Billie's Kiss by Knox Elizabeth

Author:Knox, Elizabeth [Elizabeth Knox]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-86-473727-4
Publisher: Victoria University Press
Published: 2011-09-05T04:00:00+00:00

MURDO PUT his letter down on the desk by Geordie’s elbow; on top of the letter was a penny for the post. Geordie said, quietly, ‘I do hope you’re not one of those people who never take because they hope to be permanently acquitted of giving.’

‘When I took James’s offer of employment I was able to repay your brother. Debts are damnation.’

Maslen, overhearing this last remark, said his wife would have liked to hear it.

The previous evening, at the dinner table, Henry had disagreed, in a mild way, with Lord Hallowhulme’s musing on ‘shiftlessness’. Was shiftlessness an inherited trait? One that contributed to pauperism?

‘I can’t see how it could be, Lord Hallowhulme,’ Henry said. ‘At least not strictly inherited. My wife was very dutiful and frugal, and Billie is hardworking, but their father was a wandering invalid, and not entirely honest.’

And Minnie said, ‘The only reason people inherit a tendency to poverty is that they don’t inherit any money.’

‘Minnie!’ said Clara, warning.

Minnie apologised to her father and Mr Maslen for interrupting.

But James had, as usual, taken their dissent only as an indication that they hadn’t understood him. They didn’t agree with him; perhaps he hadn’t expressed himself clearly. He repeated himself.

In the library, Murdo moved closer to the big table to watch Henry restore the membrane of gold leaf to its case. Henry was finished for the day. He said – to Murdo – that Billie’s young friend, Alan Skilling, had offered to drive them along Alesund Head, where Henry could look at the rocks. He continued to talk in his light voice about the consolation of knowledge. ‘It’s silly, I realise. But I find what I know about the age of certain rocks very reassuring. I appreciate their age – not timeless, but ancient in date. I can lay my hand on a piece of gneiss and be touching both today and a remote time – eons, inanimate eons.’

Murdo said that Henry was a considering soul. Murdo’s voice was warm – for him – but he was watching Henry, blank of face and bright of eye. ‘Me,’ Murdo said, ‘I take comfort from the fit of this glove.’ He flexed his hand, and the leather made its accommodating creak. ‘It’s an article of faith, the fit of this glove.’

Geordie was fascinated. Murdo and Henry were being kind to each other.

Henry went on to say that, of course, Murdo’s was only a different kind of consideration. Less philosophical, perhaps, but no less considering.

Geordie saw they were fencing with flattery – making some kind of competitive display of mutual respect. Murdo, talking about clothes, characterised himself as shallow and effete, and Henry said, in effect, no, no – really I know you’re a fine person.

Billie interrupted them. ‘Mr Hesketh, have you considered that if you wear your gloves indoors, you won’t get the benefit of their warmth outdoors?’

‘I’d better hurry outdoors then,’ he said, and left the library.

‘Billie,’ Henry chided her, gentle, ‘he was only passing the time.’

‘Oh yes, the eons, the inanimate eons,’ she said.

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