PART VII
THE LAND OF LOST CONTENT
I
While we were looking for our country cottage, bad news came from Africa of my brother Monty. He had not featured largely in any of our lives since before the war when he had a scheme to run cargo boats on Lake Victoria. He sent Madge letters from various people out there, all enthusiastic about the idea. If she could just put up a little capitala€|My sister believed that here was something that Monty might succeed in. Anything to do with boats he was good at. So she paid his fare to England. The plan was to build a small boat in Essex. It was true that there was a great opening for this type of craft. There were no small cargo boats on the Lake at that time. The weak part of the scheme, however, was that Monty was to be the Captain, and nobody had any confidence that the boat would run to time, or the service be reliable.
a€?Ita€?s a splendid idea. Lots of oof to be made. But good old Millera€“suppose he just didna€?t feel like getting up one dayOr didna€?t like a fellowa€?s faceI mean hea€?s just a law unto himself.a€?
But my sister, who was of a perennially optimistic nature, agreed to invest the greater part of her capital in getting the boat built.
a€?James gives me a good allowance, and I can use some of that to help with Ashfield, so I shana€?t miss the income.a€?
My brother-in-law was livid. He and Monty disliked each other intensely. Madge, he felt certain, would lose her money.
The boat was taken in hand. Madge went down to Essex several times. Everything seemed to be going well.
The only thing that worried her was the fact that Monty was always coming up to London, staying at an expensive hotel in Jermyn Street, buying quantities of luxurious silk pyjamas, a couple of specially designed Captaina€?s uniforms, and bestowing on her a sapphire bracelet, an elaborate petit point evening bag, and other charming and expensive presents.
a€?But, Monty, the money is for the boata€“not to give me presents.a€?
a€?But I want you to have a nice present. You never buy anything for yourself.a€?
a€?And whata€?s that thing on the window sill?a€?
a€?ThatIta€?s a Japanese dwarf tree.a€?
a€?But theya€?re terribly expensive, arena€?t they?a€?
a€?It was ?￡75. Ia€?ve always wanted one. Look at the shape. Lovely, isna€?t it?a€?
a€?Oh Monty, I wish you wouldna€?t.a€?
a€?The trouble with you is that living with old James youa€?ve forgotten how to enjoy yourself.a€The tree had disappeared when she next visited him.
a€?Did you take it back to the shop?a€she asked hopefully.
a€?Take it back to the shop?a€said Monty horrified. a€?Of course not. As a matter of fact I gave it to the receptionist here. Awfully nice girl. She admired it so much, and shea€?d been worried about her mother.a€Words failed Madge.
a€?Come out to lunch,a€said Monty.
a€?All righta€“but wea€?ll go to Lyons.a€?
a€?Very well.a€They went through to the street. Monty asked the doorman for a taxi. He hailed one that was passing by, they got in, Monty handed him a half a crown, and told the driver to go to the Berkeley. Madge burst into tears.
a€?The truth of it is,a€said Monty to me later, a€?that James is such a miserably mean chap that poor old Madge has got her spirit completely broken. She seems to think of nothing but saving.a€?
a€?Hadna€?t you better begin to think, of savingSuppose the money runs out before the boata€?s built?a€Monty grinned wickedly.
a€?Wouldna€?t matter. Old James would have to fork up.a€Monty stayed with them for a difficult five days, and drank enormous amounts of whisky. Madge went out secretly, bought several more bottles, and put them in his room, which amused Monty very much. Monty was attracted by Nan Watts, and took her out to theatres and expensive restaurants.
a€?This boat will never get to Uganda,a€Madge would say sometimes in despair. It might have done. It was Montya€?s own fault that it didna€?t. He loved the Batenga as he called it. He wanted it to be more than a cargo boat. He ordered fittings of ebony and ivory, a teak-panelled cabin for himself, and specially-made brown fireproof china with the name Batenga. All this delayed its dispatch. And soa€“the war broke out. There could be no shipping of the Batenga to Africa. Instead it had to be sold to the Government at a low price. Monty went back to the Armya€“this time to the Kinga€?s African Rifles. So ended the saga of the Batenga. I still have two of the coffee cups. Now a letter came from a doctor. Monty had, as we knew, been wounded in the arm in the war. It seemed that during his treatment in hospital, the wound had become infecteda€“carelessness of a native dresser. The infection had persisted, and had recurred even after he was discharged. He had continued with his life as a hunter, but in the end had been picked up and taken to a French hospital run by nuns, very seriously ill. He had not wished at first to communicate with any of his relations, but he was now almost certainly a dying mana€“six months was the longest he could hope to livea€“and he had a great wish to come home to die. It was also possible that the climate in England might prolong his life a little. Arrangements were quickly made for Montya€?s passage from Mombassa by sea. My mother started making preparations at Ashfield. She was transported with joya€“she would look after him devotedlya€“her dearest boy. She began to envisage a mother-and-son relationship which I felt quite sure was entirely unrealistic. Mother and Monty had never really got on together harmoniously. In many ways they were too much alike. They both wanted their own way. And Monty was one of the most difficult people in the world to live with.
a€?It will be different now,a€said my mother. a€?You forget how ill the poor boy is.a€I thought that Monty ill would be just as difficult as Monty well. Peoplea€?s natures dona€?t change. Still, I hoped for the best. Mother had a little difficulty in reconciling her two elderly maids to the idea of having Montya€?s African servant in the house also.
a€?I dona€?t think, Madama€“I really dona€?t think that we could sleep in the same house with a black man. Ita€?s not what me and my sister have been accustomed to.a€Mother went into action. She was a woman not easy to withstand. She talked them round to staying. The lure she held out to them in the end was the possibility that they might be able to convert the African from Mohammedanism to Christianity. They were very religious women.
a€?We could read the Bible to him,a€they said, their eyes lighting up. Mother, meanwhile, prepared a self-contained suite of three rooms and a new bathroom. Archie very kindly said he would go to meet Montya€?s boat docked at Tilbury. He had also taken a small flat in Bayswater for him to go to with his servant. As Archie departed from Tilbury, I called after him: a€?Dona€?t let Monty make you take him to the Ritz.a€?
a€?What did you say?a€?
a€?I said a€?Dona€?t let him make you take him to the Ritza€?a€“Ia€?ll see that the flat is all ready, and the landlady alerted and plenty of stores in.a€a€?Well, thata€?s all right then.a€?
a€?I hope so. But he might prefer the Ritz.a€?
a€?Dona€?t worry. Ia€?ll have him all settled in before lunch.a€The day wore on. At 6.30 Archie returned. He looked exhausted.
a€?Ita€?s all right. Ia€?ve got him settled in. It was a bit of a job getting him off the boat. He wasna€?t packed up or anythinga€“kept saying there was plenty of timea€“what was the hurryEverybody else was off the ship, and he was holding things upa€“but he didna€?t seem to care. That Shebani is a good chapa€“very helpful. He managed to get things moving in the end.a€He paused, and cleared his throat.
a€?As a matter of fact, I didna€?t take him to Powell Square. He seemed absolutely set on going to some hotel in Jermyn Street. He said it would be much less trouble to everyone.a€?
a€?So thata€?s where he is.a€?
a€?Wella€“yes.a€I looked at him.
a€?Somehow,a€said Archie, a€?it seemed so reasonable the way he put it.a€a€?That is Montya€?s strong point,a€I informed him. Monty was taken to a specialist in tropical diseases to whom he had been recommended. The specialist gave full directions to my mother. There was a chance of partial recovery: good aira€“continual soaking in hot bathsa€“a quiet life. What might prove difficult was that, having considered him almost certainly a dying man, they had kept him under drugs to such an extent that he would find it difficult to break the habit now. We got Monty and Shebani into the Powell Square flat after a day or two, and they settled down quite happilya€“although Shebani created quite a stir by dropping into neighbouring tobacconists, seizing a packet of fifty cigarettes, saying, a€?For my mastera€?, and leaving the shop. The Kenya system of credit was not appreciated in Bayswater. Then, after the London treatments were over, Monty and Shebani moved down to Ashfielda€“and the mother-and-son a€?ending his days in peacea€concept was tried out. It nearly killed my mother. Monty had his African way of life. His idea of meals was to call for them whenever he felt like eating, even if it was four in the morning. This was one of his favourite times. He would ring bells, call to the servants, and order chops and steaks.
a€?I dona€?t understand what you mean, mother, by a€?considering the servantsa€?. You pay them to cook for you, dona€?t you?a€?
a€?Yesa€“but not in the middle of the night.a€?
a€?It was only an hour before sunrise. I always used to get up then. Ita€?s the proper start to the day.a€It was Shebani who really succeeded in making things work. The elderly maids adored him. They read the Bible to him, and he listened with the greatest interest. He told them stories of life in Uganda and of the prowess of his master in shooting elephants. He gently took Monty to task for his treatment of his mother.
a€?She is your mother, Bwana. You must speak to her with reverence.a€After a year Shebani had to go back to Africa to his wife and family, and things became difficult. Male attendants were not a success, either with Monty or my mother. Madge and I went down alternately to try to soothe them down. Montya€?s health was improving, and as a result he was much more difficult to control. He was bored, and for relaxation took to shooting out of his window with a revolver. Tradespeople and some of mothera€?s visitors complained. Monty was unrepentant. a€?Some silly old spinster going down the drive with her behind wobbling. Couldna€?t resist ita€“I sent a shot or two right and left of her. My word, how she ran!a€He even sent shots all round Madge one day on the drive, and she was frankly terrified.
a€?I cana€?t think why!a€said Monty. a€?I shouldna€?t have hurt her. Does she think I cana€?t aim?a€Someone complained, and we had a visit from the police. Monty produced his firearm licence and talked very reasonably about his life as a hunter in Kenya, and his wish to keep his eye in. Some silly woman had got the idea he had been firing at her. Actually he had seen a rabbit. Being Monty, he got away with it. The police accepted his explanation as quite natural for a man who had led the life that Captain Miller had.
a€?The truth is, kid, I cana€?t stand being cooped up here. This tame sort of existence. If I could only have a little cottage on Dartmoora€“thata€?s what Ia€?d like. Air and spacea€“room to breathe.a€?
a€?Is that what youa€?d really like?a€?
a€?Of course it is. Poor old mother drives me mad. Fussya€“all these set times for meals. Everything cut and dried. Ita€?s not what Ia€?ve been used to.a€I found Monty a small granite bungalow on Dartmoor. We also found, by a kind of miracle, the right housekeeper to look after him. She was a woman of sixty-fivea€“and when we saw her first she looked wildly unsuitable. She had bright peroxided yellow hair, curls, and a lot of rouge. She was dressed in black silk. She was the widow of a doctor who had been a morphia addict. She had lived most of her life in France, and had had thirteen children. She was the answer to a prayera€“she could manage Monty as no one else had been capable of doing. She rose and cooked his chops in the middle of the night if he wanted them. But, said Monty after a while, Ia€?ve rather given up that, kida€“bit hard on Mrs Taylor, you know. Shea€?s a good sport, but shea€?s not young.a€Unasked and unbidden, she dug up the small garden and produced peas, new potatoes and French beans. She listened when Monty wanted to talk, and paid no attention when he was silent. It was wonderful. Mother recovered her health. Madge stopped worrying. Monty enjoyed visits from his family, and always behaved beautifully on those occasions, very proud of the delicious meals produced by Mrs Taylor.
?￡800 for the Dartmoor bungalow was a cheap price for Madge and me to have paid.