Mufti Part 24

Mechanically she patted her hair into shape, and then she stooped and picked up the toy.

"We're forgetting Binks," she said quietly. She managed to get the circular metal whistle out of the inside of the toy, and fixed it in its appointed hole, while Vane, with a glorious joy surging through him, leaned against the mantelpiece and watched her in silence. Not until the squeaking contest was again going at full blast in a corner did he speak.

"That was Mrs. Green's simpler alternative," he said reflectively.

"Truly her wisdom is great."

In silence Joan went towards the window. For a while she looked out with unseeing eyes, and then she sank into a big easy chair with her back towards Vane. A thousand conflicting emotions were rioting through her brain; the old battle of heart against head was being waged. She was so acutely alive to his presence just behind her; so vitally conscious of his nearness. Her whole body was crying aloud for the touch of his hands on her again--and then, a vision of Blandford came before her. G.o.d! what did it matter--Blandford, or her father, or anything? There was nothing in the world which could make up for--what was it he had called it?--the biggest thing in Life.

Suddenly she felt his hands on her shoulders; she felt them stealing down her arms. She felt herself lifted up towards him, and with a little gasp of utter surrender she turned and looked at him with s.h.i.+ning eyes.

"Derek, my darling," she whispered. "Que je t'adore. . . ."

And then of her own accord, she kissed him on the lips. . . .

It was Binks's expression, about a quarter of an hour later, which recalled them to earth again. With an air of pained disgust he regarded them stolidly for a few minutes. Then he had a good scratch on both sides of his neck, after which he yawned. He did not actually say "Pooh," but he looked it, and they both laughed.

"Dear man," she whispered, "wouldn't it be just too wonderful if it could always be just you and me and Binks? . . ."

"And why shouldn't it be, lady?" he answered, and his arm went round her waist. "Why shouldn't it be? We'll just sometimes have to see some horrible outsider, I suppose, and perhaps you or somebody will have to order food every year or so. . . . But except for that--why, we'll just slip down the stream all on our own, and there won't be a little bit of difficulty about keeping your eyes in the boat, grey girl. . . ."

She smiled--a quick, fleeting smile; and then she sighed.

"Life's h.e.l.l, Derek--just h.e.l.l, sometimes. And the little bits of Heaven make the h.e.l.l worse."

"Life's pretty much what we make it ourselves, dear," said Vane gravely.

"It isn't," she cried fiercely. "We're what life makes us. . . ."

Vane bent over and started pulling one of Binks's ears.

"You hear that, old man," he said. "The lady is a base materialist, while I--your funny old master--am sprouting wings and growing a halo as a visionary." Vane looked sideways at the girl. "He manages to make his own life, Joan. He'd be as happy with me in a garret as he would in a palace. . . . Probably happier, because he'd mean more to me--fill a bigger part of my life."

Suddenly he stood up and shook both his fists in the air. "d.a.m.n it,"

he cried, "and why can't we cheat 'em, Joan? Cheat all those grinning imps, and seize the Blue Bird and never let it go?"

"Because," she answered slowly, "if you handle the Blue Bird roughly or s.n.a.t.c.h at it and put it in a cage, it just pines away and dies. And then the imps grin and chuckle worse than ever. . . ."

She rose and put her hands on his shoulders. "It's here now, my dear.

I can hear it fluttering so gently near the window. . . . And that noise from the streets is really the fairy chorus. . . ."

A motor car honked discordantly and Vane grinned.

"That's a stout-hearted little fellow with a good pair of lungs on him." She smiled back at him, and then she pushed him gently backwards and forwards with her hands.

"Of course he's got good lungs," she said. "He toots like that whenever anybody falls in love, and twice when they get married, and three times when. . . ."

Vane's breath came in a great gasp, and he pushed her away almost roughly.

"Don't--for G.o.d's sake, don't, Joan. . . ."

"My dear," she cried, catching his arm, "forgive me. The Blue Bird's not gone, Derek--it's still there. Don't frighten it--oh! don't. We won't s.n.a.t.c.h at it, won't even think of making any plans for caging it--we'll just a.s.sume it's going to stop. . . . I believe it will then. . . . And afterwards--why what does afterwards matter? Let's be happy while we may, and--perhaps, who knows--we will cheat those grinning imps after all. . . ."

"Right," cried Vane, catching her hands, "right, right, right. What shall we do, my dear, to celebrate the presence of our blue visitor? . . ."

For a moment she thought, and then her eyes lit up. "You're still on leave, aren't you?"

"Even so, lady."

"Then to-morrow we will take a car. . . ."

"My car," interrupted Vane. "And I've got ten gallons of petrol."

"Glorious. We'll take your car, and will start ever so early, and go to the river. Sonning, I think--to that ripping pub where the roses are. And then we'll go on the river for the whole day, and take Binks, and an invisible cage for the Blue Bird. . . . We'll take our food, and a bone for Binks and the squeaky dog. Then in the evening we'll have dinner at the White Hart, and Binks shall have a napkin and sit up at table. And then after dinner we'll come home. My dear, but it's going to be Heaven." She was in his arms and her eyes were s.h.i.+ning like stars. "There's only one rule. All through the whole day--no one, not even Binks--is allowed to think about the day after."

Vane regarded her with mock gravity. "Not even if we're arrested for joy riding?" he demanded.

"But the mascot will prevent that, silly boy," she cried. "Why would we be taking that cage for otherwise?"

"I see," said Vane. "It's the most idyllic picture I've ever even thought of. There's only one thing. I feel I must speak about it and get it over." He looked so serious that for a moment her face clouded.

"Do not forget--I entreat of you, do not forget--your meat coupon."

And then with the laughter that civilisation has decreed shall not be heard often, save on the lips of children, a man and a girl forgot everything save themselves. The world of men and matters rolled on and pa.s.sed them by, and maybe a year of h.e.l.l is fair exchange for that brief s.p.a.ce. . . .

CHAPTER XIII

The next morning dawned propitious, and Vane, as he drove his two-seater through the park to Ashley Gardens, sang to himself under his breath. He resolutely shut his eyes to the hurrying streams of khaki and blue and black pa.s.sing in and out of huts and Government buildings. They simply did not exist; they were an hallucination, and if persisted in might frighten the mascot.

Joan was waiting for him when he drove up at half-past nine, with Binks sitting importantly on the seat beside him.

"Get right in, lady," cried Vane, "and we'll be on to the Land of the Pixies. But, for the love of Mike, don't put anything on Binks's adversary in the hood. He hasn't had his proper morning battle yet, and one squeak will precipitate a catastrophe."

Never had he seen Joan looking so charming. Of course she was in grey--that was in the nature of a certainty on such an occasion, but she might have been in sackcloth for all the attention Vane paid to her clothes. It was her face that held him, with the glow of perfect health on her cheeks, and the soft light of utter happiness in her eyes. She was pretty--always; but with a sudden catch of his breath Vane told himself that this morning she was the loveliest thing he had ever seen.

"I've got the cage, Derek," she said, "and the beautifullest bone for Binks that he's ever thought of. . . ."

"You dear," answered Vane, and for a moment their eyes met. "You absolute dear. . . ." Then with a quick change of tone he laughed.

"Jump in, grey girl--and avaunt all seriousness. Do you mind having Binks on your lap?"

"Do I mind?" she answered reproachfully. "Did you hear that, Binkie?

He's insulting you."

But Binks was claiming his share of the Blue Bird and refused to take offence. He just opened one brown eye and looked at her, and then he went peacefully to sleep again. He rather liked this new acquisition to the family. . . .

And so began the great day. They didn't go far from the hotel; just under the old bridge and up a little way towards Sonning lock, where the river forks, and the trees grow down to the water's edge. To every man whose steps lead him on to the Long Trail, there is some spot in this island of ours the vision of which comes back to him when the day's work is done and he lies a-dreaming of Home. To some it may be the hills in the Highlands with the wonderful purple mist over them growing black as the sun sinks lower and lower; to others a little golden-sanded beach with the red sandstone cliffs of Devon rising sheer around it, and the tiny waves rippling softly through the drowsy morning. It is not always thus: sometimes the vision shows them a heaving grey sea hurling itself sullenly on a rock-bound coast; a grey sky, and driving rain which stings their faces as they stand on the cliffs above the little cove, looking out into the lands beyond the water, where the strange roads go down. . . .

And then to some it may be the roar and bustle of Piccadilly that comes back to haunt them in their exile--the theatre, the music and the lights, the sound of women's skirts; or the rolling Downs of Suss.e.x with the white chalk quarries and great c.o.c.kchafers booming past them through the dusk.