by Kirsty Ferry
Almost involuntarily, he clutched the edges of the paper. He had come up here expecting once again to be late, but now he thought about it – he might just be in time. He had seen that group of boys come to the Island and wondered whether it would coax her out. She would relish the challenge. And what could be easier than letting one of them ‘drown’? Young men, alcohol and deep water were never a good combination. He remembered the boy in the corridor this morning. I won’t be around for one thing. Well, not until later. Maybe.
Guy swore. That was it. She had already started. He scraped the chair back and threw the newspaper on the table. He raced out into the street and looked around him, his keen eyes seeing clearly through the darkness. Eventually, he saw the boy’s room-mate meandering through the street, his hands in his pockets. In an instant, Guy was next to him.
The boy jumped. ‘Sorry, mate, didn’t see you there!’ he said, trying to walk past him.
Guy stepped in front of him. ‘Where’s your friend?’ he asked. The boy shrugged his shoulders. ‘Your room mate? I need to see him about something.’
‘Who? Lucas? Dunno. Around somewhere. In a pub, maybe? With that girl he met?’
‘What did she look like?’ Guy asked. He could remember Veva’s dark hair and even darker eyes as if it was yesterday.
Drew shrugged again. ‘Dunno. Ginger, I think. Never gone for Gingers myself.’ He pronounced the word Gin-ga. Guy stood back. Maybe it wasn’t her after all. Then the boy laughed. ‘I liked her friend better.’
‘What?’ Guy interrupted, instantly on his guard again. ‘She had a friend with her?’
‘Yes. Sorry, no it wasn’t a friend.’ He thought for a moment, screwing his face up. Guy restrained himself from shaking the boy. He wasn’t sure if he was being deliberately obstreperous ‘That’s it,’ the boy said suddenly. ‘They were sisters. The dark one was better. I wanted to catch him before he left, ask him to set me up on a date with her. Shame I missed him...’
‘Thank you,’ Guy cut him short. ‘Stay away from those girls. I have to go and find your friend.’
The boy opened his mouth to speak, but Guy was off, running down the street.
‘The pubs are that way!’ called the boy after him. Guy didn’t answer. He was heading to the beach - a storm was blowing up, the causeway would be covered and he had a very good idea where to start looking for Lucas. He felt the weight of the dagger bounce against his hip as he ran. It was secure and he knew what he had to do.
1926
The house looked perfect. The evening sun was bathing the lawn with a golden light and the remnants of the picnic tea lay on the blankets, ready for the maids to remove. Soon, the glasses of champagne would appear and the guests would wander out into the grounds before dinner was served.
‘Will they remember us?’ the dark-haired girl asked, hanging back as her companion got out of the sleek, green sports car.
‘I would imagine so,’ replied the other girl. The sun tinted her bobbed curls with copper lights. She stretched like a cat. ‘Come along, darling,’ she said. ‘This is the place.’
‘I know it’s the place,’ said the dark one. ‘It looks so familiar.’
‘Well, by eight o’clock, they won’t even know what they’re doing here, never mind us. We just have to wait.’ She turned to her friend and her sapphire blue eyes hardened. ‘Let me talk.’
The dark girl pouted her perfect, cupid’s bow lips. ‘Why don’t you trust me?’ she asked.
‘It’s too important, sweetheart. It has to be me.’
The dark girl slid gracefully out of the car and padded silently behind the red-head.
‘You should have let me cut your hair,’ said the red-head. ‘It’s modern.’
‘I don’t care.’ The dark-haired girl wore her hair in a dishevelled bun and strands were escaping everywhere. She pushed a silver comb in more securely. ‘What will you tell them? Oh! Oh look. That’s him, isn’t it?’ She put a hand on the girl’s shoulder, stopping her firmly as a young man in tennis whites sauntered around the front of the house whistling. He threw the racquet onto an ornate, white seat and ran up the front staircase. The door was wide open and he disappeared inside. ‘He’s changed a little,’ she said, more to herself than to her companion.
‘I believe it is him,’ said the red-head. ‘That’s Leo, darling, try to remember that.’ A small, self-satisfied smile played on her lips. ‘Good evening, Leo,’ she murmured. ‘Enjoy it, won’t you? We will.’
***
Leo Hartley swaggered through the hallway, peering into the open rooms as he passed them. The drawing room was his least favourite room of the whole place. That was where they reckoned the murder had taken place – still, he thought, had his dear old relation-somewhat-removed not been dallying with the wrong sort of girl, he wouldn’t have been killed by her; and he, Leo Hartley, would have remained some obscure cousin and never inherited the place. Leo looked up at the portrait of the young, arrogant-looking William John Hartley as he walked past, and nodded at it. Hartside and all its associated wealth had passed through the mother’s side after the murder; there being no male Hartley relatives to bear the name. It had landed in his father’s hands eventually; the only proviso being the family changed their name to Hartley to accommodate the inheritance terms. There had been no objection. His father had died during the early part of the Great War and Leo had hardly known him, to be honest. And thus, he had inherited the place. He had also inherited a fair amount of female interest along with it; the genetic mix of the Hartleys was very good. He had the reputation as one of the wealthiest and best-looking young men in London. He had never known that girls could be so forthright. He had spent quite a bit of time in the Capital, and the whole ethos of the Bright Young People was enchanting. Drink, drugs, girls and parties; it was a marvellous lifestyle.
Leo lived and breathed society – and tonight was no exception. The invitation had gone out, Leo thought, somewhere around two a.m. at a costume ball three weeks ago. He had been entranced by a dark-haired girl who had sat on the floor; a vision in a blue, Victorian ball dress. Her eyes were somewhat glassy and unfocussed and she stared at him strangely while he tried to talk to her. It was difficult to articulate the words he wanted after several bottles of champagne, but she didn’t seem to mind. She was probably as blotto as he was: inebriated, no less.
‘So yes,’ he had burbled, ‘I own an absolutely enormous property. If I wasn’t so spifflicated I could probably drive us there within a couple of hours…but I say, it hasn’t stopped me in the past if you’re up for it.’
The girl had continued staring at him. ‘I think I know you,’ she’d said softly. ‘Have we met?’
‘Possibly. Maybe. Hell, how should I know?’ He had laughed and slumped down next to her.
She had never taken her eyes off him, as if she was drilling deep into his mind. ‘What year is it?’ she had asked. ‘What are we doing here?’ Then she looked down, as if seeing her dress for the first time. Her fingers twitched and she dug her nails into one of the taffeta frills on the skirt. Carefully, she began to tear it off, concentrating on the material and seeming to forget where she was.
‘I say, baby, don’t do that!’ said Leo, laughing. ‘I can wait, you know. Come back to the mews house. There’s room there; we don’t have to do it here.’
‘Mews house?’ she said, looking up. ‘What’s wrong with the summer house?’
‘Well, if you come to Hartside, you can see the summer house,’ he had wheedled. ‘In fact, I’m having a blow there in a couple of weeks. Why don’t you come?’
The girl’s head snapped up. ‘Hartside?’ she said, her voice suddenly stronger. She moved quickly and she was on her knees in front of him. ‘I do know you. I’ve been there.’ She started to laugh. ‘I can remember you very well.’
‘Well, that’s just swanky!’ he said. ‘You see, we were meant to be together.’
‘Yes we were,’ she said and she wrapped her arms around his neck, smiling.
‘Jenny, darling, leave him alone,’ said a quiet, authoritative voice. ‘Not tonight, sweetheart.’ This Jenny-girl had looked up and Leo had followed her glance. Another girl stood there, wearing a flowing, ballerina costume exactly like something Isadora Duncan would wear. She even stood like a dancer, her feet poised just so. Her red hair was piled up on her head with a white ribbon wound through it and her eyes were the brightest blue Leo had ever seen.
‘Well, hello, doll!’ he said smiling at her. ‘How well do you girlies know each other? Why is it “not tonight, sweetheart”? Did you have other plans?’ He laughed loudly and pulled away from Jenny. ‘Can you count me in?’
‘I would simply adore that,’ said the dancer, ‘but I’m afraid I have other plans for you. Another time, maybe?’ She smiled at him and blew him a little kiss. ‘When is this simply marvellous party you mentioned to my sister?’
‘What? Oh – did you hear that?’ he said. The girl was moving in and out of focus now, the champagne and the cocaine beginning to take effect.
‘I heard everything,’ smiled the dancer. ‘I’m Cass. And you are...?’
‘I am, myself, no less than Leo Hartley,’ he said.
‘Leo Hartley?’ said Jenny. ‘But...’
‘Come along, darling,’ said Cass and helped Jenny to her feet.
Jenny bent down, apparently to take her shoes off. She tossed them to one side and stood up again, swaying unsteadily. She pulled one hair pin out after another and her hair tumbled down around her shoulders. She swept it angrily to one side and began it claw her fingers through it, brushing it out with her nails. ‘Hartley,’ she murmured, then reached up to the young man. She wound her arms around his neck again. ‘One last time, my love,’ she said and kissed him. Leo started to laugh.
‘This “do” gets better and better!’ he said. ‘I shall see you on...yes. On the 26th. Be there.’
‘Most definitely,’ said Cass. She smiled at him and winked. ‘Are you inviting both of us? I hope you won’t decide later you’ve only got time for one of us?’
‘Never!’ said Leo. It was his turn to sway. ‘I’ve always got time for lookers like you.’ The room started to spin and he groped behind him for a chair. Precariously, he sat down on it and watched the girls sashay out of the room. Jenny picked her skirt up and seemed to revel in the swishing material, whereas Cass almost glided. Leo was looking forward to the twenty sixth. At least that seemed to be his thoughts before he passed out.
***
The red-head approached the house and shouted through the open door. ‘Leo! Leo, darling, are we in the right place for the blow?’
A blonde girl balancing a cigarette in a silver holder popped out of a side-room and looked the pretty red-head up and down. She took in her glitzy, fringed frock and the strings of pearls hanging down to her waist. Surprisingly, she smiled. ‘I say, I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure? Dear Leo acquires ladies wherever he goes – I’m sure we will have seen each other in passing, but I can’t recall your name?’
‘I’m Cass,’ said the red-head. She held her hand out to the blonde girl. ‘I remember you from the fancy dress ball. Weren’t you Marie Antoinette?’
The blonde girl laughed, the tinkling sound bell-like. ‘My, how observant you are, Cass. Yes, that’s very true. I was indeed Marie Antoinette.’ She dropped a theatrical curtsey. ‘I’m better known as Jemima.’
‘It’s a pleasure, Jemima,’ smiled Cass.
‘I’m Leo’s girlfriend,’ she said. 'Well, one of his girlfriends. It’s the lifestyle you know – one can’t be too keen on monogamy. In fact, monogs are so - blaah.’ She pulled a face.
‘You’re his girlfriend?’ That came from the other girl.
Cass took hold of her hand and pulled her close. ‘This is my sister, Jenny,’ said Cass.
‘Oh. Marvellous to meet you as well, Jenny,’ said Jemima. She held her hand out to her. ‘We can be Jenny and Jem; what fun!’ Jenny stared at her without smiling. The dress she wore was made of black lace and had chiffon drapes attached to the waist. The drapes fell down, skimming her narrow hips and forming a handkerchief-style skirt. She made no move to shake Jemima’s hand, and the blonde girl’s smile faltered.
She dropped her hand and turned back to Cass. ‘Come along in, then. Leo’s around here somewhere,’ she said. She flicked the cigarette ash into a nearby vase and headed along the corridor, peeping into rooms and calling his name. She turned to see that the newcomers were following her and saw Jenny hanging back, then wander into the drawing room. Jemima tutted under her breath. This one was clearly still recovering from some party or other. ‘Jenny!’ she shouted. ‘This way, please!’ She turned to speak to Cass and saw the other girl looking pale and ill. Oh God, not another one that was going to vomit all over the rugs. ‘Cass – are you quite well?’ she enquired.
‘Yes, thank you. It’s just – well, it’s a little oppressive in here after outside, that’s all. Jemima, darling, could you retrieve my sister please? I don’t want to go anywhere we shouldn’t be.’ She smiled again, but Jemima could tell it was forced.
‘It’s an open house, sweetpea,’ said Jemima shrugging. ‘She’s welcome to go in; just she won’t find us later on.’
‘She will,’ replied Cass. ‘We’ve been here once before – eons ago, it seems.’ She narrowed her eyes at Jemima. ‘Long before you were on the scene.’
Jemima felt slightly miffed. She decided to ignore that comment. ‘Then if that’s the case, we should just go on ahead without her,’ she said tightly. She flounced away.
Just as Jemima approached the bottom of the grand staircase, a man came down the stairs limping and leaning on a polished wooden cane. He seemed to be in his late twenties and had a thin, haunted face. He was a good-looking young man despite that, and his brown hair flopped engagingly down over one eye.
His face lit up as he saw Jemima coming towards them. ‘Jemima!’ he said. ‘That’s where you are. I’ve been searching for you.’
‘Stephen!’ replied Jemima, blushing beneath her face powder. ‘I’m just welcoming some new friends to Hartside. Leo knows them. I seem to have lost one of them on my way though.’
‘I’m here,’ said Jenny. Jemima jumped. Jenny was standing behind her, looking at her oddly. ‘Some things never change,’ Jenny said. She looked past Jemima towards the portrait of Leo’s long-lost relative. She made a small aaah sound under her breath and walked past Jemima towards it.
‘Jenny,’ said Cass. There was a warning in her voice. ‘Come along, darling. We’ve so much to do before the fun starts.’
‘Now isn’t that a wonderful portrait,’ said Jenny. ‘Why, I think I’ve seen some pictures like that before.’ She reached her hand out and tenderly traced it down the side of the man’s face. ‘Will Hartley.’ She smiled and tilted her head to one side. ‘Hello, darling.’ Then she laughed. She turned to Cass, her eyes dancing with excitement. ‘I’m so looking forward to the party!’ she said. ‘Are you going to introduce us to your friend?’ She held her hand out to Stephen.
Stephen smiled and took it. ‘Stephen Masters’ he said. ‘Late of the Royal Sussex Regiment.’
‘Stephen was in the R.A.F. during the War,’ said Jemima. She linked his free arm, proprietarily; the one he leaned on his stick.
‘Afraid I left a chunk of my leg behind,’ he said. He loosened his grip on Jenny’s hand. ‘At least it got me out of the War.’
‘Stephen writes poetry, don’t you sweetie?’ said Jemima. Casually, she manoeuvred herself in between him and Jenny. ‘We’re great friends. Very lucky he came back to us.’ She looked up at him adoringly. ‘Very lucky indeed.’
Stephen met her gaze and his eyes softened. ‘Indeed,’ he said. ‘Jem and I go back years. Always thought we’d be together at some point in the future. Hey ho, that’s how it goes.’ He smiled ruefully.
‘Now darling, don’t be like that,’ scolded Jemima. ‘You left me.’ She pouted. ‘Can I help it if Leo came along in those a
wful years?’
‘I couldn’t hope to compete with him,’ said Stephen.
Jemima tinkled out a laugh. ‘Naughty boy,’ she said, tapping him on the nose. ‘It’s not the money...’ She bit her tongue. The two girls stared at her in silence and she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and cleared her throat. ‘Anyway. Leo should be here. Probably lounging around before dinner.’ She let go of Stephen’s arm and pushed open a door. The man in the tennis whites lay sprawled across a chaise longue, an empty bottle lying on the table next to him. Jemima shook him roughly and he opened one eye.
‘Jemmy-emmy-ima!’ he slurred. ‘Marvellous girl. Come here.’ He reached up and tried to hook his arms around her waist.
‘Visitors, darling,’ she said. ‘Two girlies you might know.’
He sat up and stared at them, a light dawning in his eyes. ‘I say!’ he cried. ‘I’ve one of each tonight: a blonde, a red-head and a brunette.’ He laughed and squeezed Jemima. ‘Is Stephen here? We did invite him, didn’t we?’
‘We did,’ she confirmed. ‘He’s here.’ She looked around but Stephen had disappeared, the faint tap-tap of his cane moving through the corridors of Hartside. ‘Well, he was here. Anyway, we’ll leave you to it. Don’t forget to change, you naughty man,’ she said. She pulled another cigarette out of a stand on the table and inserted it in her holder. She leaned over and lit it from a smouldering stub in the ashtray on the table beside the empty bottle.
