The Derring-Do Club and the Year of the Chrononauts (46 page)

“Yes, something.”

“It was all very awkward for the powers–that–be,” said Caruthers, smoothing down the chevron of his brown moustache with his free hand. The other held a package. “We’re not exactly hushing it up, but everyone’s too embarrassed to talk about it.”

“It is extraordinary how so many Members of Parliament changed their tune.”

“Have you any plans?” Caruthers asked by way of changing the conversation.

“I think we might take a holiday in Georgina’s country house.”

“It’s in the middle of nowhere, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Dartmoor.”

“That’s Devon, isn’t it?” Caruthers said, and he turned to McKendry: “Mac, isn’t that where those lights in the sky were reported?”

“Near Mag… sorry,
More Darling
– is that it? – Chase,” said McKendry, “No, that was all just local superstition – absolutely nothing in it.”

Charlotte piped in: “It’s cold and horrid.”

“Lottie!” said Earnestine. “It’ll be a chance for some welcome peace and quiet.”

“You deserve it,” said Caruthers.

Earnestine checked her gold pocket watch, seeing the engraving under the cover about the future: the mechanism itself was running slow.

Captain Caruthers had been hovering with a package for far too long. He shuffled uneasily, so Earnestine prompted him: “Yes?”

“For you – birthday, and all that.”

Earnestine took the proffered present. She carefully removed the ribbon and paper to reveal what she already knew was underneath by the feel of the rectangle. It was a framed picture… or rather a poem.

“Oh,” she said, “‘
If–
’ by Rudyard Kipling.”

“You know it! It’s only been privately circulated in the club and regiment, based on that Jameson chap business; it’s not been officially published.”

Earnestine read it, remembering the lines:
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken.

“Foolish really,” Caruthers continued, “but I think we should put it up on the wall in every cadet’s room, a sort of motto, advice really, so I thought… that is… it’s good advice.”

“If you can keep your head…” she said. “Yes, thank you. Good advice indeed.”

“That’s what I thought,” said Caruthers. “It’s embroidery, you sew it, and when it’s finished you can put it up in a nursery. That is, when you have a son.”

Earnestine knew what she wanted to say to that, but instead she said, “Lovely.”

“And a husband, obviously,” Caruthers added quickly. “Anyway, many happy returns.”

McKendry was even more embarrassed: he’d brought a posy of flowers.

“Beautiful,” Earnestine said.

“Major Dan sends his apologies,” Caruthers added. He’d also sent an envelope, but that ended up unopened upon the mantelpiece where the clock used to be.

“Your Father wanted sons, didn’t he?” Caruthers said.

There was more screaming from upstairs followed by a stream of invective.

“Yes, he did… and Mother, probably for the peace and quiet,” Earnestine said.

“Earnest Deering–Dolittle was a great man.”

“Earnest George Charles Deering–Dolittle – he couldn’t really have any more children, could he? You think he’s dead?”

“Well… I don’t know… There are expeditions that do disappear without a trace and then re–emerge many years later. Stanley, for example.”

She looked at the embroidery pattern: ‘Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it, and – which is more – you’ll be a Man, my son!’

Birthdays!

Long awaited, always over too quickly.

However, she was a woman now.

Mrs Arthur Merryweather

“Oh, oh, bal– bal– bally hell – you watch your language, you stupid cow, I’m splitting apart!!!”

And Georgina went on in that vein, along with some ornament throwing.

Arthur had done this to her! Her Arthur. The utter–

“Oh! Oh!!!”

The younger midwife hovered by the bedroom door, much afraid.

Miss Charlotte

“Where did she learn words like that?” Charlotte asked, slightly horrified.

“She married,” Earnestine said. “I expect there was a lesson.”

It had been a wonderful birthday and there had been cake, and even more cake for Charlotte when Georgina had gone into labour, and Earnestine had looked lovely in her new burgundy dress. She wore her hair down to hide the scar, and her long, red curls jiggled when she turned her head. Charlotte was very thankful that Earnestine had forgiven her: they would never mention it again, her elder sister had assured her:
I do not want to talk about it.

Captain Caruthers and Lieutenant McKendry eventually made their farewells, leaving Charlotte and Earnestine alone in the drawing room.

Earnestine lit a thin cigar, inhaling deeply and lost in her own thoughts.

The maid came in to clear up.

“Leave those, Jane,” Earnestine said. “I’ll gather everything up when we’ve finished. You and Mary can go out if you wish.”

“Thank you, Miss,” said the maid with a curtsey, “very much obliged, Miss.”

Georgina yelled from upstairs: “I am blowing, you stupid–”

And more words, such words that made Charlotte snigger even though she had no idea what they meant.

“School for you,” said Earnestine.

“Can I join a cadet college?”

“Hmmm.”

There wasn’t a Women’s Cadet Academy for Charlotte to enrol in; perhaps there never would be, but it was good to dream.

Earnestine seemed withdrawn, staring at the Lincrusta wall covering while seeing some other vista.

“Are you going to find Marcus?” Charlotte asked.

“Marcus?”

“Mister Frasier, your future husb–”

“I most certainly am not.”

“But it’s destiny.”

“I haven’t forgotten that you should be married off as soon as possible.”

Charlotte felt a certain horror at the idea and thought it best to change the subject: “Do you think Georgina will have a boy or a girl?”

“Either way, it’ll be a Derring–Do.”

Earnestine put the virgin embroidery, still in its frame, onto the mantelpiece, moving some envelope to one side.

“…or watch the things you gave your life to, broken, and stoop and build ‘em up with worn–out tools,” said Earnestine. She didn’t look happy.

“What was that?”

“Kipling.”

“It’s gone now, isn’t it?” said Charlotte with understanding. “That dream that Uncle Jeremiah and Mrs Frasier had.”

“Not yet.”

The End

will return in the

Invasion of the Grey

About the Author

David Wake
launched the first of the
Derring–Do Club
novels when he was Guest of Honour at ArmadaCon 25. This instalment was brought out for Loncon 3, Worldcon. He’ll be picking another SF convention to release the next episode.

Thank you for buying and reading
The Derring-Do Club and the Year of the Chrononauts
. If you liked this novel, please take a few moments from your own adventures to write a review and help spread the word.

For more information, and to join the mailing list for news of forthcoming releases, see
www.davidwake.com
.

Many thanks to:–

Dawn Abigail, Siân K Bradshaw, Richard Clay, Andy Conway, Pow–wow, Marion Pitman and Jessica Rydill.

Cover art by Smuzz:
www.smuzz.org.uk

Also by David Wake

NOVELS

I, Phone

The Derring-Do Club and the Empire of the Dead

#tag

NOVELLAS

The Other Christmas Carol

ONE–ACT PLAYS

Hen and Fox

Down the Hole

Flowers

Stockholm

Groom

The Other Christmas Carol

A tonic for the Xmas Spirit.

Evil forces threaten the festive season and only Carol Christmas can save the day...

A grim fairy tale told as a children’s book, but perhaps not for children at all.

______

“Genuinely charming…”

“You’re an odd person.”

“You’ve woven all our fears about the commercial side of Xmas into a very compelling Twilight of the Gods drama. Beautiful.”

“Yes. It’s amazing. Click publish before someone gets you to water it down.”

______

This novella is available as an
ebook
and a
paperback
.

I, Phone

In a world where phones are more intelligent than humans, but are still treated as mere fashion accessories, one particular piece of plastic lies helpless as its owner is about to the murdered...

The phone tells its own story as events build to a climactic battle that will decide the fate of augmented, virtual and real worlds.

______

“Excellent novel – by turns strikingly original, laugh–out–loud funny and thought provoking.”

“Want to read it again soon…”

“A thoughtful, tense and funny look at a future that seems to be already upon us.”

______

This novel is available as an
ebook
and a
paperback
.

#tag