Billie's Kiss by Elizabeth Knox Page A

he added in a strange, cold voice. Then he said, ‘Forgive me. I’ve wandered rather from the point. Betler, I am sorry that I never met your brother. You kept up a regular correspondence, I believe?’
    â€˜Yes, weekly. Ian liked to get letters. Liked to write them, too. I’ve been hard put to it sometimes to keep him entertained. I have enough to do, but my life is quiet. Ian had rather more colour and incident in his. But he never forgot me, he always reported to me. When he was a boy and I was a big lad he’d come out to meet me when I was on my way home from school. Sometimes I’d find him three or four miles from home. This was when he was only seven. I learned not to dawdle. I’d go on as fast as I could so that he wouldn’t come too far.’
    They were silent a while. The mist was turning dilute in the blue sky, only a smear against higher, sunlit clouds, clouds with some architecture, as imposing as the public buildings of Empire. ‘He got a peerage on top of his knighthood,’ said Tannoy. ‘Four years ago. And he added the “Hulme” to his name. He was a grocer, then an inventor, now he’s a philanthropist – a great man, really.’ Mr Tannoy glanced at Geordie. ‘I do admire him. And he’s bought that island in order to give it back to the crofters. And to start a few industries, to make work for all.’
    â€˜But?’ said Geordie, amused, despite his trembling hands, heavy eyes, sour stomach. Despite the view he had.
    â€˜But nothing, Betler.’ Tannoy blushed again – that is, his complexion went an orange shade. ‘I approve .’
    â€˜My brother disliked him,’ said Geordie. ‘Ian was very attached to Mr Hesketh.’
    They watched a procession of three empty coffins carried, lightly, up the angled gangplank to the steamer’s deck. ‘Will they stow them there in the weather and in plain sight?’ Geordie said, exasperated.
    In the breeze the blind’s tassel tapped and tapped on the sill of the carriage window.
    â€˜So – did your brother feel he had to choose between them?’ Andrew Tannoy asked.
    â€˜Hallowhulme and Hesketh? No. Lord Hallowhulme paid Mr Hesketh’s debts. Or bought them. They’re cousins. So is Lady Hallowhulme a cousin. All cousins. Clara and Murdo Hesketh twice over, since both their fathers and their mothers were siblings. The two Hesketh brothers, Lars and Duncan, married two Vega sisters – white-haired Swedish lasses, the daughters of a baron. Lars and Duncan’s sister Mary, the eldest Hesketh, married a grocer from Durham, Edward Hallow. They are all very near kin. But – you see – Mr Hesketh liked his independence.’
    â€˜Fellows who value their independence are usually more careful with money,’ said Andrew Tannoy. ‘They don’t gamble and think God will make an exception of them.’
    Geordie looked hard at his employer. Why, he asked, did Mr Tannoy think it was gambling?
    â€˜I’m fishing, Betler. Angling. I had heard Murdo Hesketh was ruined.’
    The coffins had gone below, after all. The undertakers came back down the gangplank, showed for a minute like black cormorants against the sparkling water.
    â€˜It was more misfortune than mismanagement.’ Geordie confided that much. He said, ‘I must be off, Mr Tannoy.’
    Andrew Tannoy nodded. They both got out, and Mr Tannoy put up his arms to take Geordie’s bag from the coachman. ‘If we can be of any help at all,’ he said, speaking for his wife, as well as himself. He handed Geordie his bag.
    The ship’s whistle sounded. Two boys running past stoppeddead, covered their ears, and joined the whistle, screamed along with it.
    â€˜That’s enough now!’ roared Tannoy. The boys looked at his frown, startled, speculative, then went on running. Tannoy’s scowl deepened. He looked at his butler, and said, ‘You