Enthusiastically he held the bundle of papers and bulletins out in front of her for a moment, and she felt ashamed of having been bored.
“All the knowledge there is, damn near, about farmin’ an’ growing, there for pickin’ up,” he exclaimed. “Is it any wonder th’ Derbyshire farmer’s about th’ back and behindest there is?”
“No,” said Flo willingly; and suddenly he laughed, all his seriousness shaking away.
“That’s my turn, now it’s yours. What’s next?” he asked, stopping, having evidently been walking without thinking where he was going. Flo said again that she didn’t mind. After looking at his big silver watch he decided that they should go to the ring. There were people three and four deep all along the rails, impossible to see past, but Jack went up behind a tall man in a heavy white mackintosh and a tweed cap and asked what was on.
“Finishing the judging . . . just about. Then it’s the hunt parade.” He noticed Flo. “Want her to come in?”
“Ay,” said Jack.
“I reckon I can look over you two,” commented the tall man, stepping aside.
Flo stared down a tunnel as it were, the sides of it consisting on the right of the necks, whiskers and billycocks of two men, and on the left of the collars, cheeks and black, rather sporty straw hats of two women. Sometimes the tunnel closed a bit and sometimes it widened, but at best all that she could see was about a yard square, though it extended right across the arena to the grandstand, which was packed from ground to roof with tiers of faces. She heard clapping, which began to the left of the stand and then spread swiftly and equally all round in the manner of ripples spreading from a flung stone. Then past the end of her tunnel trotted a man in a scarlet coat and a black cap with a long neb; seen for a second, then gone. Now the clapping and laughter was loudest along the near side of the ring.
“A grand lot, eh? As snappy as weasels,” came from one set of whiskers.
“Tear it ta bits if they got owt; as keen as . . . knives. They’ve given ’em brandy or summat. Feed ’em on eggs an’ such,” said his back neighbour.
“Aren’t they luvly,” said the woman with the broadest brim, swaying rightward till the tunnel was temporarily blocked.
“Can you see?” asked Jack in Flo’s ear.
“I can’t,” she answered, tantalized.
“Get on my back,” said Jack, turning round. She protested. “Why not? Course you con.” He bent forward and, because she wanted badly to see, she put her hands on his shoulders and vaulted up. He clasped his hands so that she sat on his upturned palms and felt safe, though foolish. Her thighs were splayed on his hips. She felt him small, yet firm, beneath her. The tall man grinned on a level with her. Hastily she looked away, forward over hats and heads, and saw just moving on to the straight at the opposite side the master and huntsman with twenty-three hounds round or behind their black horses, and finally the whipper-in, also on a black horse. Unexpectedly, for the first time, the sun came out almost as if from a touch on an electric switch and everything shone with new brightness: the pink coats, the white breeches, the black boots, and the sleek horses; and the pack became a gay stream of liver, white and black, legs twinkling, tails waving, so unusual and funny to Flo that she tightened her knees and hands and laughed, completely forgetful.
Now the master lifted his horn and blew an unmusical note which nevertheless excited everybody. The horses cantered, the pack stretched out, loping easily. Down the straight on the near side again the canter became a gallop, and Flo seemed actually to feel the heavy thuds of the hooves. But the quicker speed made little difference to the hounds; they kept up with the same beautiful ease. Everybody shouted and waved and laughed, and the whipper-in snapped his long lash after two stragglers who looked bored, apparently having gone through the performance too often before. Eventually one of these slipped across the centre and sat and waited for the rest coming round and the applause he got was loudest of all.
“Oh, you should see!” exclaimed Flo, all at once remembering. “It’s not fair . . .”
“I’ve seen it before,” Jack answered in a low satisfied tone, intimately increasing the pressure of his arms against her. At once the hunt lost all attraction. She looked down on his straight upright hair and was suddenly tempted to feel it. Under her hand the bristleness disappeared; the hair was soft and unexpectedly warm, almost aglow, and her hand was arrested and stayed there momentarily as if from surprise.
“Eh, what you doin’ . . . spoilin’ my partin’?” Jack demanded, tossing his head, as if in anger, but laughing.
“Let me down, let me down,” exclaimed Flo urgently, and at the same moment felt a sharp poke in the back. As she dropped a harsh voice exclaimed: “Na then, what the heckment . . .! You’ll non cop train playin’ pick-a-back.”
Flo turned in a fluster. Mrs. Nadin’s little eyes sparkled. Behind her Mr. Nadin stood straight and meek, but with a touch of pink on each cheek which seemed like proof that he had enjoyed himself despite his wife’s arrival.
“Come on,” said Mrs. Nadin. “If we dunna get gone there’ll be noo gettin’ out ’cos o’ the crush.”
She turned briskly away to the distant exit towards which already a steady flow was going. Mr. Nadin said, “Comin’, Jack?”
“Non yet. I’ll stay through,” he answered.
Flo glanced her thanks, wondering whether he noticed her burning cheeks. Then, too, she turned and hurried after Mrs. Nadin.
Chapter 19
There was a crowd on Bakewell Station. Farmers stood in groups discussing what they had seen, occasionally breaking into gusty laughter. Several times Flo heard behind her, “How go, Emmott!” Mr. Nadin answered, “Non so bad. How’s yourself?” but kept meekly in Mrs. Nadin’s wake. She went up the platform to be in position to get in the front part of the train. Then the train was coming up the long straight line from Derby. A corridor coach drew up in their front, and Mrs. Nadin was in the first surge to the door, using elbows and her umbrella skilfully. Flo got held back and went up the step and through the door the thirteenth person after her. She did not know whether to turn right or left, but chanced left, and on the third seat found Mrs. Nadin with her umbrella guarding a place for her. She wedged in thankfully. Mr. Nadin was a moment or two in arriving, moving slowly up the aisle in the long stream.
“I’ll goo on; maybe there’ll be summat farther up,” he announced.
They had their backs to the engine and could not watch him; Mrs. Nadin tried to, but the table between the pairs of seats prevented her. The whistle blew. The train got going with long powerful chuffs, very slowly at first, suggesting that the load it had just taken on was rather more than it had expected. Flo gazed past Mrs. Nadin through the big observation window. Suddenly her hand gripped on the table in front of her. She glanced at Mrs. Nadin. The little woman was searching in her handbag.
“You haven’t lost anything, have you?” said Flo, unable in so brief a time to think of anything better.
“Non that I know of,” said Mrs. Nadin ungraciously.
Flo dared to glance past her again. The tall unmistakable figure had been left behind and a smile spread from Flo’s eyes downward, widening her full, pleasant lips.
“Enjoyed yourself?” asked Mrs. Nadin, softening. “It’s non bin a bad show, though I’ve seen a lot a damn sight better.”
She started then to talk with a thin woman opposite, and Flo looked out and wondered how Jack would get back, and whether he had travelled in the chara from The Bull. They seemed to get quickly to Miller’s Dale, and there there was a great unloading. After the train had gone on the platform was nearly as full as at Bakewell. Mrs. Nadin stood on her toes and looked everywhere, and Flo pretended to look as well. Almost at once, however, the short local train chuffed in and there was nothing they could do but get in with the rest. Mrs. Nadin, after claiming a window seat with her handbag, stood obstructively in the doorway trying to watch everybody getting in elsewhere. Then without warning a porter slammed the door. She tugged angrily at the window strap so as to get her head out to tell him something, but the train started.