Sensible Life (12 page)

The high tide line had been cleared of driftwood by Mrs. Stubbs and her children. They heaped it into a pyramidal pyre. Everybody looked forward to its lighting.

The picnic lunch which had been eaten immediately on arrival had rendered some of the elders somnolent. Angus Leigh slept with his hat over his eyes; Freddy Ward slept, too; Ian MacNeice was reading a book. Rosa and Milly, without waiting for a Stubbs suggestion, had collected the picnic debris and buried it in the fire where, later, it would make aromatic smells of burnt orange peel and not so nice banana. Now, with their backs to a rock protecting them from the wind, they sat chatting.

Joyce, having seen Mabs and Tashie run, was now teaching them how to do handstands and cartwheels. All three girls hoped to persuade Felix to join in, but Felix had walked up the valley with Elizabeth and Anne to look for a farm which would sell fresh milk, milk for the little children having been inexplicably forgotten by the commissariat.

From her elevated position Flora watched all this; she could, too, view the progress of her parents as they clambered round the base of the cliff. They would shortly reach a gulley which, as the tide receded, formed a small cove sheltered from the wind, well away from the crowded and desecrated beach.

Hot breath on her neck apprised Flora of the arrival of the cure’s dog. She greeted him with affection but, sighting the movement on the beach, the dog galloped off to join in.

“Tonton deserts you. He has a passion for company, a veritable beach dog. Everybody’s friend, as his master should be but is not.” Louis, the garde champêtre, crept up on Flora. “The cure heard that there were two charabanc full of people. What is going on?”

“English families picknicking,” Flora answered guardedly.

“English? I hate the English.”

“One English papa is a general.”

“I hate generals.” Louis lowered himself to sit on a stone near Flora.

“There is a Dutch baron and some Dutch baronesses.”

“I hate the Dutch; they have given sanctuary to the Kaiser.” Louis brought a pipe out of his pocket and filled it.

Wrinkling her nose, Flora edged away.

“Why are you not playing with the other children?”

Flora did not answer. Below her she saw her parents reach the cove. Louis struck a match and lit his pipe. Tonton, having reached the beach, was bounding in friendly fashion among the picknickers, wagging his tail and jumping up. A small child shrieked in terror; the child’s father threatened Tonton with a spade. Tonton, moving away in a jolly, forgiving way, lifted his leg against a sandy battlement. Louis chuckled: “Un chien patriote.”

Down below Denys and Vita kissed in the privacy of the cove. Denys held Vita close, Vita put her arms round Denys. Denys nuzzled Vita’s neck and began bunching her skirt up over her bottom.

“Some of the English are going to swim when they have digested their lunch,” Flora informed Louis.

“That I must see.” Louis got up and began moving diagonally down the cliff. “Monsieur le cure is anxious about the proprieties. It is my job to see that the law is adhered to, no indecencies committed.”

“I thought you were anticlerical.” Louis had explained this term one day the previous winter, when meeting her with Tonton. He had told her he hated all clerics and the cure in particular. Below her, Vita drew her dress over her head and stepped out of her knickers. Flora was quite glad that her mother was out of Louis’ sight. What funny things people did: she remembered Felix and Madame Tarasova shoeless. Not being fond of her parents she was not interested in what they took off, she was up here to keep others in sight. Down on the beach Tonton now ran in a crazy circle, his tail tucked between his legs. Louis paused in his descent to watch. As Tonton’s circle included one of the larger castles there was the risk that he might misjudge his leaps, but he leapt clear each time.

“He is a clown,” Louis called back to her.

Denys and Vita were lying down now; Flora thought they might find the sand wet and cold but see, Tonton had stopped in midrush to squat, strain and do his jobs against a sand battlement. Almost out of earshot Louis cried, “Bravo!”

Sandcastling fathers shouted indignantly and children began pelting the dog with wet sand, which thumped against his woolly flanks. Flora gave a shrill whistle and started trotting down the cliff. Louis was out of sight, but she could see Felix, Elizabeth and Anne returning along the path by the stream carrying jugs of milk. Tonton came up from the beach and ran on past her, following Louis. Flora walked to meet Felix and his sisters. They put the jugs of milk to stand in the shallow water near the picnic site to keep cool.

“There seems to be a move to go in and swim,” said Anne. “The tide is coming in. Shall you swim, Felix?”

“The sea will be icy.”

“It would be a good thing if some of us were at least prepared in case the small children get into trouble,” said Elizabeth.

“I can’t,” said Anne, sotto voce.

“You are fortunate to have a valid excuse,” said Elizabeth slyly.

Flora was puzzled by this exchange.

Around the picnic site children were clamouring to be allowed to bathe, tearing off their clothes and hitching themselves into bathing costumes. Their mothers said, “You must not stay in long,” and “You must come out the moment I call you,” in doubting tones.

Seeing Felix resignedly pick up his towel and bathing suit, Mabs and Tashie rushed behind a rock to change; Joyce was already in her swim-suit, prancing on long legs, showing her teeth. “Show-off,” said Tashie enviously, as Joyce hurdled a sandcastle.

Cosmo and Blanco had little luck. “There were so few eels, we put them back,” they said. “No thanks, no bathing for us, it’s far too cold.”

“It would be tactful if you did swim, darling,” said Milly Leigh. “If you don’t, the children’s fathers will feel they must; somebody should go in with the tinies.”

“Oh God!” said Cosmo. “Must I?”

“The cold water might give one of them a heart attack,” persisted his mother.

“Oh, all right.” Cosmo gave in ungraciously. He took the towel his mother handed him and retreated behind a rock to join Felix. “Now you know why the English are considered mad,” he said. “Come on, Blanco, don’t leave it all to me.”

“I hope the mothers don’t allow them to stay in long,” said Blanco, beginning to undress.

“I went in, or partially went in, in February,” said Cosmo. “I’d been bird-watching; the beach was empty that day.” He then remembered Flora had been there and the idiot dog, who was here today. It had all looked different: the sand had been wet, flat, shimmering and Flora had seemed very small at the water’s edge. He ran down the beach with Blanco, catching up with Felix and Freddy Ward who had decided to go in. Ahead of them the small children trotted, followed by their mothers carrying towels. When they reached the water they tested the temperature, gasped and retreated, skipping back up the sand emitting shrieks. “If you are going in, go,” said the mothers. “Don’t stand there shivering, dip.”

Freddy Ward and Felix waded in, dived and swam out. “Gosh, they are brave,” said Blanco. As Felix turned to swim back Mabs, Tashie and Joyce, who had found a rock on the side of the bay dived, hoping that Felix would see and admire.

“Aren’t you going to swim?” Anne asked Flora, who sat now above the high tidemark.

Flora said: “No, thank you.” She was not going to admit that she could not swim in case somebody, Mrs. Stubbs for instance, volunteered to teach her.

The bathers, risking their deaths from cold, raced and played by the water’s edge until somebody noticed that the tide was advancing and it was time to retreat.

The small children, enjoying themselves now, were reluctant to come out, but their mothers cried: “That’s enough,” and, “Come out, now let me give you a rub.” Felix picked up a child and piggybacked him up the beach. All the others followed.

On the dunes Angus had put a match to the bonfire which crackled, spat, and flared up. While people were dressing, Milly and Rosa helped by Elizabeth and Anne set out the picnic tea. Only Freddy Ward, far out, kept on swimming.

“I call that really lunatic,” said Cosmo.

“Didn’t you know? He swims all the year round,” said Blanco. “One of his children told me.”

Everybody was getting dressed now, dragging off sticky bathing dresses, standing blue-faced, teeth chattering near the fire, while mothers tried to rub wet heads dry. Angus thought everyone looked so chilly that he shivered in sympathy and took a swallow from his flask.

Flora watched the water swirling up across the sand and Mabs and Tashie, who had lingered, break into a run, their figures silhouetted black against the sun. As she watched Vita and Denys came into view, clambering round the rocks, having lingered longer in the cove than was safe. If they had been cut off by the tide they might have been drowned, thought Flora dispassionately. Watching her parents scramble round the slippery rocks, she savoured the thought.

“Wait a moment, darling, these beastly rocks are cutting my feet. I must put on my shoes,” Vita complained.

“I love you feet.” Denys handed his wife the shoes he had been carrying for her. “I love every part of you.”

“But you don’t love our child.”

“She is not part of you.”

“There was a time when she was.” Vita massaged the sand off her soles. “How this beastly sand sticks.”

“I cannot bear to think of it.” Denys remembered his wife’s distorted stomach. “The idea of her being part of you is to my mind purely academic and rather disgusting.” He flinched from the memory.

Vita laced her shoe. “Disgusting? You never said that before.”

“Not you, sweetheart. I do not mean you.”

“I should hope not.” Vita tied the shoelace tight and reached for the second shoe, snatching it from his hand. “I’ve had enough of this picnic,” she said, standing up, “and these happy families. We’d better look sharp or we’ll get wet.”

“Somebody might have told us about the tide,” said Denys. “It’s jolly dangerous, we might have been trapped.”

“As we are trapped by Flora,” said Vita crossly.

“When she is seventeen we’ll get her out to India and be shot of her.” Denys laughed and his wife joined in. “I do love your honesty and lack of hypocrisy,” he said. “I think I have had enough of all these people.”

“They will keep an eye on Flora, that was the object of our coming—”

“We could surely have achieved that without taking all day.” Denys jumped down onto the sand and, turning, held out a hand to his wife.

“Well! We found our little cove and achieved something there.” Vita sprang down to join him.

“So we did.” Denys was pleased by her return to good humour. “A great feeling of well-being. I feel I can endure that managing matron for a few more minutes; there she is, waving.”

“Everybody come up close to the fire and have a drink of hot tea,” shouted Mrs. Stubbs. “That way you won’t catch your deaths.”

Freddy Ward was swimming back with long steady strokes, coming in with the tide. Mothers made their children sit down and distributed sandwiches. “I can’t think who suggested bathing, it’s only the last day of April,” said one of the mothers. “We would never let them do this at home.”

“We’re in France now,” said Mrs. Stubbs.

Flora moved to one side, putting the fire between herself and her parents.

“I know we are in France,” said the mother who had raised the objection to bathing.

Cosmo, Felix and Blanco came back from behind the rock where they had been dressing. Mabs, Tashie and Joyce joined them; they had all put on warm sweaters, but still had bare feet.

Tonton, coming up behind Flora, nudged her; she put an arm round his woolly neck. She was watching Freddy Ward coming out of the sea. He had a hairy chest, hair on his shoulders, and tufts sprouting from under his arms. He wrapped a rug round his waist and wriggled out of his swimsuit. Coming up to Angus Leigh, he said: “I could do with a swig from your flask, old boy. The water here is colder than at home.” Angus handed him his flask. Holding the rug with his left hand, Freddy Ward raised the flask with his right.

It was at this moment that Louis pounced. Nobody had observed his approach. He snatched at the rug and Freddy Ward was exposed, standing naked, head thrown back, drinking from the flask.

“He did look extremely indecent,” said someone who had been present at the picnic, recalling the incident long afterwards.

“The Natural Leader was quick off the mark restoring the rug, though.”

“All the same, snatching it from the garde champêtre and calling him her good man didn’t help.”

“There might have been real trouble if the Shovehalfpennies hadn’t known about French byelaws and explained our ignorance.”

“Curious that they used that child—what was she called?—as interpreter. Her father was in the Indian Civil Service, wasn’t he?”

“Anyway, what might have turned into a nasty incident was smoothed over quite amicably. Nobody laughed until the man had gone on his way.”

“It didn’t seem terribly funny at the time.”

“Catholic country, of course, France.”

“I don’t suppose the children had ever seen a naked man. One didn’t in those days—”

“I remember it had the most extraordinary cohesive effect; we all gathered round the bonfire and enjoyed our tea—”

“I seem to remember we were all leaving for home next day. Wasn’t it the General Strike?”

“Yes, and the end of the holidays.”

Flora, who was one of the people who had never seen a naked man, was filled with an immense pity for Freddy Ward. It was terrible for him having that dreadful growth between his legs. No wonder he kept it hidden. She thought him extremely brave to carry on as though he was normal and to be so uncomplaining.

W
HEN THE NATURAL LEADER
announced that it was time for the little ones to go home, everyone was secretly pleased. The little ones, charming and tractable earlier in the day, were fretful; parents were glad to collect picnic baskets, bathing dresses, towels, buckets, spades and passionately collected seaweed and shells, and head for the charabanc. They looked forward to the relief of their children in bed, a long drink before dinner, and quiet packing before tomorrow’s journey.