The Runaway Daughter

by Joanna Rees

  ‘These,’ Nancy said, delving into her velvet pouch, pulling out two pills and showing them to Vita in her palm.

  ‘What are they?’

  ‘What are they?’ she repeated in a mock-innocent voice. ‘Hmm. Well . . . I would say they’re a sort of magic.’

  Nancy was teasing her, but Vita still didn’t have a clue what she meant.

  ‘Seriously. What are they?’ she asked again.

  ‘Well, why don’t we go and find out?’ Nancy said archly. ‘If you’re up for a bit of adventure, that is?’

  It was another challenge, and Verity Casey would never turn down one of those, would she?

  ‘Always,’ she said, letting Nancy pull her to her feet. ‘Lead on.’

  44

  The Bath

  Nancy procured a whole bottle of champagne for their secret mission and two crystal glasses, which she gave to Vita to hold. Vita had assumed they were going outside to join the others on the terrace, where she could still hear dancing and raucous laughter, but to her surprise Nancy led her upstairs and along a narrow corridor, then up and up another set of stairs. The further away from the party they got, however, the more drunk Vita realized she was. Nancy was, too, and they staggered up the last few stairs, tripping over each other.

  ‘Sh . . . sh-shh,’ Nancy whispered, giggling and then opening a door along the corridor.

  ‘What are we doing?’

  ‘This is Annabelle’s mother’s bathroom,’ Nancy told her. ‘I happen to know the man who designed it,’ she said, walking across the sumptuous cream carpet and turning on the fancy brass light switch. ‘Annabelle’s mother is as rich as Croesus. So she had this done.’

  The lamps on the walls flickered into life and Vita whistled, awestruck. The bathroom had been redecorated like a sort of temple, complete with pillars and a raised area that housed a sunken marble bath.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Vita asked, confused, as Nancy kicked off her shoes and trotted on tiptoe to the bath, leaning over and inserting the plug.

  ‘The first time I took one of these, it was in the bath. I want you to have the same experience,’ she said, holding up the velvet pouch.

  Vita wasn’t sure what ‘these’ were – only that Nancy must be referring to the pills she had been given. Was that what all this was about? Why she was being so secretive and funny? And what were they doing in a bathroom? She felt drunk and too fuzzy to argue. So far, this had been the best night of her life. She couldn’t think of anything she’d rather be doing than having an adventure with Nancy.

  ‘Now, I bet Mrs M has some rather wonderfully scented oil around here somewhere,’ Nancy declared, starting to pick up each bottle from the assortment of tasteful containers on the mirrored shelf. She was being so confident and bold, thought Vita. ‘Oh yes – this. Smell that. Simply divine,’ she said, wafting a bottle of gorgeous-smelling bath oil beneath Vita’s nose. She turned on the large silver taps and poured the bottle with a lavish flourish into the running water. ‘And, good – hot water.’

  She was being serious! Vita looked back at the door. She couldn’t have a bath. Not in front of Nancy. And not at a party. What was she thinking?

  ‘Nancy, we can’t,’ she began, but then was suddenly overcome as she saw the cloud of steam rising from the bath. There really was hot water running out of a tap. She walked over and put her hand under it. It was coming out all by itself. Like a miracle.

  ‘Don’t you love it,’ Nancy said. ‘I often bathe at a party. No one minds.’

  She was unwrapping the foil from the bottle of champagne and Vita watched in admiration. All her life she’d been led to believe that only men could do things like open champagne bottles, but Nancy did all those things quite naturally by herself.

  ‘Glasses, quick-quick,’ Nancy instructed, and Vita held up the glasses as Nancy popped the cork, which hit the ceiling and then landed in the sink. She caught the froth in the glasses, slurping at the excess bubbles.

  ‘Now, are you ready?’ Nancy asked, putting down her glass on the edge of the bath and taking out the pills. ‘Let me introduce you to the wild side.’

  Vita looked at the small pill in Nancy’s hand.

  ‘Be bold, Vita,’ Nancy said. ‘I’m here, and I promise I won’t leave you. You said yourself that life is for living. And if you really want to be wild and daring, then you’ve got to learn to party properly. So go on.’

  Vita pulled a face, tempted to back away, but Nancy’s eyes were too challenging. She couldn’t refuse. Not now. And if Nancy was promising not to leave her, then what harm could it do? She crossed herself, before putting the pill in her mouth and swallowing it down with a gulp of champagne.

  ‘Now, seriously, get in the bath. It’s the best place,’ Nancy instructed.

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘Just strip off and get in. It’s only me,’ Nancy said, as if Vita was being ridiculous.

  Vita giggled, tingling all over with nervous excitement, and a few moments later she had discarded her dress, camiknickers and stockings. In the warm cocoon of the bathroom, she didn’t mind being naked, and Nancy made it all feel very normal. She put her feet in and, with a groan of bliss, sat down in the bubbly water.

  ‘I can’t believe I’m really doing this.’

  Nancy smiled, humming softly as she lit some candles, and then turned off the lights. Shadows danced up the wall. ‘Anything yet?’

  Vita wondered what she meant.

  ‘No, but this is glorious,’ she sighed, letting the feeling of the water seep over her as she closed her eyes. She had no idea how much time passed, or even if she might have nodded off, but the next thing she knew, she felt as if she were melting into the bath and that she had become as fluid as the water itself.

  Nancy sat on the side of the bath, watching her closely through narrowed eyes, trailing her hand in the water. ‘It feels weird. But good?’

  Vita nodded, but she wasn’t sure she could speak. She could see whirls of colours everywhere, bright flashes of green and orange. She closed her eyes, but that only made it worse. What on earth was happening to her?

  ‘Wait,’ Nancy said. ‘I’m coming in, too.’

  Vita watched through a fuzzy, euphoric haze as Nancy undressed, flinging aside her clothes, and climbed in the opposite end of the bath. She’d never seen anyone fully naked before, and it struck her how like the statue in her flat Nancy was. How elegant the curve of her back was and the tilt of her pert breasts. No wonder her brother had wanted to sculpt her.

  Vita shuffled up, giggling. She was in a bath. Naked at a party. With another woman, but the rest of the world – the party – seemed to have receded and there was only this moment.

  ‘What if someone catches us?’ Vita managed to say. Her mouth felt strange, the words difficult to form. She reached for her champagne glass, sloshing the contents in the water as she aimed for her mouth. She giggled.

  ‘I locked the door, but you’d be surprised how many men would love to discover us right now,’ Nancy said, easing herself down into the water. ‘We’d be their wildest fantasy.’

  ‘Really?’ Vita asked. ‘Why?’

  Nancy laughed her chandelier-tinkle. ‘You really are so green, my darling. You don’t know the first thing about men, do you?’

  She knew quite a lot about men. About men like her father and Clement, but she didn’t want them in her head. Not now.

  ‘I suppose not.’

  ‘I bet you’ve never even kissed one, have you?’

  Vita laughed. ‘No.’

  Nancy sat up. ‘I want your first kiss,’ she declared, making Vita giggle even more, as she shifted her position in the bath and slid next to her so that their bodies were touching. It felt deliciously slippery, as if their skin was fusing together.

  But it wasn’t strange. Even so, Vita felt heat rising in her as Nancy moved, the water running around them. She felt a bolt of electricity as their breasts touched beneath the water. She put her arm around Nancy, pressing herself against
her.

  Then Nancy’s face was above hers and she leant down and kissed her fully on the lips.

  45

  On the Sabbath

  Clement liked the way the crowd parted when he limped heavily on his crutches towards them along the church path, a deferential hush falling on the workers who were gathered for the service. Even the birds seemed to stop chirruping in the tall cedar trees.

  He ignored the pain as he leant heavily on his crutches, knowing that his limp gave him more power. It gave the message that nothing could defeat him. Not even a prize stallion. He saw the men quickly grab their caps from their heads and the women look down. Not one of them dared meet his eye.

  Did any of them know? he wondered. Did any of them know where Anna was?

  In the silence he heard one of the workers mutter something under his breath. Was that for his benefit? To drive home this nonsense about the charter they’d put together, demanding better conditions? They were lucky to have work, as far as he was concerned. There were plenty more willing to take their places, if they didn’t like it.

  Inside, as the congregation sang the first pitiful hymn, Clement kept his mouth firmly shut, glaring hard at Father McDougal, who looked as if he were hurriedly rewriting the sermon he had planned, now that Clement had joined the congregation. Clement knew all too well how the priest might well incite insubordination amongst the workers. After all, he was from working stock himself. His mother had worked in the very first Darton Mill, until the new spinning mule had chopped off her arm. Stupid woman.

  Clement afforded himself a sideways and backward glance, seeing a row of the younger mill women in their Sunday best. He caught the eye of one of them and she looked away hurriedly from his gaze. He smiled inwardly, knowing already that he’d seek her out at the end and find out her name and which mill she worked in. He wasn’t sure he would be able to go as far as he’d like, with his back in so much pain, but some fresh meat was what he needed to make himself feel human again. As long as she didn’t do anything stupid and get herself pregnant. Like that blonde a few years ago. He didn’t want any more children turning up at the Hall, like that brat.

  ‘We welcome Master Darton this morning. We’re so pleased to see you walking, sir,’ Father McDougal said.

  Hobbling, Clement thought, as he bowed his head in recognition.

  ‘I shall be leading prayers for both you and your sister.’

  Clement heard a shuffle and a murmur behind him. It seemed everyone knew that Anna had run away in the night, having stolen money, and he baulked at the thought that her disappearance made the Darton family seem weak.

  He spent the rest of the service imagining what he’d do to Anna as a punishment when she was finally found. He visualized taking an iron bar to her knees and making her feel the pain of never being able to run, cycle, play tennis or ride again, like he never would. He’d make her pay, too, for every moment she had been away.

  As the service ended, he limped very slowly down the aisle, giving everyone the chance to see how injured he was . . . and how brave, for enduring the pain his sister had inflicted.

  ‘Sir, if I might have a word?’

  It was Harrison, the foreman. He clutched his hat nervously in his hands in front of him.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘It’s about your sister. Miss Darton.’

  ‘What about her?’

  ‘There’s talk of getting together a collection. Some money to help with finding her.’

  Clement was astounded. He hadn’t for one second thought the workers would even consider such a thing. He almost told Harrison to keep his money, but actually why shouldn’t the workers pay for Rawlings’s hefty fee?

  ‘That’s . . . well, very generous of you, Harrison.’

  ‘It wasn’t my idea. The girls on the cutting-room floor –Meg and Ruth – and John, too. They’re the ones who are worried. Miss Darton is very good to them. They are worried about where she might have gone. Or if she’s got lost . . .’

  Clement bristled, annoyed at the man’s sentimental tone. Annoyed that there had obviously been talk in his mills about his sister, when it was none of their business. Anna only flitted in occasionally, and now they were presuming to actually care about her.

  Harrison nodded and went to turn away, then thought better of it. He clutched his cap.

  ‘She’s a sweet lass. I’m with the girls at the mill. I hope nothing hard has befallen her.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sure she’ll have managed, somehow,’ Clement said, with a tight smile. ‘She can be beguiling when she wants to be. And quite manipulative. I’m sure someone, somewhere, is looking after her. Rest assured that as soon as we’ve found her, she will come back and apologize for causing such a fuss.’

  Harrison frowned at Clement’s cold tone. Then he nodded and turned away.

  ‘But thank you, for your idea of the collection,’ Clement called after him. ‘That will be most useful.’

  46

  Hungover

  Vita woke up feeling wretched. The other beds in the attic at Mrs Bell’s were empty and rain pattered on the skylight. She groaned and rolled over onto her back, but her head was so painful, it felt like she’d been hit with a club. And then, slowly, images started to come back . . .

  The party. The cocktails. The drugs . . . because, oh yes, there’d been drugs with Nancy . . . Nancy!

  ‘Oh!’ Vita sat bolt-upright. She clung onto the iron bedstead, steadying herself for a moment as the room lurched. ‘Oh God, oh God,’ she whispered, throwing back the cover. She was going to be sick.

  In the bathroom downstairs she held her stomach as she retched, and then washed her face and stared at her reflection in the mirror. A whole world of emotions seemed to be tumbling inside her.

  What she had done had been so wrong. And yet it had felt right at the time. But now the horrifying thought that someone might find out made her feel even sicker.

  She checked round the door. Had anyone heard her? The house was oddly quiet. It was Sunday, she remembered, thinking of the cold church near Darton Hall and Father McDougal’s obsequious way with her parents. How she’d struggled all her life with her father’s pious hypocrisy. But not today. She splashed her face with cold water, washing the memory away.

  ‘Aha! It’s alive!’

  It was Percy. She turned to him, shocked.

  ‘Come in here,’ he said, beckoning her into his room. ‘I have tea. And salts.’ He looked at her over his glasses. ‘You definitely need salts.’

  He left the door open and Vita went in, aware that she was in her nightdress and only now noticing that it was on backwards.

  ‘I can’t let anyone see me like this,’ she groaned.

  ‘We have a bit of time before they’re all back from church,’ Percy said, putting a record on the gramophone and turning down the volume. ‘Mrs Bell has to do all that atoning, for giving a bunch of debauched dancing girls a home.’

  Vita smiled weakly, realizing now that she’d promised she’d go with Emma and Jane, who had told her that the curate was incredibly sweet and that together they enjoyed making him blush.

  ‘Oh. I’m going to hell,’ she muttered. ‘Or maybe I am already in hell.’

  Percy laughed. ‘I don’t know what got into you last night, but you were all over the place when you demanded we come home. Edward dropped us both back.’

  ‘Did I?’ Vita scratched her head. She couldn’t remember getting home. She could only remember . . .

  Nancy. Oh God. Nancy and the bath.

  ‘It was a good party,’ Percy said, eyeing her over the top of his cup.

  Vita nodded. ‘I suppose.’

  ‘You made quite an impression with that dress.’

  She nodded again, shame pulsing around her veins.

  ‘Oh, come on,’ Percy snapped, laughing. ‘Spill the beans! Who were you with? Because something happened.’

  Vita covered her face. ‘I can’t tell you.’

  ‘You can tell me anything
.’

  Vita felt her heart hammering. Could she tell him? ‘If I told you, would you promise not to tell anyone. Ever?’

  ‘Cross my heart and hope to die.’

  ‘Nancy gave me something – a pill – and we . . . I . . . we . . . had a bath.’

  Percy spluttered his tea. ‘A bath? At the party?’

  ‘Yes!’

  ‘Well, that accounts for the flood then,’ he said.

  ‘There was a flood?’

  ‘Yes, quite a kerfuffle. Annabelle didn’t have a clue how it happened, but water started coming through the chandelier in the dining room. And then the electrics went and the party was plunged into darkness.’

  ‘Oh, goodness.’

  Percy shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t worry about it. You got away with it.’

  How could he be so matter-of-fact? ‘But don’t you think it’s . . . well, strange?’ Vita uttered, shocked that her revelation hadn’t caused a bigger reaction from Percy.

  ‘What, the flood?’

  ‘No!’ Vita said, exasperated. ‘The fact that . . . well, I was in the bath. With . . . with Nancy?’

  Where was his moral outrage? she wondered. Why was he being so calm?

  Percy looked at her, his face softening. ‘Darling, what are you expecting? Some kind of telling-off? From me? I’m the last person on earth to judge you for anything you do. As far as I’m concerned, you can do what you want. As long as you were having fun, then what’s the problem?’

  ‘I think I was.’

  ‘Well then, no harm done. Apart from to Annabelle’s priceless inlaid oak table. A family heirloom, I’m told—’

  ‘Oh, stop it,’ Vita said.

  Percy smiled and stood up. ‘That’s better. Now drink some tea and stop feeling hungover.’

  He made her drink two cups of tea and some salts, before fetching her some large slabs of buttery toast and home-made marmalade from the kitchen; and after that, she felt immeasurably better. The music, the rain on the window, the tea in her belly, the soft glow of Percy’s desk lamp, but most of all being with Percy, made her feel safe.