copper's cruise 15

 

Chapter 15 Death of a Cad, part 1

 

The flying boat had to descend to refuel in some port somewhere; and it took the whole day to fly to Alexandria.

“We overtook your cruise ship, Major,” laughed the flight lieutenant. “You’re a full stop ahead of it.”

“Oh, well, we can take a river cruise up the Nile while we wait,” said Alexander.

Ida squealed with delight.

They took a taxi to the Metropole Hotel, to recover from the flight in its cool, quiet opulence.

“I feel as if I’ve been rattled to pieces,” said Ida. “I half wish we’d asked for them to land on the sea – if that doesn’t sound too bizarre – to let us rejoin the cruise.”

“It wasn’t a pleasant experience,” agreed Alexander. “Though you can at least say that we have travelled on all kinds of transport.” 

“I’ll let you know if it was worth it when I’ve slept off the headache and the bone shaking,” said Ida. “And poor Alma is silent but suffering.”

“A couple of aspirin and a night’s sleep should help,” said Alma. “I think I will avoid travel by aeroplane from now on, and respect pilots the more.”

Alexander did not mention that he already respected pilots and had heavily tipped both flight crews who took turns flying for their trouble.

 

oOoOo

 

The last person Alexander expected to run into in the breakfast room was Frederick Beauchamp.[1]

“Freddy! What are you doing here?” asked Alexander.

“I say! Are you still hors de combat from what those little shits did?” asked Freddy, looking askance at Alexander’s wheelchair.

“I am mostly up and about, but I get tired easily still,” said Alexander. “I came on the cruise as a rest cure, but I keep finding my professional skills needed. We’ve had murder, opium smuggling, art forgery, you name it.”

“Damn, you attract trouble,” said Freddy. “On your own?”

“No, I’m with my boss’s wife and my fiancée, my man and his wife.  That sounds bad; my boss’s wife is a chaperone for my Ida, as well as needing a repairing lease herself. And you?”

“Eric and I brought mama. I went to the doctor you recommended, and I took Eric with me. We’ve been reforging a relationship as brothers, and finding we have a lot in common. I’m containing my temper, and though it’s early days, the doctor endorsed us taking mama well away from our father, and going on a family holiday.”

“No Thomas?” asked Alexander, sadly.

“God, didn’t you hear?” said Freddy. “Thomas hanged himself from the flagpole. It’s why we came away, so that mama wouldn’t kill the old man for essentially causing it.”

“I am sorry,” said Alexander. “I cordially dislike your father.”

“I loathe him,” said Freddy, frankly. “Seeing your father has, at least, given me an idea of what fathers are supposed to be.  I wrote to your little crook, through Mr. Pickle as his solicitor, and told him he was welcome to the parure, and that I’d shake his hand when he got out for shaking us up and sending you to straighten out those of us ready to take it.  Uncle Arthur is divorcing Aunt Daphne, citing her influence to avoid her getting her hands on any of his share of Grandma Gertrude’s spondulix, and he discovered a girl Charley had got pregnant, and he’s adopting the child to raise as a grandson, with a superior sort of nanny for the poor little sprout. I just hope that the homicidal madness isn’t hereditary.”

“You’ll soon see,” said Alexander. “If the child starts pulling wings off flies or tying cans to the tails of cats, it’s passed on.”

Freddy nodded.

“Well, if so, better to get the sprout quietly put away with good keepers,” he said.

“For what it’s worth, I am a strong believer in nurture over nature,” said Alexander. “A solid upbringing, and/ a kindly, interested couple of uncles could do wonders.”

“I hear you,” said Freddy.  “And two decent great aunts.  I offered to bring Aunt Rose, but she declined.  Mind, she thanked me, and said she appreciated being asked. She’s setting up some society to help educate criminals.”

“That’s a noble work,” said Alexander. “Mickey, my little thief, was born out of wedlock to a mother who was a lush; and I swear it affected his abilities in some ways. He dropped out of school at eleven or twelve, but he knows his jewels, and he’s good with growing things. I’m hoping to persuade him into consultancy work when he’s out, as well as growing his own flowers and veg. He’ll sell the parure, and I’ll see about investing it for him, so he has twenty quid a week, which is plenty for him and whoever he adopts. His own son died, and he divorced his wife, who wasn’t caring for the kid properly.”

“He sounds a nicer bloke than most of my relatives,” said Freddy. “I wish I had been better to Marty, but he was such a little pill; sneak, thief, and a bit of a gadfly.”

“And your father telling you to be a man and sending you off to school before you were ready, where having a cousin whose defences were to be a tick added to the burden.”

“Yes; I should have defended him from bullies in exchange for him helping me with work I found hard,” said Freddy. “He taunted me for being slow. I feel for your little thief if his mother’s drinking made learning hard. I’ve always found learning hard, and they say it’s because I was blue when I was born.”

“But as first born, you had to carry the flag?”

“In as many words! You do understand.”

“I’m lucky,” said Alexander. “Not in my wealth, which is handy, but in my parents. But it enables me to be more tolerant than others.”

“Eric’s entering training to join the police after this cruise,” said Freddy.

“It won’t be easy, but I believe he can do it,” said Alexander. “I won’t keep too heavy an eye on him, but I’ll be available unofficially for him.  Are we fellow passengers on the cruise up river on the ‘Queen of the Nile’ steamboat?”

“Yes, we are.”

“Well, I’ll introduce Penelope to Alma; they share a taste in literature, and I’ll give Eric some pointers. And if we run into any more trouble, he can be my assistant,” said Alexander.

“Not expecting to run into trouble are you?” asked Freddy, alarmed.

“No, but as you say, I seem to attract it almost as much as Agatha Christie’s little Belgian,” said Alexander.

“I think I would want to kill him, though,” said Freddy. “At least you’re a convivial sort.”

“You’ve improved no end, yourself,” said Alexander.

“I take the aggression into sports,” said Freddy. “I’ve taken up tennis.”

“I might be able to take you on by the time we’re on our way back,” said Alexander. “Perhaps you can help me out by helping me get back to my old self.”

“Anything I can do, old man; you’ve given me a life,” said Freddy. “I’m sorry about Thomas. He tried to go on the wagon, you know, but he couldn’t handle it, and when I spoke to him about a mind doctor, father overheard and belittled me, and told him not to be a sissy like me. Well, I figured if a chap as strong in so many ways as you didn’t consider it sissy, I could ignore father, but Thomas… he always idolised the old man. Me, I tried hard to please him at first, but when I found out I couldn’t live up, I went to the opposite extremes. Joined the army to disoblige him.”

Alexander nodded. He suspected that it did Freddy good to speak about things to someone who was an outsider but who understood the unpleasant inner dynamics of the family.

His womenfolk joined him, and Frederick was joined by Penelope and Eric.  Introductions were made; Ida knew Frederick from his brief sojourn in Essex, but Alma knew none of them.

“I hope you ladies will enjoy comparing the books you read,” said Alexander.  “I hope you’ll be able to read each other’s light reading matter.”

“I have Agatha Christie’s ‘The Secret Adversary,’ with a delightful young couple in it,” said Alma.

“I haven’t read that,” said Penelope. “I do have ‘Captain Blood’ to re-read, and ‘The Riddle of the Sands.’”

“I have a book by a new author, called ‘The Black Moth,’ set in the Georgian period,” said Alma. “It’s a romance with adventure, I think, or it might be an adventure story with romance. I have ‘Penny Plain’ by O. Douglas.”

“Oh! I read ‘The Setons’ by her, and enjoyed it very much,” said Penelope.

“Well, now!” said Alma. “I think I am looking forward to this river trip more than I thought I would. Of course, dear Ida wants to see all the diggings and so on, as she plans to be an archaeologist, but I wasn’t sure there would be much for me to take an interest in. But she has indulged me so I would not want to spoil her pleasure.”

“I am delighted!” said Penelope. “My husband says I have low tastes. But I’m leaving him, anyway.”

“Mine isn’t a great reader, but he has low tastes too when we go to the cinema,” said Alma. “We like things like ‘Robin Hood.’”

“Oh, you can’t beat a good bit of swashbuckling,” said Penelope.

Alexander beamed at Freddy, who gave him a nod of satisfaction. This was the start of a beautiful friendship.

 

Alexander elected to walk on board, with Campbell there ready to lend an arm.  He was pleased that it was not hard, as it had been when escaping from the hospital in Algiers; but he had been forced to stand for long periods then, and change his clothes several times. He settled into the wheelchair gladly enough, though.

“Ha, war wound?” the voice was loud and hearty, and Alexander immediately disliked the speaker.

“Wound taken in the course of duty, but I don’t call the streets of London a war zone,” said Alexander. “I’m a policeman.”

“Ah, well, I suppose it’s one way of serving your country, and is a reserved occupation,” said the owner of the hearty voice, a florid man about Alexander’s own age. “Not everyone is cut out for front-line duty, of course. I’ve seen some horrors, which I don’t suppose you could cope with.”

“I’ll thank you not to disrespect Major Armitage, Captain!” barked Freddy. “We infantrymen were glad of the tank corps during the war, I assure you, and I know fine well that your disgusting war stories are cribbed from others whilst you polished a chair in supplies, so shut your effing trap, and don’t start with your unsavoury stories either, or Eric and I will take you off and give you what-for.”

“Oh, Captain Thwaite is one of those who thinks that disgusting the ladies with war stories makes him look big, is he?” said Alexander, with contempt.

“And how,” said Freddy. “He was trying to impress Mama with talk of walking on dead bodies split open and oozing, and she asked him if he’d ever held down a man whose guts were all over the place whilst a nurse put them back and sewed him up, because she was the nurse doing the sewing. It was hilarious; he turned green.”

“I doubt he’s carried a man with his feet burned off, either, and been reminded of it every time there’s a hog roast in the village,” said Alexander. “Oh, yes, a very pretty green.”

“You will meet me!” declared the captain.

“I already met you and didn’t think much of the experience,” said Freddy, deliberately misunderstanding.

“My, what a hero, ready to duel a man who is wounded,” sneered Alexander.

“Well, what sort of wound could you get on civvy street?” the captain sneered back.

“He was knifed in the belly, you oaf,” said Eric. “And had a few broken bones as well because his backup was late. Because he was making sure my brother here wasn’t blamed for a couple of killings done by others, so yes, we are partisan, and we’re two to one, so back off.  And both of us served at the front, and we both think you’re a sham.”

Captain Thwaite moved away, trying to look as if his dignity was intact.

 

“A singularly unsatisfactory fellow,” an elderly woman spoke to Alma, Ida, and Penelope. “My name’s Goldsworthy; Janet Goldsworthy. Miss. I notice you have books and knitting bags; do you share?”

“Ah, we must form a knit and natter group,” said Ida, cheerfully, performing introductions. “Any other women here ready to join us?”

“Darling, how too exhausting; I couldn’t possibly,” said a faded blonde, who was probably no older than Alexander, but managed to give the impression of fragility. “Thinking is too too much for me.”

The tall, spare woman with hints of what may have once been a lush figure, and an ageless face below iron-grey hair gave an austere smile.

“Now, I don’t mind reading out loud from a book you all agree on whilst you knit or sew,” she said. “I am thought to have a good reading voice. I’m Anne Grant. With an ‘e’ like Lucy Maud Montgomery’s heroine.” Her voice was beautifully modulated.

“That would be a treat,” said Ida. She turned questioningly to the final woman of the party.

Violet Pettit hesitated.

“Ah, why not?” she said. “I’m here for a change of scenery. Took it badly when m’father died. But I like to read. Never been read to, but it might be relaxing. Pull me up if I swear, though, I grew up running about on pop’s factory floor and the men ain’t gentle.”

“I nursed during the war; I expect I’ve heard worse,” said Penelope, dryly. “It isn’t religious fervour which makes soldiers blaspheme when you have to evacuate their bowels with an enema because they were too nice about going in the trenches.”

Violet found herself giggling for the first time in her life.

“What a delightful way to put it,” she said. At twenty-eight, she had given up expecting to find a suitable husband who was her equal. She had had no expectations of doing so on this trip, but at least these women seemed intelligent, and spirited. Apart from the widow, Imogen Worthington; but there was always one.

And some of the men seemed interesting.  Mr. Eric Beauchamp and Mr. Guy Purvis were too young, Captain Thwaite was, in her own thoughts, a tosser, but both Major Armitage and Mr. Frederick Beauchamp seemed convivial; and she would reserve judgement on Mr. Reginald Langburne, who kept himself to himself, and whose face under its blond hair was adorned with moustaches made of a minimal number of hairs and ruthlessly waxed, and resembled, in her opinion, the feelers on the mouthparts of many insects.

If he was otherwise convivial, he could be induced to shave such appendages.

 

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[1] See ‘The Purloined Parure’