Bears Discover Fire

“At any rate, when Mr. Singh died and his Inn was sold, my room was reserved for me, in accordance with his will, in perpetuity, which means as long as I remain in it. But if I were to move, you see, I would lose my patrimony entire.”

“I see,” said Emily. “And where is this place you go for tea?”

And so they spent the afternoon, and a rainy and an English afternoon it was, in the cozy tearoom with the faded purple drapes at the west (formerly east) end of Moncton Street where Mrs. Oldenshield kept Mr. Fox’s complete set of Trollope on a high shelf, so he wouldn’t have to carry them back and forth in all kinds of weather. While Clare shared her cake with Anthony, and then let him doze on her lap, Mr. Fox took down the handsome leather-bound volumes, one by one, and showed them to his niece and great-niece.

“They are, I believe, the first complete edition,” he said. “Chapman and Hall.”

“And were they your father’s?” asked Emily. “My grandfather’s?”

“Oh no!” said Mr. Fox. “They belonged to Mr. Singh. His grandmother was English and her own great-uncle had been, I believe, in the postal service in Ireland with the author, for whom I was, if I am not mistaken, named.” He showed Emily the place in The Eustace Diamonds where he would have been reading that very afternoon, “were it not,” he said, “for this rather surprisingly delightful family occasion.” “Mother, is he blushing,” said Clare. It was a statement and not a question.

It was almost six when Emily looked at her watch—a man’s watch, Mr. Fox noted—and said, “We had better get back to the pier, or we’ll miss the ferry.” The rain had diminished to a misty drizzle as they hurried along the Boardwalk. “I must apologize for our English weather,” said Mr. Fox, but his niece stopped him with a hand on his sleeve. “Don’t brag,” she said, smiling. She saw Mr. Fox looking at her big steel watch and explained that it had been found among her mother’s things; she had always assumed it had been her grandfather’s. Indeed, it had several dials, and across the face it said: “Civil Defense, Brighton.” Across the bay, through the drizzle as through a lace curtain, they could see the sun shining on the sand and parked cars.

“Do you still live in, you know…” Mr. Fox hardly knew how to say the name of the place without sounding vulgar, but his niece came to his rescue. “Babylon? Only for another month. We’re moving to Deer Park as soon as my divorce is final.”

“I’m so glad,” said Mr. Fox. “Deer Park sounds much nicer for the child.”

“Can I buy Anthony a good-bye present?” Clare asked. Mr. Fox gave her some English money (even though the shops were all taking American) and she bought a paper of chips and fed them to the dog one by one. Mr. Fox knew Anthony would be flatulent for days, but it seemed hardly the sort of thing one mentioned. The ferry had pulled in and the tourists who had visited America for the day were streaming off, loaded with cheap gifts. Mr. Fox looked for Harrison, but if he was among them, he missed him. The whistle blew two warning toots. “It was kind of you to come,” he said.

Emily smiled. “No big deal,” she said. “It was mostly your doing anyway. I could never have made it all the way to England if England hadn’t come here first. I don’t fly.”

“Nor do I.” Mr. Fox held out his hand but Emily gave him a hug, and then a kiss, and insisted that Clare give him both as well. When that was over, she pulled off the watch (it was fitted with an expandable band) and slipped it over his thin, sticklike wrist. “It has a compass built in,” she said. “I’m sure it was your father’s. And Mother always…”

The final boarding whistle swallowed her last words. “You can be certain I’ll take good care of it,” Mr. Fox called out. He couldn’t think of anything else to say. “Mother, is he crying,” said Clare. It was a statement and not a question.

“Let’s you and me watch our steps,” said Emily.

“Woof,” said Anthony, and mother and daughter ran down (for the pier was high, and the boat was low) the gangplank. Mr. Fox waved until the ferry had backed out and turned, and everyone on board had gone inside, out of the rain, for it had started to rain in earnest. That night after dinner he was disappointed to find the bar unattended.

“Anyone seen Harrison?” he asked. He had been looking forward to showing him the watch.

“I can get you a drink as well as him,” said the Finn. She carried her broom with her and leaned it against the bar.

She poured a whisky and said, “Just indicate if you need another.” She thought indicate meant ask. The King was on the telly, getting into a long car with the President. Armed men stood all around them. Mr. Fox went to bed.