The Complete Bostock and Harris by Leon Garfield

Author:Leon Garfield
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 978-1-59017-803-4
Publisher: New York Review Books
Published: 2014-10-24T16:00:00+00:00

The striding figure the Major had glimpsed in the night had not been a ghost. It had been Mr. Brett. The thought of sleep had been intolerable and the dark grandeur of the night had drawn him out. He looked up and was surprised how low the sky seemed; even the trees were not so tall as they’d seemed yesterday. Mr. Brett felt twice his old height, but very light and strong in his movements.

She loved him! Tizzy—enchanting Tizzy—Tizzy of the marvelous eyes and lips as sweet as ripe cherries—he could taste them yet! Glorious, blushing Tizzy in the sunshine of her dress whose bodice, try as it might, could scarcely subdue the pride of her breasts. She loved him and had said so. What more had the world to offer? Crowns, glory, fortune and even fine weather were but trumpery items, sops thrown to the millions to make up for not having Tizzy.

At last everything stood in due proportion. First things had finally come first, and Mr. Brett laughed aloud as he recalled his defiance of the awesome Mrs. Bunnion. Love was his general and Tizzy his flag; so inspired he could conquer the world.

But now he’d best go inside. It was coming on to rain and there was no sense in falling to a chill before he was more than love’s lip servant. As he entered the school a vague memory of having been told something about the night’s arrangements crossed his mind. He paused, frowning slightly in an effort to pin it down. No; he couldn’t remember. Perhaps it would come to him later.

He went upstairs, light as a feather, and humming, slipped into his remote little room. Mrs. Bunnion was in his bed. She stared at him in terror.

“Oh my God!” said Mr. Brett; and remembered what he’d been told. He was to sleep with the boarders as the Bunnions were to have his room for the night.

“What do you want with me?” whispered Mrs. Bunnion. Her husband, after futile attempts to share the narrow bed, had gone down to the sofa in his study and left her alone.

“I—I forgot,” said Mr. Brett uneasily, staring at the magnificent Mrs. Bunnion whose hair streamed across his pillow like the banners of yesterday.

“I thought—I hoped—I prayed you had come to—to say you had changed your mind.”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Bunnion.”

Uncomfortably he saw her eyes were puffy with crying. Surely she couldn’t be so concerned about the school? Or was it Ralph and the duel that was so distressing her?

“If it’s Ralph—” he began; but she shook her head and her tears came on again. “Oh, Jack, Jack!” she sobbed.

“James,” said Mr. Brett firmly. “It’s James. But I don’t suppose it matters now.”

Mrs. Bunnion looked at him and managed a faint smile. She really was rather lovely—in a time-worn way, and Mr. Brett caught himself wondering by what declension she’d come to be the headmaster’s wife.

“You must love Miss Alexander very much,” said Mrs. Bunnion gently. He nodded. “She is a—a pretty girl.

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