Free The Aerodrome: A Love Story by Rex Warner Page A

direction of the door. The airman thrust one hand into a pocket, nodded towards me, and picked up his cap from the Ijall table. "I'll be seeing you, then," he said, and walked past the Squire without shaking hands. The old man just inclined his head and, after he had opened the hall door and closed it behind his visitor, turned back into the room towards me. I had expected to see him smile and rub his hands together, and to hear him say, "Well, now, my boy, what about a walk?" but he said nothing, and seemed to look right through me as though I were a ghost. I turned away from him and, looking through the window, saw the airman walking up the drive with short steps. He was swinging his cap by his side, and was constantly turning his head to look at the lawns, the cedar tree, the flower beds. Halfway up the drive he stopped to say a few words to the gardener who was standing beside a wheelbarrow. I stepped away from the window and saw the Squire standing as he had been standing before. But my movement had caught his attention. He began to smile and took a few steps towards the high-backed chair by the fireplace, where he sat down. "I'm sorry to have disturbed you," I said. "I hope you haven't had any bad news." He looked up at me sharply and said: "Yes, my boy, I've had some very bad news." For some moments we remained silent. He was staring down between his knees at the carpet and I noticed his long eyebrows twitching as he concentrated his gaze. Then he began to speak very quietly, and without raising his head. "The fact is," he said, "that the Government want my land." I spoke sympathetically, for I knew how he loved all the country that I loved. "It's the fields up by the aerodrome, I suppose," I said, and then, seeing that I had guessed wrongly, I added: "Surely they can't want the land by the river." The Squire looked up at me quickly, and I saw his eyes flash. "Lock, stock, and barrel," he said. "They want it all!" I looked round the room, so familiar to me, and through the window at well-known trees. I was frightened by what I had heard and also by the look on the Squire's face. Pride stiffened and regulated his features, but for an instant I had fancied that I was looking at something dead. "How can they do that?" I said. "What possible reason could there be?" He looked at me and, seeing my agitation, seemed about to smile. There was, I knew, an almost childlike modesty and kindness in his face; but now these qualities were frustrated and he spoke harshly and as though defeated. "It seems," he said, "that some lawyer fellows have got some sort of a law passed. They are within their rights, they say; though I must say that it seems to me a queer sort of right if men are to be deprived of their land. It's quite well known that the Government understand nothing of these things. Things for some time have been going from bad to worse. Of course, we must obey the law." I saw that indeed he could do nothing else. There was something pathetic and out of place in the dignity of his remarks. He continued. "It isn't simply a question of my land and my house. The Air Force want to occupy the whole village. The school, I understand, will be done away with and replaced by some sort of training establishment. What will happen to the church I hardly like to think. You know these fellows have hardly any regard for religion." He looked up at me again, and there was more of bewilderment than anything else in his face. I, too, was bewildered and, anxious as I was to express my sympathy in his misfortune, could think of nothing appropriate to say. Finally I said: "I suppose there'll be no more cricket." The Squire nodded his head, and spoke at once. "Not a doubt of it." Then he seemed to sink into himself and remained for perhaps a minute relaxed in his chair, his shoulders hunched and his eyes fixed on the floor between his feet. I stood looking down at him, somewhat perturbed to find that I, in my youth, was stronger and more confident