The Judas Tree (34 page)

‘Dear friend, I rejoice in your happiness. Such a sweet child. All that – and heaven too, with this splendid new work.'

‘You are most kind, Frida.'

‘Ah, I had a premonition that we should lose you, even when I was at Baden and you did not write.'

‘I always knew you were intuitive,' he said guardedly.

‘Unfortunately, yes. But all that is past. Now is the time to be practical, to show the value of a true friend who also is, as you say, matter-of-fact. Your
déménagement
in so short a time will be most difficult. You will need help, and if you wish I can give it. Your little one tells me she leaves with her splendid Willie tomorrow. I would wish to come then, but as you may be at the airport … yes? … very well, shall I come the day after?'

‘You're most thoughtful,' he said, realising after a moment's reflection that nothing could be more acceptable. She was so capable, and already he had begun to worry about the complexity of the arrangements that must be made. ‘I shall expect you. And thank you.'

She smiled, and passed through the door.

Immediately he hurried back to rejoin Kathy and Willie in the salon. He took the salver from the hall table with him.

‘Well, was it a success?' he asked gaily.

‘It went ever so well,' Kathy said, looking flushed and happy.

‘Did you think so too, Willie?'

He nodded. He was sitting down, looking tired.

‘They were all very kind.'

‘Let's just see how kind,' Moray said slyly. He was in tremendous spirits. With the air of a conspirator he handed the salver to Kathy and, while she held it, began to count the money-There was a respectable heap of fifty-and hundred-franc bills and one coin – a two-franc piece.

‘I bet that's from little Gallie,' Moray laughed.

‘Then it means a lot,' Willie said, unexpectedly.

‘Oh, yes,' Kathy agreed warmly. ‘ I liked her much the best.'

There was a pause, then Kathy said again:

‘Haven't you forgotten that bit of paper at the bottom?'

‘Have I? Good lord, don't tell me someone's chipped in with a bad cheque. Take a look, Kathy.'

She gazed at the cheque, quite speechless, then she handed it to Willie. Still silent, she looked at Moray, then suddenly put her arms around his neck and kissed him.

Next day, at two in the afternoon, Moray arrived back from Zurich, still rather cast down by the departure of Kathy and Willie for Edinburgh on the noon plane, yet charged with vigorous purpose. Only eleven days remained before he would join them at London Airport, and much must be accomplished in that brief span; the need for immediate action was imperative. As he let himself into the house – following the departure of his guests he had given Arturo and Elena the afternoon off – he felt glad of Madame von Altishofer's promise of assistance and hoped she would not fail to turn up next morning.

However, he had only begun to go through his mail in the study when, to his surprise, he heard the beat of her litle Dauphine in the drive. Leaving unopened the
Journal of Tropical Medicine
, to which he had just subscribed, and a parcel of lightweight nylon camping equipment that promised to be interesting, he went to meet her.

‘Am I too prompt?' She spoke briskly, looking extremely workmanlike in a grey linen skirt and knitted grey cardigan. ‘I happened to see you pass in the Humber and thought not to waste the afternoon.'

‘You're quite right,' he agreed heartily, leading the way into the library. ‘There's so much to do, the sooner we start the better.'

‘Tell me then, what, roughly, are your plans?' She sat, not in the chair, but on the arm, indicating instant obedient readiness.

‘The villa, of course, will be put on the market. Arturo and Elena will move into the chalet and act as
gardiens
of the property until it is sold.'

‘And your things?'

‘My pictures and silver must go provisionally to the bank. Their ultimate disposition will be in my lawyer's hands – Stieger is a most reliable man. My furniture and books can remain here temporarily – quite safe if the house is shuttered.'

‘These lovely books,' she exclaimed, looking at the long double rows of fine Sangorski bindings. ‘You cannot leave them so, in a shut-up house, or they will become altogether foxed. Every one must be separately wrapped, and that is something I can do for you.'

‘Arturo …' he began.

‘No.' She got up smilingly. ‘He will have enough on his hands. And he is so overthrown by your going, he is not fit for anything extra. Besides, I love books; my father had a famous library at Kellenstein. So off to your own work and leave this to me.' As he moved towards the door, she added, tactfully, but with a glance both ironic and approving: ‘By the way, I suppose you have read Mr Stench's article in the
Tageblatt.
'

‘I haven't seen today's papers. What article?'

‘It is a piece about your party for the Mission, but there is much in it about you, and of your courage in going out there, in spite of this tribal affair. It is most flattering.'

He reddened, chiefly from pleasure, thinking of his friends in Melsburg and so many others in the canton who would read of him.

‘Archie is rather a nuisance,' he said. ‘Though basically good at heart. I hope he didn't overdo it. And what's this tribal affair?'

‘Apparently an outbreak of some sort, probably no more than the general unrest your friend referred to in his lecture. Now tell me, where may I find lots of wrapping paper?'

‘In the pantry. Elena has stacks of it in a cupboard.'

When she went off he stirred himself and set about his first important task, to make the inventory of his antiques. This was something after his own heart and as he toured the house with paper and pen, noting down this piece and that – the Charles II red lacquer cabinet bought at the Antique Fair in London, the exquisitely mellowed Queen Anne bureau listed in Macquoid's classic
The Age of Walnut
, the Louis XVI fauteuils he had bid for successfully at the Parke-Bernet Galleries – waves of recollection, of bitter-sweet nostalgia, flowed over him. It was hard to part with these costly trifles, yet never had he felt so spiritually elevated, so convinced of the merit of his renunciation. Archie Stench was right. He
was
doing a worth-while thing.

The tabulation was not quite complete when, at five o'clock, Madame von Altishofer found him brooding over his Elizabethan buffet in the dining-room.

‘Time for tea,' she announced.

He looked up.

‘Have you finished?'

‘Not nearly. The books alone will take at least another half day. But workers of the world require refreshment. And I have presumed to make a few
amaretti.
'

The break was in fact most welcome.

‘What good biscuits,' he remarked. ‘I never associated you with the domestic virtues.'

‘One learns from necessity – and disappointments, of which I've had many. Please take another.'

‘I shouldn't.' He smiled deprecatingly. ‘ The impression I've received lately is that I'm rather over-addicted to the pleasures of the table.'

‘What nonsense,' she said spiritedly. ‘Now especially, to build your strength, you should be eating well. Goodness alone knows what wretched fare you will get out there.'

‘I'll be all the better for it. I supped plenty of porridge in my youth.'

‘In your youth, yes, dear friend.' She smiled tolerantly. ‘But now?'

A brief silence followed this remark, during which she gazed round the, as yet, undenuded room, her eyes coming to rest on the lovely pastel of Madame Melo and her child.

‘Do you remember the afternoon you showed me the Vuillard? It seems only yesterday, yet so much has happened in that short time. Promise me to keep your paintings on the walls until the last possible moment. You often told me you could not live without them, and certainly that you would never sell them.' Althought seemed to strike her. She hesitated, glanced away, then towards him, finally exclaimed impulsively: ‘ Must you really sell your home? Couldn't you keep it, well, as a kind of rest house which you could fall back on in case of need? Dear friend, I worry about you, and the last thing I wish is that you should get one of those tropical diseases that have broken up poor Willie. And what a catalogue he recited, malaria, sleeping sickness, leprosy and the rest; the poor man looks ill enough to have half of them himself.… But as I was saying, if you should contract something serious, at least you would, have a safe place in proper climate to recover and recuperate.'

He looked at her, at first frowning, as in doubt, then, thoughtfully. The idea had never occurred to him and, at first sight, it appeared to have considerable merit. Why should he sell out in a blind rush; he had not the slightest financial need. Besides, if he took time, with mounting property values he would undoubtedly secure a far better price. But no, no, that would be merely temporising, playing around with half-measures, a dangerous procedure at all times. He was going for good, and would not return. He shook his head decisively.

‘No. I prefer to make a clean, sharp cut.'

‘Yes, I suppose you are right. Always you see things so clearly, never thinking of yourself. I did wrong to make such a weak proposal, but it is because I think only of you. God knows I shall never for one moment have peace once you are out there.'

‘But why, Frida? It's not so dreadful at the Mission.'

‘Oh, my friend, because you are brave and strong, don't pretend in order to make this easier for me. You understand, better than I, the dangers that will surround you. Last night, for thinking of that poor Swedish family whose heads were hacked off, I could not sleep. If such a cruel death occurs for a man after many years of service, what might not occur to you, a newcomer.'

He glanced at her irritably, with a touch of asperity.

‘For goodness' sake, Frida, don't exaggerate.'

‘Exaggerate, because I tell you of the thoughts of one small bad night. If that were all I feared for you, I should be happy. But besides the fevers, are there not beasts of the jungle, scorching sun and torrential rains, and, worst of all, this trouble in the Congo. Mr Stench says it is beginning and must spread. And you are so near. But why am I so foolish to talk of what you already fully understand?' She stood up abruptly. ‘Work work, that's what we must do, in order not to think for a moment of the future. There are some books on the high shelves of the library that I cannot reach. When I have put away the tea trolley you must hand them down to me. After that, it is time for me to rush back to Seeburg.'

He moved slowly into the library, frowning, vaguely displeased, not with her, for no one could have his interests more at heart, but rather with the manner of her presentation of the obvious. As if he did not realise what he was getting into. Absurd. The books to which she referred were mainly special full folio editions of the Paragon art series, but although his eye was cast towards them they left no conscious imprint on his retina. Finally, however, with a slight start, he came to himself, decided against fetching the step-ladder from the basement and instead brought forward the long needlepoint stool that had its place before the fireplace. Mounting, he reached up and, one at a time, began to transfer the heavy, richly clasped and padded volumes to a lower and more accessible shelf. He had almost finished when she appeared and stood watching him.

Only three books now remained at the end of the top shelf. Hurrying, he stretched up and sideways, took hold of all three. But in the effort of lifting he lost his balance and, still clutching the books above his head, was obliged to make a quick backward step off the stool that brought him safely though jarringly to the floor.

‘Well done,' she complimented him. ‘You saved yourself most cleverly.'

‘Yes …' he spoke through compressed lips, ‘but I rather think I've wrenched my back.'

‘You did come down sharply. You must sit down and rest.'

He seated himself cautiously on the end of the stool and, with his hand pressed against the affected part, watched while she wrapped up the Paragon edition.

‘Now, you are better?' she inquired, when she had finished.

‘Not altogether. But it's nothing, it'll pass.'

‘If not, you must see to it. For tonight take aspirin and get Arturo to rub you. Have you some antidolor liniment?'

‘I think there's some in the medicine cabinet.'

She continued to study him sympathetically, head on one side.

‘I wish I did not have to leave you, but there.… Now do not forget, antidolor and aspirin, after your bath. No, don't get up. I will let myself out. And for tomorrow, shall we say ten o'clock?'

He nodded agreement, with as little movement as possible, and, when she had gone, remained seated for several further minutes, prodding his back with a speculative finger. Then, as everything seemed intact, he got up and began, though awkwardly, to move about. The inventory was complete, he must now arrange a meeting with his lawyer. He went to the telephone, dialled Stieger's number. It was the girl, his secretary, who answered, with that sing-song cadence which the local Swiss imparted to their school-taught English.

‘I am sorree, Mr Moree, Herr Stieger is in Munich.'

‘When will he be back?'

‘Saturday morneeng. But if eet is important I will telephone heem.'

He reflected quickly.

‘Saturday will be all right. Make an appointment for eleven a.m.'

‘Very well, Mr Moree. I will myself inform Herr Stieger.'

He swung away from the phone, an injudicious movement that made him wince. Annoying that Stieger was away; he wanted everything done quickly; yes, at once. His earlier mood of vigorous confidence, a state verging on exaltation, had lapsed, he felt a longing for Kathy: the touch of her lips, her sweet glance of encouragement. For one who had always enjoyed his own society it was strange how he now disliked being alone. If only Madame von Altishofer had not been obliged to dash away – what a help she was, in his present emergency. The idea of a solitary dinner did not appeal to him, moreover he felt he owed it to himself to turn in early. He rang for Arturo, told him to prepare a tray and take it up to the study, explained the necessity of massage later on, then, passing between the piles of wrapped books, he tuned in the radio to the evening broadcast of the B. B.C. Lately he had been so preoccupied with his own affairs he had not listened to the news. But he was too late, immediately a voice said: