Читать книгу The Secret of Summerhayes - Merryn Allingham, Merryn Allingham - Страница 14

‘Go, guy. Enjoy the dance,’ was Eddie’s parting injunction, as he cut across the floor towards the glamorous redhead he must have spied earlier.

Beth tried to disentangle herself, growing hotter by the second. ‘I’m sorry. Eddie is…’

‘Eddie is a menace.’ His tone was surprisingly gentle. ‘But he’s set us up to dance, so why don’t we?’

She could think of several reasons but she liked the way he was holding her. And liked fresh tangy scent. Slightly dazed, she nodded agreement and together they slipped back into the mingle of dancers. The rhythms of a slow foxtrot allowed her to catch her breath, though not for long. Dancing with Jos Kerrigan, she found, was not conducive to a stable pulse. Whereas Eddie had been fun, flinging her this way and that but never once losing the beat, Jos held her close, as though she were something precious. And while she danced with him, she felt she was. The slow, sensual rhythm gradually entwined them, their warmth seeping into each other. It was the oddest feeling, as though their individual bodies had become a single entity, wrapped and enclosed within the strains of the music. She daren’t look at him to discover whether he felt it too, but instinct told her he must.

They were coming to the end of the dance; the music faded and the band readied themselves for a new number. He still held her close and, shamefully, she wanted nothing more than to stay right where she was. But a disturbance behind them made them both turn. A man was pushing his way across the dance floor to reach them.

‘I thought it was you, Bethany. I spotted you from the doorway. Sorry I’m a bit late, a last-minute hitch, but why didn’t you telephone? You should have let me call for you.’ Gilbert nodded briskly at Jos, as though he had only just noticed him.

Jos allowed his arms to drop and she felt the coldness they left behind. She wanted to say something, something to rescue the moment, but her mind was empty. In the awkward pause, Gilbert took his chance and reached for her hand. ‘Shall we?’

She looked for Jos, but he had turned on his heels and was lost once more among the smokers and whisky drinkers.

‘A waltz,’ Gilbert said. ‘How traditional, but very enjoyable.’

She had to acknowledge that he was a decent dancer, but the magic of the evening had gone. Fatigue was setting in and growing by the minute and when, after two consecutive dances, he proposed finding a drink, she braced herself to say goodbye. ‘To be honest, Gilbert, I think I should go home. Mr Ripley is minding Alice, but I’m reluctant to leave him too long. He’s no longer a young man. He’ll be tired, he’ll want to get to bed.’

She saw a shadow of annoyance pass across his face. ‘You must go, of course.’ There was a false heartiness in his voice. ‘But I insist on driving you.’

‘There’s really no need. I’ve a powerful torch and I can easily find my way. And you’ve hardly danced. Stay and enjoy the rest of the evening.’

‘I’ve danced enough to satisfy the village. The old noblesse oblige thing, you know. And I wouldn’t dream of letting you walk home alone at this hour.’ She wondered what he imagined might happen to her along a quiet country lane. ‘In any case, it’s my fault for turning up so late.’

She would have preferred to go alone, but his insistence made escape difficult – unless she were prepared to make a scene. And she wasn’t.

‘I’ll get my coat,’ she said.

‘Good. The Bentley is parked in the High Street. I’ll meet you there.’

The night air gave her a shock, but after the cloying thickness of the hall, it felt invigorating. A group of young soldiers stood to one side of the door enjoying the freshness of the evening. She heard a scuffling and saw several couples shrink from sight into the bushes opposite. Pulling her coat tightly around her, she brushed past a tall figure standing to one side of the group. She knew, even in the darkness, that it was Jos. He stiffened as she walked past, but didn’t say a word.

‘Over here,’ Gilbert called, waving to her from the junction. The car was parked a few paces away, its silver bodywork gleaming beneath a moon that, for the first time that evening, had swum free of the clouds.

Within minutes they had left the village behind. He drove fast but expertly along the lane she had walked earlier.

‘I hope you won’t find that my aunt has been difficult.’ He half turned his head to check her response. He wanted to talk, and she felt she owed him that at least since she’d brought him away from the dance far too early.

‘I’m sure she’s been fine – as long as she’s won. I left her playing cards with Mr Ripley,’ she said in explanation.

In the driving mirror, she saw him give a wry smile. ‘The butler playing cards with the mistress? What a topsyturvy world we live in.’

‘I don’t think Mrs Summer thinks of him as her butler any more. He’s just Ripley, an old man who shares her house.’

‘Aunt Alice doesn’t think much at all, does she? I don’t like to say this, Bethany, but it’s struck me recently that she isn’t all there up top, if you know what I mean.’

She was startled and hastened to reassure him. ‘She’s a little vague, I know, but that’s just her way. Her mind is fine. If ever she’s confused, I think it’s because she finds life at Summerhayes so different now.’

‘I imagine she does. Who wouldn’t? The other day when I called, I had a good look around the house and it’s a mess. The panelling is scratched, the floors are ruined – when I was a boy, they were a brilliant golden oak. The shine on them could outdo the sun and as for the decorative glass! Boys don’t usually notice these things, but I do remember the way those glass panels threw amazing colour into every room.’

‘Then I’m glad she can’t see what the house has become.’

‘No, indeed. Best she stay within her own four walls. I reckon some of the furniture is missing, too, and that would upset her greatly.’

‘I wouldn’t know. The house is much the same as when I came in January, except that Mrs Summer has sold some of the paintings.’ But not Elizabeth’s, was her unspoken thought. ‘Perhaps it’s the pictures you’ve missed rather than the furniture.’

‘I was thinking more of the huge sofa that used to be in the drawing room. It was upholstered in the best velvet. And the ladder back chairs in the dining room. They were designed by Philip Webb and would cost a fortune now.’

He took the final bend at speed but was quick to correct the car. ‘I suppose we should be glad there’s still furniture left and that the panelling hasn’t been torn down for firewood. My aunt’s husband was a modern man, but even he didn’t manage central heating and these old houses are cold.’

‘Tear the panelling down?’ She looked nonplussed. ‘Who would do such a thing?’

‘Plenty, or so I hear. Military men don’t like being cold.’

She gave a little puff of breath. ‘Thank goodness it’s April then and we needn’t worry. Not for a few months at least.’

‘If rumour has it right, we can forget worrying for longer than that. A grand invasion is on the cards in the not-too-distant future and our Canadian friends will be in the thick of it.’

Her heart flinched. An image of Jos Kerrigan lying dead on a French beach had her squeezing her eyes shut, trying to erase the picture.

Gilbert swept the car off the lane and brought it to a halt at the lodge gate. He rolled his window down as the sentry approached. ‘Just taking this young lady home, soldier.’ There was a satisfaction in his voice that she didn’t like.

The sentry flashed a torch into the darkness of the car and, recognising Beth’s face, waved them through. As soon as they drew up at the front entrance of the house, she had the car door open and was clambering out. She’d no wish to dally.

‘Thank you for the lift, Gilbert. It’s kind of you to go out of your way.’

He cut her thanks short. ‘I hope you’ll be coming to Amberley, as I suggested. I’ve had a room made ready and Ralph has moved all his books and papers there.’

He was putting her on the spot and he knew it. When she hesitated, he pressed further. ‘At least give it a chance. If you don’t think the arrangement works, there’s no harm done.’

It was all so reasonable there was little she could do but agree.

‘Tomorrow then. I’ll call for you. Around ten o’clock, shall we say?’

Before she reached the top of the stairs, she saw that the door of the apartment stood wide open. Her stomach gave an involuntary lurch. She ran up the last few stairs and into the tiny hall. An eerie quiet blanketed the apartment. Where was Mr Ripley? She tiptoed into the sitting room, thinking that perhaps he had fallen asleep and forgotten to lock the front door. It was always kept locked. There were too many people on the move in and out of the estate, and in the general confusion anyone could evade the duty sentry by climbing over the perimeter wall and walking into the house unnoticed and unchallenged.

But the sitting room was empty. Had Mr Ripley returned to his attic room and left the door temporarily ajar? It was unlikely and her stomach tightened. She must make sure that Mrs Summer was safely asleep. But when she pushed open the door to Alice’s bedroom, she saw immediately, even in the near dark, that the bed was empty. Panic clawed at her. The elderly woman had gone. Somehow she must have opened the front door and crawled down the stairs to the ground floor. Even now she must be wandering the gardens with poor Ripley in pursuit. Why ever had she gone to the dance? It was the stupidest thing she could have done.

As she stood there, she heard a noise. It was coming from the far corner and she pushed the bedroom door further ajar so that the light from the hall fell diagonally across the floor. Then she saw her – and nearly fainted with shock. Alice was at the window. The curtains had been drawn back, the blackout rolled up, and light blazed across the concrete below, an open invitation to any passing German plane. The old lady’s hands were splayed across the glass as though she were trying to thrust her way through its panes. Periodically she beat her forehead against the window, all the time emitting a barely audible moan. Now Beth’s ears were attuned, she shivered at the sound; it was like that of a small, wounded animal. Had Gilbert been right when he’d suggested, just minutes ago, that his aunt’s mind was as fragile as her body?

As softly as she could, she walked over to the half-prostrate figure and took her by a night-gowned arm. ‘Mrs Summer, it’s me, Bethany. You must come back to bed.’

But Alice refused to move. She was surprisingly strong and her figure grew more rigid with Beth’s attempts to loosen her clasp on the window. And all the time she continued the soft moan, though it had grown noticeably harsher the minute she’d felt the touch of a hand. It was the most dreadful sound and Beth could feel her scalp spiking with fear.

‘Mrs Summer,’ she repeated. ‘You will get cold if you stay out of bed. Let me help you back.’

This time Alice must have heard her because she twitched her head and breathed heavily, opening and shutting her mouth, as though she were suffocating. Struggling to get words out, but finding it impossible.

Beth stayed holding her fast, until finally the elderly body collapsed against her and Alice found the words she’d been seeking. ‘They’re there,’ she said, and then kept on saying, ‘They’re there, they’re there. I can’t get to them. But I must.’

Beth was seriously alarmed. Gilbert’s prophecy seemed to be coming true before her eyes. ‘Please come away from the window,’ she pleaded.

‘I can’t,’ Alice said simply. ‘I have to get to them. I have to get to Elizabeth.’

The letters may have stopped, at least temporarily, but it was clear that Alice had not forgotten. The desire to be reunited with her daughter still burnt bright.

‘Elizabeth isn’t there,’ Beth said softly.

‘Yes, yes. She’s there,’ Alice insisted. ‘She’ll be with Joe, you’ll see, she’ll be with the others.’

Somehow she had to get the old lady safely back into her bed. She would need to use cunning. ‘You can’t reach them through the window so why don’t we wait for them here? They’ve seen you now and they’ll come. You can wait for them in bed. You’ll be warmer there.’

Alice turned and stared at her for what seemed like minutes. Then she let go of the glass and allowed herself to be led towards the bed. With difficulty Beth steered the tired figure onto the mattress and covered her gently with sheet and quilt, then strode back to the window and reeled down the blackout, pulling the curtains smartly closed.

‘Rest a while, and I’ll make you a hot drink,’ she told her. ‘You’ll feel much better for it.’ Alice lay back on the pillows and closed her eyes.

It would have to be cocoa again, which meant three cups in one day and their ration was dwindling fast. But there was no help for it. She must lull the poor woman to sleep and hope that slumber would clear her mind, and that by morning she’d realise whatever she’d seen had been imaginary.

The kettle had reached a brisk boil when Mr Ripley staggered through the still open front door. Beneath the naked electric light, his face was an unhealthy crimson. His few strands of hair were impossibly tangled and the old cardigan he wore was scattered with small pieces of broken twigs and odd leaves. He tottered towards her, leaving muddy footprints on the kitchen floor.

She felt immense relief. ‘Thank goodness you’re back. But whatever’s happened?’

His breath was coming in great heaves and when he was finally able to speak, his voice rattled in his chest. ‘She saw a ghost, Miss Merston, on the lawn. She didn’t call it a ghost, mind. She said he was real.’

A distorted imagination, as she’d thought, but she still found herself asking, ‘Did Mrs Summer say who it was that she saw?’

‘Oh yes, it were Joe Lacey. She were certain of it.’

‘May Prendergast’s brother?’

Ripley nodded. His breathing was gradually returning to normal. ‘He had his gardening apron on, and twine around his trousers and she said he was wearing his old felt hat. She reckons they’ve come back, the gardeners that is. All of ’em. And they’ve brought Elizabeth with them.’

Somehow, that made things worse. ‘And you went to investigate?’

Again Ripley nodded. ‘I had to. She were fair beside herself. I thought if I looked as though I were doing something, it would calm her down.’

‘And was there anyone there?’ She felt stupid even asking the question.

‘No. Not a thing. I searched what’s left of the lawn and the rest that’s under concrete, just in case. Then I went round every bush and every tree that she can see from her window.’

That explained his dishevelled appearance. He’d had no torch and must have felt his way in total darkness. He was well over seventy and she dreaded to think what harm he might have come to.

‘You did your very best. You must sit down and rest.’

She’d been tardy in offering him a chair but, still bewildered from the encounter with Alice, she wasn’t thinking clearly. The sight of the old lady in that long white nightgown trying to push her way through the window had been terrifying. She was realising now just how terrifying. They had managed to avoid a major calamity, but only just.

She left Mr Ripley slumped in the kitchen chair and went back to Alice to check on her. At the door, she saw the old lady had drifted into a deep sleep. A mercy. And one cup of cocoa was going spare.

‘Here,’ she said to Ripley when she returned to the kitchen. ‘You should drink this.’

‘That’s kind of you, Miss Merston. I’m feeling a bit shook up, I have to say. I’m not as young as I was, not for midnight rambles.’

‘Indeed not, and you must never do that again. But I know you wanted to help her and I appreciate what you were trying to do.’ She reached out and clasped his hand.

‘I didn’t like to see her in such a taking. I went back to collect my book, you see – I’d left it on her bedside table – and then I found her, out of bed and trying to get through the window. Leastways, that’s how it looked. It gave me a real turn. I thought if I went down to the garden to investigate it would pacify her, but it didn’t.’

Beth shook her head, remembering the scene all too vividly. ‘I doubt anything would have pacified her – except perhaps sleep. What do you think actually happened?’

‘I don’t rightly know. Perhaps she heard a noise and got out of bed to look. She might have caught sight of something blowing across the garden. The soldiers leave so much rubbish around, and there’s been a wind getting up these last few hours. Mebbe she thought it were a figure, a real person.’

‘And decided it must be the one person she wanted to see.’

He shook his head sadly. ‘Miss Elizabeth must be dead. At least, I reckon so. She’s been gone thirty years and not a word. I’ve known that girl since she was so high, and if she were alive, I know she’d have written. But the mistress never would believe it. Master William afore he died tried to make her see sense. He’d waited for his sister for years, but in the end he decided she weren’t coming back. It made no difference. His ma kept saying that Elizabeth was alive and that she would come back – to her mother.’

He paused and rubbed a hand across his chin. ‘It’s funny really. The old lady were always closest to her son, or so it seemed to all of us. But it’s her daughter she misses most.’

Beth thought about it. ‘Maybe she can accept her son’s death more easily. She knows for certain that he’s gone. She buried him after all. But Elizabeth is different. She doesn’t know what happened, so her daughter remains tantalisingly alive for her.’

Ripley rubbed his chin again. This was a little too whimsical for him. Beth brought the discussion back to earth again. ‘Why did she decide it was Joe Lacey she saw?’

‘I thought of that,’ he said proudly. ‘I reckon it were Mrs Prendergast coming here the other day. It reminded her of Joe and all the men who worked with him in the gardens.’

‘So if all these people from the past were coming back to see her, it must follow that Elizabeth would be among them?’

‘I reckon so. Hallucination they call it, don’t they?’ The cocoa was working wonders.

‘They do, Mr Ripley,’ she said sadly. ‘They do.’