SIX MONTHS TO LIVE

Taranaki Central Press, Volume IV, Issue 311, 17 December 1936, Page 3 (Supplement)

SIX MONTHS TO LIVE

Freddie Trela.wnqy buttoned up his shirt and put on his. coat again. “Well, -what’s the "verdict?” **DOr you want the truth?” “RulM-that is |t'?t Well, out with it, old man.” v “You have exactly .six months to llypj or as- exactly/ks I can make it. You hare been going^-the pace, Trelawney—and the pace kills. I m Bony.”

The specialist wept, into details which Trelawney did .pot in the least understand. Not that it mattere »uch. The pan 6 ki’Uexl; the 4nsJ.ru--thereof did PPI-seem so important. ■> ......... Trelawney was a little white, but he grinned. With 1 a theatrical ges>tpre he fiicked .* hP** Qf dust from ids.ppat pnd\Qftered Sinclair a cigar-

• “N>? well that’s that. It’s a hit <Qf a<eh oC h, I muat say. Didn’t think it wa« ap .bad aa that; Well, goodbye and all that. I’d better trot off and fix up my affairs. Let me see: this, .is -August. I die in January. Don’t forget to send in your account booro that, wHI you, Sinclair? Execiitors Hake such a .time, don’t they?” Sinclair’s smile had little mirth in it “What do you intend to do?” he apked.

“See the world in-six months,” said Trelawney. “I’ve, always b,een meaning to do that and thisjseems the last chance I’ll get; And (then—Who fciows?”

"What Jane?" asked Sinclair. •‘Jane,"wld.Freddle gravely, “Yes. Il had forgotten, Jane. Good-bye.” Fretdie Trelawney, spoilt darling of Mayfair, went off to keep a luncheon •ftpolntmept'. .with. Jane War render Who, Mayfair said, he was going do WBrry. Freddie had meant to —an Ifcmr ago.

By any other name you could have recognised Freddie Trelawney. He Haunted the cocktail bars around Curzon Street. He appeared as regularly M WWe -else a| Lady So-an.d-fio’wdlUMjes. He went fo Ascot. He Wore a dark blue rosette at the boat gpce. He drove an expensive motor- - oar and there were various marks on bin driving license that told itheir •lory of speeding and neglect of the Parking regulations. His name appeared as regular as clockwork in the VMip columns. Too mubh money too many leisure hours in which Ito spend it—that was Freddie’s troupe.

He grinned at Jane in the rather laaane Freddie Trelawney way as faced each other in a ; West End restaurant. Jane had faith in Freddie.

"You know, Jane,” said Freddie flgddetaiy,- twisting a wine glass so tightly that his fingers showed ivory White, “I’ve rather gone off matrimony lately.” Jane started. She looked at him latently and decided that- he was qufte sober. "What on earth do you mean, Freddie?”

bgd (^Ggpp a! j<4l» : good, times Jane," mumbled on Freddie. spt the fact oj the matter is I’m gojqg. to Paris to-morrow morning.” Jane stiffened.

"Freddie, are you trying to tell me tJjait. you don’t want to marry me?” Freddie avoided her eyes. He clutchedwine glass tighter.

he said brightly. “You always said I was an nycertain dog . Well, I am,” he concluded lamely.

Jane laughed; a hijrt little laugh. , ."So I’m being jilted by Freddie Trelawney! By* Freddie Tfelatfney of

all people! Oh, how screamingly funny! And I suppose you are not going, to Paris alone?” “No,” lied Freddie, “I am not going alone.” '

Jane stared at him. There was anger in her eyes now, but behind it were tears. Freddie didn’t see them because Tie could not meet her eyes.

“Of, course,” she added shakily, “they always told me you were a rotter, .Freddie. They'told me 1 was a fool to get engaged to you. But I •believed in you. I’ve actually defended you. That doesn’t mean a thing to you, I suppose? Now they’ll laugh at me, and sa-y ‘We told you so.” Thank God you told me.”

“You’re a brick, ■ Jane,” said Freddie huskily. “I wouldn’t have hurt you like .this for the world.”

“It’s no use lying, I am hurt,” said Jane quietly', “but I’m not going to go into hysterics about it. And I’ll see that .they don’t laugh at me. There’s not much more we can say,

lady friend, Freddie. You’d better take this —it will save you buying another one.”

Jane slipped a ring from her finger and shoved it in front, of Trelawney. Then she was gone >vith a little sob.

is there? I wish you luck with your

Almost automatically put the ring into his pocket. With a sigh he beckoned .to the wine waiter. The next day he sailed for the East —alone. He had a calendar with him; he ticked off the passing of each day with a certain ironic humour.

October found him in Java, thinner but as debonair as ever. Soon the lavish colour of .the East, bored him. He shipped to Australia, landing at Brisbane on a muggy day' in November.

Freddie soon tired of Brisbane. He moved south to Sydney, the London of the Southern Hemisphere. Freddie liked Sydney. It was colourful, cosmopolitan and gay. It was Mayfair with the tropics in its blood. He took up quarters at the Hotel Australia and set out to enjoy himself, which was easy in a place like Sydney.

January came with china-blue skies and golden sunshine.

There was only one more day on the calendar. Freddie sighed. He arranged his belongings very neatly'; ■wrote instructions for their disposal; went down to the winter garden of the hotel and religiously set out to get tight.

He succeeded admirably. Freddie Trelawney was a familiar figure and ■there were plenty of Australians ready to drink with him until -the cows came home.

Midnight came. Freddie was still drinking in the- winter garden.

“That’s darn’ funny,” he said shak-

He stumbled off to bed an hour later, awaking in the morning with a vile headache.

“Well, I suppose old Sinclair could easily be a week out in his reckoning,” he thought.

Freddie bought a new calendar and went off to see a Macquarie Street specialist, who pummelled him all over and then slapped him on the back.

“What do you want with me?” he said. “You’re perfectly sound. A little too much alcohol, perhaps. Otherwise you are good for another twenty years.”

Freddie told him what Sinclair had said. The specialist looked puzzled.

“Clear case of wrong diagnosis,” he said. “We- specialists are not infallible, y'ou know. It’s very strange, unless you were in a very different condition six months ago.”

Twenty years of life! Freddie went off for -some more drinks, his brai/n reeling. Then he laughed as he had never laughed before. How surprised old Sinclair would be! And Jane. Freddie Trelawney straightened up when he thought of Jane, s It had been hell lying ito her like that. “Uncertain dog” she had always called him with a kind of affection, but the one certain thing in his life had been his love for Jane.. He’d give hijnself another six months to counteract the lingering torture of the calendar, then he’d go home to her. It never occurred to him that Jane -might not have waited. Jane was the steadfast sort.

Trelawney made the most of that six months. He went into the backblocks where men are rough diamonds and women are beyond rubies, and worked like a nigger. He dug post holes and rode miles of boundary fences in the blazing sunshine.

He spent fourteen hours a day in the saddle mustering sheep across the unburnt plains, and voted it better fun than riding in the Row. He learnt to use an axe and stuck to it when his immaculate Mayfair hands were blistered and bleeding. He put up with dust and thirst and heat, and learnt a lot of new swear words.

Trelawney' emerged from it bronzed and fit. He wondered whether Jane would like life in the Australian bush if he bought a sheep station of his own. He booked his passage home on a liner sailing in July.

Exactly a year after he had left it, Freddie Trelawney returned to London.

Chance led his taxi down Harley Street on its way towards Jane”s house.’ He .thought 'whimsically:

“I’ll give old Sinclair the surprise of his life!” He ehucklecl softly and directed the taxi-driver to the doctor’s establishment. Freddie bounded up the steps an rang .the bell. A servant answered it. ‘‘ls Doctor Sinclair in?” “I’m sorry , sir, he is out. Mrs Sinclair is at home.” “Mrs Sinclair? I didn’t know the doctor was married.” “The doctor has been married nearly a year, sir. Shall 1 tell Mrs Sinclair?” Obeying a sudden whim, Freddie followed the maid into the drawingroom. Fancy old Sinclair married! He must have done it. just after he had delivered that six months’ sentence of death. Perhaps, thought Freddie with a smile, love had provoked him to a wrong diagnosis! Men in love weren’t responsible for their actions —witness himself. There 'was a rustle of skirts. Freddie turned around with a smile that froze on his lips. , “Jane!” he cried.