Crooked Wreath by Christianna Brand Page B

time today!”
    â€œIt’s all an act,” said Stephen. “He’s upset, like everyone else, over this wretched will business, and he just deliberately brings on these attacks. I don’t say it’s conscious, exactly, and I suppose he really is a bit out of hand when he’s in the middle of them; but he does it on purpose–there’s nothing he can’t control if he tries.”
    Claire shrugged, standing looking down at the mess. “Well, I wish he would try a bit more, that’s all. It’s terribly disconcerting having this sort of thing happen all the time; and Bella’s favourite vase, too; not even a Serafita left-over. I suppose I shall have to clear it up, but I must go and tend to the baby first.” She came out with him and shut the door. “Don’t say anything to Bella; there’s fuss enough for one day. Did you see Grandfather?”
    â€œNo, I cheated. My clerk brought the will up on his way home this evening, and handed it in to your grandfather, and I skipped over the lawn so that Sir Richard shouldn’t see me and make me go in and discuss it with him. That’ll give him a night to sleep on it; he may have changed his mind by the morning. The trouble is that if he goes and signs it, I shan’t be here to talk him out of it again; I shall be marching about being a soldier boy and meanwhile with his heart like this, anything might happen.”
    He went on through the hall to the back terrace. Claire ran upstairs and, sitting impatiently holding the baby on the pink potty with the Teddy Bear on it, watched, from Ellen’s balcony window, Brough come away from the lodge wheeling his barrow with an assortment of rakes and brooms in it. He disappeared behind the hedge surrounding his own little house, and after a minute or two reappeared with his bicycle, mounted, and rode off out of the gates. Brough was on fire watch duty that night at The Swan, down in the village, and sundown or no sundown, fire watch for Brough began an hour before closing time.
    And so the hot day came to a close and in the cool of the evening hot tempers also were a little cooled, strained wartime nerves relaxed and hearts that were essentially affectionate and kind, recoiled at the recollection of their own unkindliness and vowed for the future contrition and amendment and all sweet charity. The next day they would all go to Grandfather … The next day they would all say sorry to Grandfather … The next day they would acknowledge to Grandfather that they had all been beastly pigs …
    But the next day it was too late. The next day Claire, walking carefully up the sanded path to the French window of the lodge, carrying Sir Richard’s breakfast tray, stopped suddenly and stared; put down the tray in the middle of the path and, running up close to the window, rattled at the lock and peered in through the glass; and a moment later was running as fast as her legs would carry her, back down the path and across the wide green lawns towards the house.

5
    E LLEN WAS standing on the balcony outside her room. “Good Lord, Claire–what on earth’s the matter?”
    Claire stopped short, her hand to her aching side. “Oh, Ellen–it’s Grandfather! He’s–I think he’s … He’s sitting at his desk and he–he looks terribly peculiar. Is Philip there? Do tell him.”
    Ellen turned back and a moment later Philip appeared from the bedroom, settling his collar down over his tie as he came. “What’s all this, Claire?”
    â€œOh, Philip, do come quickly! I’m sure something’s wrong with Grandfather!” She ran back across the lawn, not waiting for him. He disappeared and a minute later was leaping, three at a time, down the front steps; recollecting something, he turned back, making a little circle, hardly altering his pace, and reappeared from the house carrying his medical bag. Ahead of him,