Читать книгу Auntie Robbo - Ann Scott-Moncrieff - Страница 8

Table of Contents

Whether Merlissa Benck wanted to stay on at Nethermuir or no, the next morning decided the question for her. It turned out she had to stay. When Auntie Robbo and Hector came down to breakfast they found Amy with an unnaturally long face and a very disapproving air.

"Miss Benck is confined to her bed, ma'am," she sniffed.

"She's all of a doodah, and her temperature's rising."

"How dreadful!" exclaimed Auntie Robbo, thinking only that Merlissa Benck's departure would now be postponed.

Amy went on sourly. "It must have been the walk she took yesterday that's given her a chill, and her nerves are all to pieces. She was crying half the night, she told me."

Hector and Auntie Robbo looked at each other in consternation.

"Oh, how dreadful!" repeated Auntie Robbo, and this time her voice was sincerely contrite.

"Poor Miss Benck," said Hector. "I hope she's not as bad as you think, Amy."

"She's worse," said Amy shortly. "And no wonder."

Auntie Robbo and Hector wriggled uncomfortably under her accusing eye. Then Auntie Robbo rallied. "Well, have you sent for Doctor Mackenzie? We'd better do that at once. See that Miss Benck has everything she wants, and I'll come upstairs presently."

"She doesn't want Doctor Mackenzie. She wants a nerve specialist from Edinburgh—here's his name." Amy planked down a card on the table. "And she said she'd rather not see anybody until she feels better."

"Oh, very well," said Auntie Robbo helplessly. "Ring up his telephone number, and I'll get hold of this man for her."

Auntie Robbo golloped up the last of her porridge and hurried out of the room after Amy. Hector toyed listlessly with his; his appetite seemed to have gone; it was another wet grey day and Merlissa Benck was a nervous wreck in the spare bedroom. But shortly Auntie Robbo came back, seeming almost her old cheerful self again. "It's all right," she said. "He's coming down this morning. He seemed a charming man, quite charming. He said people from Egypt were often taken that way. Extraordinary, isn't it? Are you having this egg—no? Then I will."

Hector could not get rid of his gloom so easily. "Amy knows," he said.

Auntie Robbo was quenched; she nodded and groaned, her mouth full of egg.

"We should have been kinder to Merlissa Benck," said Hector, "last night."

Auntie Robbo nodded and groaned even more vehemently. She wiped her mouth. "I know. It's awful. We must just try and be very good to her in future."

They finished breakfast in depressed silence. Then Merlissa Benck's illness settled on the house like a pall. Amy tiptoed up and downstairs on mysterious messages; the green room door opened and shut. They did not like to go outside, and they could not settle to anything indoors. Twice they asked Amy in conscience-stricken tones: "How is she?" and received the snappish reply: "No better and no worse."

The morning passed leadenly.

At last the specialist arrived from Edinburgh. He was a tall stout man with a head like an egg, broad at the chin and tapering into a narrow bald skull. He had ginger whiskers. He was most impressive. Doctor Narr was his name.

"Miss Sketheway?" he cried, pumping Auntie Robbo's hand. "How d'you do? I'm very glad I've come in time. Is the patient upstairs? Yes, yes, in bed. Quiet's the thing, rest, rest, and quiet."

"Show the doctor the way, Amy," said Auntie Robbo. When they had disappeared upstairs, Auntie Robbo turned to Hector. "He sounded quite different over the telephone," she sighed. "Quite charming. I never did like telephones. Still, perhaps he'll do her a lot of good. Like a nasty tonic."

"M-m-m," said Hector doubtfully. They fidgeted about, waiting for the doctor to come down again. Half an hour passed.

"He must be doing her a lot of good," said Auntie Robbo.

"She's terribly ill," said Hector gloomily.

At last Auntie Robbo could stand the suspense no longer, and she was very hungry. She told Amy to go up and invite the doctor to join them at lunch. This brought him down almost immediately.

"Delightful of you," he murmured, rubbing his pale plump hands, and sat down with them.

"How is Miss Benck?" Hector asked. "Is she very ill?"

"That's a funny thing to call your stepmother, young man," said the doctor jovially.

Hector was taken aback. "Isn't that her name?" he asked.

"Do tell us how she is," interrupted Auntie Robbo. "We've been very anxious about her."

"Oh, there's nothing to worry about. Nothing at all. A slight chill. She's not used to our climate, you know. A few days quietly in bed and she'll be perfectly all right."

Auntie Robbo and Hector sighed with relief, looking at each other; the feeling of guilt had rolled off them like a great stone.

Auntie Robbo's face wreathed itself in smiles. "I am relieved," she said. "I'd really got into my head that the woman was going to die on us. Did you think so, Hector?"

Hector nodded.

"There you are. Such a fuss as there was in the house this morning. Have some more soup, Doctor Narr? No? Then I will."

"Miss Benck is very highly strung," said the doctor.

"M-m-m. Hysterical type. I know them," said Auntie Robbo judiciously. "Had a cook once who used to take to her bed if a sauce was singed. Very pale she was. Just like Miss Benck. Anæmic." Auntie Robbo was quite herself again, calm and confiding. Good nature bursting from her round brown face.

"No, no. Not hysterical. Sensitive is how I should describe Miss Benck. As her medical adviser, I assure you she's extremely sensitive. I don't think I've ever met such a sensitive woman."

Auntie Robbo supped her soup noisily.

"She doesn't look hardy," said Hector, trying to be polite. "She's like a hothouse plant; overdone, you know. I expect Egypt is like a hothouse."

Hector thought that a good speech, especially as Doctor Narr nodded gravely and sympathetically. But it was evidently too much for Auntie Robbo. She burst out laughing into her soup.

"Hector! Oh, Hector!" she spluttered. "A hothouse plant! Oh, my goodness!" She got up from the table, convulsed with mirth. "Excuse me, Doctor Narr, will you? I think I'll leave you to my nephew. He's quite entertaining, isn't he'?" And she seized a chicken cutlet from the sideboard, clamped it between two rolls, and strode out of the room.

Doctor Narr had got to his feet in consternation; he seemed alarmed.

"It's quite all right," said Hector mildly. "Do sit down."

Dr. Narr sat down. "Does Miss Sketheway often behave like this?" he asked.

"On and off," replied Hector.

"What do you mean, 'on and off'?" snapped the doctor "How often?"

"When she feels like it."

"Goodness gracious!" breathed Doctor Narr, his eyes of a sudden fixed on the dining-room window.

Auntie Robbo was standing on the white-painted summer seat outside. She had a long green cloak wrapped about her, and on her head a peaked green stalking cap, sitting very much askew. She leaned forward precariously, squidging her nose against the windowpane and contorting her mouth in expressive shouts.

Hector laughed, she looked so funny, and ran forward to open the window.

"Don't! Don't!" cried Doctor Narr. "Don't let her in here!" He had backed round the table; his face had gone pale so that his gingery moustache looked like a wound, and he mopped at his brow with a napkin. "It will pass in a minute. Dear boy, just let her alone. Let her calm down..."

But Hector had already opened the window.

"A little salt, please," said Auntie Robbo.

Hector went to get a pinch of salt.

"Oh—and another roll. I'll away up to the Splash and give the wild ducks their dinner." And when she had got her salt and her roll, Auntie Robbo called: "Good-bye, Doctor Narr," lifted her little green cap with a flourish, bounded lightly off the summer seat, and passed out of sight.

Hector went back to his soup. Looking across at the doctor, he was surprised to find his gaze fixed earnestly and kindly upon him.

"Terrible! Terrible!" moaned Doctor Narr.

Hector furrowed his brows, looked doubtfully at the soup. It had seemed very good soup to him. "Well, have some cutlets." He rose and removed the doctor's plate. "One or two?" asked Hector.

"Two," said Doctor Narr morosely.

Hector set them before him and returned to his chair; he watched anxiously to see how the doctor liked his cutlets. But after a mouthful or two, Doctor Narr laid down his fork and again he gazed earnestly and sorrowfully at Hector, and again he murmured: "Terrible! Terrible!"

"Young man!" He cleared his throat suddenly. "I can see that you're very fond of your great-grand-aunt, but we must face the inevitable. The old tag 'mens sana in corpore sano' doesn't hold good in all cases. By no means. Medical history is full of exceptions. We can see, for instance, that your great-grand-aunt is wonderfully healthy in her body, too healthy perhaps for a woman of her great years. Whence comes this wonderful strength? Is it not possible that if one part of this great engine which is our body functions overtime, another part may be running down, ever slower and slower, until it comes to a standstill? To keep the metaphor, for want of oil—petrol—steam—fuel—that's it, my dear boy, for want of fuel!"

Doctor Narr banged the table. Hector looked up for a moment. He had known as soon as he met Doctor Narr that he talked bilge, a different kind of bilge from Cousin Agnew or Merlissa Benck, but nevertheless bilge. He kept his ears politely closed against it. Now he saw that the conversation was still going nicely, although he hadn't taken in a word of it, and that Doctor Narr was enjoying himself. He returned to the business of eating chicken cutlets. The doctor's voice droned on:

"Yes, we must be prepared for such a thing happening—the slow deterioration of mental grasp in a loved one. And the more loved they are, the sooner we must face it, face it"—the doctor's voice rose—"face it like men." He leaned forward persuasively. "Do you understand, my little man?"

Hector nodded, eating stolidly.

Doctor Narr gave a great sigh of relief. "That's right. I didn't think you'd be so sensible."

Then, with the pudding, he became expansive. "To tell you the truth, young man, before I'd really seen your aunt, I was inclined to be a little sceptical of Merlissa Benck's story." Hector opened his ears a fraction of an inch.

"You know, these nervous, highly-strung women are inclined to get ideas into their heads. However, your parlour-maid corroborated all she said, and of course I had only to be three minutes in Miss Sketheway's company to see exactly how the land lay. I've had too many cases like this to make a mistake."

Hector stared at him with widening eyes.

"Poor little chap! You must have had a hard time of it all these years. However, all's well now. We'll get you packed off to school and you'll soon forget your little worries there."

Doctor Narr laughed jovially, and came round the table to pat Hector on the head. Hector's scalp crept beneath his touch, but he remained docile and still, waiting intently for what Doctor Narr might say next.

"I think I'll step upstairs and put Miss Benck's mind at ease. And then I must rush back to town. There's so much to be done. I'll see Mrs. Agnew this afternoon. I think we'll be able to arrange about a suitable home for your great-grand-aunt. Don't worry, little man, she'll be in my care. I'll be back tomorrow, possibly with my colleague, Mr. Thurston; he's the great mind man, you know. Yes, well, good-bye, old chap. Don't worry."

The door closed on him, and Hector was left alone. He sat quite still, listening to the doctor going upstairs, going into the green spare room, coming out, coming down again. He heard the front door bang, a car engine start up, and the gravel spurting against its wheels as it reversed on the drive. Then, as the sound of it died away, he suddenly leaped to his feet and tore out of the house to find Auntie Robbo.