Read an Excerpt
Maiden Voyage
A Novel
By Denton Welch OPEN ROAD INTEGRATED MEDIA
Copyright © 1943 The University of Texas
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-5040-0651-4
CHAPTER 1
After I had run away from school, no one knew what to do with me. I sat in my cousin's London drawing-room, listening to my relations as they talked. I did not know what was going to happen to me.
The week before, instead of catching the train to Derbyshire, where I was at school, I had taken a bus in the opposite direction.
Sitting upstairs on the bus I felt light, as if I were hollow and empty. Something was churning inside me too, like sea-sickness.
I stared down at the crowds and the traffic but I did not really see them. Only half of me seemed to be on top of the bus.
When the conductor called out "Waterloo" I ran down the steps and stood for a moment in the road. A carthorse was pouring out a golden jet of water. I watched it bubbling and hissing into the gutter, then I began to climb the stone stairs between the fat statues.
The trains inside the station were lying close together like big worms. I saw that one was going to Salisbury. I thought, I'll go there. I had seen it once with my mother; we had been to look at the cathedral. She was dead now. I ran to buy my ticket.
I was small, so I took off my hat, ruffled my hair and asked for a half-fare. The clerk's glasses glistened and his mouth snapped, "How old are you?" I lied very firmly, and at last he pushed the green ticket through the little window.
I walked past the barrier and up the platform. It was a corridor train, and as it pulled out I went to the lavatory and locked myself in. I knew that nobody could be looking for me yet, but I felt safer there.
I thought of my brother Paul waiting at St. Pancras, then going without me at last.
We had come to London in the morning, from our grandfather's house in Sussex. We always spent the holidays there. We had both wanted to do different things, so we parted, arranging to meet again at the station in the afternoon.
He was eighteen, two years older than I was. I wondered what he would think if he knew that I was in a train going the opposite way.
I suddenly felt terribly glad. I looked at my face in the glass. I was so anxious and happy that I thought I looked mad. I pulled my hat this way and that, wondering how to disguise myself. I thought I might dress up as a woman if I could get any clothes. I knocked the dent out of my hat, making it look like a girl's riding-hat. I was so excited that my face was red, with sweat on it.
I sat on the commode lid and began to count my money. I had about five pounds, which was to have been for pocket money and house subscription. I felt rich, but I knew that it wouldn't last long.
My thoughts got mixed up with the jogging of the train. They hammered along the rails and my head felt hot and seething and cut off from my body.
It was evening when the train arrived at Salisbury. The September light was melting and heavy, making everything look a little blurred.
I found my way to the cathedral and stood staring at it. When I had seen it with my mother she had worn some woollen flowers on her tweed coat and they had got mixed up in my mind with the black marble pillars and the arches.
I tried to go in, but the doors were locked, so I wandered along a narrow path, under the brown trees, and thought of Repton: the calling and the shouting and the feet moving over the scrubbed boards in the passages. Those boards were so worn that they had a soft, dull fur on them, like suède leather. The red blankets in the dormitories and the white chambers gleaming underneath. Every morning when I woke up and remembered where I was, I felt something draining out of me, leaving me weak.
A rush of gladness ran through me at the thought of what I had escaped. I sat down under a tree and looked at the spire of the cathedral. The sun had gone down and the air was getting cold. I thought of the people who wrapped themselves up in newspaper and slept on benches. I lay down on the bench to see what it was like, but some people passed, so I quickly sat up again. I knew that I could not stay there.
When my mother was with me we had stayed at the George. I got up to go in search of it. I wondered if I would dare go in even if I did find it.
I stood outside for a long time looking at the curtained windows. I wished that my mother was there again so that we could go in together.
At last I swung the door open and walked up to the little lighted office. There was a quiet woman there with soft, mousy hair. I asked her quickly for a room for one night. My cheeks were going red and I saw her eyes begin to look curious.
"Have you any luggage, sir?" she asked.
"No, it hasn't come yet," I lied quickly.
"Then perhaps you'll pay now. Bed and breakfast twelve and six, and dinner tonight five shillings."
I pulled out my new pocket-book. It was warm and smelt very leathery. I gave her a pound note and then she led me upstairs to my room.
There was a small sprigged paper, and furniture made out of imitation linen-fold panels. When she left me, it was so still that I ran the water in the basin to make a noise. I combed my hair with my fingers and washed my face. It was still very hot and red.
Excitement and fear had taken away my appetite, but I went down to dinner when I heard the gong ring, and sat at a little table by the door.
There were some husbands and wives sitting together and a larger party who I thought were American. I drank the thick soup, ate the white fish and the roast meat, and when I had finished, went into the hotel lounge and sat in a deep corner of the sofa.
I tried to look at Country Life, and the waiter brought me coffee. As I sipped it I wondered what I would do when my money ran out. I noticed that an old lady was looking at me. When I raised my eyes she smiled and said, "Salisbury is a charming place, isn't it? Are you staying here long?"
I felt very confused but managed to say, "I think I shall be going tomorrow."
"Are you all alone, then?" she asked, looking interested.
"Yes, but my mother's picking me up here and we're going on to Devonshire." I was suddenly able to lie very easily. It made itself up almost as I talked.
The old lady was still smiling very sweetly and I thought for a moment that I would tell her what had happened, but the next moment I knew that I could not, so, after looking about the old room for some time, I got up and said good-night.
I climbed the dark stairs and switched the light on in my bedroom; its pink shade was warm and depressing. As I undressed I wondered what I should sleep in. My shirt seemed the only thing, but I did not know when I would have a clean one. I remembered that my nurse had once told me to clean my teeth with soap if I had nothing else. I tried it now and spat out quickly, hating the taste.
Then I got into the white bed and lay down to sleep. It was a horrible night. I kept on waking up so that my dreams were mixed up with the wallpaper, and somehow the Virgin Mary appeared and disappeared, dressed all in Reckitt's blue.
I was glad when the morning came, even though it brought the shock of knowing what I had done. I dressed quickly and went down to breakfast. I ate almost joyfully, and then began to wonder about the tips. When at last I had decided, I ran from the hotel towards the cathedral.
It was light and vast inside, and the organ was playing and people were walking about. I felt the black marble pillars and looked at the broken bits of stained glass framed in the windows.
The Lady Chapel was dark and glittering; the brown and yellow Victorian tiles shone like a wet bathroom floor. I sat down on one of the oak chairs and started to pray. I grew more and more unhappy; there was nothing that I could do. I could not go back and I could not stay away for long, my money would run out. I felt hopeless and very lonely; I longed for someone to talk to me but nobody did, they were all too busy looking at the sights or praying.
I suddenly decided to go. I jumped up and walked down the nave and out of the west door. I looked back once and saw the pinnacles and saints for the last time, then I found my way to the station and bought a ticket for Exeter.
When I got on the train I discovered that it was full of boys going back to Sherborne. There were so many that some had to stand in the corridors. I made my way between them, feeling very self-conscious. As I passed a group of three one called out to the others in a mocking voice, "There's a pretty boy for you!" I almost ran so that I should not hear any more, then I locked myself into the lavatory, and although the door was tried many times I would not come out till the end of the journey.
CHAPTER 2
I sat on a low wall in the Close. The sun was full on the burnt-gold cathedral and it warmed me through my clothes. I was writing a postcard to my aunt.
"I hope you have not been worrying about me. I am quite all right but I will never go back to school. I have a very nice room here with hot and cold water. The cathedral is lovely, I have been wandering all over it. Denton."
On the other side of the postcard was a picture of the Royal Clarence Hotel, where I had taken a room. I had found the asking a little easier this time. The housekeeper had seen me as I came in and had stopped to talk to me. She was a thin woman with small bones and tight grey hair. She seemed amused by me and I was able to lie easily.
"But what about your luggage?" she suddenly asked.
"Oh, my mother's bringing that in the car tomorrow."
"Then what are you going to sleep in tonight?" Her eyes lighted up. She watched my face turning red, then said with relish:
"I don't suppose it'll hurt you to sleep in your skin!"
I grinned, feeling ashamed, and she led me to my bedroom. It was called Abbotsford. The name was in white Gothic letters on the shiny brown door. She left me there. I was pleased when she had gone. I was flattered but revolted by her.
I sat down on the bed to count my money; it was dwindling rapidly. I had had to leave seventeen and six at the office downstairs. I knew that I ought to have found cheaper lodgings, but the dread of squalor was too strong. I did not even go in search of them.
When I had posted the card I stood by the box, wondering if I had been foolish, but then I decided that sooner or later my aunt and grandfather would have to know where I was.
I went into a chemist's shop to buy a toothbrush and some paste, then I looked into the windows in the High Street. I found the antique-shops I had first seen with my mother. In the window of one, the same cracked Worcester salmon-scale plate was still there. The Dartmoor Pixies stared out at me drearily from the souvenir shop, so I turned and walked slowly back to the hotel.
In the high dining-room upstairs the chandelier was already lighted. I sat down in the warm yellow room and began to eat. It was a long meal, and with each mouthful I kept asking, "What am I going to do tomorrow? What am I going to do tomorrow?"
I slept again that night in my shirt. It was getting tousled and dirty now. I felt old and dirty too, as if I had never been young and fresh. When at last the morning came, I got up and bathed, and then rubbed the cuffs and collar of my shirt with a wet corner of the towel. It was lucky that I did not need to shave yet; there was only a little golden hair on my upper lip. The hair on my head was matted, for two days it had only been combed with my fingers.
I wanted to leave the hotel as quickly as possible in case my aunt should ring up when she got my postcard. I decided to go for a long walk, and made my way out of the town until at last I came to the green fields. I sat down under some trees near a pond. It was a damp, misty day and I felt I wanted to die. Nobody else was about, I was all alone in the fields.
A bit of newspaper was lying on the ground in front of me, so I took it up and began to read. There was a recipe for red cabbage pickle. I thought of it tasting cold and acid on my tongue, and it made me feel sick. I wondered if I would feel better if I had something hot to drink. I got up and walked wearily up the steep hill into the town again.
I saw a small café called the Blue Bird. It was steamy inside, with a smell of vegetables. The waitresses were dressed in flowered pinafores and there were sticky cakes on wire trays. I went upstairs and sat underneath a copper warming-pan. One of the waitresses came up to me and I ordered hot chocolate. I turned my blue plate over and saw that it had "Old Spode" written on the bottom. The people outside were walking up and down the narrow passage that led into the Close. I felt very miserable and the chocolate seemed to weigh me down inside instead of comforting me.
I began to hate Exeter so much that I decided to leave. Standing outside the café I tried to remember the way to Budleigh Salterton where we had once spent a summer.
I would walk to save money. My thoughts were more peaceful when I walked too.
I dodged down the High Street, crossing the road whenever I saw a policeman; I thought that they were all probably searching for me by now.
As I walked I felt the money in my pocket banging against my leg. I had less than a pound now. If only I could get a job! But I felt that I was not good for anything.
Passing a farmyard I tried to go in and ask for work, but knew that I could not. A young labourer came out sitting high up on a cartload of steaming manure. The sun just caught him and I thought how splendid he looked. I wanted to help him fork the stinking manure out of the cart, but instead I just walked on.
I was so tired when I at last reached Budleigh Salterton that I went into the first inn I saw. I waited under the gas-light in the hall until a maid led me up narrow stairs and down a long corridor to a little room. It was high-ceilinged and the wallpaper was old, with a big green pattern of scrolls on it.
I pulled off my clothes and got into bed. The feel of the dirty rug on my bare feet was horrible. I had eaten nothing since lunchtime, but I was not hungry.
Soon I realized that my room was over the bar. The sound of talking and of glasses being knocked came up through the floor. It maddened me, I could not go to sleep. I lay awake long after the noises had stopped, watching the faint square of light from the window and listening to the sea rustling the stones on the beach. The next morning I hurried through my breakfast, leaving the thick rashers and the remains of the egg on my plate.
Outside the sun was strong, and I walked along trying to decide what to do.
As I thought, I turned down a narrow lane and found myself in front of a comfortable thatched house. There swam into my mind the words of some people I had known in Switzerland:
"We live in the thatched house at Budleigh Salterton."
A car was waiting outside the gate and I suddenly felt bold. I walked up the stone path between the neat flower-beds and rang the bell. Mrs. Brandon herself came to the door. She recognized me and shouted, "Denton, what are you doing here?"
I lied very quickly, and she led me into the shiny chintz drawing-room.
I was staying with an aunt in Exeter and had come to Budleigh Salterton to revisit it. We talked of Switzerland and my brothers. I was gaining confidence; her children were away at school and I had been asked no difficult questions.
Two love-birds in the bay window were chattering and kissing and losing their feathers while we talked. I wondered what was going to happen next.
When her husband came in, I started. He said he was ready to go. She turned to me and said, "We're just driving in to Exeter. Would you like to come back with us?"
I thought quickly and answered, "Yes."
We all got into the old car. Mr. and Mrs. Brandon were large and noisy, and I prayed that they would not ask to see my aunt when we got to Exeter. As we climbed the hill I asked them to leave me at the top, then, waving good-bye, I disappeared down a side street.
I was in a fever. I had no money left. I thought of writing for some, but I could not wait three days until I had an answer.
I knew that I must go back to London, and I was almost glad.
I had come now to a poorer part of the town and, looking up, I saw three golden balls. I passed them and then went back, but still I could not go in.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Maiden Voyage by Denton Welch. Copyright © 1943 The University of Texas. Excerpted by permission of OPEN ROAD INTEGRATED MEDIA.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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