Free The Queen of the Tambourine by Jane Gardam Page B

beautiful.
    â€œIt is a privilege to be part of it,” he said—what a dear humble man he sounds. I said, “Since we are alone, Professor Hookaneye, I should like to sit down for a while and have this business out with you.”
    â€œOh, we can’t sit here,” he said, “I can’t possibly let you sit down here.”
    â€œNevertheless we have to talk some time about Sarah’s baby.”
    â€œSarah’s what ?”
    Then he turned so white that the colour seemed to drain even out of his suit. He seized the back of a throne, pulled it away from the table and collapsed on it. He stared at me.
    â€œBut you knew why I had come?”
    â€œYou . . . She said only that she wanted to bring her godmother to tea.”
    â€œProfessor Hookaneye—do you mean you didn’t know? About your own child?”
    He stared on and on. Then he laid his head down beside the grapes. I heard voices outside, one Sarah’s and the other a pleasant voice that seemed familiar. “Sorry I was late for tea, Reg. Unforgivable. I was in the Codrington. Good heavens—Eliza Peabody!” It was Tom Hopkin, very bright, his glasses flashing with good-nature.
    â€œI think,” he said, “Good Lord, Dr. Hookaneye has fainted. Here, I’ll take his head. Somebody get hold of his feet.”
    â€œI will,” said Sarah, tottering up.
    â€œNo, no, I will,” I said, “Sarah mustn’t lift anything heavy.” And then I thought, Well perhaps she should.
    In the end she and I took a long thin leg each and Tom the narrow shoulders and we carried Dr. Hookaneye out of the room and on to the quadrangle to lie him down on the pale stones near a drain. No one was about. We paused.
    And then Joan, a very horrible and extraordinary thing happened. Hookaneye disintegrated. The lanky, beautifully finished, excellently dressed body of Dr. Hookaneye shimmered and vibrated and melted and liquified and began to twirl itself down into the mediaeval drainage so that in no time at all only the toe of a shoe showed there—polished black, like the top of a little lost cricket ball. Dr. Hookaneye, Joan, was gone.
    I raised my eyes to the others and beheld Tom Hopkin leading Sarah away. She appeared to be weeping. Her head was near his shoulder and his arm was round her. I looked back at the drain and blop, blop, bleep, gurgle, now the toe juddered, shuddered, reverberated and all in one movement was gone. The drain was full of Reg. Pray that the college tonight is not troubled by cloud-burst. I ran to Sarah.
    â€œI’ll see to her,” said Tom.
    â€œI must find her Tutor.”
    â€œI shall find her Tutor. You must go. Go home, Mrs. Peabody. Have a long rest. You don’t seem yourself.”
    â€œYou called me Mrs. Peabody!”
    â€œDo go, Eliza, I’ll ring.”
    â€œI shall have to tell Joan. I shall tell her everything.”
    They stood staring. Tom then stepped across from Sarah and kissed me on the cheek. He lifted a finger to my face, traced a line affectionately along the edge of it. “Eliza, Eliza,” he said.
    â€œYou’ll miss your train,” said Sarah. She looked rosy, invigorated. She was not being sick.
    â€œI’ll find you a taxi,” said Tom.
    â€œYou are obsessed by taxis.”
    â€œI must take Sarah home.”
    â€œWill you report . . . ?” I looked back at the drain.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œWell, the disappearance of Dr. Hookaneye.”
    â€œOh, he’s always doing it,” said Tom. “Don’t worry. He’ll be right as rain in the morning.”
    â€œAs rain! As right as rain?”
    â€œDon’t worry so, dear Eliza,” they said together, like two nurses.
    â€œI think I’d like to walk to the station.”
    And saying goodbye to the delightful porter (had he seen? was he used to it, too?) I set off through Oxford with feverishly beating heart, coming at last to the gates of