The Flashman Papers: The Complete 12-Book Collection. George Fraser MacDonald
defence of Jallalabad made such a stir, for it was a very ordinary business, really. But it did, and since I was the first out of India who had been there, and borne a distinguished part, I got the lion’s share of admiration. It was so on the ship, and was to prove so in England.
During the voyage my broken leg recovered almost entirely, but there was not much activity on shipboard anyway, and no women, and, boozing with the boys apart, I had a good deal of time to myself. This, and the absence of females, naturally turned me to thoughts of Elspeth; it was strange and delightful to think of going home to a wife, and I got that queasy feeling deep in my bowels whenever I found myself dreaming about her. It wasn’t all lust, either, not more than about nine-tenths – after all, she wasn’t going to be the only woman in England – but when I conjured up a picture of that lovely, placid face and blonde hair I got a tightness in my throat and a trembling in my hands that was quite apart from what the clergy call carnal appetites. It was the feeling I had experienced that first night I rattled her beside the Clyde – a kind of hunger for her presence and the sound of her voice and the dreamy stupidity of her blue eyes, I wondered if I was falling in love with her, and decided that I was, and that I didn’t care, anyway – which is a sure sign.
So in this moonstruck state I whiled away the long voyage, and by the time we docked among the forest of shipping in London pool I was in a fine sweat, romantic and horny all at once. I made great haste for my father’s house, full of excitement at the thought of surprising her – for of course she had no idea that I was coming – and banged the knocker so hard that passers-by turned to stare at the big, brown-faced fellow who was in such a devilish hurry.
Old Oswald opened, just as he always did, and gaped like a sheep as I strode past him, shouting. The hall was empty, and both strange and familiar at once, as things are after a long absence.
“Elspeth!” I roared. “Halloo! Elspeth! I’m home!”
Oswald was gabbling at my elbow that my father was out, and I clapped him on the back and pulled his whiskers.
“Good for him,” says I, “I hope they have to carry him home tonight. Where’s your mistress? Elspeth! Hallo!”
He just went on clucking at me, between delight and amazement, and then I heard a door open behind me, and looked round, and who should be standing there but Judy. That took me aback a bit; I hadn’t thought she would still be here.
“Hallo,” says I, not too well pleased, although she was looking as handsome as ever. “Hasn’t the guv’nor got a new whore yet?”
She was about to say something, but at that moment there was a step on the staircase, and Elspeth was standing there, staring down at me. God, what a picture she was: corn-gold hair, red lips parted, blue eyes wide, breast heaving – no doubt she was wearing something, but I couldn’t for the life of me remember what it was. She looked like a startled nymph, and then the old satyr Flashy was bounding up the stairs, grabbing her, and crying:
“I’m home! I’m home! Elspeth! I’m home!”
“Oh, Harry!” says she, and then her arms were round my neck and her lips were on mine.
If the Brigade of Guards had marched into the hall just then to command me to the Tower I’d not have heard them. I picked her up bodily, tingling at the feel of her, and without a word spoken carried her into the bedroom, and tumbled her there and then. It was superb, for I was half-drunk with excitement and longing, and when it was over I simply lay there, listening to her prattle a thousand questions, clasping her to me, kissing every inch of her, and answering God knows what. How long we spent there I can’t imagine, but it was a long, golden afternoon, and ended only when the maid tapped on the door to say that my father was home again, and demanding to see me.
So we must get dressed, and straighten ourselves, giggling like naughty children, and when Elspeth had herself in order the maid came tapping again to say that my father was growing impatient. Just to show that heroes weren’t to be hurried, I caught my darling up again, and in spite of her muffled squeals of protest, mounted her once more, without the formality of undressing. Then we went down.
It should have been a splendid evening, with the family welcoming the prodigal Achilles, but it wasn’t. My father had aged in two years; his face was redder and his belly bigger, and his hair was quite white at the temples. He was civil enough, damned me for a young rascal, and said he was proud of me: the whole town had been talking over the reports from India, and Ellenborough’s eulogies for myself and Sale and Havelock were all over the place. But his jollity soon wore off, and he drank a good deal too much at dinner, and fell into a silence at last. I could see then there was something wrong, although I didn’t pay him much heed.
Judy dined with us, and I gathered she was now entirely one of the household, which was bad news. I didn’t care for her any better now than I had two years before, after our quarrel, and I made it pretty plain. It seemed rather steep of my father to keep his dolly at home with my wife there, and treat them as equals, and I decided to speak to him about it. But Judy was cool and civil, too, and I gathered she was ready to keep the peace if I did.
Not that I minded her or my father much. I was all over Elspeth, revelling in the dreamy way she listened to my talk – I had forgotten what a ninny she was, but it had its compensations. She sat wide-eyed at my adventures, and I don’t suppose anyone else got a word in edgeways all through the meal. I just bathed myself in that simple, dazzling smile of hers and persuaded her of what a wonderful husband she had. And later, when we went to bed, I persuaded her more so.
It was then, though, that the first little hint of something odd in her behaviour crossed my mind. She had dropped off to sleep, and I was lying there exhausted, listening to her breathing, and feeling somehow dissatisfied – which was strange, considering. Then it came to me, this little doubt, and I dismissed it, and then it came back.
I had had plenty of experience with women, as you know, and can judge them in bed as well as anyone, I reckon. And it seemed to me, however hard I pushed the thought away, that Elspeth was not as she had been before I went away. I’ve often said that she only came to life when she was at grips with a man – well, she had been willing enough in the few hours of my homecoming, I couldn’t deny, but there hadn’t been any of the rapturous passion on her part that I remembered. These are fine things, and difficult to explain – oh, she was active enough at the time, and content enough afterwards, but she was easier about it all, somehow. If it had been Fetnab or Josette, I wouldn’t have noticed, I dare say; it was their work as well as their play. But I had a different emotion about Elspeth, and it told me there was something missing. It was just a shadow, and when I woke next morning I had forgotten it.
If I hadn’t, the morning’s events would have driven it from my mind. I came down late, and cornered my father in his study before he could slip out to his club. He was sitting with his feet along the couch, preparing for the rigours of the day with a glass of brandy, and looking liverish, but I plunged right in, and told him my thoughts about Judy.
“Things have changed,” says I, “and we can’t have her seen about the place nowadays.” You’ll gather that two years among the Afghans had changed my attitude to parental discipline; I wasn’t so easy to cow as I had been.
“Oh, aye,” says he, “and how have things changed?”
“You’ll find,” I told him, “that I’m known about the town henceforth. What with India and so on. We’ll be more in the public eye now, and folk will talk. It won’t do for Elspeth, for one thing.”
“Elspeth likes her,” says he.
“Does she, though? Well, that’s no matter. It ain’t what Elspeth likes that counts, but what the town likes. And they won’t like us if we keep this … this pet pussy in the house.”
“My, we’re grown very nice.” He sneered and took a good pull at his brandy. I could see the flush of temper on his face, and wondered why he hadn’t lost it yet. “I didn’t know India bred such fine sensibilities,” he went on. “Quite the reverse, I’d have thought.”
“Oh, look, father,