I stopped inexplicably in Knightsbridge to buy her some flowers, and at
Hammersmith Judy discovered that her wrist-watch was not on her wrist.
We went back that time, but when later we had passed Purley and she
remembered that Nanette’s biscuits had been left in the hall, I hardened
my heart.
I let the car go, but dusk was falling as we ran out of Lewes. Then
Nanette had to ‘have a run.’ I pulled up with some misgivings, and Judy
opened the door. Nanette sprang out and disappeared in a wood. . . .
Nanette is not a good name to shout, but we all did it. Judy, Wiseman
and I shouted and yelled ‘Nanette’ for fifty sodden minutes into the
night. Judy shouted from the car, I shouted from the road, and Wiseman
shouted from the recesses of the wood. Finally Nanette returned. She was
very effusive, very wet, very happy and heavily coated with fish manure.
“Oh, how awful,” said Judy, holding her delicate nose. “What did you say
it was?”
“The polite name,” said I, “is fertilizer.”
“Is—is it anything like manure?” said Judy faintly.
“Almost exactly,” I said.
“Then that’s why,” said Judy triumphantly. “She always rolls in manure
if she gets a chance.”
I tried not to scream. . . .
I shall always associate Newhaven with the ablutions of Nanette. These
were performed surreptitiously in an hotel bathroom by Wiseman and
myself, took the best part of an hour, cost me two pounds in hush-money
and constituted at once the most revolting and strenuous ritual to which
in war or peace I have ever been called upon to subscribe.
Then we dined—at least, I watched Judy dine, which was almost as bad.
Afterwards we walked on the quay. There were few enough people about and
only one I knew: he was plainly the worse for wear and fast asleep. His
name was Kenner, and we were at school together till he was fired. The
stars were out and the sea was like a great fleece of black and silver.
Judy slid an arm through mine.
“I think the hotel people think we’re eloping,” she said.
“That,” said I, “is more than probable.”
“Well, I don’t care,” said Judy.
We walked the length of the quay.
“It’s quite absurd,” said Judy, “for me to go on calling you ‘Captain
Boleyn,’ isn’t it?”
“Idiotic,” said I, “considering I’ve carried your sponge-bag.”
“Then I shan’t any more, Adam.” For a moment she stared seawards. Then
she peered up at my face. “Why are you nice to me?” I suppose I
hesitated, for she went on swiftly. “I mean, I’ve messed everything up.
I’ve made you late and tired you and crowded you out. We’ve come like a
drunken circus instead of like—like Captain Boleyn.”
“There spoke Miss Sentinel,” said I—truthfully.
The girl frowned.
“I’m not always a child,” she said. “Sometimes I get, as Americans say,
a hunch. So I sit up straight, and all of a sudden I’m wise.” She
withdrew her arm from mine. “Those sponges!” she cried. “And you ate
nothing because you felt all sick—washing that filthy dog.” She stamped
her foot. “Why don’t I think? Oh, I’m all upset at the way I behave. I
might be nine, and I’m really twenty-one.”
“You have no age,” I said. “That’s the warrant you hold for all you do.
I saw that the moment you came. And that’s—that’s why I’m nice to you,
Judy.” I took her arm and we turned landwards to the lights swaying on
the water and the faint hiss of steam. “Don’t you bother about it—just
go straight on. Besides, Nanette was very good—stood like a lamb, and I
wasn’t really hungry.”
“She is good, isn’t she?” said Judy eagerly.
There was only one cabin available, and that was the one I had reserved.
I like to think that Judy slept well. I did not sleep. The reek of
disinfectant in the car was overpowering. Besides, I am out of the way
of slumbering in my clothes. But I was ashore at dawn and had shaved and
bathed and changed before she was up. As I went down to breakfast I came
upon Wiseman cleaning a small pair of shoes. . . .
The idea was to stay at Tours, but I gave that up. ‘Fresh woods and
pastures new’ call for inspection: this was the very first time that
Judy had been in France.
I got her out of Rouen by three o’clock, and two hours later I sighted
the spires of Chartres.
When I pointed them out to Judy she jumped up and down, and Nanette got
up on the seat and mauled us both.
“Yes,” I said, “that’s the place where we’re going to stay: and now be a
good little girl and listen to me.”
“Go on,” said Judy.
“I have decided,” I said, “to stay in the same hotel.”
“As what?”
“As you.”
Miss Sentinel opened her eyes.
“But why on earth not?” she said.
“Convention,” I said. “It isn’t usually done.”
“Oh, blow Convention,” said Judy, pushing Nanette into place and
dragging her scrap of a skirt to cover her knees.
“I’m going to blow Convention, but she’s got to be blown my way.”
Judy laid her head on my shoulder and rubbed her cheek up and down.
“I love little Adam,
His coat is so warm,
And if I don’t hurt him,
He’ll do me no harm.”
I didn’t know whether to laugh or whether to cry. . . .
To stay in the same house was out of all order, yet how could I leave
her alone in a strange hotel? There was Nanette, of course, but—— Oh,
it was unthinkable.
“Look here, Judy,” said I. “The general idea is for me to be within
call, and the pet, particular, special is to prevent the public from
thinking that we have, er, eloped.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m funny like that. Now then. I’m going to drive to the
station and pick up a cab. Wiseman will take my place and drive you to
the hotel. It will be your car, and he will be your chauffeur. You are a
lady of consequence, travelling alone. You and Wiseman will forget about
me—I shan’t exist any more. Meanwhile I shall come on, having travelled
by train. I shall arrive after you and take a room. We may meet at
dinner, but you mustn’t know me——”
“From Adam,” said Judy swiftly. “But this is silly. Why shouldn’t we
meet by accident in the hotel? That’s natural enough.”
I swallowed.
“All right,” I said reluctantly. “I suppose we can run into each other
in the dining-room: but you must play up and take your cue from me. And
you’re not to go out without Wiseman.”
“But I want to see the Cathedral.”
“I’ll meet you there to-morrow: and to-night—remember, I shall be there
if you need me. It’s not a big house, and you’ve only to call my name.
But that’s an emergency measure. Otherwise——”
“I think it’s a stupid game,” said Judy. “I was looking forward to
to-night. I wanted you to take me to the movies.”
“I can’t help it,” said I doggedly.
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