As the Crow Flies (24 page)

This
answer seemed to impress Hadlow. He looked down at the figures in front of him
and pronounced: “Well, I see you are requesting a loan of two hundred and fifty
pounds for the purchase of 131 and 135 Chelsea Terrace, which, bearing in mind
the state of your account, would require an overdraft facility” he paused,
appearing to be making a calculation “of at least one hundred and seventy
pounds.”

“Correct,
Hadlow. I see you have mastered our present predicament admirably.”

The
manager allowed himself a smile. “Given the circumstances, Sir Danvers, I feel
we could indeed advance such a loan, if a charge of four percent interest per
annum would be acceptable to you and your colleagues.”

Again
the colonel hesitated, until he caught Becky’s half smile.

“Our
present bankers provide us with a facility of three and a half percent,” said
the colonel. “As I’m sure you know.”

“But
they are taking no risk... “ pointed out Mr. Hadlow. “As well as refusing to
allow you to be overdrawn more than fifty pounds. However,” he added before the
colonel could reply, “I feel in this particular case we might also offer three
and a half percent. How does that sound to youth?”

The
colonel did not comment until he had observed the expression on Becky’s face.
Her smile had widened to a grin.

“I
think I speak for my colleagues, Hadlow, when I say we find your proposition
acceptable, most acceptable.”

Becky
and Charlie nodded their agreement.

“Then
I shall begin to process all the paperwork. It may take a few days, of course.”

“Of
course,” said the colonel. “And I can tell you, Hadlow, that we look forward to
a long and profitable association with your bank.”

The
manager somehow rose and bowed all in one movement, an action Becky felt even
Sir Henry Irving would have found difficult to accomplish.

Mr.
Hadlow then proceeded to escort the colonel and his young associates to the
front hall.

“Old
Chubby Duckworth still with this outfit?” inquired the colonel.

“Lord
Duckworth is indeed our chairman,” murmured Mr. Hadlow, reverentially.

“Good
man served with him in South Africa. Royal Rifles. I shall, with your
permission, mention our meeting to him, when I next see Chubby at the club.”

“That
would be most kind of you, Sir Danvers.”

When
they reached the door the manager dispensed with his assistant and helped the
colonel on with his topcoat himself, then handed him his hat and cane before
bidding farewell to his new customers. “Do feel free to call me at any time,”
were his final words as he bowed once again. He stood there until the three of
them were out of sight.

Once
they were back on the street the colonel marched quickly round the corner,
coming to a halt behind the nearest tree. Becky and Charlie ran after him, not
quite sure what he was up to.

“Are
you feeling all right, sir?” Charlie asked, as soon as he had caught up.

“I’m
fine, Trumper,” replied the colonel. Just fine. But I can tell you, I would
rather face a bunch of marauding Afghan natives than go through that again.
Still, how did I do?”

“You
were magnificent,” said Becky. “I swear, if you had taken off your shoes and
told Hadlow to polish them, he would have removed his handkerchief and started
rubbing little circles immediately.”

The
colonel smiled. “Oh, good. Thought it went all right, did you?”

“Perfect,”
said Becky. “You couldn’t have done better. I shall go round to John D. Wood
this afternoon and put down the deposit on both shops.”

“Thank
God for your briefing, Miss Salmon,” said the colonel, standing his full
height. “You know what? You would have made a damned fine staff of ficer.”

Becky
smiled. “I take that as a great compliment, Colonel.”

“Don’t
you agree, Trumper? Some partner you’ve found yourself,” he added.

“Yes,
sir,” said Charlie as the colonel began to stride off down the road swinging
his umbrella. “But may I ask you something that’s been worrying me?”

“Of
course, Trumper, fire away.”

“If
you’re a friend of the chairman of the bank,” said Charlie, matching him stride
for stride, “why didn’t we go direct to him in the first place?”

The
colonel came to a sudden halt. “My dear Trumper,” he explained, “you don’t
visit the chairman of the bank when you require a loan of only two hundred and
fifty pounds. Nevertheless, let it be said that I have every confidence that it
will not be long before we shall need to seek him out. However, at this very
moment other needs are more pressing.”

“Other
needs?” said Charlie.

“Yes,
Trumper. I require a whisky, don’t you know?” said the colonel, eyeing a sign
flapping above a pub on the opposite side of the road. “And while we’re at it,
let’s make it a double.”

*
* *

“How
far gone are you?” asked Charlie, when the following day Becky came round to
tell him the news.

“About
four months.” She avoided looking him directly in the eye.

“Why
didn’t you tell me earlier?” He sounded a little hurt as he turned the open
sign to closed, and marched up the stairs.

“I
hoped I wouldn’t need to,” said Becky as she followed him into the flat.

“You’ve
written to tell Trentham, of course?”

“No.
I keep meaning to, but I haven’t got round to it yet.” She began to tidy up the
room rather than face him.

“Keep
meaning to?” said Charlie. “You should have told the bastard weeks ago. He’s
the first person who ought to know. After all, he’s the one who’s responsible
for the bleedin’ mess, if you’ll excuse the expression.”

“It’s
not that easy, Charlie.”

“Why
not, for heaven’s sake?”

“It
would mean the end of his career, and Guy lives for the regiment. He’s like
your colonel: it would be unfair to ask him to give up being a soldier at the
age of twenty-three.”

“He’s
nothing like the colonel,” said Charlie. “in any case, he’s still young enough
to settle down and do a day’s work like the rest of us.”

“He’s
married to the army, Charlie, not to me. Why ruin both our lives?”

“But
he should still be told what has happened and at least be given the choice.”

“He
wouldn’t be left with any choice, Charlie, surely you see that? He’d sail home
on the next boat and marry me. He’s an honorable man.”

“An
honorable man, is he?” said Charlie. “Well, if he’s so honorable you can afford
to promise me one thing.”

“What’s
that?”

“You’ll
write to him tonight and tell him the truth.” Becky hesitated for some time
before saying, “All right I will.”

“Tonight?”

“Yes,
tonight.”

“And
you should also let his parents know while you’re at it.”

“No,
I can’t be expected to do that, Charlie,” she said, facing him for the first
time.

“So
what’s the reason this time? Some fear that their careers might be ruined?”

“No,
but if I did his father would insist that Guy return home and marry me.”

“And
what’s so wrong with that?”

“His
mother would then claim that I had tricked her son into the whole thing, or
worse... “

“Worse?”

“...
that it wasn’t even his child.”

“And
who’d believe her?”

“All
those who wanted to.”

“But
that isn’t fair,” said Charlie.

“Life
isn’t, to quote my father. I had to grow up some time, Charlie. For you it was
the Western Front.”

“So
what are we going to do now?”

“We?”
said Becky.

“Yes,
we. We’re still partners, you know. Or had you forgotten?”

“To
start with I’ll have to find somewhere else to live; it wouldn’t be fair to
Daphne... “

“What
a friend she’s turned out to be,” said Charlie.

“To
both of us,” said Becky as Charlie stood up, thrust his hands in his pockets,
and began to march around the little room. It reminded Becky of when they had
been at school together.

“I
don’t suppose...” said Charlie. It was his turn to be unable to look her in the
face.

“Suppose?
Suppose what?”

“I
don’t suppose...” he began again.

“Yes?”

“You’d
consider marrying me?”

There
was a long silence before a shocked Becky felt able to reply. She eventually
said, “But what about Daphne?”

“Daphne?
You surely never believed we had that sort of relationship? It’s true she’s
been giving me night classes but not the type you think. In any case, there’s
only ever been one man in Daphne’s life, and it’s certainly not Charlie Trumper
for the simple reason she’s known all along that there’s only been one woman in
mine.”

“But...
“

“And
I’ve loved you for such a long time, Becky.”

“Oh,
my God,” said Becky, placing her head in her hands.

“I’m
sorry,” said Charlie. “I thought you knew. Daphne told me women always know
these things.”

“I
had no idea, Charlie. I’ve been so blind as well as stupid.”

“I
haven’t looked at another woman since the day I came back from Edinburgh. I
suppose I just ‘oped you might love me a little,” he said.

“I’ll
always love you a little, Charlie, but I’m afraid it’s Guy I’m in love with.”

“Lucky
brighter. And to think I saw you first. Your father once chased me out of ‘is
shop, you know, when he ‘card me calling you ‘Posh Porky’ behind your back.”
Becky smiled. “You see, I’ve always been able to grab everything I really
wanted in life, so ‘ow did I let you get away?”

Becky
was unable to look up at him.

“He’s
an officer, of course, and I’m not. That would explain it.” Charlie had stopped
pacing round the room and came to halt in front of her.

“You’re
a general, Charlie.”

“It’s
not the same, though, is it?”

97
Chelsea Terrace London SW3

May 20th, 1920

My Darling Guy,

This is the hardest letter I have ever had to write
in my life. In fact, I’m not sure where to begin. Just over three months have
passed since you left for India, and something has happened that I felt you
would want to know about at once. I have just been to see Daphne’s doctor in
Harley Street and…

Becky
stopped, checked carefully over the few sentences she had written, groaned,
crumpled up the notepaper and dropped it in the wastepaper basket that rested
at her feet. She stood up, stretched and started to pace around the room in the
hope that she might be able to dream up some new excuse for not continuing with
her task. It was already twelve-thirty so she could now go to bed, claiming
that she had been too weary to carry on only Becky knew that she wouldn’t be
able to sleep until the letter had been completed. She returned to her desk and
tried to settle herself again before reconsidering the opening line. She picked
up, her pen.

97
Chelsea Terrace London SW3

May 20th, 1920

My Dear Guy,

I fear that this letter may come as something of a
surprise, especially after all the irrelevant gossip that I was able to share
with you only a month ago. I have been postponing writing anything of
consequence to you in the hope that my fears would prove unfounded. Unhappily
that has not proved to be the case, and circumstances have now overtaken me.

After spending the most wonderful time with you the
night before you left for India, I then missed my period the following month,
but did not trouble you with the problem immediately in the hope that…

Oh
no, thought Becky, and tore up her latest effort before once again dropping the
scraps of paper into the wastepaper basket. She traipsed off to the kitchen to
make herself a pot of tea. After her second cup, she reluctantly returned to
her writing desk and settled herself again.

97
Chelsea Terrace, London SW3

May 20th, 1920

Dear Guy,

I do hope everything is going well for you in India,
and that they are not working you too hard, I miss you more than I can express,
but what with exams looming and Charlie seeing himself as the next Mr.
Silfridge, these first three months since you left have just shot by. In fact I
feel sure you’ll be fascinated to learn that your old commanding officer,
Lieutenant-Colonel Sir Darwin Hamilton, has become…

“And
by the way I’m pregnant,” said Becky out loud, and tore up her third attempt.
She replaced the top on her pen, deciding the time had come to take a walk
round the square. She picked up her coat from its hook in the hall, ran down
the stairs and let herself out. She strolled aimlessly up and down the deserted
road seemingly unaware of the hour. She was pleased to find that “Sold” signs
now appeared in the windows of Numbers 131 and 135. She stopped outside the old
antiques shop for a moment, cupped her hands round her eyes and peered in
through the window. To her horror she discovered that Mr. Rutherford had
removed absolutely everything, even the gas fittings and the mantelpiece that
she had assumed were fixed to the wall. That’ll teach me to study an offer
document more carefully next time, she thought. She continued to stare at the
empty space as a mouse scurried across the floorboards. “Perhaps we should open
a pet shop,” she said aloud.