Ben on the Job by J. Jefferson Farjeon

Author:J. Jefferson Farjeon
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780008156046
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2016-05-26T16:00:00+00:00

14

Back in Drewet Road

The fog was not as thick in Drewet Road as it was in Jewel Street, but it was a cheerless prospect at which Ada Wilby gazed as she sat at one of her drawing-room windows after a solitary lunch. She hardly saw the depressing yellowed view, however, for her mind was far beyond it, dwelling on other times and places. It was a very tired mind, and a very confused one. She found it difficult to know what she thought, and what she felt. Anger mingled with reproach, grief with fear, and she seemed to have lost herself as well as her husband. Dismayed by a sense of loneliness, she needed to talk. But there was no one to talk to.

She was in this mood when she became conscious of a movement in the yellowed back garden, and she shortened her focus to discover what it was. Bending forward she watched the movement, till a blur became a vague, approaching figure, which as it drew cautiously closer materialised into that of a man. Alarm was followed by recognition. This was the strange little fellow who on the previous day had brought her the first news of her husband’s death, and whom she had engaged to try and solve its mystery. In spite of the queer appeal he had made to her, she had wondered whether she would ever see him again. Now here he was, to dispel her doubts, returning in a way which, although unusual, probably suited the necessity of the role she had allotted him. For, after all, it was hardly likely he would come to the front door, and he might consider it in their mutual interest to avoid being seen by a maid at the back.

This, precisely, had been Ben’s reasoning when, after a trying and groping journey, he had found himself back in Drewet Road.

There was a narrow balcony outside the drawing-room window, with a narrow iron stairway running down to the garden beside the high dividing wall. Leaving her chair, she opened the window and beckoned. The figure below did not immediately respond. He slithered against the wall and waited while a faint streak of light came from below the balcony. ‘Daisy in the pantry!’ thought Mrs Wilby. In a few moments the streak vanished, and the unorthodox visitor leapt catlike up the stairway. Reaching the open window, he breathed conspiratorially, ‘Orl right ter come in, mum?’ Mrs Wilby nodded, and he slid into the room.

They made an odd, ill-assorted couple, Mrs Wilby in her smart costume—only complete incapacity could cause her to neglect her appearance—and Ben in his patched and shiny suit, but the contrast was softened by the dimness of the drawing-room, for Mrs Wilby had not switched on the light, and as she softly closed the window behind her guest she made a shadowy silhouette against the panes.

‘The reason I come this way, mum,’ began Ben, in a whisper, ‘was ’cos I thort it best not ter be seen like.

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