Part 17 (1/2)
”Surely, dear,” he said gravely, ”we decided that our child was going to play for Kent?”
”Not a girl!”
”Why not? There's nothing in the rules about it. Rule 197 (B) says that you needn't play if you don't like the Manager, but there's nothing about s.e.x in it. I'm sure Baby would love the Manager.”
Mrs Jeremy smiled and ruffled his hair.
”Well,” said Jeremy, ”if n.o.body will bowl to me, I can at least take my bat out and let it see the gra.s.s. After six months of boots it will be a change for it.”
He went out into the garden, and did not appear again until lunch.
During the meal he read extracts to his wife from ”The Coming Season's Prospects,” and spoke cheerfully of the runs he intended to make for the village. After lunch he took her on to the tennis lawn.
”There!” he said proudly, pointing to a cricket pitch beautifully cut and marked with a crease of dazzling white. ”Doesn't that look jolly?”
”Heavenly,” she said. ”You must ask someone up to-morrow. You can get quite good practice here with these deep banks all round.”
”Yes, I shall make a lot of runs this season,” said Jeremy airily.
”But, apart from practice, don't you FEEL how jolly and summery a cricket pitch makes everything?”
Mrs Jeremy took a deep breath. ”Yes, there's nothing like a bucket of whitening to make you think of summer.”
”I'm glad you think so too,” said Jeremy with an air of relief, ”because I upset the bucket on the way back to the stables--just underneath the pergola. It ought to bring the roses on like anything.”
AN INLAND VOYAGE
Thomas took a day off last Monday in order to play golf with me. For that day the Admiralty had to get along without Thomas. I tremble to think what would have happened if war had broken out on Monday.
Could a Thomasless Admiralty have coped with it? I trow not. Even as it was, battles.h.i.+ps grounded, crews mutinied, and several awkward questions in the House of Commons had to be postponed till Tuesday.
Something--some premonition of this, no doubt--seemed to be weighing on him all day.
”Rotten weather,” he growled, as he came up the steps of the club.
”I'm very sorry,” I said. ”I keep on complaining to the secretary about it. He does his best.”
”What's that?”
”He taps the barometer every morning, and says it will clear up in the afternoon. Shall we go out now, or shall we give it a chance to stop?”
Thomas looked at the rain and decided to let it stop. I made him as comfortable as I could. I gave him a drink, a cigarette, and Mistakes with the Mas.h.i.+e. On the table at his elbow I had in reserve Faulty Play with the Bra.s.sy and a West Middles.e.x Directory. For myself I wandered about restlessly, pausing now and again to read enviously a notice which said that C. D. Topping's handicap was reduced from 24 to 22. Lucky man!
At about half-past eleven the rain stopped for a moment, and we hurried out.
”The course is a little wet,” I said apologetically, as we stood on the first tee, ”but with your naval experience you won't mind that.
By the way, I ought to warn you that this isn't all casual water.