A Nice Derangement of Epitaphs

said, anything that will give us the faintest clue. I know we’ve asked the same questions already, but it’s worth one more try. Oh, George, my poor little boy! I wish I hadn’t said no to him. I wish I’d let him go with Tim and Simon— at least he’d have been safe with them.”

It was the most she had said in all the hours they had hunted together. As long as there’d been more places to search, more possible people to contact, Phil had been a silent, ferocious force of nature sweeping all before her. Only now, when they had almost exhausted the possibilities, was the edge of desperation audible in her voice, and the shadow of breakdown a perceptible cloud over her face.

Miss Rachel was sitting over the fire in her sitting-room, huddled like a broody bird, with her solitary dinner untouched on a little table beside her. She stiffened her old spine and snapped the imperious lights on again in her eyes when Phil stalked in with George at her elbow, but she knew her back was against the wall.

“Aunt Rachel, didn’t he say anything about where he was going? There must have been something. You did see him yourself, didn’t you? Well, what did he say? I know we’re snatching at crumbs. Damn it, crumbs is all we’ve got.”

“Yes, I talked to him, certainly.” Miss Rachel looked smaller than usual, but fiercer. Attack is the best defence. “What passed between Paddy and me can’t possibly have anything to do with any danger to him. But it may—I say may—account for his naughtiness in staying away like this. If you ask me, that’s all it is, and you are just playing into his hands. I was justified in being cross with him. He was exceedingly impertinent and very disobedient, and it was high time someone took steps to bring him to a more chastened frame of mind.”

Quivering and aghast, Phil demanded: “But what—for God’s sake, Aunt Rachel, what did you do to him?”

She couldn’t stall any longer, it would only make it worse when it did come out. And besides, she was lonely and frightened and she wanted Paddy back, impertinent or not, disobedient or not, she just wanted him. So somebody had to find him for her.

“It’s too much to hope that you’ll approve, of course, but I was concerned only for you and Tim, and for the child’s own well-being. I told him what he should have been told as soon as he was old enough to understand—that he has to thank you and Tim for taking him in and giving him a good home and the love of good parents, when his own father wanted to get rid of him. I told him he was adopted, and that he should consider how much he owed to you, and try to behave better to you in future, not take everything for granted as he does. That’s what I told him, and you’ll have reason to thank me for it yet”

Stricken, Phil stood clinging to the back of a chair as to the rocking remnants of her world. “Aunt Rachel! You couldn’t! You couldn’t be so cruel!”

“Cruel, nonsense! It was high time he was told, you’d have had to do it in the end. I don’t believe it’s done him one jot of harm, either, so—”

“No harm!” Groping through the blankness of her misery, Phil arrived at a positive and tonic fury. Her cheeks flushed scarlet, and paled again to a pinched and frightening whiteness. “No harm! You drive that poor boy away with the bottom knocked out of his world, not knowing who or what he is, and you say you’ve done him no harm!”

“It means we’re probably all wrong about his being in danger from our murderer,” pointed out George quickly, with a gentling hand on her arm. “He’s shocked and hurt and wretched, he wants to hide, that’s all understandable. But it means he’s probably staying away of his own will, and when he’s come to terms with it he’ll come home. It isn’t as bad as what we were afraid of.”

“It is, George, it’s almost worse. He’ll be in such a state he might do anything.” She turned frantically upon Miss Rachel, who was backed into her great chair with hackles erect, ready for a fight. “How would you feel, you wicked old woman, if you suddenly found you weren’t who you thought you were, and your parents weren’t your parents, and everything you had was borrowed? Even your identity?” She gripped the edge of the table, and demanded urgently: “Did you tell him who he was? But you couldn’t—we never told you, thank God, so you didn’t know.”

“Oh, yes, my dear Phil, I did know. His father told me himself—right here in the garden, no longer ago than Wednesday afternoon. He told me quite a lot. But I didn’t tell Paddy. I don’t have to tell everything I know.” She drew breath before Phil could ride over her again, and pursued belligerently: “But you’d better. Oh, I know, Simon thinks he can twist me round his finger. Maybe I like it that way. But don’t think I’ve got any illusions about him. I like him very much, but sooner or later he’ll make a bid for what he wants. And if you haven’t noticed that he’s beginning to want Paddy, very much indeed, you’d better wake up, quickly.”

George, whose experience in breaking up fights between women was still somewhat inadequate to such a situation as this, felt profound gratitude to the telephone for ringing just then. It gave him something to do, more constructive than listening to family secrets it would be his duty promptly to forget again, and it distracted the attention of both the embattled females. He picked up the receiver thankfully.

“Treverra Place. This is George Felse. Oh, yes—yes, she’s here. Phil, it’s Tamsin Holt for you.”

Phil clutched the receiver convulsively, afraid to hope. “Tamsin, what is it? Have you—You have! Thank God! He’s all right?”

Her knees gave under her, she was suddenly limp as silk, and George slid a chair under her and eased her into it.

“He’s all right! They’ve found him. In the Dragon’s Hole. The tide caught him inside there. Aunt Rachel, it’s all right! They’ve found him—Tamsin and Dominic. I don’t care now, nothing else matters. I don’t care what you told him, he’s all right. Tam—we’re on our way down, we’ll meet you. Take care of him! Don’t you let him out of your sight again. The little demon! Honestly, I’ll murder him! You’re sure he isn’t hurt? God bless you, Tam! We’re on our way.”

She let the receiver slip nervelessly down into its cradle. She was in tears, and trembling. “George, can you drive a Mini? I—don’t think I’m capable—Oh, George, I want Tim!”

George got her to her feet and out to the car. No one had even a glance to spare for Miss Rachel, braced and defensive in her high-backed chair.

As soon as they were out of the doorway she hopped suddenly out of her sanctuary behind the cold dinner-tray, and danced the length of the room and the library, like an agile girl, until her piled grey hair came down round her shoulders, and she was out of breath. Then, having carefully reassembled her magnificent coiffure and her even more magnificent personal assurance, she rang the bell for Alice, and demanded food.

On their way down through the town they picked up Tim. Phil clung to him in the back seat, pouring out the best and the worst of the news, and swinging breathlessly between rage and joy. Tim held her in his arms and