Last Ditch

‘Why?’

‘Such very horsy language. “Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!”’

‘He seems to run on in the same vein for a long time,’ Ricky said, turning the page. ‘It’s all about the last trump and one’s sins lying bitter in one’s belly. Wait a bit. Listen.’

‘What?’

‘Regular gatherings of the Inner Brethren at Leathers on Sunday evenings at seven-thirty to which you are Cordially Invited. Bro. Cuthbert (“Cuth”) Harkness will lead. Discourse and Discussion. Light Supper. Gents fifty p. Ladies a basket. All welcome.’

‘Well,’ said Jasper after a pause, ‘that explains everything. Or does it?’

‘I suppose it does,’ said Julia doubtfully. ‘Mr Harkness, whom we must learn to call Cuth, even if it sounds as if one had lost a tooth –’

‘How do you mean, Julia?’

‘Don’t interrupt. “Cuspid”,’ Julia said hurriedly. ‘Clearly, he’s a religious fanatic and that’s why he’s taken Miss Harkness’s pregnancy so hard.’

‘Of course. Evidently they’re extremely strict,’ Jasper agreed.

‘I wonder what they do at their parties. Would it be fun –’

‘No, Julia,’ said Louis, ‘it would not be fun; ladies a basket, or no.’

Carlotta said, ‘Do let’s go. We can discuss Mr Harkness later. There’s a perfect green lane round the corner.’

So all the Pharamonds and Ricky rode up the hill. They showed for some moments on the skyline, elegant against important clouds. Then the lane dipped into a valley and they followed it and disappeared.

III

They lunched at a little pub in Bon Accord on the extreme northern tip of the island. It was called the Fisherman’s Rest and was indeed full of guernseys, gumboots and the smell of fish. The landlord turned out to be a cousin of Bob Maistre at the Cod-and-Bottle.

Jasper stood drinks all round and Julia captivated the men by asking about the finer points of deep-sea fishing. From here she led the conversation to Mr Harkness, evoking a good deal of what Louis afterwards referred to as bucolic merriment.

‘Cuth Harkness,’ the landlord said, ‘was a sensible enough chap when he first came. A riding instructor or some such in the army, he were. Then he took queer with religion.’

‘He were all right till he got cranky-holy,’ someone said. ‘Druv himself silly brooding on hell-fire, I reckon.’

‘Is Miss Harkness a member of the group?’ Louis asked, and Ricky saw that mention of Miss Harkness evoked loose-mouthed grins and sidelong looks.

‘Dulce?’ somebody blurted out as if the name itself was explicit. ‘Her?’ and there was a general outbreak of smothered laughter.

‘Reckon her’s got better things to do,’ the landlord said. This evoked a further round of stifled merriment.

‘Quite a girl, our Dulcie, isn’t she?’ Louis said easily. He passed a white hand over the back of his patent-leather head. ‘Mind you,’ he added, ‘I wouldn’t know.’

Carlotta and Julia walked out into the fresh air where Ricky joined them.

‘I wish he wouldn’t,’ Carlotta said.

‘Louis?’ Julia asked.

‘Yes,’ said Carlotta. ‘That’s right. Louis. My husband, you know. Shouldn’t we be moving on?’ She smiled at Ricky. ‘But we’re an ever-so-jolly family, of course,’ she said. ‘Aren’t we, Julia?’

‘Come on,’ Julia said. ‘Let’s get the fiery steeds. Where’s Bruno?’

‘With them, I expect. Still a bit huffy.’

But Bruno left off being huffy when they all rode a fine race across a stretch of open turf. Ricky’s blood tingled in his ears and his bottom began to be sore.

When they had pulled up Louis gave a cry. He dismounted and hopped about on his elegant left foot.

‘Cramp?’ asked Jasper.

‘What do you suppose it is, love, hopscotch? Blast and hell, I’ll have to get this boot off,’ groaned Louis. ‘Here. Bruno!’

Bruno very efficiently pulled off the boot. Louis wrenched at his foot, hissing with pain. He stood up, stamped and limped.

‘It’s no good,’ he said. ‘I’ll have to go back.’

‘I’ll come with you, darling,’ his wife offered.

‘No, you won’t, damn it,’ he said. He mounted, holding the boot in his right hand. He flexed his right foot, keeping it out of the iron and checking his horse’s obvious desire to break away.

‘Will you be OK?’ asked Jasper.

‘I will if you’ll all be good enough to move off,’ he said. He turned his horse and began to walk it back along the turf.

‘Leave it,’ Carlotta said. ‘He’ll be cross if we don’t. He knows what he’s doing.’

In spite of a marked increase in his saddle-soreness, Ricky enjoyed the rest of the day’s outing. They took roundabout lanes back to the Cove and the sun was far in the west when, over a rise in the road, L’Esperance came unexpectedly into view, a romantic silhouette, distant and very lonely against a glowing sky.

‘Look at our lovely house!’ cried Julia. She began to sing a Spanish song and the other Pharamonds joined in. They sang, off and on, all the way to Leathers and up the drive.

‘Will Louis have taken the car or is he waiting for us?’ Bruno wondered.

‘It’d be a hell of a long wait,’ said Jasper.

‘I fancy he’ll be walking home,’ Carlotta said. ‘It’s good for his cramp to walk.’

As they turned the corner of the house into the stable yard, they saw the car where Louis had left it. It was unoccupied.

‘Yes, he’s walking,’ said Jasper. ‘We’ll catch up with him.’

There was nobody about in the yard. Everything seemed very quiet.

‘I’ll dig someone up,’ Jasper said. He turned his hack into a loose-box and walked off.

Bruno, who had recovered from the effects of his wigging and showed signs of wanting to brag about his exploit, said: ‘Julia, come down and look at my jump. Ricky, will you come? Carlotta, come and look. Come on.’