Christine noticed that her favourite blue dress was missing when she was hanging up the new things Caro had helped her to choose in London. Nothing they had bought was anything like as good as the clothes she’d had made for her before the war, and she had planned on cutting a skirt from the blue dress.
She supposed her mother had given the clothes to the village jumble sale, which wasn’t until the following week. It should be possible to buy the dress back. Miss Timpson usually ran the stall and she would put it by for her.
She finished her unpacking, ran a comb through her hair and picked up a brown paper parcel. She had purchased a pretty cotton blouse with an appliqué collar in Simon Robinson’s as a peace offering for Helene. After all, she was family in a roundabout way and a guest. It was up to Christine to make the first move towards a more friendly relationship.
As she left her room Christine could hear the sound of music. Someone had the radio on and they were playing a Glenn Miller song. Christine thought how sad it was that his plane had been lost the previous year as he was on his way to Paris; his music had brought so much pleasure to so many people.
She walked along the hall and knocked on Helene’s door. It was a moment or two before she was invited to enter and when she did so the words of reconciliation died unspoken.
Helene was wearing her blue dress, or at least what was left of it. She had made it into a skirt and bolero, using strips from another of Christine’s old dresses to lengthen the skirt and bind the bolero. She had also made a wide sash that emphasised her slender waist, completing the outfit with what Christine recognised as her mother’s second best silk blouse.
“Where did you get that?” Christine demanded, the angry words flying out before she had considered them. “Who told you could cut up my dresses? And why are you wearing Mummy’s blouse?”
Helene turned a diamond hard gaze on her. “Beth gave everything to me. She said you wouldn’t want the dresses anymore and when she saw what I’d made of them, she gave me the blouse to wear with this skirt.”
Christine was so furious. She felt like tearing the clothes from the older girl’s back, but the triumphant expression on Helene’s face stopped her. She sensed that Helene wanted her to make a fuss; she wanted Christine to appear selfish and spoilt.
“You probably won’t want this then.” She thrust the parcel at Helene, torn between anger and frustration. “It isn’t silk but you may as well have it. I bought it for you.”
Helene stared at her, making no attempt to take the gift. Christine tossed it on the bed and walked out before she said something she might regret later.
It might not have mattered so much if Helene hadn’t managed to look beautiful in her old things. The blue dress had never been as elegant on Christine even when it was new. Helene had a definite flair with clothes.
Wandering into the kitchen that afternoon, Christine found Cook at the kitchen table plucking pigeons for their dinner that evening. Mrs. Linford looked up as she approached, smiling broadly at her.
“I suppose you’ve come to see if I can find you a piece of my seedcake,” she said, as if she imagined Christine was still the child who had spent hours sitting at her table.
“You haven’t made one specially for me?” Christine sighed inwardly. There went her diet for another day! “You spoil me, Mrs. Linford.”
“Well, why not? It’s good to have you home again, Miss Christine. The dogs have been missing you. That French girl doesn’t like them much – bit of a strange one if you ask me.”
“Oh – why do you say that?”
“She doesn’t say much,” Cook said and pursued her mouth. “Secretive, that’s how I’d describe her – beautiful though, you can’t get away from that. She’ll have all the men after her…”
Christine nodded gloomily. She knew only too well that Helene was far more attractive than she could ever hope to be.
Taking her seed cake, she went outside into the gardens, where she saw Matthew Crane playing with one of the dogs.
She went over to him, breaking half of the cake and offering it to him. He took the offering and sat beside her on a wooden bench, munching in silence for some seconds.
“Are you enjoying your stay with us, Matthew?”
“Not half, miss,” he said and swallowed the last of his cake. “It’s great down ‘ere, ain’t it?”
“Yes, I like the country. Your uncle told me you want to be a farmer, is that right?”
“Yeah, when I leave school,” he grinned at her. “Paul says if we come and live down ‘ere it will be easier for me to get a job on a farm.”
“Do you think you will live here?”
“Yeah, I reckon. Me uncle usually gets what he wants. Ma always said he were brighter than the rest of us – went to college he did. He ain’t got much money yet, but he says he’s going to make his fortune one day, and I reckon he will if he sets his mind to it.”
“You are fond of your uncle, Matthew.”
“I reckon he’s all right – bit bossy though. He makes me do as I’m told.” Matthew grinned at her. “He’s coming down this weekend – says he’ll take me out of your mother’s way for a bit.”
“I don’t think you’ve been any trouble,” Christine said and smiled at him. “Do you want to come for a walk with me? We’ll take the dogs if you like.”
She ruffled his hair, and calling to the dogs set off. It was nice to have the youth’s company. At least it took her mind off other things for a while, though she couldn’t dismiss them completely. The change in Simon had hurt her, and she couldn’t help herself if she didn’t like Helene – could she?
Christine’s misery was compounded by the look in Simon's eyes when he first saw Helene just before dinner that evening. For one second he looked as if he had walked into a brick wall, then his expression changed to one of excitement and anticipation.
Remembering their conversation about falling in love in the car coming down, Christine felt as if he had taken a knife and plunged it into her chest in the region of her heart. It was obvious that he was more than a little interested in the new arrival, and equally clear to Christine that his reaction had amused Helene.
A light sprang up in those smoky, mysterious eyes, and a little smile of amusement played about her mouth as she took her hand from his, because he seemed reluctant to release it. Like a queen accepting homage from her subject, Christine thought jealously.
She listened to them sparring over dinner, saw Helene’s mouth quirk as she parried his thrusting jibes easily, and felt wretched. No wonder Simon thought of her as a child. His sarcasm would have reduced her to tears, but Helene seemed to thrive on it. Indeed, she had him squirming on the end of a line by the time dinner was over; he was hanging after her like a puppy dog with its tongue hanging out!
Christine didn’t know whether she was angrier with him or Helene. She could hardly wait for the meal to end. Once out of the dining room, she was on the point of going upstairs to her own room when she felt a touch on her arm, and turned to see that Henry had followed her.
“Why so sad, miss? You’ve hardly spoken a word since you came home.”
“Darling Henry,” Christine said and gave him a quick hug. “Have I been awful? I’ve had something on my mind.”
Henry looked thoughtful. “If you have a few minutes to spare I should like to show you something I had commissioned. It’s in my sitting room, and it’s a surprise for your mother so you will have to keep it a secret.”
Christine offered him her arm, feeling comforted as they went upstairs to the room that was entirely Henry's. There was an air of faded luxury here, the old leather chairs worn to a softness only time could bring, and the curtains faded to a sludgy shadow of their once bright colours. Henry liked it this way, and refused to have anything touched.
Henry was a man of few words these days, but Christine knew that he was sensing her bewilderment and hurt, and that he understood, perhaps even approved her doubts about the newcomer.
&n
bsp; The surprise was a beautiful bronze statuette of a young girl playing with three dogs, lovingly moulded and fired individually as a special commission; it was a thing of exquisite beauty. As Christine looked closer she realized that the girl closely resembled her as a child, and when she saw the photographs lying near by on the desk she gave a cry of delight.
“It’s me and Prissy and her pups, isn’t it?”
“Well, it’s based on that photo and happy memories. Do you think your mother will like it? I wanted to get her something special. She works so hard for us all, Christine.”
“She will love it,” Christine assured him. “It’s lovely – and you commissioned it especially for her. However did you manage to keep it a secret?”
“There’s always a way if you really want to do something.” Henry’s eyes were loving and gentle. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you, Christine. What are your plans now that you have finished with school?”
“What do you mean?” His question had taken her by surprise. She had never thought of doing anything in particular. “Stay here at Penhallows – help Mummy with the house I suppose. Do what I can in the gardens. You know…”
“That’s fine for a while – for the summer. But what about the rest of your life, Christine? You are an intelligent girl – surely you want more than that?”
His thoughtful gaze made her vaguely uneasy. “I suppose I might get married.”
“You might. You probably will in time – but marriage doesn’t have to be your whole life. Your mother has always had her work as well as her charity meetings and her family.”
“I’m not like her – or Daddy,” Christine said ruefully. “I don’t have any special talents. I’m not even good enough to be a concert pianist – though I could play in a dance hall or the cinema. I don’t think you or Mummy would approve of that, though.”
“Yes, I know you can play that kind of music. I’ve listened to you belting the latest popular tunes out when you thought no one was around, and you were pretty good too - better than when you play for your long suffering music teacher. You really should tell her you don’t need her any longer.”
“I only keep having lessons for her sake. She needs to work to support her mother, and she must find it difficult to earn enough as it is.”
Henry nodded. “I like the fact that you care about what she feels and needs. That’s a kind of talent, Christine. It takes a special sort of person to put others in front of themselves.”
She blushed scarlet. “You wouldn’t say that if you knew how mean I am in my thoughts sometimes.”
“You are speaking of Helene Picard I think?”
“Yes. I resent her being here, Henry. I know it’s wrong of me, but I don’t like her and I can’t help myself. Even when I try to be friendly she says or does something that makes me angry again.”
“I’ve met people like that,” he admitted. “I shouldn’t worry about it. That young lady isn’t all sweetness and light, believe me. She may be the heroine everyone thinks, but she isn’t all she makes out to be. Besides, young people quarrel easily. You’ll sort yourselves out in time.”
“Not if she takes Simon away from me!” The words tumbled out before Christine could stop them. “Oh…I didn’t mean to say that…” She bit her lip, her face flaming with embarrassment.
“I knew you liked him rather a lot. But again, I shouldn’t worry too much if I were you. I doubt if she’s seriously interested in Simon. I rather think she has her sights set on Jack. He is fascinated with her, and may marry her. She will probably take him – unless something better offers.”
Christine was surprised. “That’s a bit cynical for you, Henry?”
“Some women can’t leave any man alone. Young madam even tried fluttering her lashes at me and I’m old enough to be her grandfather. She may enjoy playing with Simon, but he’s the one who ought to be worrying.”
“It sounds as though you think she’s only interested in the money?”
“I’m not blaming her. She’s had a rotten time of it since the beginning of the war I gather. Coming here to this house must seem like a fairytale after all that, Christine. I think even before the war she had an unhappy experience with a broken engagement, but that is only hearsay so don’t quote me.”
“I hadn’t heard that bit. I feel ashamed to admit it, but even knowing what she went through, I still can’t like her.”
“You don’t have to like her – but think how you would feel if your attitude towards her caused a rift with Jack. You wouldn’t want that, I know – but if he marries her it could happen.”
“Yes, I know. It would upset everyone.”
“If it’s any consolation, Christine, I don’t much care for her, but I shan’t let it show.”
Christine smiled. Henry’s words of comfort had given her more confidence, a new turn to her thoughts. She had always known that he loved her that she was somehow special to him, but she felt closer to him than ever before.
“As for Simon…” His steady gaze met hers. “Give him time, darling. I’m not sure he’s the one for you, but even if he is he needs a breathing space. It can’t have been easy out there for any of them. Besides, there wasn’t an understanding between you two – was there?”
“No…” She swallowed hard. “No, of course not.”
She felt the aching start up inside her again, but she understood what Henry was saying to her. She had no right to feel aggrieved if Simon preferred Helene’s company to hers, no right to feel jealous – but she did.
Henry was well aware that Christine was suffering from the pangs of first love, but there wasn’t much he could do except observe from a distance. He’d had his share of suffering in that department, and there were times when the past came back to haunt him. He hadn’t always been a good man, though he’d tried to do his duty by his wife and family.
As a young man, Henry had chosen the kind of woman he’d thought necessary to help him climb the ladder of social success. The marriage itself had been a total failure. He loved his daughter and his son, but somehow neither of them had quite touched his heart as the young Christine had.
It hurt him to see her unhappy. She was an attractive girl, but not beautiful like her mother. Helene had put her in the shade and that must be difficult for her. However, at his age, you learned not to interfere too much; he contented himself with watching and resisted the urge to give young Simon a kick up the rear.
He was pretty certain that that young man was having nightmares. Henry was a light sleeper. Simon’s room was closer to his than the rest of the family and he’d heard him cry out a couple of times as though having a nightmare, but before he could summon the energy to investigate things had gone quiet again. So he did nothing. If you waited long enough things usually came to a head or resolved themselves.
The situation showed no sign of improving over the next few days, though he was aware that Christine was doing her best to be friendly with Helene. She had even invited her to walk to the village with her when she went to visit the Timpsons. Henry hadn’t been surprised when Helene refused.
“Simon is going to teach me to drive your mother’s car,” she had told Christine. “And Jack may be coming down this afternoon. Perhaps another time…”
Henry doubted Helene would ever be bothered with visiting the music teacher and her mother. There was something about her that puzzled him, making him feel that he knew her from somewhere …but he couldn’t place it in his mind. He had hardly known Alexander’s first wife, and as far as he could recall he’d never met Auguste Picard. Yet there was something about the French woman that struck a chord in his memory…
Christine hadn’t responded to Helene’s jibe about the driving lessons. She had merely glanced at her grandfather and then gone out without replying. He was proud of her resolve in the face of provocation, and thought as he had so often in the past that she was the best of him…the worst of him was probably in Jack.
Simon was making a damned fool of himself ove
r that French woman! It would probably end in tears, and if it were not for Christine he would say, serve him right! Mind you, the girl was stronger than everyone imagined, and she had to learn.
Christine would get over it in the end, and it was probably best that way. In his opinion she deserved better than Simon Montgomery…but then there probably wasn’t a man living he would consider good enough for his darling.
The next morning, Christine stopped to have a word with the most elderly of their two gardeners. He was working in the rose beds when she went out early with the dogs. He had been very active in the Home Guard until it was stood down the previous autumn, and she had several times seen him drilling with his pitchfork in the village. She knew that he and his men had conducted training missions in their woods. He was very proud of his grandson, who was in the navy.
“And how is Tom getting on?” she asked. “Have you heard from him recently, Ned?”
“A letter just this mornin’, miss. Tom’s ship is in port at Gibraltar – he says it’s more like a holiday than a war at the moment.”
“Well, that’s good. It looks as if you may have him home soon.”
“Aye, that it does, miss,” he replied and grinned at her. “You’ll be after some flowers I dare say?”
“Yes, later this morning. Are the lilies ready yet?”
“I might find a few for you, miss. There are some tulips and irises just opening. You’re welcome to a few of those for the house – though your mother will want some for the church.”
“Thank you. I’ll come to the greenhouse before I go out.”
Walking back to the house, Christine saw Matthew come out with someone and realized that it was his uncle. She hesitated for a moment and then walked up to them.
“Are you on your way out? Matthew told me you were coming to take him away for a while, Mr. Crane.”
“I thought we might pop down to Weston Super Mare for a few days. It will give your mother a break from this monster of mine – and I’ve already taken the liberty of asking if she will have him for a few more weeks while I get my place ready.”
Chateau Despair Page 8
