'I trust,' she said with pretended iciness, 'you've some perfectly reasonable explanation for your little friend in there?'
'I asked if this is everything,' I said sharply. Now she'd rumbled Henry it had to be first things first.
'There's a sketch,' she said. 'Dandy wouldn't sell it me. What's he called?'
'What did it look like?' I led her into the room. She picked Henry up to fawn on him. He gazed dispassionately back, probably wondering if the changed arrangements meant less grub all round.
'He wouldn't show me.'
I put the box down dejectedly. Disappointments come in waves. While I went back to doing Henry's tea she told me how she'd phoned Tinker Dill at the White Hart. He'd found where Dandy Jack was by then, somewhere over Ipswich way. She'd scooted along the main A12 coast road and cornered Dandy at a little antiques fair - the sort I had the money to go to. Once.
'I thought you'd got some woman in here,' she said.
'I see.' I went all hurt, obviously cut to the quick at such mistrust.
'Don't be offended, Lovejoy.' She came over and put her arms round me. 'I know I shouldn't be so suspicious.'
One up, I relented and explained about Henry. She thought he was delightful but was up in arms about his food.
'You're not giving him that!'
'What's wrong with it?' It looked all right to me. I poured the sardine oil on the egg to save waste.
'I thought it was yours, Lovejoy!'
'I've had mine.' I shook sauce on. Henry was all on the go.
'Dear God!' she exclaimed faintly. 'Does his mother know?'
'Well, actually,' I confessed, 'I chuck his powder away so she won't worry.' In fact I sometimes eat it to fill odd corners. Well, Henry's a gannet. I can't afford to feed us both properly and his own food tastes horrible. He's not so dumb.
Janie watched in horror as I fed him. All this mystique about feeding babies is rubbish.
It's not difficult. You prop them up in some convenient spot and push bits towards their mouth. It opens. Slide it in lengthwise but remember to snatch your fingers back for further use. The inside looks soft and gummy but it works like a car cruncher. You have to concentrate. I mean, for example, it's not the sort of thing you can do while reading.
'His face gets some too,' I told Janie.
'So I noticed.' She looked stunned.
'It's all right. There's no waste. I scrape it off and put it in afterwards. It's his big finish.'
'My God. I feel ill.'
I was rather put out by Janie's reaction. Secretly I'd expected her to be full of admiration at my domestic skills. Admittedly he was beginning to get a bit smudged but that always happens. 'Try it. You can tell when he's finished,' I added. 'He starts spitting out.'
'What a mess. How does the poor little mite survive, Lovejoy?'
I ignored this. No meal's ever pretty, is it?
'Mind your manners.' Women are great critics, mainly when they see other people doing all right. It's mostly jealousy. 'I think he's full.' He was bulging but still moving impatiently. 'Time for pudding.'
'There's more?'
I'd got Henry two pieces of nougat, which would have to do for today's afters. I was embarrassed, Janie being there to see it wasn't done as properly as it should be.
Puddings should be on a plate and everything with custard.
'Here. Unwrap it.' She took the nougat carefully. 'Hold it by one end and push a corner in his mouth,' I told her. 'Blot the dribbles as you go.'
Once she got going I took Bexon's pathetic belongings and began to rummage.
'Dandy said he'd give you the sketch if you'd scan for him,' Janie said, intent on Henry.
We were all sprawled on the divan.
'Dandy would,' I said bitterly. Scanning means examining supposed antiques to separate genius items from the junk. I hate doing it for others. It's something I never do normally, only when I'm broke. Dealers are always on at me to scan for them because I'm a divvie.
'Where does this infant put it all, for heaven's sake?' Janie exclaimed. She glanced across and saw I was flicking through one of the exercise books. 'You're wasting your time with that rubbish. I've looked.'
'Keep your mind on your job,' I said. I hate being interrupted.
It was rubbish. The old exercise books were just scribbled boredom, perhaps some fragments of a diary of the sort one always means to start but never quite gets round to. Dejected, I decided on the spur of the moment to teach Henry to read, which of course made Janie split her sides. I've tried before but Henry ate the highly- educational alphabetic book I got him. I showed him a line and said to concentrate. He seemed to be amused, but obligingly gaped at the pages while he noshed the nougat.
'I then caught the train back to Groundle Glen,' I intoned, pointing to the words as I read.
'They start learning on single letters, Lovejoy,' Janie criticized.
