-Marie had settled into life at the combing shed without too much trouble. Her occupation was somewhat solitary, but she had made friends with severed of the other claw-cleaners whom she met during meal breaks; she had taught them a couple of songs she had made up to enliven the rhythmic monotonous task. One, which began,

Claws a-rising, claws a-falling,
All the livelong day
Time a-creeping, time a-crawling,
All to make a length of shawling
For some lady gay,
Or some granny gray,
Who will only say,
Tut! This color's quite appalling—
Take the stuff away,

went to a very catchy tune and was soon to be heard all over the mill.

The wooden tongs that Anna-Marie and her grandmother had constructed between them proved highly satisfactory. Using them, Anna-Marie found she was able to avoid getting her fingers nipped, and furthermore she was able to clean out the line of claws very much faster, so that she could snatch a couple of minutes' rest when she reached the end of the line, instead of being always in a hurry and slightly behind.

"Eh, yon's a champion notion!" exclaimed Rose when she came round and saw it. "But tha'd be best to hide it when Bob Bludward's aboot."

"Why?" said Anna-Marie crossly. "What concern is it of his how I do my work, so it gets done properly? He is not the foreman."

"Because th'art doing it better and quicker nor onyone else—tha can get the row clean in five minutes, 'stead o' eight—if the manager finds out, likely he'll set all the rows o' claws moving at a faster rate, an' that'll be hard on t'other cleaners."

"Then they had better make tongs for everybody else," said Anna-Marie.

"More like they'll say as th'hands must make their own, as tha've doon. Onless Bob Bludward might persuade t'manager as how he invented the claws; then he gets paid for the notion, an' they might adopt it."

"But he did not invent them," said Anna-Marie.

"Tha hasn't got the idea yet, luv," said Rose. "Bob Bludward's the only chap as is allowed to invent new notions round here!"

During the next few weeks Lucas became more and more silent and withdrawn. Anna-Marie noticed this, worried about it, and asked him what troubled him, but he merely said it was nothing that could be helped.

"What do you think is the matter with him,
Grand'mère!
" Anna-Marie asked her grandmother.

"I think it is something connected with his work," said Lady Murgatroyd. "But there is no use trying to make him talk about it until he opens the matter himself."

Anna-Marie went on worrying about it.

One evening Lucas was unusually late home.

Mr. Oakapple had been a good deal better that day and, toward evening, was allowed up to sit in the rocking chair, looking much more like his old self. He and Lady Murgatroyd had been having a long and happy conversation about Sir Denzil.

How strange it was, thought Anna-Marie, putting the baby into her cradle with a wooden toy that Lucas had carved for her—he had not written much in his book lately—how strange that
Grand'mère
and Monsieur Ookapool were both separately so fond of the same person, in such different ways, and yet they did not know each other. And I was fond of him too, she thought; he was my papa; I was fondest of all! But it is sad that they grieved for him all that time and did not know he was alive; it is very sad. Papa could not have known that poor Monsieur Ookapool was so badly hurt, or he would have been sure to try to find out
somehow
if he was getting better. I know Papa was fond of him; I remember his telling me about a boy he knew who sang his songs so well; that must have been Monsieur Ookapool. I must tell him that sometime; perhaps he will like to hear it.

Now they were talking about Sir Randolph.

"I always made certain that he must have cheated in that wager somehow," said Lady Murgatroyd. "I was away from home at the time, visiting my cousin Gus Holdernesse in London. But my husband had a favorite retriever called True, who always slept in his bedroom. Gabriel Towzer, who was our butler then, told me that True never barked until Denzil arrived; I'm sure that if a stranger had come into Quincy's room he would certainly have barked."

"How do you think Sir Randolph could have cheated, then, ma'am? And if you did think so, why did you take no action to have the matter investigated?"

"Why should I bother?" said Lady Murgatroyd simply. "My husband was dead, my son was dead—so I thought. And there was a lot of boredom and unnecessary formality about the old life that I was glad enough to escape. I have been quite contented—much more so than Sir Randolph, I am sure. His life was wasted from first to last. The only person who could have made anything of him was Mary Dunnithorne—and she, not surprisingly, refused to marry him when he asked her. She married Lucas's father instead!"

Anna-Marie was not interested in Sir Randolph. She felt that he was better forgotten. "Have you told Monsieur Ookapool about Handel's tuning fork,
Grand'mère?
" she asked.

Lady Murgatroyd had not, and the tuning fork was fetched. Mr. Oakapple was fascinated by it, and held it in his hands for a long time, turning it over and over.

Lady Murgatroyd also brought out her flute and a couple of recorders. They passed a pleasant hour in singing and playing;
Anna-Marie was discovered to have a natural aptitude for finding her way through a tune by ear on either instrument. Bet was enchanted at all this musical activity and remained absolutely motionless, gazing and beaming, for a whole hour.

But presently Anna-Marie began to play a good many wrong notes.

"You are becoming tired,
ma petite,
" said her grandmother. "We had better stop."

"It is not that," said Anna-Marie. "But,
Grand'mère,
I am so anxious about Luc. He has
never
been so late as this before. What can be the matter?"

"I expect he will turn up by and by," said Lady Murgatroyd. "I asked him to buy me some oil of camphor; perhaps he has gone round by the market and been delayed."

But more time passed, and still Lucas did not come. Anna-Marie became so worried that she could not sit still, but wandered about the big untidy room, into Lucas's room and out again; several times she went to the front door and looked out, to see if there was any sign of him coming across the park, but it was snowing again, and there was nothing to be seen.

"Lucas is so sensible," Lady Murgatroyd said. "It seems unlikely that he would have got into any kind of trouble."

"But,
Grand'mère,
that sewer is such an awful place! I know he hates it, although he insists on continuing to work there. And I do not at all like the sound of that Gudgeon who works with him. Oh, how I wish he would come!"

Another half hour went by. At last Anna-Marie could stand the inactivity of waiting no longer. "I am going to go and search for him," she announced.

"But where will you go, child? It is certainly strange that he has not come home by this time," agreed Lady Murgatroyd, now rather troubled herself. "But you cannot go down into the sewers to look for him, if he is still there—"

"No but I could tell the other men. I must do
something,
" Anna-Marie said, clenching her hands together in the urgency of her anxiety. "I feel that some bad thing has happened to Luc—I feel it here"—and she pressed a fist against her ribs.

"It is very singular that he is so late," Mr. Oakapple agreed. "In general, Lucas is a very reliable, punctual boy; I have never known him play truant or get into scrapes; in fact it is just the other way round; instead of going out he is always writing away in that brown book of his."

"The hour is rather late for Anna-Marie to be wandering about the town by herself," Lady Murgatroyd said. "Julian, if I go with her, do you think that you can contrive to keep an eye on the baby?"

Mr. Oakapple did seem a little daunted by this suggestion, but he agreed that it was the least he could do in exchange for the care and hospitality that he was receiving.

"I daresay she will go to sleep very soon," Lady Murgatroyd assured him. "And all you have to do to keep her amused is to sing to her, after all!"

"Well, I will do my best, ma'am. If only I had a fiddle and could still play it," he murmured, sighing.

Lady Murgatroyd paused in the act of wrapping herself up in a thick blue cape made from her own handwoven material.

"Have you ever considered learning to play the violin left-handed?" she said. "People have done it, you know. I daresay we could find you an old instrument to practice on. Of course, it might be rather awkward playing in an orchestra, but then that isn't your first wish, is it?"

Mr. Oakapple stared at her. His mouth opened, but he did not speak.

"After all, it is time you got back to playing," Lady Murgatroyd went on calmly. "Are you ready,
petite-fille?
Right, let us go."

And leaving Mr. Oakapple silent and preoccupied, staring at his two hands, they went out into the snowy night.

"Where do you intend going first?" Lady Murgatroyd asked her granddaughter as they walked down the hill into Blastburn.

"First I shall go to the market place, and see if Monsieur 'Obday is still at his stall. He might know whether Luc and that Gudgeon had come out from the sewer at the end of the day."

"A good plan," approved Lady Murgatroyd. So they went to the market and made their way to Mr. Hobday's stall. Anna-Marie was interested to observe that quite a number of people appeared to know her grandmother; either she had given them music lessons, or helped them in other ways. She was greeted with much goodwill and civility as Madame Minetti. An old man limped up to thank her for writing a letter for him to his son in Wales; the boy had written back and all was well. A woman came to say that the medicine had stopped her baby's fits; and another man thanked her for her help in connection with some character called Old Nye.

"He's a changed creetur, ma'am; I dunno what you done, you mun ha' bewitched him! He's peaceful as a babby an' works twelve hours a day."

"What a lot of people you know,
Grand'mère!
"

"Yes; it is queer," Lady Murgatroyd remarked. "Living in the icehouse, I have many more friends than ever I did when we lived at the Court and used to give so many parties."

"Who was old Nye,
Grand'maman?
"

"He was a donkey—a most intractable, obstinate character," Lady Murgatroyd said, laughing.

"What did you do to him?"

"Blew up his nostrils; that is a good way of becoming friendly with animals."

"I wonder if it would work with people? Did you do that with Redgauntlet also? He is much nicer than he used to be; he always would snap and snarl at me whenever he saw me."

"Well, poor thing, he seems to have had a very disagreeable master. I expect he finds his life much more enjoyable now that he has to go out and catch his own dinner in the park."

Mr. Hobday, luckily, was still at his stall, tidying up and pulling down the shutters for the night.

"Monsieur 'Obday, Monsieur 'Obday," cried Anna-Marie, running up to him. "Have you seen my friend Luc
ou ce vieux
Gudgeon? Luc has not come home to supper yet, and we are so anxious about him!"

Mr. Hobday paused in what he was doing. A somewhat shifty expression came over his face. But he spoke with exaggerated heartiness. "Halloo, 'tis the yoong lady! Haven't seen you about for a two-three weeks. Cigar business not so good lately?"

"No—I am working at Murgatroyd's Mill now," Anna-Marie said shortly. "But, monsieur, about Luc—have you seen him?"

"Why, he were here 'smornin' at his reg'lar time. But then, I doan't see him evenings, ye know—he gives the tosh to old Gudgeon an' goes straight home."

"Well, have you seen Gudgeon then?"

"Nay,
he
goes straight home too. I'll see him in the morning, sithee."

"I am not interested in the morning," Anna-Marie said impatiently. "Where does he live, this Gudgeon? We will go to his house and ask him when he has last seen Luc."

A deeper shade of uneasiness passed over Mr. Hobday's face.
He began fiddling with his stock, picking things up and putting them down. "Oh, I wouldn't do that, missie," he said without looking at Anna-Marie. "He's a foonny old cove, is old Gudgeon. He might act a bit okkard if you was to go a-bothering of him. He don't care for folks going to his house; might scare you a bit."