The Complete Mapp & Lucia (187 page)

Georgie’s account was punctuated by comments from Lucia.

“Only the depth of a tulip bulb… Not nearly deep enough, such want of thoroughness… Diva must have buried it herself, I think… So you were quite right not to have told her; very humiliating. But how did the top come to be snapped off? Do you suppose she broke it off, and buried the rest somewhere else, like murderers cutting up their victims? And look at the projecting end! It looks as if it had been bitten off, and why should Diva do that? If it had been Elizabeth with her beautiful teeth, it would have been easier to understand.”

“All very baffling,” said Georgie, “but anyhow I’ve traced the disappearances a step further. I shall turn my attention to Blue Birdie next.”

Lucia thought she had done enough confession for one day.

“Yes, do look into it, Georgie,” she said. “Very baffling, too. But Mr. Wyse is most happy about the effect of my explanation upon Susan. She has accepted my theory that Blue Birdie has gone to a higher sphere.”

“That seems to me a very bad sign,” said Georgie. “It looks as if she was seriously deranged. And, candidly, do you believe it yourself?”

“So difficult, isn’t it,” said Lucia in a philosophical voice, “to draw hard and fast lines between what one rationally believes, and what one trusts is true, and what seems to admit of more than one explanation. We must have a talk about that some day. A wonderful sunset!”

The bicycles arrived a week later, nickel-plated and belled and braked; Lucia’s had the Borough Arms of Tilling brilliantly painted on the tool-bag behind her saddle. They were brought up to Mallards after dark; and next morning, before breakfast, the two rode about the garden paths, easily passing up the narrow path into the kitchen garden, and making circles round the mulberry tree on the lawn (“Here we go round the mulberry tree” light-heartedly warbled Lucia) and proving themselves adepts. Lucia could not eat much breakfast with the first public appearance so close, and Georgie vainly hoped that tropical rain would begin. But the sun continued to shine, and at the shopping hour they mounted and bumped slowly down the cobbles of the steep street into the High Street, ready to ring their bells. Irene was the first to see them, and she ran by Lucia’s side.

“Marvellous, perfect person,” she cried, putting out her hand as if to lay it on Lucia’s. “What is there you can’t do?”

“Yes, dear, but don’t touch me,” screamed Lucia in panic. “So rough just here.” Then they turned on to the smooth tarmac of the High Street.

Evie saw them next.

“Dear, oh, dear, you’ll both be killed!” she squealed. “There’s a motor coming at such a pace. Kenneth, they’re riding bicycles!”

They passed superbly on. Lucia dismounted at the post-office; Georgie, applying his brake with exquisite delicacy, halted at the poulterer’s with one foot on the pavement. Elizabeth was in the shop and Diva came out of the post-office.

“Good gracious me,” she cried. “Never knew you could. And all this traffic!”

“Quite easy, dear,” said Lucia. “Order a chicken, Georgie, while I get some stamps.”

She propped her bicycle against the kerb; Georgie remained sitting till Mr. Rice came out of the poulterer’s with Elizabeth.

“What a pretty bicycle!” she said, green with jealousy. “Oh, there’s Worship, too. Well, this is a surprise! So accomplished!”

They sailed on again. Georgie went to the lending library, and found that the book Lucia wanted had come, but he preferred to have it sent to Mallards: hands, after all, were meant to take hold of handles. Lucia went on to the grocer’s, and by the time he joined her there, the world of Tilling had collected: the Padre and Evie, Elizabeth and Benjy and Mr. Wyse, while Susan looked on from the Royce.

“Such a saving of time,” said Lucia casually to the admiring assembly. “A little spin in the country, Georgie, for half an hour?”

They went unerringly down the High Street, leaving an amazed group behind.

“Well, there’s a leddy of pluck,” said the Padre. “See, how she glides along. A mistress of a’ she touches.”

Elizabeth was unable to bear it, and gave an acid laugh.

“Dear Padre!” she said. “What a fuss about nothing! When I was a girl I learned to ride a bicycle in ten minutes. The easiest thing in the world.”

“Did ye, indeed, me’m,” said the Padre, “and that was very remarkable, for in those days, sure, there was only those great high machines, which you rode straddle.”

“Years and years after that,” said Elizabeth, moving away.

He turned to Evie.

“A bicycle would be a grand thing for me in getting about the parish,” he said. “I’ll step into the bicycle-shop, and see if they’ve got one on hire for to learn on.”

“Oh, Kenneth, I should like to learn, too,” said Evie. “Such fun!”

Meantime the pioneers, rosy with success, had come to the end of the High Street. From there the road sloped rapidly downhill. “Now we can put on the pace a little, Georgie,” said Lucia, and she shot ahead. All her practisings had been on the level roads of the marsh or on the sea-shore, and at once she was travelling much faster than she had intended, and with eyes glued on the curving road, she fumbled for her brake. She completely lost her head. All she could find in her agitation was her bell, and, incessantly ringing it, she sped with ever increasing velocity down the short steep road towards the bridge over the railway. A policeman on point duty stepped forward, with the arresting arm of the law held out to stop her, but as she took no notice he stepped very hastily back again, for to commit suicide and possibly manslaughter, was a more serious crime than dangerous riding. Lucia’s face was contorted with agonised apprehension, her eyes stared, her mouth was wide open, and all the young constable could do by way of identification was to notice, when the unknown female had whisked by him, that the bicycle was new and that there was the Borough coat of arms on the tool-bag. Lucia passed between a pedestrian and a van, just avoiding both: she switch-backed up and down the railway-bridge, still ringing her bell… Then in front of her lay the long climb of the Tilling hill, and as the pace diminished she found her brake. She dismounted, and waited for Georgie. He had lost sight of her in the traffic, and followed her cautiously in icy expectation of finding her and that beautiful new bicycle flung shattered on the road. Then he had one glimpse of her swift swallow-flight up the steep incline of the railway-bridge. Thank God she was safe so far! He traversed it himself and then saw her a hundred yards ahead up the hill. Long before he reached her his impetus was exhausted, and he got off.

“Don’t hurry, dear,” she called to him in a trembling voice. “You were right, quite right to ride cautiously. Safety first
always.”

“I felt very anxious about you,” said Georgie, panting as he joined her. “You oughtn’t to have gone so fast. You deserve to be summoned for dangerous riding.” A vision, vague and bright, shot through Lucia’s brain. She could not conceive a more enviable piece of publicity than, at her age, to be summoned for so athletic a feat. It was punishable, no doubt, by law, but like a
crime passionel,
what universal admiration it would excite! What a dashing Mayor!

“I confess I was going very fast,” she said, “but I felt I had such complete control of my machine. And so exhilarating. I don’t suppose anybody has ever ridden so fast down Landgate Street. Now, if you’re rested, shall we go on?”

They had a long but eminently prudent ride, and after lunch a well-earned siesta. Lucia, reposing on the sofa in the garden-room, was awakened by Grosvenor’s entry from a frightful nightmare that she was pedalling for all she was worth down Beachy Head into the arms of a policeman on the shore.

“Inspector Morrison, ma’am,” said Grosvenor. “He’ll call again if not convenient.”

Nightmare vanished: the vague vision grew brighter. Was it possible?…

“Certainly, at once,” she said springing up and Inspector Morrison entered.

“Sorry to disturb your Worship,” he said, “but one of my men has reported that about eleven a.m. to-day a new bicycle with the arms of Tilling on the tool-bag was ridden at a dangerous speed by a female down Landgate Street. He made enquiries at the bicycle shop and found that a similar machine was sent to your house yesterday. I therefore ask your permission to question your domestics—”

“Quite right to apply to me, Inspector,” said Lucia. “You did your duty. Certainly I will sign the summons.”

“But we don’t know who it was yet, ma’am. I should like to ask your servants to account for their whereabouts at eleven a.m.”

“No need to ask them, Inspector,” said Lucia. “I was the culprit. Please send the summons round here and I will sign it.”

“But, your Worship—”

Lucia was desperately afraid that the Inspector might wriggle out of summoning the Mayor and that the case would never come into Court. She turned a magisterial eye on him.

“I will not have one law for the rich and another for the poor in Tilling,” she said. “I was riding at a dangerous speed. It was very thoughtless of me, and I must suffer for it. I ask you to proceed with the case in the ordinary course.”

This one appearance of Lucia and Georgie doing their shopping on bicycles had been enough to kindle the spark of emulation in the breasts of the more mature ladies of Tilling. It looked so lissom, so gaily adolescent to weave your way in and out of traffic and go for a spin in the country, and surely if Lucia could, they could also. Her very casualness made it essential to show her that there was nothing remarkable about her unexpected feat. The bicycle shop was besieged with enquiries for machines on hire and instructors. The Padre and Evie were the first in the field, and he put off his weekly visit to the workhouse that afternoon from half-past two till half-past three, and they hired the two bicycles which Lucia and Georgie no longer needed. Diva popped in next, and was chagrined to find that the only lady’s bicycle was already bespoken, so she engaged it for an hour on the following morning. Georgie that day did quite complicated shopping alone, for Lucia was at a committee meeting at the Town Hall. She rode there—a distance of a hundred and fifty yards—to save time, but the gain was not very great, for she had to dismount twice owing to the narrow passage between posts for the prevention of vehicular traffic. Georgie, having returned from his shopping, joined her at the Town Hall when her meeting was over, and, with brakes fully applied, they rode down into the High Street,
en route
for another dash into the country. Susan’s Royce was drawn up at the bicycle-shop.

“Georgie, I shan’t have a moment’s peace,” said Lucia, “until I know whether Susan has ambitions too. I must just pop in.”

Both the Wyses were there. Algernon was leaning over Susan’s shoulder as she studied a catalogue of the newest types of tricycles…

The Mayoress alone remained scornful and aloof. Looking out from her window one morning, she observed Diva approaching very slowly up the trafficless road that ran past Grebe buttressed up by Georgie’s late instructor, who seemed to have some difficulty in keeping her perpendicular. She hurried to the garden-gate, reaching it just as Diva came opposite.

“Good morning, dear,” she said. “Sorry to see that you’re down with it, too.”

“Good morning, dear,” echoed Diva, with her eyes glued to the road in front of her. “I haven’t the slightest idea what you mean.”

“But is it wise to take such strenuous exercise?” asked Elizabeth. “A great strain surely on both of you.”

“Not a bit of a strain,” called Diva over her shoulder. “And my instructor says I shall soon get on ever so quick.”

The bicycle gave a violent swerve.

“Oh, take care,” cried Elizabeth in an anxious voice, “or you’ll get off ever so quick.”

“We’ll rest a bit,” said Diva to her instructor, and she stepped from her machine and went back to the gate to have it out with her friend. “What’s the matter with you,” she said to Elizabeth, “is that you can’t bear us following Lucia’s lead. Don’t deny it. Look in your own heart, and you’ll find it’s true, Elizabeth. Get over it, dear. Make an effort. Far more Christian!”

“Thank you for your kind interest in my character, Diva,” retorted Elizabeth. “I shall know now where to come when in spiritual perplexity.”

“Always pleased to advise you,” said Diva. “And now give me a treat. You told us all you learned to ride in ten minutes when you were a girl. I’ll give you my machine for ten minutes. See if you can ride at the end of it! A bit coy, dear? Not surprised. And rapid motion might be risky for your relaxed throat.”

There was a moment’s pause. Then both ladies were so pleased at their own brilliant dialectic that Elizabeth said she would pop in to Diva’s establishment for tea, and Diva said that would be charming.

In spite of Elizabeth (or perhaps even because of her) this revival of the bicycling nineties grew most fashionable. Major Benjy turned traitor and was detected by his wife surreptitiously practising with the gardener’s bicycle on the cinder path in the kitchen garden. Mr. Wyse suddenly appeared on the wheel riding in the most elegant manner. Figgis, his butler, he said, happened to remember that he had a bicycle put away in the garage and had furbished it up. Mr. Wyse introduced a new style: he was already an adept and instead of wearing a preoccupied expression, made no more of it than if he was strolling about on foot. He could take a hand off his handle-bar, to raise his hat to the Mayor, as if one hand was all he needed. When questioned about this feat, he said that it was not really difficult to take both hands off without instantly crashing, but Lucia, after several experiments in the garden, concluded that Mr. Wyse, though certainly a very skilful performer, was wrong about that. To crown all, Susan, after a long wait at the corner of Porpoise Street, where a standing motor left only eight or nine feet of the roadway clear, emerged majestically into the High Street on a brand new tricycle. “Those large motors,” she complained to the Mayor, “ought not to be allowed in our narrow streets.”