Vampires Overhead (28 page)

I admired the flashing brilliance of necklets, bracelets, rings, and then from one small case there tumbled into my palm the ring for Janet!

A black opal, square cut, set in brilliants, alive with colours of flame. I wondered at it, tilting it slowly in my hand. From emerald to rose, from rose to indigo, from blue of day heaven to blue of star-studded night. As I studied it, away in the distance, I heard someone call.

Faintly came a shout, calling at intervals, drawing nearer. It was Janet. I wrapped the opal in my handkerchief, made a package of the other gems, and climbed out to the pavement to hear her call again. Her cry echoed through the empty streets shakingly, and I knew that she was frightened.

‘Here I am. Janet! Janet!’ I called in return, dusted as much of the ash from myself as I could, and went towards the main street, to suddenly see Janet dashing past at a run. I called her again, and she swerved, saw me, came flying.

‘Oh, Garry! Garry!’ she cried, and was in my arms, sobbing her heart out, and as I clasped her, my handkerchief dropped to the ground. The opal glittered and flashed as it rolled in the gutter. It winked up at me as then, with Janet sobbing shakingly in my arms, I understood. I grinned up at a weather-cock tilted drunkenly on the tip of a badly damaged steeple.

‘Garry. Why didn’t you bring me with you? Why did you leave me alone with Bingen? I called after you. You must have heard. Why didn’t you answer?’

‘I heard, but . . . Oh, I dunno. But what did you come on here for?’

‘Bingen. He tried to kiss me again.’

‘Well?’

‘What do you mean . . . well?’ Janet flashed at me quickly and drew away.

‘I . . . I . . . Eh.’ I stammered and flushed. ‘I thought you wanted Bingen. You seemed to sort of like being with him.’

‘Like being with him! You never gave me any chance except of being with him.’

‘Well, you kept giving me the air. How was I to know?’

‘How were you to know!’ Janet queried indignantly through her tears. ‘Why, I kept telling you over and over again, and then I’d get cross because you would still give way to Bingen. I suppose I tried not to let you see, because you seemed to want to leave me alone with him so much.’

‘You mean . . .?’

‘Of course I mean . . . Oh, Garry!’

She squirmed as I hugged her.

‘And all this time I’ve been miserable because of that swab,’ I said at last. ‘And you knew it, really. Yet you left it as long as this. When did you know that you . . . That I . . . You know what I mean.’

‘Oh, the very first time I saw you,’ Janet giggled, brazenly.

‘But, good God! I hadn’t got any clothes on then.’ I shook her. ‘Janet, don’t be so forward. I’m ashamed of you. Wait a minute. I’ve got something here for you.’

Releasing her, I searched in the gutter for the ring, and Janet goggled at it with big eyes.

‘Garry! Wherever did you get it?’ Her voice held spellbound rapture. She shook her head. ‘But you might put it on the ring finger.’

‘There, then. That’s about fixed us as near as we’ll ever get fixed without church or registry office. Hasn’t it?’

‘Yes.’

‘How are we going to tell Bingen?’

‘You’re not afraid of telling him?’

‘No. But he won’t take it nicely. You see, both he and I sort of mutually agreed that you preferred him out of the two of us.’

‘You couldn’t have,’ Janet cried. ‘Well, perhaps you might have, but not after I had those clothes on. Not after I had to tell you. Oh, Garry, to think that I had to tell you. You never asked me.’

‘Only because I thought there was no chance.’ I continued anxiously. ‘You know, Janet, it really isn’t fair to me. Being able to have you after I’ve worried myself sick about Bingen having you, when there’s only the three of us. No one else in the world. We ought . . . at least, I ought not to think about such things. I ought to just carry on until we hear from somebody. Stay like we were, until things alter. D’you understand what I mean?’

‘I think I do,’ Janet answered seriously. ‘Garry, you know I’ve lived in a boat all my life. The coast-wise trade usually doesn’t wrap things up in polite language. At least, it doesn’t when it thinks its womenfolk are below. Although, according to you, I’m young, I understand a lot more than you, I really believe. We’ll just belong to each other now. Later on . . .’

‘Janet!’

‘Well, you asked for it, didn’t you?’

‘Of course I did,’ I replied, and laughed, feeling that the half-understood worries which had been troubling me were miraculously solved. ‘Yes, I suppose that, like a damned fool, I’ve been asking for it ever since I first found out how old you were. I worried unnecessarily.’

‘And now Bingen knows he’ll have to . . .’ Janet hesitated.

‘Keep off the grass,’ I cut in quickly.

‘Yes. That’s it,’ she smiled. ‘Now Bingen knows he’s got to keep off the grass, there will be nothing for you to worry about.’

Janet looked at me archly.

‘No. I suppose there won’t be,’ I said slowly, thoughtfully. ‘And yet, I wonder?’

‘And no wonder. Now, look here m’lad, the first thing for you to do is . . . stop worrying and thinking. We’re each other’s now, until later on, we belong, properly.’

‘Right. I hope I can keep my end of the bargain.’

‘I’ll see you do that.’ Janet smiled at me, linked her arm in mine. ‘And now, hadn’t we better be getting back? You haven’t any idea how long we’ve been standing here in the middle of the street, have you? In the middle of the street! Well, m’lad, you certainly take a lot of starting. But when you get started! The middle of the street, indeed!’

I laughed at her. How surprisingly I enjoyed being addressed as ‘m’lad’, who was nearly old enough to be her father!

We were a long time getting back to the valley, and at the top of the hill, before we went down to the cottage and Bingen, we halted.

‘Garry. D’you know we’ve left the bicycles? We’ve walked back!’

‘Walk back be hanged! I’ve floated back on a . . . Eh! . . . Um! Floated back in a state of coma.’

I sent a yell down into the valley.

‘Bingen! Bingen!’

We clambered down in silence.

‘I suppose he’s here,’ I said. ‘I wonder what he’ll say? After my warnings to him about . . .’

‘About what?’

‘Oh, nothing.’

In the gathering dusk Bingen sat in the cottage, and upon the table before him two whisky bottles stood. He eyed our entrance sulkily.

‘Where have you been?’

‘Down in the town. Knocking it back, Bingen?’

‘Knocking what back,’ Bingen asked crossly.

‘Whisky.’

‘Now then, you two,’ Janet chimed in. ‘You in a better humour now, Mr Bingen?’

‘
Mister!
’ Bingen repeated suprisedly. ‘What do you mean—Mister?’

‘Surely you didn’t expect to be called anything else after the way you behaved while Garry was away?’ Janet said. ‘Are you going to say you’re sorry?’

‘Sorry. What for?’

‘You know what for, Bingen. Trying to maul me about while Garry was away.’

‘Aw. I only tried to kiss you,’ Bingen grinned. ‘That why you’ve stopped out all this time. Still angry? Well, I’m sorry. Come and have a drink, Garry.’

‘We’ll have just one,’ I said, and poured out a glass, dropping a slight amount of whisky into a tumbler full of lemonade for Janet. ‘Bingen. Here’s to us. Janet and me.’

I drank, but Bingen stayed his glass in mid-air, puzzling.

‘What d’you mean? Here’s to Janet and you?’ he asked.

‘Well, you see, Bingen. While Janet and I were down in town, we sort of fixed things up between us.’

While he and I looked at each other Janet, who had gone out into the yard, called to me and, glad to get away from Bingen’s outraged, accusing glare, I went out to her, leaving him alone.

The moon rose over the hills to lighten our valley and diffuse the glow from the comet. A lamp was lit in the cottage, and we could see the black shadow of Bingen sitting with his whisky. Twice I saw him rise and go to where the bottles were stored.

‘I think I’d better go in and try to jerk Bingen out of that drinking spell,’ I said. ‘He’s a nasty bit of work when he’s had one over the eight.’

‘I wish he were different,’ Janet said softly. ‘You know, Garry, I think we’re going to have trouble with him.’

‘Aw! Nonsense! He’ll be all right later on. When he gets over the disappointment. Bingen’s a sport, really. Circumstances, you know. Bit tough on him when you think it over. And after all, to be honest, you did give him rather a lot of encouragement.’

‘That I didn’t.’ Janet started away from me. I caught her, and she was forced to stay in my arms, but her body was stiff, unresponsive. She said indignantly, ‘I didn’t encourage him. I only tried to make you understand, through him.’

‘Make me understand, through him,’ I laughed. ‘Bit tough on poor old Bingen, wasn’t it? No wonder he’s peeved.’

The door of the cottage crashed suddenly open, and Bingen swayed on the threshold, staring into the darkness. I called to him.

‘Bingen! Come over here and bring the bottle, you old crab you, and don’t be a fool. Bring the bottle over, and I’ll have a couple with you to celebrate. Come and squat over here.’

‘He’ll make trouble if he comes over here,’ Janet whispered. ‘Don’t ask him. Let him be.’

‘Oh, he’ll be all right.’ But I was not too sure, and eyed Bingen, walking towards us, apprehensively.

Standing rather unsteadily, Bingen came to a halt and glared down at me.

‘Why don’t you forget she’s a woman and think only of her as a lost child,’ he said sneeringly, thickly. ‘This isn’t the time to think about things like that. Lost child! Lost woman she looks like now.’

‘Bingen, you . . .’ I stopped as Janet caught my arm pleadingly.

He laughed drunkenly, turned on his heel, and went back to the whisky in the cottage. At the door he turned.

‘Nice little bit of double-crossing, Garry. Warning me off, and all the time making good yourself. I won’t forget it.’

The door slammed and I frowned. We were going to have the anticipated trouble with Bingen all right. Then I smiled. It couldn’t be anything. If the worst came to the worst, there would be a row. Maybe a scrap. Perhaps he would have to have it beaten into him. Well, I was capable. I stretched back against the cliff and Janet snuggled down beside me.

I wondered. If Janet, as I thought she would, had chosen Bingen instead of myself, would I have given them any trouble? I think not. But I hardly imagine I could have stayed in the valley. No, I could not have stayed. Would Bingen have to go?

X

The Death of Bingen

FOR THREE WEEKS Bingen
left Janet and I severely alone, going his own way, drinking morosely, wandering off on excursions to The Blue Anchor where I had found him—with a rifle under his arm. Trying to reason with him, that he was behaving like a spoilt child, I met with such surly cursing I was forced to give up attempts to achieve reconciliation. Several times, quick recollection of my having warned him not to attempt the very thing which I had now done myself, stopped me from answering churlish accusations with a crack under his jaw. Soon, I knew, he must find another place to moon around in, where he could not upset us, or Janet and I would be forced to search for accommodation outside the valley. Janet tried her hardest to pacify him, but her advances roused such sarcasms and developed into such bickerings that I ordered her to leave him alone, and we achieved some sort of a peace, which looked like flaring into murder at the tiniest provocation, living our life apart from him, hoping he would finally end his drinking-bout, and be once again his old self.