Still William (25 page)

William tucked in his rug and adjusted his spectacles again.

‘Do I look like a pore old man?’ he said proudly.

Ginger gave a scornful laugh.

‘No, you don’t. You’ve gotter boy’s face. You’ve got no lines nor whiskers nor screwedupness like an old man.’

William drew his mouth down and screwed up his eyes into a hideous contortion.

‘Do I now?’ he said as clearly as he could through his distorted mask of twisted muscles.

Ginger looked at him dispassionately.

‘You look like a kinder monkey now,’ he said.

William took the long knitted scarf that was at the bottom of the bath-chair and wound it round and round his head and face till only his horn-rimmed spectacles could be seen.

‘Do I now?’ he said in a muffled voice.

Ginger stared at him in critical silence for a minute and said, ‘Yes, you do now. At least you look’s if you might be
anything
now.’

‘All right,’ said William in his far-away muffled voice. ‘Pretend I’m an old man. Wheel me back no . . .
slowly
, mind ’cause I’m an old man!’

They began the return journey. Ginger walked very slowly, chiefly because it was uphill and he was still out of breath. William leant back feebly in his chair enjoying the role of aged invalid,
his horn-rimmed spectacles peering out with an air of deep wisdom from a waste of woollen muffler.

Suddenly a woman who was passing stopped.

‘Uncle George!’ she said in a tone of welcome and surprise.

She was tall and thin and grey-haired and skittish-looking and gaily dressed.

‘Well, this
is
a pleasant surprise,’ she said. ‘When you didn’t answer our letter we thought you really weren’t going to come to see us. We
really did. And now I find you on your way to our house.
What
a treat for us! I’d have known you anywhere,
dear
Uncle George, even if I hadn’t recognised the bath-chair
and the muffler that I knitted for you on your last birthday. How
sweet
of you to wear it! And you’re looking
so
well!’ She dropped a vague kiss upon the woollen muffler
and then turned to Ginger. ‘This little boy can go. I can take you on to the house.’ She slipped a coin into Ginger’s hand. ‘Now run away little boy! I’ll look after
him.’

Ginger, after one bewildered look, fled, and the lady began to push William’s chair along briskly. William was so entirely taken aback that he could for the moment devise no plan of
action, and meekly allowed himself to be propelled down the village street. With an instinctive desire to conceal his identity he had pulled the rug up to his elbows and arranged the flowing ends
of the all-enveloping scarf to cover the front of his coat. Wistfully he watched Ginger’s figure which was fast disappearing in the distance. Then the tall female bent down and shouted into
his ear.

‘And how
are
you, dear Uncle George?’

William looked desperately round for some chance of escape, but saw none. Feeling that some reply was necessary, and not wishing to let his voice betray him he growled.

‘
So
glad,’ yelled the tall lady into the muffler. ‘
So
glad. If you
think
you’re better, you
will
be better you know, as I always used to tell
you.’

To his horror, William saw that he was being taken in through a large gateway and up a drive. He felt as though he had been captured by some terrible enemy. Would he ever escape? What would the
dreadful woman do to him when she found out? He couldn’t breathe, and he could hardly see, and he didn’t know what was going to happen to him . . . He growled again rather ferociously,
and she leant down to the presumptive region of his ear and shouted.

‘
Much
better, dear Uncle George! . . .
Ever
so much better . . . it’s only a question of
will
power.’

She left him on a small lawn and went through an opening in the box hedge. William could hear her talking to some people on the other side.

‘He’s
come
! Uncle George’s
come
!’ she said in a penetrating whisper.

‘Oh,
dear
!’ said another voice. ‘He’s
so
trying! What shall we do?’

‘He’s
wealthy
. Anyway we may as well try to placate him a bit.’

‘Hush! He’ll hear you.’

‘Oh, no, he’s been as deaf as a post for years.’

‘How did you meet him, Frederica, darling?’

‘I met him
quite
by accident,’ said Frederica darling in her shrill and cheerful voice. ‘He was being brought here by a boy.’

‘And did you recognise him? It’s ten years since you saw him last.’

‘I recognised the bath-chair. It’s the one poor, dear Aunt Ferdinanda used to have, and the darling was wearing that scarf I knitted for him. Oh, but I think I’d have
recognised the old man anyway. He hasn’t changed a bit; though he’s dreadfully muffled up. You know he was always so frightened of fresh air . . . and he’s shrunk a bit, I think .
. . you know, old people do – and I’m afraid he’s as touchy as ever. He was
quite
huffy on the way here because I said that if he’d
will
to be well he
would
be well. That always annoyed him, but I must be true to my principles, mustn’t I?’

‘Hadn’t someone better go to him? Won’t it annoy him to be left alone?’

‘Oh, I don’t know. He’s not sociable, you know – and as deaf as a post and—’

‘Perhaps you’d better explain to the boys, Frederica—’

‘Oh
yes
! It’s your Great-Uncle George, you know –
ever
so old, and we’ve not seen him for
ten
years, and he’s just come to live here with his
male
attendant, you know – taken a furnished house, and though we asked him to come to see us (he’s most
eccentric
, you know – simply won’t see
anyone
at his own house) he never even answered and we thought he must still be annoyed. I told him the last time I saw him, ten years ago, that if only he’d think he could walk, he’d be
able
to walk, and it annoyed him, but I must be true to my principles – anyway to my surprise I found him on his
way
to our house this afternoon and—’

Frederica paused for breath.

‘We’d better go to him, dear. He might be feeling lonely.’

William was far from lonely. He was listening with mingled interest and apprehension to the conversation on the other side of the hedge and revolving in his mind the question
whether they’d see him if he crawled across the lawn to the gate – or perhaps it would be better to make a dash for it, tear off the rug and muffler and run for all he was worth to the
gate and down the road.

He had almost decided to do that when they all suddenly appeared through the opening in the hedge. William gave a gasp as he saw them. First came Frederica, the tall and agile lady who had
captured him, next a very old lady with a Roman nose and expression of grim determination and a pair of lorgnettes, next came a young curate, next a muscular young man in a college blazer, and last
a little girl.

William knew the little girl.

Her name was Emmeline, and she went to the same school as William – and William detested her. William now allowed himself the slight satisfaction of putting out his tongue at her beneath
his expanse of muffler.

But his heart sank as they surrounded him. They all surveyed him with the greatest interest. He looked about desperately once more for some way of escape, but his opportunity had gone. Like the
psalmist’s enemies, they closed him in on every side. Nervously he pulled up his rug, spread out his muffler and crouched yet further down in his bath-chair.

‘You remember Mother, dear Uncle George, don’t you?’ screamed Frederica into the muffler.

The dignified dame raised the lorgnettes and held out a majestic hand. William merely growled. He was beginning to find the growl effective. They all hastily took a step back.

‘Sulking!’ explained Frederica in her penetrating whisper.
‘Sulking
! Just because I told him on the way here that if he
willed
to be well he
would
be well.
It always annoyed him, but I must be true to my principles, mustn’t I? – Even if it makes him
sulk – even
if he cuts me out of his will I must—’

‘Hush, Frederica! He’ll hear you!’

‘No, dear, he’s almost stone deaf.’

She leant down again to his ear.

‘Is your DEAFNESS any better, Uncle George?’ she screamed.

She seemed to regard Uncle George as her own special property.

William growled again.

‘YOU REMEMBER MOTHER, DEAR UNCLE GEORGE, DON’T YOU?’ FREDERICA SCREAMED INTO THE MUFFLER. WILLIAM MERELY GROWLED.

The circle drew another step farther back. The old lady looked anxious.

‘I’m afraid he’s ill,’ she said. ‘I hope it’s nothing infectious! James, I think you’d better examine him.’

THEY ALL SURVEYED THE OCCUPANT OF THE BATH-CHAIR WITH GREAT INTEREST.

Frederica drew one of the bashful and unwilling young men forward.

‘This is your great-nephew, James,’ she shouted, ‘DEAR Uncle George. He’s a MEDICAL STUDENT, and he’d SO love to talk to you.’

The rest withdrew to the other end of the lawn and watched proceedings from a distance. It would be difficult to say whether James or William felt the more desperate.

‘Er – how are you, Uncle George?’ said James politely, then, remembering Uncle George’s deafness, changed his soft bass to a shrill tenor. ‘HOW ARE YOU?’

William did not answer. He was wondering how long it would be before one of them tore off his rug and muffler and horn-rimmed spectacles, and hoping that it would not be either of the young men
who would administer punishment.

‘Er – may I – er – feel your pulse?’ went on James, then remembered and yelled ‘PULSE’.

William sat on his hands and growled. James mopped his brow.

‘If I could see your tongue – er – TONGUE – you seem to be in pain – perhaps – TONGUE – allow me.’

He took hold of the muffler about William’s head. William gave a sudden shake and a fierce growl and James started back as though he had been bitten. William was certainly perfecting the
growl.

It was gaining a note of savage, almost blood-curdling ferocity. James gazed at him apprehensively, then, as another growl began to arise from the depth of William’s chair, hastily
rejoined the others.

‘I’ve – er – examined him,’ he said, making a gesture as though to loosen his collar, and still gazing apprehensively in the direction of Uncle George.
‘I’ve – er – examined him. There’s nothing – er – fundamentally wrong with him. He’s just – er – got a foul temper, that’s
all.’

‘It is a case for you, then, I think, Jonathan,’ said the old lady grimly.

Frederica drew the second reluctant youth across the lawn.

‘This is your great-nephew Jonathan,’ she yelled into the muffler. ‘He’s in the CHURCH. He’s looking forward SO much to a TALK with you, DEAR Uncle
George.’

With a sprightly nod at the horn-rimmed spectacles, she departed. Jonathan smiled mirthlessly. Then he proceeded to shout at William with
sotto voce
interjections.

‘GOOD AFTERNOON, UNCLE GEORGE – confound you – WE’RE SO GLAD TO SEE YOU – don’t think – WE EXPECT TO SEE A LOT OF YOU NOW – worse luck – WE
WANT TO BE A HAPPY, UNITED FAMILY – you crusty old mummy – WE HOPE – er – WE HOPE – er—’

He couldn’t think what else to hope, so, purple with the effort of shouting, he stopped for breath. William, who was enjoying this part, chuckled. Jonathan with a sigh of relief departed.
He went to the others who were watching expectantly.

‘It’s all right,’ he said airily. ‘The old chap’s quite good-tempered now. My few words seemed to hit the spot.’

William watched the group, wondering what was going to be done next and who was going to do it. He hardly dared move in case his spectacles or muffler or rug fell off and revealed him to the
cold light of day. He felt instinctively that the cold light of day would have little pity on him.

Then he saw two maids come round the house to the lawn. One carried a table and the other a tray on which were some cakes that made William’s mouth water. Would he— oh, would he have
to sit fasting and watch these unworthy people eat those glorious cakes? and – oh, scrummy! – there was a bowl of fruit salad. Surely—