Voices in the Summer

by Rosamunde Pilcher

  ‘Ivan’s your son, isn’t he?’

  ‘Yes. My son, not Gerald’s. Of course, I keep forgetting, you haven’t met him yet. He lives in the coach house at the back of the courtyard. He’s been in Bristol, on business. I thought he’d be back by now. Perhaps that’s a good sign. Perhaps he’s sold lots of furniture.’

  ‘I thought he was an architect.’

  ‘No, he’s started up a little factory in a disused chapel up at Carnellow … that’s about six miles from here, up on the moor. He’s got a partner, Mathie Thomas. He met him in a pub. Such a nice man.’

  ‘It must be lovely for you, having him so close.’

  ‘We don’t see that much of him.’

  ‘Do he and Gerald get on?’

  ‘Oh, yes. They’re very fond of each other. But then, you see, Gerald was very fond of Ivan’s father. He’s known Ivan since he was quite a little boy.’

  ‘I think Gerald’s a darling,’ said Laura and was astonished that she had, without thinking, come out with this totally spontaneous remark. But Eve was not disconcerted, simply delighted.

  ‘Oh, isn’t he? I am glad you think so.’

  ‘He’s so good-looking.’

  ‘You should have seen him when he was a young man.’

  ‘Did you know him then?’

  ‘Oh, yes, but not very well—for one thing, I was married to Philip, and for another, Gerald was Philip’s commanding officer, and I felt very junior and respectful. Then, when they both retired, Gerald to Cornwall and Philip and I to Hampshire, we didn’t see each other for a bit. But then Philip … became ill. And Gerald used to come and see him, on his way to London, or if he happened to be staying nearby. When Philip died, Gerald came to his funeral. And then he stayed with me for a day or two, to help untangle all the legal and financial problems and show me how to cope with things like insurance and income tax. I remember he mended a toaster that hadn’t worked properly for months and gave me the most frightful row because I hadn’t had the car serviced.’

  ‘Was your husband ill for long?’

  ‘About six months. Long enough to forget about servicing the car.’

  ‘And then you married Gerald.’

  ‘Yes. I married him. Sometimes I look back at my life and I simply can’t believe my good fortune.’

  ‘I feel that way too,’ said Laura.

  ‘I’m glad you do. If Gerald is a darling, then Alec is too. You must be very happy with him.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Laura.

  There was a small pause. She still lay with her eyes closed, but she imagined Eve beside her, with needle poised, looking up over the rims of her pale blue spectacles. Eve said, ‘He had a rough deal. We never met Erica or Gabriel. Gerald always says that Erica came between Alec and his family … the Haverstocks, I mean. But after the divorce, when he came to stay with us, he never talked about her, so we never really knew what happened.’

  ‘She ran away to America with another man.’

  ‘I think we knew as much … but little more. Not that we wanted to. Does he ever hear from her?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Does he ever hear from Gabriel?’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘So sad. How unhappy people can make each other. I always feel guilty, all the time, about Silvia Marten.’

  ‘She was here last night when we arrived?’

  ‘I wanted to ask her to stay and have dinner with us all, but Gerald wouldn’t let me.’

  ‘Who is she?’

  ‘Oh, she’s lived here always. She used to be Silvia Trescarne. When Alec and his brother were young, they came to Tremenheere for a summer holiday, and they used to play cricket with Silvia on the beach. She married a man called Tom Marten, and for a bit they were very happy, and very social, darting hither and thither from one party to another. But then Tom started drinking, and it seemed that he simply couldn’t stop. It was terrible to witness … a sort of physical disintegration. He had once been quite attractive, but by the end he was repulsive, with a plum-colored face, hands he couldn’t keep still, and eyes that could never quite meet yours. He died last year.’

  ‘How dreadful.’

  ‘Yes. Dreadful. And particularly dreadful for Silvia because she’s the sort of woman who really needs a man in her life. There were always men around Silvia, like bees round a honeypot. They were usually Tom’s friends, but he didn’t seem to mind. Some women need that little extra bit of attention and admiration. I don’t suppose it does any harm.’

  Laura was reminded, instantly, of Daphne Boulder-stone. She said, ‘I know somebody just like that. She’s the wife of Alec’s friend. She’s forever having intimate lunches with mysterious gentlemen. I don’t know how she finds the time or the energy.’

  Eve smiled. ‘I know. One’s imagination reels.’

  ‘She’s so attractive. Silvia, I mean. She’ll probably get married again.’

  ‘I wish she would. But the sad truth is that after Tom died, Silvia’s admirers rather fell by the wayside. I suppose it became a different kettle of fish, once she was on her own and free to remarry. Nobody wanted a serious involvement.’

  ‘Does she?’

  ‘Of course!’

  ‘It doesn’t follow. I’ve got an Aunt Phyllis. She’s the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen and she’s been widowed for years. She simply doesn’t want to get married again.’

  ‘Was she, as they say, richly left?’

  ‘Yes. She was,’ Laura admitted.

  ‘I’m afraid that makes a terrible difference. Drinking yourself to death is an expensive way of committing suicide, and Tom left Silvia with very little money. That’s one of the reasons I worry so much about her. I felt so mean letting her go home alone yesterday evening, when all of us had one another and were so happy together.’

  ‘Couldn’t she come another evening?’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ Eve cheered up. ‘We’ll ask her for supper in a day or two, and when Alec comes back to collect you, we’ll all go out for dinner together. Somewhere terribly smart. That’s what Silvia really enjoys. An expensive dinner in a smart restaurant. It would be such a treat for her. And now, would you believe it, it’s nearly half past four? What would you say to having tea out here in the garden?’

  5

  LANDROCK

  EVERYTHING BAKED. Up in the vegetable garden, beyond the pea vines, the gardener toiled, stripped to the waist, planting young lettuces. On a browning patch of lawn, Gerald set up the sprinkler. The sun, shining through the spinning sprays of water, made rainbows. In the house, Eve drew down the drawing room blinds, and outside her cottage Drusilla sat on her doorstep while Joshua squatted beside her, digging up the corner of Eve’s herb bed with an old tin spoon.

  Wednesday. May’s day off. She had to be driven to the station to catch the train to Truro and Laura volunteered for this job. She went to fetch Eve’s car from the garage, backed it cautiously out, and waited for May by the back door. When May emerged, she leaned across to open the door for her and the old lady got in beside her. May was dressed up for her outing in a seemly brown dress patterned with squiggles and her child’s woollen hat with the bobble on top. She carried her ponderous handbag and a plastic carrier patterned with a Union Jack, which made her look as though she were about to go and cheer royalty.

  As instructed, Laura helped May buy her return ticket and saw her on to the train. ‘Have a good day, May.’

  ‘Thanks very much, dear.’

  She drove back to Tremenheere, parked the car once more in the shade of the garage. Drusilla and her child had disappeared, retreating to the cool of the cottage, and going into the kitchen, Laura saw that Gerald, too, had been defeated by the heat and was sitting at the kitchen table, drinking cold beer and reading the Times. Around him, Eve was trying to lay the table for lunch.

  ‘Oh, Laura, you angel.’ She looked up as Laura came through the open door. ‘Did you get her off all right?’

  ‘Yes.’ Laura pulled out a chair and sat f
acing Gerald’s open newspaper. ‘But won’t she expire in that hat?’

  ‘Imagine. Trailing around Truro in this heat, wearing a tea cosy on your head. It’s market day, too. Don’t let’s think about it. I’ve given up.’

  Gerald shut the Times and set it aside. ‘Let me get you both a drink.’ He pulled himself to his feet and went over to the fridge. ‘There’s lager here, or orange juice.…’

  They both opted for orange juice. Eve pulled off her apron, ran a hand through her short, silvery hair, and collapsed into a chair at the top of the long, scrubbed table.

  ‘What time does she get back? May, I mean.’

  ‘About seven. Somebody has to go and fetch her from the train. We’ll think about that later. What are we going to do with ourselves today? It’s almost too hot to decide.… Oh, thank you, darling, how delicious.’

  Ice bobbed against the tall glasses. ‘Don’t worry about me,’ said Laura. ‘I’m perfectly happy doing nothing in the garden.’

  ‘I suppose we could go to the beach.’ She touched Gerald’s hand as he sat beside her. ‘What are you going to do, my darling?’

  ‘I shall take a siesta. Get my head down for a couple of hours. Then when it’s cooler, I shall maybe contemplate a little gentle hoeing. The border’s like a jungle.’

  ‘You wouldn’t like to come to the beach with us?’

  ‘You know I never go to the beach in July or August. I object to being showered with sand, deafened by transistors, and anaesthetized by the smell of suntan oil.’

  ‘Well, perhaps—’

  But he interrupted her. ‘Eve, it’s too hot to be organized. Let’s have something to eat and then decide what we’re going to do.’

  Lunch was cold ham and crusty bread and butter and a dish of tomatoes. As they ate this delicious food, the simmering quiet of the day beyond the open door was broken by the sound of a car coming up from the gate and through the archway into the courtyard. There it stopped. A door slammed with a heavy thud. Eve laid down her fork and listened, turning her head towards the door. Footsteps came across the gravel and down the flagged walkway. A shadow fell across the patch of sunlight on the kitchen floor.

  ‘Hello, there.’

  Eve smiled. ‘Darling, you’re back.’ She turned up her face to be kissed. ‘Have you been in Bristol all this time?’

  ‘Got back this morning. Hello, Gerald.’

  ‘Hello, old boy.’

  ‘And this’—he was looking down at Laura—‘this has to be Alec’s Laura.’

  His saying that—Alec’s Laura— melted any shyness or restraint. He held out his hand, and Laura put her own into it and smiled up into his face.

  She saw a young man of good height, but not as tall as Gerald or Alec. Broad-shouldered and very tanned, with blunt, boyish features, his mother’s bright speedwell blue eyes, and thick fair hair. He wore a pair of washed-out cotton trousers patched over the knees and a blue-and-white checked shirt. A thick serviceable watch encircled one wrist, and around his neck, revealed by the low-buttoned shirt, hung a gold medallion on a thin silver chain.

  ‘How do you do,’ they both said, formally and at the same time. This sounded ridiculous, and Ivan laughed. His smile was wide and ingenuous, disarming as his mother’s, and Laura recognized the famous charm that had landed him in so much trouble over the years.

  ‘Had any lunch?’ Gerald asked him, and he let go of Laura’s hand and turned to his stepfather.

  ‘No, I haven’t, actually. Is there any to spare?’

  ‘Heaps,’ said his mother. She got to her feet and went to collect another plate, a glass, knives and forks.

  ‘Where’s May? Oh, of course, it’s Wednesday, isn’t it? Truro day. I should think she might die in this heat.’

  ‘How did you get on in Bristol?’ Gerald asked.

  ‘Very successful.’ He went to the fridge for a can of lager and came back to the table, drawing up a chair alongside Laura and letting Eve lay a place in front of him. He opened the can and reached for a glass and poured the lager neatly, with no head to it. ‘We got two orders from one store and a tentative order from another. The head buyer was away on holiday and the other chap didn’t want to commit himself. That’s why we were so long.’

  ‘Oh, darling, that is good.… Mathie must be thrilled.’

  ‘Yes, it’s encouraging.’ Ivan leaned forward to cut himself a thick slice of bread. His hands, doing this, were neat and strong and competent, their backs, and his bare forearms, downed in sun-bleached hair.

  ‘Where did you stay in Bristol?’ Eve asked.

  ‘Oh, some pub Mathie knew.’

  ‘Lots of traffic on the motorway?’

  ‘Not too bad … middle-of-the-week stuff.’ He took a tomato and began to slice it. He said to Laura, ‘You’ve brought the good weather with you. I heard the forecast on the radio. It seems to be set fair for a few more days. How’s Alec?’

  ‘He’s very well, thank you.’

  ‘I was sorry to miss him. But he’s coming back for you, isn’t he? That’s fine, I’ll see him then.’

  ‘You can come out to dinner with us,’ said Eve. ‘Laura and I have decided that one night, we’re all going to go somewhere terribly expensive and grand for dinner, and we’re going to ask Silvia to come with us.’

  ‘She’ll love that,’ said Ivan. ‘Head waiters to hand and a quick fox-trot between courses.’

  ‘Who’s going to pay the bill?’ asked Gerald.

  ‘You are, of course, my darling.’

  He was not in the least put out by this, as Eve knew he would not be. ‘Very well. But remember to ring and book a table in good time. And don’t let it be that place where they gave us rotten scampi. Took me days to get over it.’

  Ivan made the coffee. ‘What are you all doing this afternoon?’

  ‘Good question,’ said Gerald.

  ‘Gerald’s going to have a little nap. He says he won’t come to the beach with us.’

  ‘Are you going to the beach?’

  ‘We haven’t decided.’ Eve took a sip of her coffee. ‘What are you going to do? Go up to the factory, I suppose?’

  ‘No, I have to drive to Landrock. Old Mr Coleshill’s got some old pine pieces in … there’s been a sale at some big house. He’s given us first refusal, and if I don’t go today, the dealers are going to find out about them.’

  Eve took another sip of coffee. ‘Why don’t you take Laura with you?’ she suggested. ‘It’s a pretty drive, and she’d probably enjoy nosing round Mr Coleshill’s antiques.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Ivan at once. He turned to Laura. ‘Would you like to come with me?’

  This unexpected suggestion took Laura unawares. ‘Well … yes. But, please, don’t worry about me.’

  Eve and Ivan laughed. ‘We’re not worrying,’ Eve told her, ‘and you don’t have to go if you’d rather rest. But you might enjoy it. And the shop’s filled with pretty china as well as a mass of dusty junk. It’s fun nosing around.’

  Laura loved antique shops almost as much as she loved bookshops. ‘I think I’d like to come.… Would you mind if I brought my dog as well?’

  ‘Not at all, provided it’s not a Great Dane prone to car sickness.’

  Eve said, ‘She’s a dear little dachshund, but I think she’d be happier left with me. She can play in the garden.’

  ‘That’s settled, then.’ Ivan pushed back his chair. ‘We’re off to Landrock. And on the way back, we’ll maybe stop at Gwenvoe and have a bathe.’

  ‘I was there two days ago,’ his mother told him. ‘The tide’s out just now and the swimming’s perfect.’

  ‘Would you like that, Laura?’

  ‘I’d love it.’

  ‘We’ll leave in about fifteen minutes. I’ve got a couple of phone calls to make … and don’t forget your swimming things.’

  His car was just what she had expected, an open coupé, which meant that the wind blew her hair from the back, all over her face. She tried to hold it back, but it w
as an impossible task, so Ivan produced an old silk scarf and she tied her head up in that, wondering how many of his girlfriends had already done just this thing.

  They followed the main road for a mile or so, moving at great speed, and then turned off into a maze of winding high-hedged lanes. These, with their narrowness and blind corners, Ivan treated with respect and took at a leisurely pace. They trundled peacefully along, every now and then passing small villages or isolated farms, where the air was heavy with the smell of manure and farmhouse gardens bright with flowers. Fuchsias grew in the hedges, purple and deep pink, and ditches were filled with butter-cups and tall, creamy stalks of cow parsley.

  ‘It’s so peaceful,’ said Laura.

  ‘We could have taken the main road, but I always come to Landrock this way.’

  ‘If you build new furniture, why do you have to go and buy old furniture?’

  ‘We do both. When I first met Mathie, he was in the pine-stripping business. Had quite a good little concern going and no shortage of material. But then stripped pine became suddenly very fashionable and all the London dealers were down, buying anything they could get their hands on. The supply started petering out.’

  ‘What did he do?’

  ‘He couldn’t do anything much. He couldn’t afford to top their prices, and after a bit he couldn’t supply his own customers. That’s when I came in, a year ago. I met him in a pub, and he poured out his troubles to me over a glass of beer. He’s such a good chap, I went the next day to look at his workshop, and I saw some chairs he’d made himself, and a table. I asked him why he didn’t start up manufacturing the stuff himself, and he said he couldn’t, because he hadn’t the capital to buy machinery and generally shoulder all the overheads involved. So we went into partnership. I put up the money, and Mathie put up the expertise. We’ve had a few thin months, but I’m more hopeful now. I think it’s beginning to pay off.’