Read Online The Gate of Angels by Penelope Fitzgerald - Free Book Online
Authors: Penelope Fitzgerald
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Street, or at least found himself there, with his own toothbrush and dressing-gown, sent for him from St Angelicus. That was after heâd become unconscious for the second time, said the untiring Mrs Wrayburn, making kindly enquiries in a velvet hat stitched with Assisi work. Unaccountably, Mr Wrayburn had come with her. Fred wanted to know where Miss Saunders wasââYou seem more certain of her name than she was herself,â said Mr Wrayburn.
âAre you criticising her?â Fred asked. He was determined to get up and leave this place, which he couldnât afford anyway.
âCriticising her? Of course he isnât!â Mrs Wrayburn cried. âWhy should a young woman, or any woman, have to account for her comings and goings? Why should she know her name if she doesnât want to? All that we have the right to ask is, do the
higher elements in her nature predominate? Are her feet on the path that leads to joy? Is she in harmony with the new century?â
âIâm not quite certain, Mrs Wrayburn,â said Fred. âWhat did she say herself?â
âShe didnât appear to be seriously hurt. But I thought she looked very pale. At any rate, she got up and dressed and said that she would go to a doctor if necessary as soon as she got back to London. She thanked usânot that we expected thanksââ
âWe did expect them,â said Mr Wrayburn. âI never remember expecting them more.â
âI canât thank you enough myself,â said Fred. âDid she mention what part of London she was going to?â
Mrs Wrayburn shook her head, and with a smile of real kindness put a paper bag full of grapes and a pair of silver-plated grape-scissors by the bed. âSnip to your heartâs content, Mr Fairly, and bring them back whenever it suits you. Snip! Snip!â
As they left, Mr Wrayburn lingered behind for a moment and said, âI learn that you are a Fellow of Angelicus. If my wife had known that she would not, of course, have made the mistake of thinking you a married man.â
The Wrayburns had notified the police. But by the time a constable arrived the horse had manoeuvred the cart to the edge of the road and was cropping the grass in the darkness, while the driver, whoever he had been, had completely disappeared. The farmer described this man as a casual, who was supposed to be going to pick up a load of old wooden sleepers at the railway station. Heâd called in to collect some seed potatoes to exchange for the sleepers. The farmer couldnât say exactly what heâd intended to do with the sleepers, but they were handy things to have about the place. The man was called Saul, but that could be either his Christian name, couldnât it, or his surname. Didnât know where he came from, didnât know his cart hadnât any lights. At
the station, the staff knew nothing about any sale or exchange of old sleepers which were, of course, the property of the Great Eastern Railway. All this the police regarded as unsatisfactory. Fredâs bicycle, and Daisyâs, both damaged, were still by the side of the road. Daisyâs had been hired that morning from Trimmerâs shop in Silver Street, when she had given her name and left a sovereign deposit. She hadnât been back to the shop since, and though they always took addresses as a general rule, they couldnât find any trace of hers. Fred was asked whether he had noticed anyone else on the scene at the time of the accident. Yes, another man, bicycling just in front of Miss Saunders, but he couldnât describe him and had no idea where heâd got to. This, too, the police, although they spoke much more politely than to the farmer or to Trimmer, considered unsatisfactory. It was clearly going to be difficult to prepare a case to go before the magistrateâs court.
âBut youâll have to find Miss Saunders,â said Fred. âSurely there
âAre you criticising her?â Fred asked. He was determined to get up and leave this place, which he couldnât afford anyway.
âCriticising her? Of course he isnât!â Mrs Wrayburn cried. âWhy should a young woman, or any woman, have to account for her comings and goings? Why should she know her name if she doesnât want to? All that we have the right to ask is, do the
higher elements in her nature predominate? Are her feet on the path that leads to joy? Is she in harmony with the new century?â
âIâm not quite certain, Mrs Wrayburn,â said Fred. âWhat did she say herself?â
âShe didnât appear to be seriously hurt. But I thought she looked very pale. At any rate, she got up and dressed and said that she would go to a doctor if necessary as soon as she got back to London. She thanked usânot that we expected thanksââ
âWe did expect them,â said Mr Wrayburn. âI never remember expecting them more.â
âI canât thank you enough myself,â said Fred. âDid she mention what part of London she was going to?â
Mrs Wrayburn shook her head, and with a smile of real kindness put a paper bag full of grapes and a pair of silver-plated grape-scissors by the bed. âSnip to your heartâs content, Mr Fairly, and bring them back whenever it suits you. Snip! Snip!â
As they left, Mr Wrayburn lingered behind for a moment and said, âI learn that you are a Fellow of Angelicus. If my wife had known that she would not, of course, have made the mistake of thinking you a married man.â
The Wrayburns had notified the police. But by the time a constable arrived the horse had manoeuvred the cart to the edge of the road and was cropping the grass in the darkness, while the driver, whoever he had been, had completely disappeared. The farmer described this man as a casual, who was supposed to be going to pick up a load of old wooden sleepers at the railway station. Heâd called in to collect some seed potatoes to exchange for the sleepers. The farmer couldnât say exactly what heâd intended to do with the sleepers, but they were handy things to have about the place. The man was called Saul, but that could be either his Christian name, couldnât it, or his surname. Didnât know where he came from, didnât know his cart hadnât any lights. At
the station, the staff knew nothing about any sale or exchange of old sleepers which were, of course, the property of the Great Eastern Railway. All this the police regarded as unsatisfactory. Fredâs bicycle, and Daisyâs, both damaged, were still by the side of the road. Daisyâs had been hired that morning from Trimmerâs shop in Silver Street, when she had given her name and left a sovereign deposit. She hadnât been back to the shop since, and though they always took addresses as a general rule, they couldnât find any trace of hers. Fred was asked whether he had noticed anyone else on the scene at the time of the accident. Yes, another man, bicycling just in front of Miss Saunders, but he couldnât describe him and had no idea where heâd got to. This, too, the police, although they spoke much more politely than to the farmer or to Trimmer, considered unsatisfactory. It was clearly going to be difficult to prepare a case to go before the magistrateâs court.
âBut youâll have to find Miss Saunders,â said Fred. âSurely there
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