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Gavin Lyall

Honourable Intentions

1

Aunt Maud’s house in Cheltenham was really quite large, in a rambling way; it just seemed too small for the possessions she and her late husband had accumulated. Every small table was draped with a fringed embroidered cloth and then jammed with framed photographs, bowls of pot-pourri, vases and little silver knick-knacks – each with a very dull history. Every wall was coated with elaborate frames, in which were incompetent landscapes. Each door had a heavy velvet curtain with a brass rail on it, to keep out draughts, and every window curtain was as elaborately draped as a rococo Madonna. It would have been a bad place for kittens, drunks and children, if one could conceive of Aunt Maud allowing such creatures in.

It smelt of dust and old ladies, the other of whom was Ranklin’s mother.

“You still haven’t married, Matthew,” Aunt Maud told him. “I imagine you want your family name to continue. ” Her tone made it clear that she couldn’t imagine why. “You’re not getting any younger. ”

“I’m thirty-nine,” Ranklin said. Though with his round, innocent face he looked ten years younger, something that no longer bothered him.

“I suppose you’re putting it off in the hope of being promoted to Major. An Army Captain’s pay can’t be all that generous, judging by how much you give your poor mother. ” His mother was sitting on the far side of the fireplace, silently doing embroidery, and Ranklin was depressed to see that she was beginning to adopt Aunt Maud’s style: severe floor-length dresses in grey or muddy colours over prim white blouses with high collars fastened with cameo brooches. Damn it, as a child he had thought her the prettiest woman in the world.

But now age was bringing out the family resemblances: the same lack of chin, the pursed lips, the slightly hooked nose, along with grey hair drawn into a severe bun. Soon they would be just two dusty, old and near-identical sisters whose marriages had been episodes, long passed.

“And are you still living in Whitehall Court? I am given to understand that that is a very expensive address. No wonder you can’t afford to send your poor mother a proper allowance. ”

“The War Office pays for the flat. It’s right across the street so I can act as a sort of caretaker. ”

“And do you do anything else besides caretaking?”

“They send me abroad from time to time. ”

“Where to?”

“I’ve been to France, Germany, Italy-”

“Oh, only the Continent? The Captain thought of those places as being local. ”

Aunt Maud was the widow of a Navy Captain and didn’t think it odd that he had left her with a comfortable inheritance. Ranklin, who knew that a Navy Captain was unlikely to have earned more than ?500 a year, thought it distinctly odd. He wondered how often the Captain, while earning a DSO for suppressing Malayan pirates, had shared in their booty or taken a bribe to look the other way.

“But just what is it you do! Mind, I’ve never been clear about what the Army did. Now, the Navy’s task is quite clear: preserving the Empire and keeping the world trade routes open. ”