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Authors: Charlotte MacLeod
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you.”
“He flirts with me. Not because he’s interested, just from force of habit. I don’t think I’ve ever had two minutes’ worth of serious discussion with Dafydd about anything at all.”
“Neither have I, that I can remember. Dafydd was just that much older, you see. When I was a kid in Canada, he was off at school in England. When I was at school in Winnipeg, he was already studying voice in London; and so it went. You know, love, it’s a funny thing. Back at your brother’s farm, I can wander out to the barn with Bert and pretty soon we’ll be sitting on a couple of upended milk pails. We’ll get to talking about taxes or plumbing or whatever, and wind up solving the riddle of the universe. With Dafydd, it’s just polite chitchat. We’ve nothing in common except our parents and the relatives. I’m fond of him, I suppose; but when it comes down to cases, Jenny, I don’t really know my own brother at all.”
Chapter 6
“W ELL, IT’S HIS LOSS, not yours.” Janet couldn’t bear to see Madoc looking glum on such a lovely morning, not over a lightweight like Dafydd. “I expect sooner or later some nice, tough-minded woman a lot like your mother’s going to take him in hand and straighten him out. What about your cousin Tom, or whatever he is? Are he and Dafydd friendly? Really friendly, I mean, like you and Bert. I should think they’d have more in common, both being in the entertainment field, in a manner of speaking.”
“Perhaps they do, though you’d better not let Mother hear you calling grand opera ‘the entertainment field.’” Madoc was smiling now. “Tom’s no relation to us, but he and Dafydd knew each other as kids. Whether they pour out their souls to each other, I couldn’t say. What they really appear to have in common these days is a taste for flashy cars and persuadable women, though at least Dafydd has sense enough not to marry every third one who comes along. God knows what Tom’s paid out in alimony by now.”
“It doesn’t seem to have made much of a dent in his pocketbook, if that Daimler’s any sign.”
“Oh, they make big money on the flicks. Besides, if Tom gets hard up, he can always come and sponge on Lisa.”
“Does he?”
“He comes. I don’t know whether he sponges. I wouldn’t put it past him.”
Making judgmental remarks unsupported by evidence was not a habit of Madoc’s. Janet wondered a bit, then changed the subject.
“Speaking of Lisa, she wants us to visit. Are we supposed to drop in whenever we feel like it, or wait to be properly invited?”
“Let’s get Dorothy bedded down for her nap, then drop. If Lisa’s still chopping leeks, we can say we’re just out for a walk and mustn’t stay because Betty expects us back to lick the spoons.”
“I hope she doesn’t.”
Uncle Caradoc’s kitchen door was standing open now; the day had turned warm as they’d known it would. Somebody was holding forth inside; Janet recognized the plummy voice as Bob’s. She raised her eyebrows at Madoc, he shrugged back as best he could with Dorothy trying to climb over his shoulder, and they went in.
“Properly speaking, the coelcerth should be ignited by a spark achieved by rubbing two pieces of oak together,” Bob was insisting.
“This is after the nine men with no money in their pockets and no buckles on their belts have collected the sticks from the nine different kinds of trees?” That was Gwen, being flip.
Bob might not have realized she was pulling his leg. Anyway, he refused to be disconcerted. “‘With no metal on their persons’ would perhaps be the apter phrase. The sticks would by now have been more or less symmetrically arranged within the perimeter of a circle cut in the turf. One stick would catch the spark and be used as a torch to kindle the coelcerth.”
“The coelcerth being the Beltane fire, right?”
“Or the balefire, as it is sometimes called. There may be two fires instead of one.”
“Oh, not two fires!”
“He flirts with me. Not because he’s interested, just from force of habit. I don’t think I’ve ever had two minutes’ worth of serious discussion with Dafydd about anything at all.”
“Neither have I, that I can remember. Dafydd was just that much older, you see. When I was a kid in Canada, he was off at school in England. When I was at school in Winnipeg, he was already studying voice in London; and so it went. You know, love, it’s a funny thing. Back at your brother’s farm, I can wander out to the barn with Bert and pretty soon we’ll be sitting on a couple of upended milk pails. We’ll get to talking about taxes or plumbing or whatever, and wind up solving the riddle of the universe. With Dafydd, it’s just polite chitchat. We’ve nothing in common except our parents and the relatives. I’m fond of him, I suppose; but when it comes down to cases, Jenny, I don’t really know my own brother at all.”
Chapter 6
“W ELL, IT’S HIS LOSS, not yours.” Janet couldn’t bear to see Madoc looking glum on such a lovely morning, not over a lightweight like Dafydd. “I expect sooner or later some nice, tough-minded woman a lot like your mother’s going to take him in hand and straighten him out. What about your cousin Tom, or whatever he is? Are he and Dafydd friendly? Really friendly, I mean, like you and Bert. I should think they’d have more in common, both being in the entertainment field, in a manner of speaking.”
“Perhaps they do, though you’d better not let Mother hear you calling grand opera ‘the entertainment field.’” Madoc was smiling now. “Tom’s no relation to us, but he and Dafydd knew each other as kids. Whether they pour out their souls to each other, I couldn’t say. What they really appear to have in common these days is a taste for flashy cars and persuadable women, though at least Dafydd has sense enough not to marry every third one who comes along. God knows what Tom’s paid out in alimony by now.”
“It doesn’t seem to have made much of a dent in his pocketbook, if that Daimler’s any sign.”
“Oh, they make big money on the flicks. Besides, if Tom gets hard up, he can always come and sponge on Lisa.”
“Does he?”
“He comes. I don’t know whether he sponges. I wouldn’t put it past him.”
Making judgmental remarks unsupported by evidence was not a habit of Madoc’s. Janet wondered a bit, then changed the subject.
“Speaking of Lisa, she wants us to visit. Are we supposed to drop in whenever we feel like it, or wait to be properly invited?”
“Let’s get Dorothy bedded down for her nap, then drop. If Lisa’s still chopping leeks, we can say we’re just out for a walk and mustn’t stay because Betty expects us back to lick the spoons.”
“I hope she doesn’t.”
Uncle Caradoc’s kitchen door was standing open now; the day had turned warm as they’d known it would. Somebody was holding forth inside; Janet recognized the plummy voice as Bob’s. She raised her eyebrows at Madoc, he shrugged back as best he could with Dorothy trying to climb over his shoulder, and they went in.
“Properly speaking, the coelcerth should be ignited by a spark achieved by rubbing two pieces of oak together,” Bob was insisting.
“This is after the nine men with no money in their pockets and no buckles on their belts have collected the sticks from the nine different kinds of trees?” That was Gwen, being flip.
Bob might not have realized she was pulling his leg. Anyway, he refused to be disconcerted. “‘With no metal on their persons’ would perhaps be the apter phrase. The sticks would by now have been more or less symmetrically arranged within the perimeter of a circle cut in the turf. One stick would catch the spark and be used as a torch to kindle the coelcerth.”
“The coelcerth being the Beltane fire, right?”
“Or the balefire, as it is sometimes called. There may be two fires instead of one.”
“Oh, not two fires!”
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