Cat Sitter Among the Pigeons

Chapter 13

CATASTROPHE

The third weekend after the opening of term followed the usual plan. It was the first weekend on which parents were allowed to take pupils out. As a result Meadowbank was left almost deserted.

On this particular Sunday there would only be twenty girls left at the school itself for the midday meal. Some of the staff had weekend leave, returning late Sunday night or early Monday morning. On this particular occasion Miss Bulstrode herself was proposing to be absent for the weekend. This was unusual since it was not her habit to leave the school during term time. But she had her reasons. She was going to stay with the Duchess of Welsham at Welsington Abbey. The Duchess had made a special point of it and had added that Henry Banks would be there. Henry Banks was the Chairman of the Governors. He was an important industrialist and he had been one of the original backers of the school. The invitation was therefore almost in the nature of a command. Not that Miss Bulstrode would have allowed herself to be commanded if she had not wished to do so. But as it happened, she welcomed the invitation gladly. She was by no means indifferent to duchesses and the Duchess of Welsham was an influential duchess, whose own daughters had been sent to Meadowbank. She was also particularly glad to have the opportunity of talking to Henry Banks on the subject of the school's future and also to put forward her own account of the recent tragic occurrence.

Owing to the influential connections at Meadowbank, the murder of Miss Springer had been played down very tactfully in the press. It had become a sad fatality rather than a mysterious murder. The impression was given, though not said, that possibly some young thugs had broken into the Sports Pavilion and that Miss Springer's death had been more accident than design. It was reported vaguely that several young men had been asked to come to the police station and “assist the police.” Miss Bulstrode herself was anxious to mitigate any unpleasant impression that might have been given to these two influential patrons of the school. She knew that they wanted to discuss the veiled hint that she had thrown out, of her coming retirement. Both the duchess and Henry Banks were anxious to persuade her to remain on. Now was the time, Miss Bulstrode felt, to push the claims of Eleanor Vansittart, to point out what a splendid person she was, and how well fitted to carry on the traditions of Meadowbank.

On Saturday morning Miss Bulstrode was just finishing off her correspondence with Ann Shapland when the telephone rang. Ann answered it.

“It's the Emir Ibrahim, Miss Bulstrode. He's arrived at Claridge's and would like to take Shaista out tomorrow.”

Miss Bulstrode took the receiver from her and had a brief conversation with the Emir's equerry. Shaista would be ready any time from eleven-thirty onward on Sunday morning, she said. The girl must be back at the school by 8 P.M.

She rang off and said:

“I wish Orientals sometimes gave you a little more warning. It has been arranged for Shaista to go out with Giselle d'Aubray tomorrow. Now that will have to be cancelled. Have we finished all the letters?”

“Yes, Miss Bulstrode.”

“Good, then I can go off with a clear conscience. Type them and send them off, and then you, too, are free for the weekend. I shan't want you until lunchtime on Monday.”

“Thank you, Miss Bulstrode.”

“Enjoy yourself, my dear.”

“I'm going to,” said Ann.

“Young man?”

“Well - yes.” Ann coloured a little. “Nothing serious, though.”

“Then there ought to be. If you're going to marry, don't leave it too late.”

“Oh, this is only an old friend. Nothing exciting.”

“Excitement,” said Miss Bulstrode warningly, “isn't always a good foundation for married life. Send Miss Chadwick to me, will you?”

Miss Chadwick bustled in.

“The Emir Ibrahim, Shaista's uncle, is taking her out tomorrow, Chaddy. If he comes himself, tell him she is making good progress.”

“She's not very bright,” said Miss Chadwick.

“She's immature intellectually,” agreed Miss Bulstrode. “But she has a remarkably mature mind in other ways. Sometimes, when you talk to her, she might be a woman of twenty-five. I suppose it's because of the sophisticated life she's led. Paris, Teheran, Cairo, Istanbul and all the rest of it. In this country we're inclined to keep our children too young. We account it a merit when we say: 'She's still quite a child.' It isn't a merit. It's a grave handicap in life.”

“I don't know that I quite agree with you there, dear,” said Miss Chadwick. “I'll go now and tell Shaista about her uncle. You go away for your weekend and don't worry about anything.”

“Oh! I shan't,” said Miss Bulstrode. “It's a good opportunity, really, for leaving Eleanor Vansittart in charge and seeing how she shapes. With you and her in charge nothing's likely to go wrong.”

“I hope not, indeed. I'll go and find Shaista.”

Shaista looked surprised and not at all pleased to hear that her uncle had arrived in London.

“He wants to take me out tomorrow?” she grumbled. “But, Miss Chadwick, it is all arranged that I go out with Giselle d'Aubray and her mother.”

“I'm afraid you'll have to do that another time.”

“But I would much rather go out with Giselle,” said Shaista crossly. “My uncle is not at all amusing. He eats and then he grunts and it is all very dull.”

“You mustn't talk like that. It is impolite,” said Miss Chadwick. “Your uncle is only in England for a week, I understand, and naturally he wants to see you.”

“Perhaps he has arranged a new marriage for me,” said Shaista, her face brightening. “If so, that would be fun.”

“If that is so, he will no doubt tell you so. But you are too young to get married yet awhile. You must first finish your education.”

“Education is very boring,” said Shaista.