Elsingham's Son

A Family Drama in Sixteen Scenes

by Airn Hethaway

email: s_psoli@yahoo.co.uk

Scene VIII

Poppy was doing at least 90 as she negotiated the turn at the bottom of the hill. The small, low-walled stone bridge, which appeared unexpectedly as one came out of the turn, had existed since Roman times and was a known black spot for motorists who were unfamiliar with the area. If you didn’t know it was there, you could easily end up smashing into the wall, or into another car approaching as the road narrowed to just the width of one car at that point. Poppy had scraped several smart sports cars on the ancient stones, but always miraculously managed to avoid a serious accident. So it was this time. Somehow or other Poppy had always been lucky; avoiding the wall, or the approaching car was always just a bit further away, or even some Divine intervention had kept Poppy safe at the little bridge on the outskirts of the local market town.

     Hardly taking her foot off the accelerator, Poppy sped into the main square, screeching to a halt outside the Prince of Denmark, the town’s largest and oldest pub. There had been an inn on that site since Medieval times and the building’s cellars dated back to the twelfth century, although the relatively ‘modern’ façade was half-timbered Elizabethan.

     Poppy manouevered herself elegantly out of the little yellow Porsche, which was parked on two matching yellow lines under a sign stating the penalties for parking there. As ever, Poppy didn’t for once imagine rules like that applied to her. Slamming the door, she marched purposefully into the pub, brushing past a traffic warden whom she didn’t even notice.

     She also failed to notice Horatio, as he emerged from the bookshop a few yards further along the road. With Horatio was another young man, Lawrence, known to all and sundry as Larry. He was Poppy’s elder brother. Larry, Hamlyn and Horatio had known each other since they were boys, but Larry had been a boarder at one of the better public schools, whilst unusually, Hamlyn had been educated at the local grammar school, so that he ‘wouldn’t lose the common touch’, as his father often said. Therefore Larry only got to spend time with Hamlyn and Horatio in the school holidays. At present, he was up at University studying for his degree and it was expected that in the fullness of time he would become a partner in his father’s solicitor’s offices. Not only that, it seemed he would be going into politics - he was a member of the local Young Conservatives and had already made a modest name for himself as ‘safe’. Even at the tender age of twenty, he already behaved and almost looked like a man twice that age. Heavy horn-rim spectacles, prematurely balding, coupled with an ultra-conservative taste in attire, (today, as most days, he was dressed in a leather-patched tweed jacket, open-necked check shirt, with a paisley cravat at his throat, cavalry twills and  brown Oxford brogues), looking like a caricature of what he actually was; a well-to-do brainy-but-boring nerd. This didn’t bother him in the slightest, nor Horatio, who always tried to see the best in people. Now he and Larry were deep in conversation.

     “Maybe he needs to get away for a while,” Larry was saying. “I mean, it was a dreadful shock, about his old man and all that, and I know he and his uncle don’t see eye to eye.”

     “You can say that again,” replied Horatio.

     “My pater says that Claude is a bit of a loose cannon,” Larry went on. “Not a man you can trust, you know.”

     “Oh, I know,” said Horatio, with heavy emphasis, causing Larry to look at him, eyebrow cocked.

     “Oh really? What’s the old cove been up to now?”

     Horatio was not prepared to tell anyone else about how he saw Claude do nothing as Hamlyn Senior lay dying. He just shrugged and said, “well, look at all those fortunes he’s lost,” he said vaguely.

     Larry replied, “He’s a queer one, that’s for sure. I frankly don’t see what Gerda sees in him.”

     “That’s what’s making Prince so odd,” said Horatio. “He can’t stand Claude. You know how he hero-worshipped his father? Well, he thinks Claude is just out for the family fortune and the business, and that’s what everyone else thinks, but Gerda won’t hear of it!”

     “Yes, I know. Pater called me the other day. He’s very worried, Horatio. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to keep Claude out of the business if Gerda does marry him. And if he does, then pater will resign and if you want my opinion, the business will collapse within months – even weeks!”

     “And there’s another thing,” said Horatio, “I think Prince and Poppy have split up – this time I think it’s for real.”

     Larry sighed and shrugged his shoulders. “Can’t say I’m surprised,” he said. “I know what a handful my little sister is, how headstrong she can be. She thinks I don’t know what she’s been getting up to, but I do. And then of course I don’t think Hamlyn ever wanted to marry her.” He paused before going on. “Actually, between you and me Horatio, I think Hamlyn ‘bats for the other side’, if you get my drift.”

Horatio stopped in his tracks, mouth agape as he stared at his friend.

     “You mean, Hamlyn is … is…”

     “Homosexual? Yes, I do, Horatio. Come on, old man! Just because I’m studying law, prematurely ageing, and a stick-in-the-mud county Conservative doesn’t mean I don’t know the facts of life! Remember, I was at boarding school! One saw a lot there, you know and anyway, as they say, ‘it takes on to know one!’ I think you already guessed that, though. Didn’t you?”

     Horatio was lost for words.

     “Oh come on, Horatio! It’s not as if I’ve confessed to murder or something! And anyway, if my instincts are right, then perhaps you…?”

     He left the question hanging in the air.

     After a few seconds of staring incredulously at his friend, Horatio burst out laughing. “My God, Larry! You are a deep one! I never saw that coming! Bloody hell!”

     Larry stood beside his friend, blushing sheepishly and was taken quite by surprise when Horatio gave him a great bearhug, right there in the middle of the market square.

     “You got it bang on, Larry, old man! Ten out of ten! Yes, I’m gay too and my dearest wish is that Hamlyn is. I’ve loved him since we were boys, Larry.”

     Horatio noticed an expression of pain cross Larry’s features.

     “Oh my God, Larry! You love him too!”

     The other man shook his head. “No, Horatio, I don’t, nor ever did. It was…someone else that I loved. He… he doesn’t love me. He’s in love with…”

     He gave Horatio a sad smile. Horatio saw the truth in a blinding flash.

     “Oh Larry! I’m so so sorry…”

     “Nothing to apologise for,” replied Larry, “I’ve known for yonks about you and your feelings for Hamlyn, Horatio. And if I’m not mistaken, I think you’ll find he’s fond of you too.”

     “But what about you, Larry?”

     “Don’t worry about me, Horatio, I’ll be fine. Anyway, if I’m going into politics, then the one thing I won’t need is a boyfriend; that would not go down well with the blue-rinse brigade from the local Conservative Womens’ Association! No, I’ll get on with my life, quietly amongst my books and pianoforte, maybe once in a while go into the big city for wild nights of orgiastic passion with horny little rentboys then come back to the depths of the country and be the life and soul of the vicar’s wife’s soirees.

     “That sounds awful, Larry!”

     “No, Horatio, it’s not as bad as it sounds. I’m not much of a demonstrative person anyway. I wouldn’t be good at having a relationship. No, I’ll be fine. Just promise me you’ll come and visit me once in a while.” Horatio hugged his friend again, who blinked behind his thick lenses.

     “Of course, Larry! I’m so sorry…” but his friend brushed the apology aside.

     “Don’t be, Horatio. There’s nothing to be sorry about. It’s better this way, believe me. Let’s not talk about it ever again. Promise?”

Horatio nodded his head. “If you say so, Lar.”

     “I do,” replied the other man, emphatically. “Now, Horatio, if I were you, I’d go and find Hamlyn. I’ve got some things to attend to. I’ll be up at the house for dinner. See you then?”

     “Okay, Lar. And…”

     “Go!” Larry almost shooed the black-haired young man on his way.

* * *

It all happened so fast. The van-driver never had time to react. As he turned the corner all he saw was a flash of yellow and heard the roar of a powerful engine at full throttle. The rest was a blank.

     Larry, however, saw it all as clear as day. He was about a hundred yards behind the speeding Porsche and saw the sports car smash headlong into the side of the white van. The small car seemed to concertina into itself.  Pulling up, he was first on the scene. It only took one quick glance at the mangled wreckage of the Porsche; no-one was going to get out of there alive.

     And that no-one, he saw, was Poppy.