The Willows in Winter Page 6

  “You low and me high,” said Toad eagerly “You unnoticed and unseen, but I plainly visible, and wearing the correct apparel so that I look the part?”

  “Exactly, Your Lordship,” sighed the pilot. “You would need headgear, and goggles, and a sheepskin jacket, and flying boots and so on.”

  “Would this take long to get?” asked Toad.

  “Getting it is not the thing,” said the pilot-mechanic, “but paying for it is. Such apparel is expensive, though if you are to look the part, and a gentleman like you would only want the best, then —”

  “The expense is immaterial!” cried Toad impulsively.

  “I’ll have two of everything —”

  “Well, it just so happens, Lord and Honour, that I have some gear with me that might just be your size’ said the pilot-mechanic, who had long since intended to sell Toad these expensive extras. “And a parachute as well —” he added.

  At this, some instinct for survival sent a warning pulse through Toad’s heart and made him say, “But I won’t need a parachute, will I? I mean, ever? I have told you before — they worry me.

  “Of course you’ll never need one,” said the pilot reassuringly, fearful that his patter had gone a little too far, “but with a parachute on your front —”

  “My front?” queried Toad, thinking of his appearance.

  “More effective when — or rather if it was ever to be used, which it won’t be. The fact is, Honourable Lord, that if you wish to look the part, and have people say, ‘Now there’s a pilot who really knows what he’s doing!’ —”

  “O I do wish, I do wish!”

  “— then you would be wise to wear one.

  “You are a most sensible person,” said Toad, “to see how things ought to be done. I will commend you when the time comes, you may be sure of that, just so long as whilst I am still learning you keep your head very low, and ensure that I am placed very high.”

  Placated, persuaded and pleased, Toad was now willing to be taken up as a pupil once more, but the pilot, having already given him some stationary lessons on the ground, made sure that Toad was still allowed nowhere near the real controls and was confined solely to those in the passenger seat — the now greatly raised and be-cushioned passenger seat — which did not function unless the pilot wished it.

  The fact that taking off in snow might be a problem had not worried Toad one bit. Winter, after all, had given him the protection he needed from the prying eyes of those who might seek to spoil his fun. So when the pilot finally conceded that Toad might be ready for his first flight with the new machine and there was still snow on the ground, the fledgling aeronaut cried out, “Clear it, whatever it costs!”

  So they had, dozens of them, teams of them, cleared the lawn right down to the river bank. This had proved no easy task, but Toad was not daunted by such trifles. He had the money to order about who he liked, and even if it took a whole day — it took three in the end —to get the runway open and his bright red Blériot started, he would see it was done.

  The snow clearing proved an unnecessary expense, though one typical of Toad, for the delay in starting coincided with the thaw, and by the time the great day came, which all unknown to Toad was that same sad day when the Badger and the others had begun their search for poor Mole, much of the snow had gone.

  Then, at last, he was off, and it was so exciting that the past delays and difficulties receded behind Toad at the same ever increasing speed with which the flying machine accelerated the length of his lawn. Faster and faster, bumpier and bumpier, with Toad letting out little whoops of delight which ended in one long blissful sigh as, with a final lurch upwards, he was airborne in his own machine for the first time, and the ground was falling away beneath him.

  “Yes, I’ll go along the river!” he had cried as they rose, as if he was in command and had a say in the matter, though in fact the pilot had long since decided what route they would take.

  They rose, they banked, they turned and then they skimmed down-river just above the willows, with the swans and herons, the moorhens, the mallards and the over-wintering geese fleeing in all directions.

  Then suddenly, and so much the better for being so unexpected, Toad had experienced the very special thrill of seeing beneath him the Badger, the Water Rat and all the rest — all static as he moved, all staring as he triumphed.

  “Faster!” cried Toad.

  “Higher!” commanded Toad.

  “Steeper!” whooped Toad.

  Now, his trials and tribulations seeming all behind him, in a trice Toad brought himself back to the present and thought in his conceited way, “There’s no doubt what they’re saying! No doubt at all!”

  He laughed once more and watched the distant horizon fall away as they rose ever higher into the sky.

  “They are saying’ he told himself, “‘There’s Toad, the great Toad, the real Toad! The Toad we are honoured and privileged to know. The Toad who has deigned to talk to us in the past, deigned even to entertain us in his home, but who has recently not been quite himself. Yet now it seems that Toad has found himself once more! He has triumphed again and will bring honour to us all!”‘

  With such vain thoughts as these, and further thoughts to do with national interest, service to the nation, and some imminent honour that would put all the shadows of the past to flight, Toad revelled in the half-hour that followed. The speed was one thing, the noise another, the power a third, and the aerobatics a fourth — all so much greater than he had dared hope that he was left in a state of giddy, dizzy breathlessness as, finally, the pilot turned the machine homewards and they retraced their route, till they came to the weir and the river above it, with the Wild Wood now to their left, and to the right, that sorry, scrubby patch of ground where the Mole lived.

  “How impressed he will be by my flight,” chortled Toad to himself as the flying machine banked into a final turn and the pilot lined it up ready to land triumphantly upon the lawn before Toad Hall.

  “The others — well, no doubt they will scoff and sneer and seek to belittle this great achievement of mine,” Toad told himself, for by now he had utterly convinced himself that it was he who had flown the machine; and he who was landing it. Indeed, he held the useless passenger joystick in front of him as if he was, and strained to reach the useless pedals, which were in any case out of reach of his legs, since he was raised so high on his velveteen cushions.

  “But Mole is a good fellow and will share my triumph! Yes he will! I shall offer to take him up myself, which will make the others positively green with envy!” laughed Toad.

  But as the flying machine came lower, and the ground ever nearer, the smile fled from his face at what he saw waiting for him at the far end of his lawn —waiting at the very place where the machine must soon come to rest and where he had hoped to leap down triumphantly and open some waiting champagne.

  “No!” cried Toad with sudden desperation, reaching forward over the fuselage to the pilot in front and digging his fingers into his shoulders. “Do not land! Up we go once more!”

  The pilot obeyed, suspecting some danger he had not seen, no doubt all the more convinced that something was awry because all the exultant triumph that had been in Toad’s voice earlier was now replaced by trepidation and concern.

  “What’s wrong?” shouted the pilot over his shoulder.

  “We cannot land! We must not land!” was all the panicking Toad could say.

  “Can’t stay up for more than a few minutes,” cried the pilot, “for the fuel’s running out. What’s the problem?”

  “Them!” responded Toad most dolefully, pointing a wind-lashed finger towards two stolid and stern figures who stood waiting on the ground below.

  “It’s just a couple of fellows come to —”They’re not ‘just’ anything,” said Toad, now rather wishing that he did not have quite so many cushions beneath him so that he could make himself a little less conspicuous: “They’re troublemakers, spoilers, and they will cause us difficulti
es!”

  “Well, we must go down all the same,” said the pilot, who refused thereafter to listen to Toad’s wails and pleas and began the landing once more.

  Just as Toad had feared, they pulled up to a standstill right where the Badger and the Water Rat waited so ominously, their brows furrowed, their looks disappointed but determined. Toad’s heart sank and he wondered how he might best effect an escape and hide till they, and the unpleasantness they were so unnecessarily bringing with them, went away Out of sight would be out of mind as far as he was concerned, and then his pleasures and excitements in the contemplation of the solo flights yet to come might be unalloyed by accusation and admonition.

  But as he pulled the flying goggles from his eyes, and looked about, he could see there was no easy way to leap clear of the machine and make a dash for cover. There was nothing for it but to face them out and send them packing if they tried to cause trouble.

  “Well, well!” he cried, as he clambered in an ungainly way to the ground. “Welcome to Toad Hall, my good friends!”

  “Toad —” began the Badger in the severest of voices.

  “No, no’ continued Toad, “do not embarrass me with praise concerning today’s extraordinary flight. Tomorrow’s will —”

  “Toad!” essayed the Rat this time, his voice dark in its warning tone, and his eyes narrowing.

  “My dear fellow,” said Toad hastily, as a clever ruse came to him, one that would surely make both of them forget whatever it was they had come about and lose themselves in the excitement of what he was offering them, “my dear friends — I am delighted that you are here, and edified, and it saves me the trouble, though it would have been no trouble at all, of sending you the invitation that I had intended to send this very evening, an invitation to have a flight in my marvellous flying machine, with myself as your pilot and guide!”

  “Toad’ said the Badger very quietly, coming closer, so that he looked down at Toad, and Toad was forced to look up at him, “we shall leave to one side your secret acquisition of this — this thing, and say only that it is possible, just possible, that you may redeem yourself before further damage is done by making it available for one more flight before it is returned forever to wherever you stole it from.”

  “Returned?” faltered Toad. “Returned?”

  “Returned!” agreed the Rat.

  “But it is not stolen !” protested the grief-stricken Toad. “That it is not stolen is the only good thing I have heard today,” said the Badger, “though why you should waste your money — but enough of that. Would you like to know why we need it?”

  “Well I would, of course I would, though I daresay you wanted to try it out yourselves, and of course you can and you must but — but not then to return it, to banish it, to —”

  “Mole is lost’ said the Rat.

  “‘Which mole?” repeated Toad, not understanding him at all.

  “Your friend Mole,” said the Badger. “The same Mole who has helped you, listened to you, risked his life for you in the past.”

  “O, Mole!” said Toad somewhat dismissively, his desire to get aloft overwhelming his better nature. “The one who lives in Mole End. Lost is he? Well he shouldn’t get into scrapes he can’t get out of, should he? Me? Why, I fly down the river and far over the ‘Wide ‘World and back again and I don’t get lost, do I?”

  “It may already be too late’ said the Rat, ignoring Toad’s splutterings, “but in case it is not, we intend to requisition your flying machine and search for him while we still can — before darkness comes, and before the river rises further.”

  Toad fell silent and listened to their quickly told tale, beginning to wish he had not spoken so soon, but seeing a chance that if Mole was found he might be allowed to keep his flying machine after all.

  “You should have explained sooner,” said Toad, bursting into sudden tears. “Of course you can use my flying machine to save Mole’s life.” Then, wiping his eyes and sniffing somewhat, he added in a low obsequious voice, “I shall fly it myself—”

  “I think that might be unwise, sir,” said the pilot quietly behind him.

  “Yes, yes it would’ agreed Toad hastily, “for you will need someone who knows these parts and has some common sense as a lookout, to spot Mole wherever he may be sending signals of distress up from the flooding ground.”

  “Quite so’ said the Badger. “The ‘Water Rat has volunteered. Pilot, prepare the machine. Refuel it or whatever you must do!”

  “I will, sir, and without delay!” said the pilot, jumping to at this impressive command.

  “Toad!” boomed the Badger. “Off with those ill-fitting garments at once! Give them to Rat so that he can at least keep warm.

  Out-numbered and surrounded, Toad reluctantly did as he was told, and watched the Rat quickly put on the splendid sheepskin jacket, the modish leather headgear, the raffish goggles and finally the manly parachute. But when he saw Rat heading for what had been his seat in the flying machine, a look of grave alarm came over Toad’s face, quickly hidden by feigned concern.

  For as Toad had been displaced by the ‘Water Rat he had had a glimpsed vision, a nightmare vision, of the national fame and celebrity that would be gained by Rat instead of him. Rat the Hero! Rat the One Who Cared! Rat the Bold and Brave! ‘Worse still, Rat the Honoured One — a Baron possibly, a Baronet probably, a knighthood certainly! O yes, there could be no doubt of something of the sort for whoever rescued Mole so bravely, and Toad could see it all in every dreadful detail.

  “And it is at my expense!” he fumed to himself. “It is my machine, even if it is only on approval, so to speak. It is my lawn. It is my opportunity!”

  So, ever the schemer, not reformed at all, no sooner had he seen this unpleasant vision than Toad had hatched a plot to thwart it, and gain all the glory for himself. He suddenly seemed positively filled with interest and concern about the coming search, and as the others busied themselves getting ready, and discussing where they might look, he began muttering such things as: “Poor Mole!” and “It shouldn’t have happened to him of all animals” and “We must do all we can”.

  Then, with a cry of “I should have thought of it sooner!”, he dashed up the steps of Toad Hall, summoned a servant, gave him some orders and dashed down again.

  Toad filled with generosity and care? Toad meek and mild and biddable? Could this really be the true Toad?

  It could not, and Badger and Rat would have known better had they not been so engrossed in making plans for the coming flight, and they might have guessed that something was wrong, very wrong indeed.

  “My dear friends,” said Toad, his face now the very picture of generosity and care — though had the Badger been less busy, and the Rat not concerned with putting on the parachute, they might even then have noticed that his eyes betrayed a certain resolute cunning. “I may have been slow to respond to your call for help, but now I hope I may make recompense. ‘We must not delay, but flying is cold and tiring work and it would surely be wise if our pilot-mechanic here had a quick hot drink before he bravely takes to the skies again. Therefore I have had prepared for him — no, no, don’t refuse, it is my pleasure — yes, just at the top of the steps, all ready and waiting, yes —”

  Before the pilot knew what was happening, Toad led him up the steps and into the Hall.

  “They’re taking an awfully long time,” said the Rat impatiently after a while.

  Almost as if he had heard this, Toad thrust his head out of the French windows, and cried, “He’s nearly done, Ratty, and says that to save time you’re to get in.

  “‘Well, if it will hurry things along,” growled the Rat.

  “You go and get them moving, Badger, there’s a good fellow. Toad’s probably gassing away and telling that poor pilot what a glorious fellow he is, or showing him the family portraits!”

  “Leave it to me,” said the Badger.

  “Ah, Badger cried Toad, again from just inside the door, “I was just about to suggest that y
ou — yes, you’re cold too, no doubt? No? The pilot? He’s just down there — yes, yes —Badger had mounted the steps and disappeared inside at Toad’s siren call when the Rat, left alone, climbed grumpily into the passenger seat of the flying machine, which was not easy with a parachute attached to his front, and then looked impatiently up at the Hall.

  “Come on!” he called out.

  “He’s coming!” he heard Toad’s voice shout. “He’s almost ready!”

  Then Toad’s voice again —”Good luck, sir! And bless you for your courage!”

  If only the Rat had not been adjusting the cushions just then and strapping himself in, and instead had been looking up towards Toad Hall. If only he had seen Toad, now sporting the pilot’s leather headgear, peering shiftily outside towards the machine as he panted with the exertion of overpowering and disrobing the pilot.

  If only he had been watching more carefully as Toad, with the sheepskin jacket and goggles completing his disguise and a parachute attached to his front once more, lumbered down the steps, accompanied by his own cries of, “Good luck, old fellow! Good luck! Badger and I will be cheering you brave fellows on, won’t we, Badger?”

  Badger might indeed have done so, had Toad not locked him in the smoking room after he had tied up the pilot, whence his cries of rage and thumping at the oaken door issued forth in a muffled kind of way.

  “Ha! Ha!” chortled Toad to himself as he approached the machine, and before the Rat had a real chance to look at him, or thought to ask himself why the pilot looked somewhat different — shorter, fatter, much less nimble — it was too late! For without more ado Toad climbed aboard and pressed the starter switch.

  “Ho! Ho!” he chuckled as the engine started and the machine jumped forward at his command.

  “Hee!Hee!” guffawed Toad as the little machine raced down the lawn. “This is easy, this is fun, this is what it’s all about!”

  If only, even then, Rat had put two and two together he might still have had time to unstrap himself and leap clear as the flying machine, roaring and racing now, swerved this way and that under Toad’s uncertain command, and finally lurched towards the river.