Part 21 (1/2)
”That sounds quite nice,” she said. ”I shall sleep, and then I shall sleep, and then I shall sleep.”
That antic.i.p.ation proved to be quite correct. Dodo was roused for her meals, resented her toilet, and for the next forty-eight hours was either fast asleep or at the least dozing in a vacancy of brain that she found extremely pleasurable. At the end of that time she entered with zest into future plans with the doctor and Jack.
”You may leave out a rest-cure,” she said, ”because if you want me to stop in bed for a month I won't. I should hate it so much that I would take care that it shouldn't do me any good.”
”It would be the best thing for you,” said the doctor.
”Then you must choose the second best. It would make me ill to stop in bed for a month, and so I should have to recover all over again afterwards. Oh Jack, you owl, for G.o.d's sake tell me what I do want, because I don't know. I know lots of things I don't want. I don't want you, darling, because you would look anxious, and don't want David, because I couldn't amuse him, and I certainly don't want a nurse to blow my nose and brush my teeth and wash me.”
Dodo sat up in bed.
”I'm getting brilliant,” she said. ”I am beginning to know what I want.
I want to go somewhere where there isn't anybody or anything. Isn't there some place where there is just the sea----”
”A voyage?” asked Jack.
”Certainly not; because of submarines and being unwell. I should like the sea to be there, but there mustn't be any bathing-machines, and I should like a great flat place without any hills. The sea and a marsh, and n.o.body and nothing. Isn't there an empty place anywhere?”
Dr. Ashe listened to this, watching her, with a diagnostic mind.
”Let's hear more about it,” he said. ”You don't want to be bothered with anybody or anything. Is that it?”
Dodo's right arm lying outside the bedclothes suddenly twitched.
”Who did that?” she said. ”Why doesn't it keep still? I've got the jumps, and I want to be quiet. Can't either of you understand?”
”And you want to go somewhere empty and quiet?” asked Jack.
”Yes, I've said so several times. And I don't want to talk any more.”
They left her alone again after this, and presently when they returned, it appeared that Jack had once spent a couple of weeks one November at a small Norfolk village near the sea. The object of the expedition had been duck-shooting, but as far as duck went, it had been disappointing, for they usually got up a mile or two away, and flew out to sea in a straight line with the speed of an express train and never came back any more. But apart from duck, the village of Trus...o...b.. had promising features as regarded their present requirements, for Jack was not able to recollect any feature of the slightest interest about it. It squatted on the edge of marshes, there was the sea within a mile of it; he supposed there were some inhabitants, for there was a small but extremely comfortable inn. Now in July there would not even be any intending duck-shooters there; it promised to be an apotheosis of nothing at all.
Dodo roused herself to take an interest in this, as the colourless account of it proceeded, and even under cross-examination Jack could not recollect anything that marred the tranquillity of the picture. Yes, there was a post-office where you could get a daily paper if you wanted one, but on the other hand if you did not want one, he hastened to add, you needn't; there was also a windmill, the sails of which were always stationary. There were no duck, there was no pier, there as no band, the nearest station was four miles away; really, in fact, there wasn't anything.
The l.u.s.t for nothingness gleamed in Dodo's eyes.
”It sounds delicious,” she said. ”When may I go to Trus...o...b.., Dr. Ashe?”
”Have a couple more days in bed,” said he, ”and then you can go as soon as you like, if you will promise not to make any exertion for which you don't feel inclined----”
”But that's why I'm going,” she interrupted. ”Telegraph to the inn, Jack, and engage me a couple of rooms--oh, my dear, I feel in my bones that Trus...o...b.. is just what I want. They will meet me at the station with a very slow old cab, or better still with a dog-cart. It sounds just precisely right. Shall I call myself Mrs. Dodo of London? It's all too blessed and lovely.”
Three evenings later accordingly, Dodo arrived at Holt. She found a dog-cart waiting for her, exactly as she had antic.i.p.ated, and a whisper of north wind off the sea. Her driver, a serene and smiling octogenarian began by talking to her for a little, and his conversation reminded her of bubbles coming up through tranquil water, as he asked her how the war was getting on. They didn't hear much about the war down at Trus...o...b.., but the crops were doing well, though the less said about apples the better. After this information he sank into a calm sleep, and so did the pony which walked in its sleep.
As the vanished sun began to set the north-west sky on fire, this deliberate equipage emerged from the wooded inlands into flat and ample s.p.a.ces that smouldered beneath an enormous sky. Across the open the sea gleamed like an indigo wire laid down as in some coloured map along the edge of the land, and a spiced and vivid savour which set the pony sneezing, awoke him, and with a toss of his head he began of his own accord to trot. In time that unusual motion aroused his driver, and they jogged along at a livelier pace. The air seemed charged with the very elixir of life; it was like some n.o.ble atmospheric vintage that enlightened the eye and set the pulses beating full and steady.
Presently they came to the village with the brick-facings of the flint-built houses glowing in the last of the sunset and the night-stocks redolent in their gardens. To the left stretched vast water-meadows intersected with d.y.k.es where loose-strife and willow-herb smouldered among the tall gra.s.ses, and ta.s.selled reeds gave harbourage to moor-hens. Out of all the inhabitants of Trus...o...b.. but one representative seemed to be in the street, and he slowly trundled a barrow in front of him and let it be known that he had fresh mackerel for sale. Short spells of walking alternated with longer sittings on the handle of his barrow, but whether he sat or whether he walked no one bought his mackerel.
The Laighton Arms stood on a curve of the sole street through the village, and Dodo entered as into a land full of promise. An old setter, lying in the pa.s.sage thumped her a welcome with his tail, as if she was already a familiar and friendly denizen, just returning from some outing. She dined alone at a plain good hospitable board, and presently strolled out again through the front door that stood permanently open into an empty street. It was night now, and the sky was set with drowsy stars that glowed rather than sparkled, and up the street there flowed, not in puffs and gusts, but with the current of a slow moving tide the salt sweetness of the marshes and the sea. Very soon her strolling steps had carried her past the last houses, and in the deep dusk she stood looking out over the empty levels. A big gra.s.s-grown bank built to keep out high tides from the meadows zig-zagged obscurely towards the sea, and there was nothing there but the emptiness of the land and the star-studded sky. She waited just to see the moon come up over the eastern horizon and its light confirmed the friendliness of the huge solitude. Then returning, she found a candle set ready for her, which was a clear invitation to go to bed, and looking out below her blind she saw in front a stretch of low land with pools of water reflecting the stars. Six geese, one behind the other, like a frieze, were crossing it very slowly in the direction of the salt-water creek that wound seawards.
For the next week Dodo pursued complete and intentional idleness with the same zeal which all her life had inspired her activities. She got up very late after long hours of smooth deep sleep, and taking a book and a packet of sandwiches in her satchel strolled out along the bank to the ridge of loose s.h.i.+ngle that ran east and west along the edge of the sea.