The Cone-Gatherers. Robin Jenkins

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      The captain was taken by surprise; his smile turned foolish, and he did not know what to say. These days he tried to think like a soldier, and often reached no conclusion.

      ‘I’m too old, sir,’ said Duror. ‘They won’t have me. I’ve tried three times.’

      Forgan thought he had hurt the keeper’s pride as patriot.

      ‘No, no, Duror,’ he cried, shaking his head. ‘When I said I envied you I wasn’t meaning that you were lucky to escape the big and bloody war.’ He laughed. ‘Not in the slightest. I was just carried away by the beauty of the morning. We all know you’re more than willing to do your bit. You’re a stalwart of the Home Guard here, aren’t you?’

      Duror would not be appeased.

      ‘I’ll try again, sir. Perhaps they’ll be glad enough to have me yet.’

      The captain twisted his snail-black moustache with rueful whimsicality.

      ‘You mean, when all the young cock sparrows have been shot off the tree?’ he asked.

      ‘I hope not, sir. May I be allowed to wish you a good journey and a safe return?’

      ‘You are allowed, Duror; you are allowed, as the kids say, with knobs on. But I see Master Roderick glowering at me like a sergeant-major. Jove, he wanted us to start before the frost was off the grass. How glorious to be young! When d’you think the drive will start?’

      ‘About two o’clock, sir. After I’ve seen her ladyship, I’ll let you know where I think the best place will be.’

      ‘Thanks, Duror. It’s all in your hands, as far as I’m concerned. Just show me where to stand. I hope I get a kill.’ He smiled wryly. ‘It’s a funny thing, Duror, we moan about the vast amount of killing going on in the world, and here I am thirsting for more.’

      ‘Deer are vermin, sir. They must be kept down.’

      ‘I suppose so.’ He hesitated, and cast a glance at Duror which seemed to the gamekeeper to be a prelude to a rebuke about his unshavenness; there had already been several of these glances. But he was wrong.

      ‘And Mrs Duror? How’s she keeping?’

      Duror smiled. ‘Not too well, sir.’ He flicked his chin. ‘I’m afraid we had a disturbed night. I see I’ve forgotten to shave.’

      Embarrassed, Forgan looked away: he had never seen Mrs Duror, but had heard about her from his sister. He remembered he had said he envied Duror. He remembered too unshavenness was a military offence.

      ‘Don’t worry about that, Duror,’ he said. ‘Well, I’ll get back to my cricket.’

      ‘Thank you, sir.’

      Touching his cap, Duror walked on. His dogs followed, glad to escape from the tyranny of Monty.

      As he made for the servants’ entrance at the back of the house, he realised that by lying to the captain about Peggy he had in some way involved him; and in a few minutes, by persuading Lady Runcie-Campbell to conscript the cone-gatherers, he would involve her too. His tragedy was now to be played in public: it must there-fore have a crisis, and an end.

      Out of sight round the corner of the house, he paused. They were talking about him on the lawn. Roderick had said something shrill and petulant.

      ‘Be quiet, Roddy,’ cried his sister. ‘He’ll hear you.’

      ‘I suggest we get on with this manly game of cricket,’ called their uncle.

      ‘Oh, all right, I’m sorry,’ said Roderick.

      ‘That’s more like you, old chap,’ said his uncle. ‘Now I think it’s my turn to bat.’

      ‘But I’m not out yet,’ protested the boy.

      Smiling, Duror walked along to the door, tied up his dogs, and entered.

      Mrs Morton, the cook-housekeeper, was alone in the kitchen, preparing the silver tray for the family’s morning coffee. She was a widow of about his own age, cheerful, shrewd, pink-faced, bonny and buxom. She was one of the few regular visitors to his wife. His mother-in-law had recently insinuated that the housekeeper’s interest was in him, not in Peggy. He had dismissed the insinuation, but later had found himself wondering whether he wished it was true. To a man she liked, she could no doubt bring joy and oblivion; but, though neither religious nor prudish, she had a sense of fairness and a quick reliable judgment. He knew she was attracted by him, but she was genuinely sorry for Peggy and would not readily betray her.

      This morning, as she welcomed him into the sunny kitchen, he thought that surely the next step in the drama should be his involvement of her.

      She had no apprehensions of evil. Round her plump neck, indeed, like a talisman protecting her, was a gold locket on a chain: it contained the picture of her twenty-year-old son Alec, who was in the Merchant Navy.

      ‘You’re just in time for a cup of tea,’ she said.

      ‘Thanks, Effie.’ He sat down, smiling at her deft ministrations, like a proud husband. ‘I’m due in the office at ten.’

      She glanced at the clock on the dresser.

      ‘Plenty of time,’ she said. ‘And how’s Peggy?’

      Still smiling, he milked and sugared his tea, and stirred it.

      ‘Peggy?’ he murmured. ‘There’s no change in her.’

      She offered him a plate heaped with scones freshly baked. He took one, and contrived to make the offering and his acceptance seem significant.

      ‘You’re my favourite baker, Effie,’ he said.

      She laughed but turned pinker.

      ‘Och, I’m sure Mrs Lochie’s as good as ever I could be.’

      ‘At baking?’

      ‘Aye, John, at baking. What else?’

      For a few seconds he did not answer. Apparently composed himself, he noticed she was a little flustered.

      ‘When I said there was no change in Peggy,’ he said, ‘I was really hinting there was a change in somebody else.’

      ‘I guessed as much.’

      ‘Maybe I ought to say no more, Effie. You see, you come into it.’

      ‘Me, John?’

      As he nodded, it never occurred to her that he was lying. She had always thought that suffering had brought to him distinction of body and mind. With his black hair now thickly powdered with white at the sides, and his lean brown meditative face, he seemed to her a more distinguished man than Sir Colin himself. Never had she heard him say an indecent or false word. Several times she had found herself, deep in her own mind, regretting that his ordeal seemed to have purged him of СКАЧАТЬ