The Book of Ebenezer le Page (60 page)

‘Here, wait a minute, you!' I said, ‘I got something to say to you!' I caught hold of his arm. He tried to pull away; but he had no strength. I made him listen to me. ‘Have you got any idea what those forts cost to build?' I said. ‘The British Government put you on your feet to the tune of three and a half million or so,' he said, ‘you have nothing to complain about.' I said, ‘Do you know how many boys like you, boys better than you, died building those forts: starved and beaten and dropping dead on the job?' ‘C'est la guerre,' he said. ‘Oh, I know they wasn't our own people,' I said. ‘Our own people was saying, though thank God I didn't say it myself, how good it was of the Germans to let prayers be said in the churches for the King and Queen; but none of us dared to raise a hand to stop the cruelty and the horror and the misery was on our own island all around us. It was the price we had to pay to save ourselves.' I let go of him. ‘All right, all right,' I said, ‘go back to England and advertise our German fortifications; and let people come over in their thousands and stare at them as the monuments of our shame and our disgrace. I am surprised any Guernseyman have had the cheek to put his nose inside a church since!' I was waving my arms about as if I was preaching for the Salvation Army. ‘Oh dear, oh dear,' said Christine, ‘you are as bad as Raymond, poor Raymond!' She went away laughing. ‘You bore me!' said Gideon.

I was shaking like a leaf when I got indoors. It was the first time it was brought home to me it wasn't good for me to get excited. My old heart was thumping; and I had a pain at the back of my head. I had to sit down until the shaky fit passed over. I couldn't think why I had gone off like a squib. After all, it had nothing to do with me. As for Gideon, I could have wrung his little neck for him. Who and what was he to look down his nose at me? Quite an idea, indeed! What is the world coming to, for goodness sake? It is his sort nowadays who have the say everywhere. All I hoped was I would never set eyes on him again. I am glad to say I haven't.

I did see Christine again. It was almost as if it was meant. I had been to visit Enid Torode who lives at the Vingtaine de l'Épine. She is a cousin on my father's side and a widow; and was on the list I carried about in my head. She was very nice to me that afternoon, and can't have had any idea of what I had gone to see her for; but she was one of those who, as soon as tea was over, had to turn on the T.V. I got up to go. She looked surprised. ‘Well, thank you very much for the good tea,' I said, ‘I would rather have a chat with you when you haven't got visitors.' I don't think she had the brains to understand. I had no intention of going to see her again, anyway. I walked home by the coast road and, when I got to the Pêquéries, who should I see coming towards me but Christine and another young man? I didn't need telling it was Abel.

I don't think she would have stopped, if I hadn't planted myself in her way. ‘Hullo, Christine!' I said, as nice as pie. ‘It is being lovely weather for your visit, isn't it?' ‘I was hoping we might get to Vazon in time to see the sunset,' she said. ‘I am always telling my friends in England how marvellous the sunsets are over here.' ‘Is Gideon gone?' I said. ‘He only flew over for a few days,' she said. ‘He couldn't spare longer. In his profession time is money.' ‘How did he get on with the Tourist Committee?' I said. ‘Oh very well, very well,' she said, ‘they were most impressed. Unfortunately, they are slow to get moving.' I noticed she didn't introduce me to Abel. He was standing quietly by her side, looking at me; and I was looking at him. In spite of all she had said had put me off him, I couldn't help liking him. He was tall and broad-shouldered with dark eyes and thick lips like Harold; but his hair was fairish, and he didn't look such a bully as Harold. I could see what Christine meant when she said he was kind. I thought I am going to get to know this boy.

‘Hullo, Abel!' I said, ‘we have met before.' ‘Have we?' he said, ‘I am afraid I don't remember.' ‘How d'you like your island?' I said. He smiled; and his smile reminded me of Raymond. ‘I haven't seen much of it yet,' he said. ‘Well, you come and see me,' I said, ‘and I will show you round our corner.' ‘I doubt whether he will have the time,' said Christine. ‘He is only over on a short leave.' I took no notice. ‘My house is easy to find,' I said, ‘along the north side of Grand Havre and round the Chouey and you can't miss it. There is a mill and an apple-tree behind.' ‘Really, I am getting quite cold standing here,' said Christine, and shivered. ‘I will show you where you made your great discovery,' I said. ‘It is in the Museum now.' ‘I have never heard of this,' he said. I thought I bet there is a lot more you have never heard of. ‘I will be in any afternoon,' I said, and waved and walked on. I was pretty sure he would come. I doubted if he was quite as much under Christine's thumb as she thought.

I trusted him to have the sense not to bring her with him; and, sure enough, the very next afternoon, when I was clearing up after dinner, he turned up on his own. The front door was open, but he knocked. ‘Who's there?' I shouted out. ‘Abel!' he said. ‘Good boy!' I said. ‘Come on right in!' ‘I thought I'd pop round while Mother was having a nap,' he said. ‘I'm all arse-over-head,' I said, ‘you have to take me as you find me.' I felt quite at home with him already. I thought to myself he is my sort, this one. ‘I don't know who you are, though,' he said. ‘I am Ebenezer Le Page,' I said, ‘the cousin, the first cousin, of your father; and of Gideon's father, of course. Your fathers was first cousins.' I wanted to make sure he knew the truth about himself and Gideon; and hadn't been told lies.

‘I know,' he said, ‘something went very wrong there. It was tough on Mother. She has always spoken well of my father. She is very forgiving.' I saw how clever Christine had been. I knew just how she would look and the voice she would put on, when she was being ‘very forgiving'. Anybody who didn't know beforehand what she was up to would be sure to put all the blame on Raymond, because she was such an angel; and well she knew it! There was a lot more I had on the tip of my tongue to tell Abel about Christine; but then I thought, after all, it isn't for me to turn the boy against his mother. ‘Yes, something went very wrong indeed,' I said, ‘but whatever your father may have been, or whatever your father may have done, you can take it from me there never was a boy born who was loved by his father more than you. If ever you have a son of your own, you will know what that mean.' He looked down; but didn't say nothing.

I said I would show him round outside. I thought the greenhouse or the garden might remind him; but all he said was, ‘It must be pleasant living here.' I said, ‘Don't you remember any of it?' ‘I can't say I do,' he said. ‘Well, you was trotting around here often enough when you was a two-to-three-year-old,' I said. I led the way down the gully and showed him the spot where he had dug up the prehistoric monster. ‘That was clever of me,' he said. I think he knew I was disappointed, for he smiled in his kind way. I said we could go for a stroll, if he would wait while I got my hat from indoors. ‘I do like this part very much,' he said, when I came out, ‘it does seem familiar somehow.' I thought that is good. I chose the path along by La Jaonneuse and took him as far as Fort Pembroke. I wanted him to see across the whole width of L'Ancresse Bay and Fort Le Marchant on the other side. ‘Gosh, this is the real thing!' he said and sniffed the air. I brought him back across the Common past La Varde, so as he could have a look at the Druid's Altar. He was interested in it, and went in and examined the big stones which are the roof. ‘It's been there a long time,' I said. ‘Yes, it has,' he said. He was a big simple chap, and looked at everything in the same slow interested way as Jim might have; and didn't say much. It was a pleasure being out with him.

When we got by the Vale Church, I said, ‘Some of your ancestors are buried in that cemetery.' ‘Are they?' he said. He didn't sound as if he cared much. ‘The church is nice to see inside,' I said. ‘Shall we go in?' ‘I think not, thank you,' he said. ‘I have never been inside a church.' ‘It is Chapel you have been brought up, then?' I said. He laughed. ‘I have been brought up nothing,' he said. ‘I am surprised at that,' I said, ‘your mother was Chapel. She used to sing in the choir.' ‘She doesn't sing now,' he said. I was going to ask him to come home and have tea with me, but he looked at his wristwatch and said he must be getting along. His mother would be wondering where he was. ‘What's this work you're doing?' I said. I wanted to know. ‘Atomic research,' he said. ‘For to blow up people?' I said. ‘In the event of a nuclear war, I am afraid so,' he said.

If he had stuck a knife into me, he couldn't have hurt me more. I had been so happy walking with him across the Common: I had been having a wonderful dream all to myself. I would leave him what I got and make up to him in a small way for what he had lost through his father; and then he would always have a home in Guernsey where he belonged; and, while I was yet alive, perhaps he might come over and stay with me now and again. ‘Well, good-bye,' he said, and shook hands, ‘I am glad to have met you, Mr Le Page. Thank you for showing me around. I have enjoyed it very much.' He had no idea what I was feeling. He was a kind, polite stranger from England. It was a sad Ebenezer who walked back to Les Moulins. I can understand fighting, man against man; or even going to war, soldiers against soldiers; but to make things to go and kill millions of people you don't know, don't see even, because somebody sitting in a big office say you got to, no: I couldn't leave him what I got to do that! I couldn't.

It don't do to get on your high horse in this world, for a man never know when he may come a cropper. I never thought a day would come when I would let a room in my house to summer visitors, but did so for two summers. It is true, it was only to oblige. Miss Eunice Hocart came and asked me if I would sleep out some of her guests, who she didn't have room for at Timbuctoo. She offered to provide the towels and the blankets and sheets; but my mother had left me plenty, and they only had to be taken out and aired. I said I wasn't going to do the washing, because washing and ironing clothes is one woman's job I won't do: but old Mother Tostevin from the Vaugrat comes once a fortnight for a washing day and the next day for the ironing, and I would pay her a bit extra and she could do the lot. Otherwise, I was willing so long as Miss Hocart didn't send me no women in trousers; or any woman on her own, for that matter. I knew how people talk. A man can't be too careful when he live by himself.

It would mean a few pounds extra, and nothing to do for it. Also I thought it might be company; but I can't say I remember much about those visitors now. It wasn't so long ago either. The truth is I was losing interest in the people around me. It was only the winter before, after Abel had been and gone, I had taken to writing my book. I didn't write so much in the summer months; but was looking forward to the winter when I would be able to spend the long dark evenings with those people I had known when I was younger. They was more real to me than any of those I saw and spoke to every day.

Miss Hocart said I needn't give her guests anything to eat or drink, as she was giving them full board; but I got up at six in the morning as usual and, when I'd had my breakfast, made a fresh pot of tea and put it on a tray outside their door with biscuits and cups and saucers and so on, for them to pour their own. Of an evening when they came in, I gave them a bite of supper before they went to bed, if they wanted it; or, at least, a cup of cocoa. They liked to sit and chat to me about what they had been doing and seeing during the day. I learnt a lot about Guernsey I didn't know before. I will say they all liked Guernsey; and they liked my little house. In fact, many of them said they would prefer to stay at Les Moulins all the time: it was more homely. They may have said that only to please me; but I still get cards every Christmas from some of them, though half the time I don't know which they are.

I wondered sometimes if perhaps Miss Hocart was unloading her awkward squad on me; for she certainly sent me some odd objects from time to time. There was James Walker, Esquire; or, as he said when he introduced himself, ‘James Walker, not Johnnie, ha, ha!' That was the trouble with James Walker, Esquire. He was always making jokes I didn't think was funny; and if I cracked a Guernsey joke he couldn't see it. The result was whenever one of us made a joke the other was dead serious. He didn't want tea in the morning, but a glass of cold milk put outside his door. It was like putting out milk for the cat. He was rather like a big cat, as a matter of fact. He was the same shape as a pear; and was continually washing himself. He had about a dozen bottles of lotion for shaving and for his hair and for his hands and for all the other parts of him. He wore very good clothes; and I think was pretty well off. He told me he was a dealer in antiques in Chelsea, London; and he liked to rattle off the names of the grand people with titles and plenty of money who came into his shop and bought antiques. I said I wasn't interested in people with money.

I think he was what Paddy would have called a lonely heart, male. He went out during the day, but always by himself; and I had to put up with him most of the evening. He said he didn't like being at Timbuctoo after dinner in the evening: it was only a lot of old biddies sitting round gossiping; but he was as good at gossiping as any old biddy, and he was nosey as well. He had to pick up everything I got and examine it. He said I got some quite good stuff in the house, mixed up with a lot of junk. It was him wanted to buy my lustre-ware jug, and he had his eyes on my china dogs; but I wouldn't have parted with those for the world. He admired my grandfather clock, and was willing to make me an offer; and said he would give me something for my coronation mug. It amused him. I said I didn't want to sell it. He said no doubt it had a sentimental value. I don't know what he meant. Anyhow, he went at the end of the week, and I was glad to see the back of him. I was lucky to have anything left.