It was after lunch – a miserable meal – when we were seated upon the terrace, that Berry cleared his throat and spoke wisely and to the point.
“The milk’s spilt,” he said, “and that’s that. So we may as well dry our eyes. With that perishing motto staring us in the face, we might have had the sense to be a bit quicker off the mark. But it’s always the obvious that you never see. Vandy’s beaten us by a foul, but there ain’t no stewards to appeal to, so we’ve got to stick it. All the same, he’s got some digging to do before he can draw the money, and I’m ready to lay a monkey that he does it himself. What’s more, the last thing he’ll want is to be disturbed. In fact, any interference with his work of excavation will undoubtedly shorten his life. Properly organized innocent interference will probably affect his reason. Our course of action is therefore clear.
“Unable to procure his beastly book – our copy cannot be found – we have forgotten the incident. It comes to our ears that he has bought The Lawn and is in possession. What more natural than that some of us should repair thither, to congratulate him upon becoming our neighbour? We shall roll up quite casually – by way of the door in the wall – and, when we find him labouring, affect the utmost surprise. Of our good nature we might even offer to help him to – er – relay the lawn or tackle the drains, or whatever he’s doing. In any event we shall enact the
rôle
of the village idiot, till between the respective gadflies of suspicion – which he dare not voice – and impatience – which he dare not reveal – he will be goaded into a condition of frenzy. What about it?”
The idea was heartily approved, and we became more cheerful.
Immediate arrangements were made for the entrance to The Lawn to be watched for the next twenty-four hours by reliefs of out-door servants whom we could trust, and instructions were issued that the moment Mr Vandy Pleydell put in an appearance, whether by day or night, we were to be informed.
At eight o’clock the next morning Berry came into my room.
“They’re off,” he said. “Thirty-five minutes ago Vandy and Emma and May arrived, unaccompanied, in a four-wheeled dogcart. He’d got the key of the gates, but the difficulty of getting them open single-handed appears to have been titanic. They seem to have stuck, or something. Altogether, according to James, a most distressing scene. However. Eventually they got inside and managed to shut the gates after them. In the dogcart there was a scythe and a whole armoury of tools.”
I got out of bed and looked at him.
“After breakfast?” I queried.
My brother-in-law nodded.
“I think so. We’ll settle the premises as we go.”
As we were approaching The Lawn, I looked at my watch. It was just a quarter to ten.
The little door in the wall was still unbolted, and a very little expenditure of energy sufficed to admit my brother-in-law, Nobby, and myself into the garden.
So far as the Sealyham was concerned, ‘the Wilderness was Paradise enow.’ Tail up, he plunged into the welter of grass, leaping and wallowing and panting with surprise and delight at a playground which surpassed his wildest dreams. For a moment we watched him amusedly. Then we pushed the door to and started to saunter towards the house.
It was a glorious day, right at the end of August. Out of a flawless sky the sun blazed, broiling and merciless. There was nowhere a breath of wind, and in the sheltered garden – always a sun-trap – the heat was stifling.
As we drew near, the sound of voices, raised in bitterness, fell upon our ears, and we rounded the corner of the building to find Vandy waist-high in the grass about the sundial, shaking a sickle at his sisters, who were seated upon carriage cushions, which had been laid upon the flags, and demanding furiously “how the devil they expected him to reap with a sweeping motion when the god-forsaken lawn was full of molehills.”
“Quite right,” said Berry. “It can’t be done.”
Emma and May screamed, and Vandy jumped as if he had been shot. Then, with a snarl, he turned to face us, crouching a little, like a beast at bay. Before he could utter a word, Berry was off.
Advancing with an air of engaging frankness, which would have beguiled the most hardened cynic, he let loose upon our cousin a voluminous flood of chatter, which drowned his protests ere they were mouthed, overwhelmed his inquiries ere they were launched, and finally swept him off his feet into the whirlpool of uncertainty, fear and bewilderment before he knew where he was.
We had only just heard of his purchase, were delighted to think we were to be neighbours, had had no idea he was contemplating a move, had always said what a jolly little nook it was, never could understand why it had been in the market so long, thought we might find him here taking a look round, wanted to see him, so decided to kill two birds with one stone… What about the jolly old book? Had it come back from the binders? We couldn’t find ours, thought it must be in Town… The girls were devilling the life out of him to look it up. Was it William or Nicholas? He thought it was William. Hadn’t Vandy said it was William? What was the blinking use, any old way? And what a day! He’d got a bet with Jonah that the thermometer touched ninety-seven before noon. What did Vandy think? And what on earth was he doing with the pruning-hook? And/or ploughshare on his left front? Oh, a scythe. Of course. Wouldn’t he put it down? It made him tired to look at it. And was he reclaiming the lawn? Or only looking for a tennis-ball? Of course, what he really wanted was a cutter-and-binder, a steam-roller, and a gang of convicts…
I had been prepared to support the speaker, but, after three minutes of this, I left his side and sat down on the flags.
At last Berry paused for breath, and Emma, who had hurriedly composed and been rehearsing a plausible appreciation of the state of affairs, and was fidgeting to get it off her chest, thrust her way into the gap.
Well, the truth was, they were going to take up French gardening. There was no room at Broken Ash, and, besides, they must have a walled garden. Building nowadays was such a frightful expense, and suddenly they’d thought of The Lawn. It was sheltered, just the right size, not too far away, and all they had to do was to clear the ground. And Vandy was so impatient that nothing would satisfy him but to start at once. “He’ll get tired of it in a day or two,” she added artlessly, “but you know what he is.”
For an improvised exposition of proceedings so extraordinary, I thought her rendering extremely creditable.
So, I think, did Vandy, for he threw an approving glance in her direction, heaved a sigh of relief, and screwed up his mouth into a sickly smile.
“Took up gardening during the War,” he announced. “I – we all did. Any amount of money in it. Quite surprised me. But,” he added, warming to his work, “it’s the same with gardening as with everything else in this world. The most valuable asset is the personal element. If you want a thing well done, do it yourself. Ha! Ha!”
My brother-in-law looked round, regarding the howling riot of waste.
“And where,” he said, “shall you plant the asparagus?”
Vandy started and dropped the sickle. Then he gave a forced laugh.
“You must give us a chance,” he said. “We’ve got a long way to go before we get to that. All this” – he waved an unbusiness-like arm, and his voice faltered – “all this has got to be cleared first.”
“I suppose it has,” said Berry. “Well, don’t mind us. You get on with it. Short of locusts or an earthquake, it’s going to be a long job. I suppose you couldn’t hire a trench-mortar and shell it for a couple of months?”
Apparently Vandy was afraid to trust his voice, for, after swallowing twice, he recovered the sickle and started to hack savagely at the grass without another word.
With the utmost deliberation, Berry seated himself upon the flagstones and, taking out his case, selected a cigarette. With an equally leisurely air I produced a pipe and tobacco, and began to make ready to smoke. Our cousins regarded these preparations with an uneasiness which they ill concealed. Clearly we were not proposing to move. The silence of awkwardness and frantically working brains settled upon the company. From time to time Emma and May shifted uncomfortably. As he bent about his labour, Vandy’s eyes bulged more than ever…
Nobby, whom I had forgotten, suddenly reappeared, crawling pleasedly from beneath a tangled stack of foliage, of which the core appeared to have been a rhododendron. For a moment he stared at us, as if surprised at the company we kept. Then his eyes fell upon Vandy.
Enshrined in the swaying grass, the latter’s knickerbockers, which had been generously fashioned out of a material which had been boldly conceived, presented a back view which was most arresting. With his head on one side, the terrier gazed at them with such inquisitive astonishment that I had to set my teeth so as not to laugh outright. His cautious advance to investigate the phenomenon was still more ludicrous, and I was quite relieved when our cousin straightened his back and dissipated an illusion monstrously worthy of the pen of Mandeville.
But there was better to come.
As the unwitting Vandy, after a speechless glance in our direction, bent again to his work, Nobby cast an appraising eye over the area which had already received attention. Perceiving a molehill which had suffered an ugly gash – presumably from a scythe – he trotted up to explore, and, clapping his nose to the wound, snuffed long and thoughtfully. The next moment he was digging like one possessed.
Emma and May stiffened with a shock. With the tail of my eye I saw them exchange horror-stricken glances. Panic fear sat in their eyes. Their fingers moved convulsively. Then, with one consent, they began to cough…
Their unconscious brother worked on.
So did the Sealyham, but with a difference. While the one toiled, the other was in his element. A shower of earth flew from between his legs, only ceasing for a short moment, when he preferred to rend the earth with his jaws and so facilitate the excavation.
The coughing became insistent, frantic, impossible to be disregarded…
As I was in the act of turning to express my concern Vandy looked up, followed the direction of four starting eyes, and let out a screech of dismay.
“What on earth’s the matter?” cried Berry, getting upon his feet. “Been stung, or something?”
With a trembling forefinger Vandy indicated the miscreant.
“Stop him!” he yelled. “Call him off. He’ll-he’ll spoil the lawn.”
“Ruin it,” shrilled Emma.
“Where?” said Berry blankly. “What lawn?”
“
This
lawn!” roared Vandy, stamping his foot.
“But I thought—”
“I don’t care what you thought. Call the brute off. It’s my land, and I won’t have it.”
“Nobby,” said Berry, “come off the bowling green.”
Scrambling to my feet, I countersigned the order in a peremptory tone. Aggrievedly the terrier complied. My brother-in-law turned to Vandy with an injured air.
“I fear,” he said stiffly, “that we are unwelcome.” Instinctively Emma and May made as though they would protest. In some dignity Berry lifted his hand. “I may be wrong,” he said. “I hope so. But from the first I felt that your manner was strained. Subsequent events suggest that my belief was well founded.” He turned to Vandy. “May I ask you to let us out? I am reluctant to trouble you, but to scale those gates twice in one morning is rather more than I care about.”
Fearful lest our surprise at our reception should become crystallized into an undesirable suspicion, short of pressing us to remain, our cousins did everything to smooth our ruffled plumage.
Vandy threw down the sickle and advanced with an apologetic leer. Emma and May, wreathed in smiles, protested nervously that they had known the work was too much for Vandy, and begged us to think no more of it. As we followed the latter round to the quondam drive, they waved a cordial farewell.
The sight of the four-wheeled dogcart, standing with upturned shafts, a pickaxe, three shovels, a rake, two forks, a number of sacks, and a sieve piled anyhow by its side, was most engaging; but, after bestowing a casual glance upon the paraphernalia, Berry passed by without a word. Vandy went a rich plum colour, hesitated, and then plunged on desperately. Tethered by a halter to a tree, a partially harnessed bay mare suspended the process of mastication to fix us with a suspicious stare. Her also we passed in silence.
After a blasphemous struggle with the gates, whose objection to opening was literally rooted and based upon custom, our host succeeded in forcing them apart sufficiently to permit our egress, and we gave him “Good day.”
In silence we strolled down the road.
When we came to the lane, Berry stopped dead.
“Brother,” he said, “I perceive it to be my distasteful duty to return. There is an omission which I must repair.”
“You’re not serious?” said I. “The fellow’ll murder you.”
“No, he won’t,” said Berry. “He’ll probably burst a blood-vessel, and, with luck, he may even have a stroke. But he won’t murder me. You see.” And, with that, he turned down the lane towards the door in the wall.
Nobby and I followed.
A moment later we were once more in the garden.
The scene upon which we came was big with promise.
Staggering over the frantic employment of a pickaxe, Vandy was inflicting grievous injury upon the turf about the very spot at which the terrier had been digging. Standing well out of range, his sisters were regarding the exhibition with clasped hands and looks of mingled excitement and apprehension. All three were so much engrossed that, until Berry spoke, they were not aware of our presence.
“I’m so sorry to interrupt you again” – Emma and May screamed, and Vandy endeavoured to check his implement in mid-swing, and only preserved his balance and a whole skin as by a miracle – “but, you know, I quite forgot to ask you about the book. And, as that was really our main object in—”
The roar of a wild beast cut short the speaker.
Bellowing incoherently, trembling with passion, his mouth working, his countenance distorted with rage, Vandy shook his fist at his tormentor in a fit of ungovernable fury.