confessed she was curious to see Dian’s home and to meet Luke, for, what with the move to the Lotus House and the garden and getting to know Dian, a strange new sensation had recently invaded her — an urge, faint but persistent, towards adventure.
Dian and Luke lived in one of the estate houses and outside it looked no different from its neighbours, but when the front door opened Janet Cook was confronted with something disconcertingly different. Facing her was a large wooden plaque on which was emblazoned in ornamental poker work the words:
Welcome All
To Happy Hall.
On the reverse side it said:
Don’t miss your train
But come again.
Surrounding this and decorating the passage were flags of many different nations. A door painted a brilliant blue led into quite a large room, but as Dian had said, it did not look its size. Its walls were covered from top to toe with matchboxes of all sizes, shapes and colours, strung together in long festoons. In front of each of the two windows were stands crowded with flourishing pot plants. Above the mantelpiece were two more pokerwork plaques — one declared that “East, West, home is best”, and the other “Good food, good drink, good cheer, Good health to all folks here”. Beneath, one of those electric fires of mock glowing coal was flanked each side by a gnome sitting on a large red and white toadstool. In the centre of the room was a round table covered with dishes; two fat red plush chairs and a conch found space for themselves somehow, and in one corner was an outsize television set crowned with framed family photographs. In the other a guitar propped itself against a goldfish bowl.
Janet Cook, staring about her with her sharp black eyes, was quite taken aback by all this odd miscellany.
“See what I mean?” said Dian, “I don’t care so much for objects myself, but Luke, he’s a collector like I said, and he’s that good about dusting all his boxes hisself.”
“You’ve got some lovely plants,” said Janet politely.
“Not half bad,” agreed Dian, “though I says it. I have to have ’em all in here, there’s no sort of use trying to grow ’em in the garden, see.”
Janet looked out of the window and indeed did see that the garden also was very full, but not of flowers or vegetables. A great many more gnomes made a bright border to a patch of grass which was populated by anumber of large and small tortoises, perambulating slowly round in search of the lettuce leaves strewn about for their benefit.
“Luke, he loves them tortoises,” explained Dian, “he can’t bear for to see ’em in those pet shops, crawling all over each other, dying and sad. I tell him the more he buys ’em up, the more the dealers’ll get others in, but it don’t carry no weight with him. He says as it won’t make no difference to speak of to the trade but it’ll make all the difference in the world to these here tortoises now, but he’ll have to stop soon, ’cause there won’t be any more room for ’em. Same with the gnomes, he buys ’em plain and colours ’em hisself, he can’t keep off ’em; they gnomes and they tortoises, they’re like children to him, and he feels almost as much for Fred, that’s the goldfish. I can’t get up enthusiasm for ’im myself. Won ’im in a raffle, I did, for cancer research — well, you never know, do you? I wanted a mink coat and I got a goldfish. Still, he don’t give us trouble. That’s Luke now, it’s his boxing night really, but he said he’d give it a miss so as to come back early to meet you. He’s a super boxer, is Luke, that’s why the boys mind him.”
Luke was enormous. When Janet Cook saw him filling up the doorway, she wondered how on earth he could fit into the crowded sitting-room, but he moved around with a slow sureness. He extinguished Dian in a huge hug from which she extricated herself as if used to it. Then he turned to Janet and seized her limp unready hand and worked it up and down like a
Dian and Luke lived in one of the estate houses and outside it looked no different from its neighbours, but when the front door opened Janet Cook was confronted with something disconcertingly different. Facing her was a large wooden plaque on which was emblazoned in ornamental poker work the words:
Welcome All
To Happy Hall.
On the reverse side it said:
Don’t miss your train
But come again.
Surrounding this and decorating the passage were flags of many different nations. A door painted a brilliant blue led into quite a large room, but as Dian had said, it did not look its size. Its walls were covered from top to toe with matchboxes of all sizes, shapes and colours, strung together in long festoons. In front of each of the two windows were stands crowded with flourishing pot plants. Above the mantelpiece were two more pokerwork plaques — one declared that “East, West, home is best”, and the other “Good food, good drink, good cheer, Good health to all folks here”. Beneath, one of those electric fires of mock glowing coal was flanked each side by a gnome sitting on a large red and white toadstool. In the centre of the room was a round table covered with dishes; two fat red plush chairs and a conch found space for themselves somehow, and in one corner was an outsize television set crowned with framed family photographs. In the other a guitar propped itself against a goldfish bowl.
Janet Cook, staring about her with her sharp black eyes, was quite taken aback by all this odd miscellany.
“See what I mean?” said Dian, “I don’t care so much for objects myself, but Luke, he’s a collector like I said, and he’s that good about dusting all his boxes hisself.”
“You’ve got some lovely plants,” said Janet politely.
“Not half bad,” agreed Dian, “though I says it. I have to have ’em all in here, there’s no sort of use trying to grow ’em in the garden, see.”
Janet looked out of the window and indeed did see that the garden also was very full, but not of flowers or vegetables. A great many more gnomes made a bright border to a patch of grass which was populated by anumber of large and small tortoises, perambulating slowly round in search of the lettuce leaves strewn about for their benefit.
“Luke, he loves them tortoises,” explained Dian, “he can’t bear for to see ’em in those pet shops, crawling all over each other, dying and sad. I tell him the more he buys ’em up, the more the dealers’ll get others in, but it don’t carry no weight with him. He says as it won’t make no difference to speak of to the trade but it’ll make all the difference in the world to these here tortoises now, but he’ll have to stop soon, ’cause there won’t be any more room for ’em. Same with the gnomes, he buys ’em plain and colours ’em hisself, he can’t keep off ’em; they gnomes and they tortoises, they’re like children to him, and he feels almost as much for Fred, that’s the goldfish. I can’t get up enthusiasm for ’im myself. Won ’im in a raffle, I did, for cancer research — well, you never know, do you? I wanted a mink coat and I got a goldfish. Still, he don’t give us trouble. That’s Luke now, it’s his boxing night really, but he said he’d give it a miss so as to come back early to meet you. He’s a super boxer, is Luke, that’s why the boys mind him.”
Luke was enormous. When Janet Cook saw him filling up the doorway, she wondered how on earth he could fit into the crowded sitting-room, but he moved around with a slow sureness. He extinguished Dian in a huge hug from which she extricated herself as if used to it. Then he turned to Janet and seized her limp unready hand and worked it up and down like a
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