Free No Highway by Nevil Shute Page B

knew him well, over the matter of his passport and his money, Then I went home, and that evening over supper I told Shirley all about it. “He’s going to get the charwoman to come and sleep in the house with Elspeth,” I said.
    “Oh, Dennis—the poor child! Is that the best he can do?”
    “I asked him if he hadn’t got a relation who could come in,” I said defensively. “He said he hadn’t got one.”
    She was indignant. “But do you mean to say she’s going to be all alone for a fortnight, except for the charwoman? Dennis, you can’t let him go away like that! He
must
make some better arrangement for her.”
    “I can’t help it if he goes away and leaves her like that,” I said irritably. “I can’t run his life for him. I’m his boss; I’m not a ruddy welfare worker.”
    “I know.” She was silent for a minute, and then she said, “Perhaps after he’s gone we could go round there and see how she’s getting on.”
    “I think we ought to do that,” I agreed. “It’s a rotten way to leave a child, but there doesn’t seem to be much else that he can do. And he’s the only man to go to Canada.”

3
    IT WAS THE practice of the Central Air Transport Organisation at that time to fly the Atlantic by night. The aircraft took off from London Airport at about eleven o’clock, landed at Gander in Newfoundland to refuel before dawn, and continued on to arrive at Montreal or New York about the middle of the morning.
    Mr. Honey travelled up to the air terminal at Victoria after supper on Sunday night. He was tired and confused with the events of the day. He had had a good deal of trouble in persuading Mrs. Higgs, his charwoman, to leave her husband and come to sleep in his house; in the end she had agreed to do it “to oblige” and for ten shillings a night. He had had little sleep the night before because he had stayed up late making every possible arrangement he could think of for the comfort and security of his small daughter while he was away. Although by normal standards he looked after her very badly, he worked hard to do his best and he took his responsibility for her quite seriously. He had had much to do at the office, too, to secure the smooth progress of his trial by day and night during his absence. With all these responsibilities he started off upon his journey tired and a little worried lest he had forgotten something that he should have done.
    At Victoria, however, the C.A.T.O. travel organisation took him in its arms and wrapped him round as if with cotton-wool. While he was waiting in a deep armchair in the assembly hall a pretty stewardess brought him a cup of coffee with a couple of biscuits, and a choice of newspapers to read; he blinked and thanked her shyly. Presently his name was called out on a list, and he had to rise and walk a few steps to the motor-coach, where a rug was wrapped around to preserve him from the evening chill. He was driven to the airport and passed quickly through the emigration formalities; then he was ushered down a covered passage and into an aeroplane before he had even time to look at it. He probably would not have looked at it in any case, because he was not much interested in aeroplanes unless they had fatigue trouble.
    In the warm, brightly lit cabin of the aircraft he wasreceived by a tall, dark girl in the uniform of a stewardess, one of two that served the Reindeer passengers upon their flight. She showed him to his seat and took his coat and hat from him, and saw that he was comfortably settled down with magazines within his reach. Then she pulled out the safety belt from behind the seat and showed him how to clasp it round his body, talking to him brightly and cheerfully all the time. “It’s only just for taking off and landing that you have to do this,” she said. “Just for the first five minutes. I’ll come and tell you when you can undo it.” She adjusted the strap for him with quick, expert hands. “There—is that quite