Читать книгу Hunter’s Moon - Alexandra Connor - Страница 22

The heat built up over the next three days and by Sunday evening the town was smouldering. In the park the trees hung listlessly, the gravel outside the entrance door of Netherlands dusty and whitened. Buses droned past the gates and when Mr Grantley read the sermon at evensong the air was drowsy, eyelids drooping closed amongst the congregation.

Everyone agreed that the heat couldn’t last, but the promised rainstorms hadn’t come. Slowed by the temperature and her arthritis, Clare Lees took a while to reach the lectern and when she read the lesson her voice snuffled amongst the pews like an animal looking for shade to hide. The day had seemed to pass like a dream, nothing substantial, and when the service was over the congregation walked out into the humid air and winced.

As always, Alice had sat next to Clare Lees and stolen a few glances at Dolly Blake, stiff in a paisley dress, her round face shiny. Behind her had sat Evan Thomas, as glossy as an apple, catching Alice’s eye and smiling. She had not smiled back.

Standing on the hot gravel outside, Alice paused and glanced at her watch. In three hours’ time she would see Victor. The thought soothed and excited her at the same time. Victor, who was so sensible; Victor, who was planning their future; Victor, who loved her, controlled her impulses and made her think of their future.

She wondered how she could possibly have lived without him. How could she have endured the grind at the home? The persistent lecturings of Clare Lees? The yawning future which would have loped before her so unappetisingly? Without him, Alice knew she would never have gone on. She would have run away, done something reckless.

But there was no need to be reckless now. She had found her rock, her man. All she had to do was to follow his lead and they would be together … She glanced at her watch again. Hurry up, she urged, hurry up. I want to see him, to touch his hand, to hear his voice. Loving Victor was easy. The easiest thing that she’d ever done.

‘Expecting someone?’

Alice turned at the sound of Evan’s voice. His brown eyes were hard as nuts.

‘No, should I?’

‘I just wondered. You keep looking at your watch.’

She shrugged, but her heart was thumping. This was a man who hated her and would do anything to ruin her. Be careful, Alice told herself, be very careful.

‘It was a good sermon.’

Unexpectedly, Evan laughed. ‘Oh really, how can you say such a thing?’ He leaned towards her. ‘You’re a good liar, aren’t you, Alice?’

A vein was throbbing in her neck. ‘No better than you, sir,’ she answered back.

He was nettled by the remark. ‘I doubt if I’m in your league,’ he replied peevishly. ‘You’ve had so much practice.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about –’

‘Secrets …’ he said distantly. Then his tone brightened. ‘I’m off now. Going out tonight. I bet you wish you could go out, Alice, don’t you? A pretty girl like you could go dancing, have the lads all of a – flutter.’

The sun had gone down, but the air was moist, hot, and clung to her like a demanding child.

‘I’m happy where I am.’

‘There you go,’ Evan said, smiling, ‘lying again.’

Alice watched him walk towards the gates and stayed watching him until he passed through them and locked them behind him. He paused to look through the bars at her and she shuddered. There was something about his look, some smugness, that made her stomach churn.

‘Are you OK?’ Hilly asked, walking over and looking at Alice anxiously.

‘I’m fine,’ Alice replied, her voice strained. Eager to shake off the feeling of unease, she slipped her arm through Hilly’s. ‘Glad you’re out of the sanatorium.’

‘Me too. I don’t suppose I’ll be out for long, though.’

Alice squeezed her arm. ‘You’re getting stronger every day.’

Laughing, Hilly teased her. ‘Oh, Alice, that’s a lie and you know it.’

The word tingled in the air and, spooked, Alice turned back towards the gate. But there was no man looking in. And all she could see was the quick flash of a bicycle wheel as it passed on its way to God knows where.

Clare Lees was slumped in her easy chair in the office. Her back hurt her and it was painful even to move. So she had wedged herself against the seat and waited for the spasm to pass. Which it would, in time. Her eyes fixed on the print on the opposite wall. It was of a man on horseback, wielding a banner … Above her head she could hear the sound of footsteps running and then a door banged closed. She winced. How many times had she told the children not to run? Dolly should stop it, or Evan … Then she remembered that Evan was off that night. Clumsily, Clare shifted in her seat again and looked out of the window. Her throat tightened. She hated the view, loathed the dull block of gravel and the closed mouth of the gates. Hated the sign in wrought iron – ‘NETHERLANDS HOME FOR CHILDREN’ – and the chained padlock glinting in the dying light.

It was just because she was in pain, she told herself. Before long she would feel better, more like her old self … But although the spasm lifted after a while, her mood stayed sombre. The darkness was coming down and the Sunday night town was falling quiet. Only muffled noises from hidden lives crept intermittently over the closed gates.

Shivering, Clare felt herself grow cold in the humid air, and lowered her head. Something pressed against her heart and hung around her chair.

The world was wicked that night.

‘I love you so much,’ Victor said, holding Alice’s hand tightly. His skin seemed to burn into hers. ‘I could see you in the chapel. You looked so beautiful.’

They had arranged to meet at the viaduct, but that morning Victor had signalled their private sign in church to say that they should meet at the Netherlands railings after lights out instead.

Alice nuzzled against the bars, the metal for once warm to the touch. ‘I’ve been thinking about you all day. I could hardly wait to see you.’

He put his hand in his pocket and brought out a brown paper bag, passing it to Alice through the railings.

‘What’s this?’ she asked, surprised.

‘Open it,’ he said simply, watching her face as she did so.

‘It’s perfume!’ Alice said excitedly. ‘Oh, my God! I’ve never had perfume before.’ Carefully she dabbed a little on her wrists and drank in the scent, her eyes closed. ‘Thank you, Victor, thank you.’

He thought in that moment that if he died there and then he would never be happier.

‘It must have cost so much,’ she whispered. ‘How did you afford it?’

‘I saved up,’ he said proudly. ‘Only the best is good enough for you, Alice. In time we’ll only have the best. You wait and see, one day we’ll have a fine house and money. You’ll have enough perfume to bathe in.’

She laughed, the sound throaty, mesmeric.

‘I love it …’ Alice said, ‘and I love you.’

The heat curled around them as she put her arms through the bars. He did the same and for an instant it seemed that there was nothing between them. Nothing holding them apart. The night, soft and heavy, closed over them. High above a huge late summer moon – a hunter’s moon – came out from behind a cloud. Its vast yellow face hung overhead and threw its light down on the two embracing figures.

Then another light came on. A sudden light. Torchlight. Alice turned, blinded, Victor holding on to her.

‘Who is it? Who’s there?’

There were two people, but Alice couldn’t make out who they were until they were almost upon them. Then the torchlight was lowered slightly and she saw Evan Thomas – and Clare Lees. Alice’s voice dried in her throat, her head falling forward.

Victor clambered to his feet. ‘It’s all my fault!’ he blustered. ‘If you want to punish anyone, punish me. It wasn’t her fault. I convinced Alice to come here.’

‘A nice try,’ Evan replied, delighted, ‘but this isn’t the first time, is it?’

He had watched Alice for the past ten days. She hadn’t sneaked out of Netherlands again, but his patience had finally paid off when she met up with Victor that night. It was perfect, Evan thought; nothing could look so incriminating. And from the way they had been clinging on to each other it was obvious to him – and to Clare Lees – that their relationship was not platonic.

Rigid with shock, Alice did not move, her hands still clinging to the place on the railings where Victor had been. She could sense Clare Lees looking at her.

‘Is this true, Alice? Have you met up with this boy before?’

She nodded, too sick to speak.

‘You’ve been going behind my back all this time?’ Clare Lees went on. She seemed more stooped, older. The Welshman was grinning like a jackal at her side. ‘How could you? How could you repay me like this? I trusted you –’

‘Leave her alone!’ Victor shouted back, frantically climbing over the railings and jumping down on the other side. Without thinking, he caught hold of Evan and shook the older man’s shoulders, shouting at the top of his voice. ‘We’ve done nothing wrong! We love each other, that’s all. We’ve done nothing wrong!’

Incensed, the Welshman pushed Victor away.

Clare Lees walked over to Alice and stared down at her. Hatred seeped out of every pore.

‘You should be in the dirt,’ she said finally. ‘That’s where you came from – and where you belong.’