It was Paul’s present that truly thrilled her
GINNIE WANTED TO stay in a posh hotel, but she gave up the idea when Alex told her how much posh hotels cost. He said:
‘I think it was your choosing so very grand a hotel that made Grandfather guess you could not really be going to stay in one.’
Ginnie, of course, told the family exactly what she had told Grandfather, but it was very difficult to get the story out, they laughed so much.
‘Free ice cream in the lounge,’ said Jane. ‘Oh, Ginnie, what a gorgeous idea!’
Paul laughed so much he had to lie on the floor.
‘A fun fair in the garden! Free rides all day long on a giant racer!’
But of course, though fifty pounds would not take the family to a posh hotel, it would take them somewhere. Nor would fifty pounds be all; besides paying the fares Alex could manage to add a bit, and of course there was Paul and Jane’s envelope money. Still, the largest part of the money was Ginnie’s, so it was for her to decide where they went.
‘Has Miss Virginia Bell any idea where she would like to go?’ Alex asked.
Ginnie shook her head firmly.
‘No, Daddy. You’ll be surprised, because having this cheque is much the grandest thing which has ever happened to her, but Miss Virginia Bell doesn’t want to be the only one to choose.’
‘But somebody has to choose, darling,’ Cathy pointed out.
‘I know,’ said Ginnie. ‘But I think we’ll all choose somewhere, and then we’ll draw the places out of Daddy’s hat to see where we go.’
Jane chose the Sussex downs. Paul Devonshire, somewhere on Exmoor. Ginnie wanted Blackpool.
‘There isn’t anything else there, except giant racers, and those motor cars that whizz round, and things like that. I think a place that is nothing but a fun fair is the most perfect place for a holiday.’
Angus chose a farm anywhere. Alex wanted Cambridge. He had never been back there since his undergraduate days. Cathy was the last to make up her mind.
‘When I was little I had measles, and I was taken to Kent to stay at Hythe. I don’t know what it’s like now, but I remember a great bay with miles and miles of sea. Oh, and there were donkeys giving rides on the sea front, and scarlet poppies everywhere. I should like to go to Hythe.’
When Alex had written the places he passed the hat to Ginnie and told her to pick out one. The paper had Hythe written on it. Cathy had won. Angus went mad-doggish with excitement.
‘We’re going away! We’re going away! The Bells are going to Hythe!’
Perhaps because they had not expected to go away, or perhaps because they all so badly needed a change, none of the family ever forgot their holiday in Hythe. They stayed in lodgings quite near the sea. Their landlady, who was made in two bulges like a cottage loaf, was called Mrs Primrose. Before Mrs Primrose had married Mr Primrose she had been a children’s nannie, and nothing made her happier than when her rooms were taken by a family with children. She was a wonderful cook, and her great idea was to see the family swell out. By using every penny that could be spared, they managed to stay with her for three weeks, and by the third week the change in them all was startling.
‘When you came,’ Mrs Primrose said in her cosy voice, ‘it was as if six ghosts walked in. Now look at you! Why, even Jane has plumped up, which I thought she never would.’
The weather was kind, and the family practically lived on the beach, and in the sea. They did a few special things. A trip on the smallest railway in the world to Dungeness, across land reclaimed by the Romans when they occupied England. One never to be forgotten evening, they went a bust, and took tickets to see Hythe’s Venetian Fête. They did not know until they got to Hythe there would be a Venetian Fête, but Mrs Primrose talked about it so much they felt they had to see it, and how glad they were that they had. It was like a fairy story come true. Float after float drifting by, either beautiful to look at or very, very funny. Angus laughed so much at one of the funny floats that he fell off his chair and very nearly dropped into the canal. Sometimes Alex and Jane went to the canal to fish. They caught nothing, but it was lovely sitting on the bank, watching dragonflies, and, when they were lucky, seeing a heron fish for his lunch. Ginnie found a really magnificent hotel called The Imperial. It had a wonderful garden, tennis, croquet and a golf course.
‘Nothing,’ she said to Alex, ‘could look posher than this hotel. I shall send Grandfather a post card of it. I won’t tell a lie and say we’re staying there, I’ll say “This is a lovely place,” which is true, and might mean the hotel, or just mean Hythe.’
One of the most exciting things about the holiday in Hythe was that Ginnie discovered she had a talent. At St Winifred’s the girls went to the swimming baths once a week, and if they were keen they could go on Saturday mornings. Ginnie had learnt to swim, and had often been told by the swimming instructor that she could be a fine swimmer if she worked. Somehow what he said had never sunk in, and Ginnie had spent most of her time at the swimming baths fooling round, and ducking her friend Alison. But now, swimming in the open sea, she found that swimming was a gorgeous thing to do. She was like a little porpoise in the water, turning over and standing on her head, but every day she swam farther, and she swam better. Paul was amazed.
‘I say, Dad, Ginnie’s really good. I know I’m not much of a swimmer, but I could beat Ginnie when we first got here, now I can’t.’
Alex had noticed Ginnie too.
‘If she keeps it up when she gets back to London I think she’s going to be outstanding. She cuts through the water like a torpedo.’
Ginnie, when Cathy spoke to her about her swimming, took it quite for granted.
‘I think I’ll be the sort of girl who swims the Channel.’
Alex laughed.
‘What about the Olympic Games? Or do you despise them?’
Angus’s great joy was the donkeys. Every day he rode them up and down the sea front. He christened his favourite Balaam, and refused to change the name when Ginnie pointed out his mistake.
‘Such ignorance for the son of a vicar! Balaam rode on an ass, my boy, it wasn’t the ass’s name.’
Nobody enjoyed the holiday more than Esau. He would go prowling off by himself along the beach. Very often he ate starfishes on his walks, which made him dreadfully sick, but, as Alex said, everybody must enjoy themselves in their own way.
Then suddenly it was the last day. The suitcases came out from under the beds. Fairly tidy clothes for travelling were laid out, and of course the last of everything had to be done. The last bathe, the last donkey ride, the last ice cream at the kiosk, and, of course, final present buying. Nobody had much money left, but two people simply had to have presents, one was Mrs Primrose and the other Mrs Gage.
For Mrs Primrose, after much thought, and a lot of arguing, they chose a vase; for Mrs Gage all the family chose different presents. Ginnie bought her a little box trimmed with shells. Jane a cup and saucer with fishes on it. A man on the beach had taken a family group with Angus’s camera, which was better than Paul’s, so Paul had a copy framed in a near-silver frame. Angus chose the most surprising present, a bowl of goldfish. Cathy looked rather gloomily at it when she saw it.
‘Are you sure you want to give her that, Angus? It’s such a splashy present to travel.’
The train back to London left in the late afternoon, so the family came home for an early lunch, and last packings. It was as they were sitting down to lunch that the awful thing was found out. Esau was missing. They tried to remember who had seen him last.
‘He went back to the house with you, didn’t he, Ginnie, when you went to fetch your Dedication book?’
As a last gift to Hythe Ginnie had thrown the Dedication book out to sea.
‘I shan’t need it now I’m going to be a champion swimmer.’
It had been fun at the time, and all the family had laughed, but no one laughed now.
‘He wouldn’t come,’ Ginnie explained. ‘I called him, but he was digging and digging for something on the beach.’
Jane got up and looked out of the window.
‘I expect he’s coming. He’s such a different dog here to the one he is at home. He doesn’t expect anyone to look after him, he just goes where he likes.’
Usually Esau was very conscious of meal times. Alex got up.
‘He may be hunting on that waste ground.’
Paul stopped him.
‘He isn’t. I came home that way.’
Cathy tried to sound cheerful.
‘There’s nothing to worry about, he never goes near the sea, so there’s no danger of his being drowned.’
Jane looked at Cathy.
‘You’ve got your let’s-keep-calm-at-any-price face. You think he’s lost, don’t you?’
Cathy struggled to sound confident.
‘Of course I don’t. But I wish he was here. It’ll be a worry if he’s late today, just as we’re going.’
‘He’ll come,’ said Alex. ‘I expect he’s found an especially juicy dead starfish, and he will honour us by being sick in the train.’
Mrs Primrose had provided an extra special last lunch. Chicken, bread sauce, peas, potatoes, and a trifle to follow, and she was not going to have her food wasted for any dog.
‘Don’t let his being late spoil your dinners. I’m not having my chicken wasted. If he’s not in by the time you’ve finished I’ll send the boy next door on his bicycle to the police station. This isn’t a big place, if he’s been found wandering, or anything’s happened to him, they’ll know.’
‘Are there many dog thieves here?’ Jane asked.
Mrs Primrose gave a warm chuckling laugh.
‘Dog thieves! In Hythe! Whatever next.’
Angus felt Esau was not appreciated.
‘He’s a valuable dog. He won fifty pounds last year for being the most beautiful dog in Britain.’
‘And no wonder,’ said Mrs Primrose cosily. ‘But being so handsome everybody would notice him. A common dog no one might see, but Esau is a dog that stands out. You leave it to the boy next door. He’s a boy scout, he’ll be back with him all right.’
Mrs Primrose made the family feel less worried, her cosy voice, which Cathy said made her feel about four years old, was the sort that gives confidence. But when the chicken was taken away and the trifle was on the table, and there was still no Esau, fright gripped them again. And when, after lunch, the boy next door came back and said the police had not seen Esau, and nor had anyone else, the family began to despair. They split up to search the nearby streets. The boy next door found some fellow boy scouts, and searched the farther-off streets. Angus walked all the way up the sea front in both directions, in case Esau was on the beach. But only a short time before they had to leave everybody was back at the house, and none of them had seen or heard anything of him.
‘If we don’t find him we can’t go back,’ said Angus.
‘Of course we can’t,’ Jane agreed, ‘blessed angel, imagine him coming here and finding us gone.’
Ginnie’s voice was truculent.
‘This is my holiday, and Esau was part of it. I say nobody can go home until he’s found.’
Cathy was as miserable about Esau as anybody, but she had to be firm.
‘I’m sorry, darlings, but Esau or no Esau, we’re all going back to London this afternoon.’
Jane was nearly crying.
‘We couldn’t, Mummy. We simply couldn’t.’
Angus flung himself at Alex.
‘Daddy, you won’t make us go without him, will you?’
‘It seems awful to leave him, Dad?’ said Paul.
Alex put an arm round Angus.
‘The trouble is we shan’t do any good hanging about here. Esau’s loss has been reported to the police, and we’re on the telephone. I’ve arranged he’s to be sent home the moment he turns up.’
Mrs Primrose backed Alex.
‘Your father’s quite right, my dears, the police’ll let you know as soon as there’s any news. But I’ve a feeling in my bones you’ll find him before you go.’
Ginnie put a hand into one of Mrs Primrose’s.
‘Are your bones reliable?’
Mrs Primrose squeezed Ginnie’s hand.
‘Never known better. When I feel in my bones something happens, it happens. My bones feel now Esau travels back with you.’
In Hythe there is the best station bus system in the world. The bus meets every train, and then wanders round the town dropping passengers and their luggage at their front doors. Going away, the bus calls for passengers at their houses. Though they were still protesting, and Ginnie was quite crying, and Jane very nearly, the family and their suitcases were waiting for the bus. Mrs Primrose, still holding in a pleased way the vase they had given her, came to the door to see them off.
‘Good-bye, dears. Come again. It’s been lovely having you. If I hadn’t the rooms booked I’d have had you another week for nothing, I would. Smile now. Try not to worry.’
The bus driver, who also took the fares, and helped with the luggage, was a cheerful man. He remembered the Bells, and beamed at them over his shoulder.
‘I drove you when you came. Had a good time?’
Jane was nearest to him, so she answered.
‘Absolutely perfect, but it’s all spoilt now. You see, we’ve lost our dog.’
The driver began to remember Esau.
‘Spaniel, wasn’t he?’
Ginnie got up and came to the front of the bus.
‘A very valuable one. Last year he won a competition for the most beautiful dog in Britain.’
The driver wore a thinking face.
‘Is he a red spaniel?’
‘Almost orange,’ said Jane. ‘Like an autumn leaf.’
‘Usually,’ Ginnie put in; ‘but he’s been out a lot since he’s been here, so he hasn’t been brushed much, so he’s darker than ordinary.’
There was a little silence, then the driver said:
‘I know where he is.’
The family gasped. Then they got up and surged to the front of the bus.
‘Where?’ ‘You know?’ ‘Have you seen him?’
The driver was not a man to be hurried.
‘When I come home for my dinner, my wife says to me she’d been down to buy a bit of fish from the boats as they came in. She said the fishermen were laughing fit to burst, on account of a red dog. When the boat went out this morning, up comes this spaniel, and jumps in without a by your leave, and sits down as if he’d bought the boat. So they took him out with them.’
Alex was feeling in his pockets.
It was Paul’s present that truly thrilled her
‘Quick, Paul. Here’s your ticket and Esau’s. Will you stop, driver. If you miss the train, Paul, come on by the next.’
The train was making leaving noises. The family had almost given up hope. Then streaking up the platform came Esau dragging a breathless Paul on his lead. Everybody shouted. Just in time they opened the carriage door. Paul and Esau fell in.
St Mark’s Vicarage looked friendly, welcoming and, as Jane said, almost Hythe-ish when they reached home. Mrs Gage, with a grin that split her face in half, was waiting on the doorstep.
‘’ere you are at last. Lovely to see you all again. And don’t you look well, ever so brown. Look at you, Jane, proper fat lady at the fair.’
Everybody tried to tell her their news at once. How Esau was lost. What they had brought her. Ginnie’s swimming, and how she had torn up her Dedication book. About the Venetian Fête, the small railway, and Mrs Primrose. Mrs Gage managed to understand quite a lot.
‘Fancy you losin’ Esau! My word, you must ’ave been in a state. That’s a dear little box, Ginnie, look lovely in me front room. Fancy you a swimmer! Well, I never! Thank you for the cup and saucer, Jane dear. I’ll keep it on the shelf ’ere for me mornin’ cuppa. Don’t want Mr Gage drinkin’ out of it. Goldfish! Well, I never, Angus! Mr Gage was always fond of a bit of fish, give ’im a treat, these will.’
But it was Paul’s present that truly thrilled her. He said:
‘I’m afraid the frame isn’t really silver, it only looks like it. A man on the beach took it with Angus’s camera.’
‘Look at you all! Isn’t it smashin’! Doesn’t your Dad look funny without ’is clergyman’s collar? There seems more of your Mum undressed, some’ow. Jane looks sweetly pretty. Look at you, Paul, quite the film star. Oh, there’s young Angus, with his arm round Esau. Look at Ginnie, proper little barrel she looks.’ Then, to his surprise, she gave Paul a smacking kiss. ‘Thanks ever so, ducks. It’s just what I’d fancy. My Bell family, large as life, and twice as ’andsome, standin’ on me table for always.’
Mrs Gage made all the family go up and tidy for supper.
‘It’s on the table, and you should be peckish, so get a move on now.’ When they came down again she flung the door open with an air. ‘Welcome ’ome all.’
No wonder Mrs Gage wanted them tidy for supper, for never was there a more beautiful meal. There was a large cold ham, and a cold chicken, fruit salad and an enormous ice cream, and to Ginnie and Angus’s great joy, crackers. Cathy was so surprised she could only stare at the table.
‘Am I dreaming? Where did all this glory come from, Mrs Gage, dear?’
Mrs Gage whipped out a letter she was holding behind her back and gave it to Alex. He read it out loud.
‘A mark of appreciation from all your friends in St Mark’s parish.’
‘The ’am’s from the butcher,’ said Mrs Gage, ‘the cake from the choir. Miss Bloggs coughed up the chicken. The rest came in dribs and drabs. Oh, and the children of the Sunday school sent a woppin’ great bone for Esau.’
At first everybody was so busy eating nobody spoke. Then Jane said:
‘Do you know, nothing looks as shabby as it did when we went away.’
‘That’s the best of going away,’ Cathy explained, ‘home seems so nice when you get back.’
‘And it’s still holidays,’ Paul pointed out, ‘and we’ve none of those awful envelopes to address, so we could do some nice things.’
‘Let’s make a plan,’ Cathy suggested, ‘nice things not only for the holidays but for all the rest of the year.’
‘You mean we all make a plan?’ Ginnie asked.
Cathy nodded.
‘Everybody. Mr Paul Bell, Miss Jane Bell, Miss Virginia Bell, Mr Angus Bell and Mr Esau Bell.’
‘In fact,’ said Jane, ‘a combined operation by The Reverend Alexander Bell and family.’