As the Crow Flies

“Where is all this leading?” asked Becky innocently.

“You’re so impatient, darling. Just like Charlie. You must allow us lesser mortals a little more time to explain what we’re about.”

Becky took a seat on the corner of the sofa and placed her hands in her lap.

“First you must realize that all bankers are frightful snobs,” continued Daphne. “Otherwise they’d be out there like you, running their own businesses. So what you require, to have them eating out of your hand, is a respectable front man.”

“Front man?”

“Yes. Someone who’ll accompany you on your trips to the bank whenever it should prove necessary.” Daphne rose and checked herself in the mirror before continuing. “Such a person may not be blessed with your brains, but then on the other hand he won’t be encumbered by your gender or by Charlie’s accent. What he will have, however, is an old school tie, and preferably a title of some kind to go with it. Bankers do like a ‘Bart’ but most important of all you must secure someone who has a definite need of cash. For services rendered, you understand.”

“Do such people exist?” asked Becky in disbelief.

“They most certainly do. In fact, there are far more of that type around than there are those who are willing to do a day’s work.” Daphne smiled reassuringly. “Give me a week or two and I feel confident I’ll be able to come up with a shortlist of three. You’ll see.”

“You’re a wonder,” said Becky.

“In return I shall expect a small favor from you.”

“Anything.”

“Never use that word when dealing with a praying mantis like myself, darling. However, my request on this occasion is quite simple, and well within your power to grant. If Charlie should ask you to accompany him to his regimental dinner and dance, you are to accept.”

“Why?”

“Because Reggie Arbuthnot has been stupid enough to invite me to the blithering occasion and I can’t refuse him if I’m to hope for a little stalking on his estate in Scotland come November.” Becky laughed as Daphne added, “I don’t mind being taken to the ball by Reggie, but I do object to having to leave with him. So, if we have reached an agreement, I’ll supply you with your necessary chinless Bart and all you have to do when Charlie asks you is say ‘yes.’”

“Yes.”

Charlie wasn’t surprised when Becky agreed without hesitation to be escorted to the regimental ball. After all, Daphne had already explained the details of their agreement to him. But it did come as a shock that, when Becky took her seat at the table, his fellow sergeants couldn’t take their eyes off her.

The dinner had been laid out in a massive gymnasium, which prompted Charlie’s mates to tell story after story of their early days of training in Edinburgh. However, there the comparison ended, because the food was of a far higher standard than Charlie remembered being offered in Scotland.

“Where’s Daphne?” asked Becky, as a portion of apple pie liberally covered in custard was placed in front of her.

“Up there on the top table with all the nobs,” said Charlie, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb. “Can’t afford to be seen with the likes of us, can she?” he added with a grin.

Once the dinner was over there followed a series of toasts—to everyone, it seemed to Becky, except the King. Charlie explained that the regiment had been granted dispensation from the loyal toast by King William IV in 1835 as their allegiance to the crown was without question. However, they did raise their glasses to the armed forces, each battalion in turn, and finally to the regiment, coupled with the name of their former colonel, each toast ending in rousing cheers. Becky watched the reactions of the men seated around her at the table and came to realize for the first time how many of that generation considered themselves lucky simply to be alive.

The former Colonel of the Regiment, Sir Danvers Hamilton, Bt., DSO, CBE, monocle in place, made a moving speech about all their fellow comrades who were for different reasons unable to be present that night. Becky saw Charlie visibly stiffen at the mention of his friend Tommy Prescott. Finally they all rose and toasted absent friends. Becky found herself unexpectedly moved.

Once the colonel had sat down the tables were cleared to one side so that dancing could begin. No sooner had the first note struck up from the regimental band than Daphne appeared from the other end of the room.

“Come on, Charlie. I haven’t the time to wait for you to find your way up to the top table.”

“Delighted, I’m sure, madam,” said Charlie, when he rose from his seat, “but what has happened to Reggie what’s-his-name?”

“Arbuthnot,” she said. “I have left the silly man clinging on to a deb from Chelmsford. And quite dreadful she was, I can tell you.”

“What was so ‘dreadful’ about her?” mimicked Charlie.

“I never thought the day would come,” said Daphne, “when His Majesty would allow anyone from Essex to be presented at court. But worse than that was her age.”

“Why? How old is she?” asked Charlie, as he waltzed Daphne confidently round the floor.

“I can’t altogether be certain, but she had the nerve to introduce me to her widowed father.”

Charlie burst out laughing.