The Last Perfect Summer of Richard Dawlish

by Caron Allan

  ‘I suppose they have their children to feed,’ Dottie ventured.

  ‘Well if they can’t afford to feed their children, they shouldn’t have so many of the little blighters,’ Gervase said comfortably. Dottie turned to stare at him in astonishment, but he simply said, ‘Don’t worry, dear, we’ll soon be back amongst prettier scenery and nicer villages. We’re almost there, actually. I hope you’ve got your passport handy.’

  Dottie was bewildered. He laughed. ‘I’m joking. We’re crossing the county border into Derbyshire. There ought to be a sign up here stating, ‘Beyond this point there be dragons.’’

  Gradually the landscape changed to green again, though with the occasional outcrop of limestone. Sheep grazed the fields, and streams twisted in and out along the side of the road. They arrived in the pretty little town of Matlock Bath, nestling in the gorge of the River Trent.

  Dottie felt a certain amount of trepidation as she took Gervase’s hand and stepped down from the car. She felt instinctively that she shouldn’t have come. Because this was where William Hardy’s sister Eleanor was staying with their aunt and uncle. Or if not here, then in the larger nearby town of Matlock, Dottie wasn’t quite sure which. All she knew was that it was in this area somewhere. It was hardly likely that she would run into Eleanor, but even so, she looked very carefully at every young woman she saw, just in case it might be her.

  A massive red-bricked mill squatted beside the river, whilst the houses and the other buildings of the town were further along the road, seeming to rise upwards rather than expanding sideways, following the twisting narrow lanes that twined along the cliffs of the gorge.

  Gervase gave her his arm and they walked along, browsing the quaint little shops. They sat on the grass beside the rushing river, talking the whole time. She was surprised to find he was amusing—and if she didn’t agree with some of what she privately termed his ‘old-fashioned’ views towards people of different backgrounds or levels of society, or religions and cultures, then at least she could acknowledge to herself that he listened to her views and didn’t shout her down or dismiss her as a foolish girl. But he made her laugh, and that was so different, and so captivating.

  They listened to the band playing at the bandstand, competing comfortably with the rushing of the river that powered the mill half a mile away. Then he suggested they took a slow winding walk up to the top of the cliff, to the Heights of Abraham, as Gervase told her that area was called.

  It was such a steep walk. Here and there along the lane there were benches where people sat to recover their breath and enjoy the scenery. Dottie and Gervase paused here and there to look at the view. Gervase told her Byron had named the area, ‘Little Switzerland’ and she could quite see why.

  At last they made it to the top, and across the gorge, there was the most spectacular view. Gervase pointed out the notable landmarks, including Riber Castle. Dottie was in raptures. They sat to enjoy an ice cream and look at the view. Then later, it was her idea to join the little queue of people waiting for the guide to take them down the rocky steps into the limestone caverns that lay waiting beneath their feet.

  Gervase stood beside her in the dark tunnel, and as they halted for the first time to listen to the guide telling them all about rocks and minerals, the other tourists crowded about them, and pressed them close to one another. But Gervase appeared to be enjoying the proximity as much as she was. He gave her a grin, and his eyes, though grey and usually so cool and mocking, felt hot on her face, even in the diminished light of the caves.

  He said, ‘Have you ever been down into underground caves before?’

  She responded gaily with, ‘No, never!’ The queue began to slowly shuffle forward as the guide led them on.

  The crowd of visitors pushed forward, forcing them on, and at the same time the craggy narrow path took a sharp downward turn, and Dottie couldn’t see where she was going. The air was cool, but stale and heavy, and the rock loomed above her head.

  A man nearby said loudly, ‘Just think of all those tons of rock above our heads right now. Why, there might be people walking above us and never know we were here! We could cry out and they’d never hear us.’

  The headway slanted lower, the walls crept jaggedly in, and the floor seemed to dip and twist away from her in the darkness. The many other people pressed all about her, squashing her. Her smile faltered. Gervase gave her a look of concern.

  She said, ‘Oh!’ and groped for his arm, her fingertips digging into his flesh. She shuddered and closed her eyes. She couldn’t catch her breath. The air, there just didn’t seem to be any...

  ‘Dottie? Dottie, look here, don’t faint, dear. You’re perfectly safe. Nothing can go wrong. These caves have been here for centuries, the roof won’t fall down on you.’

  ‘Don’t tell her that, mate,’ said a helpful individual just behind them. ‘Why, only last Autumn a bit of roof come down in that tunnel over there, and all twenty-seven visitors was crushed to death.’

  Gervase stared at the man with hatred. ‘Shut up!’ The man looked hurt.

  ‘I’m...’ was all Dottie could manage. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the roof that almost grazed the top of her head and the walls that closed in on both sides. Gervase pulled her into his arms, regardless of those around them.

  Some other young fellow laughed and said crudely, ‘I must try that with that lass Edith. Reckon I could get my hand up her skirt and she’d never even notice.’

  One or two other visitors tutted and looked disgusted by the man. Gervase shot him a dangerous look, and turned back to Dottie. A woman said, ‘Aw, the poor lady,’ and a couple of children jostled each other and jumped up and down to try to make the roof come down on them too, shrieking wildly as they did so. Gervase scooped Dottie up in his arms, and regardless of the guide’s shout, turned to carry her back the way they had come.

  Dottie buried her face in Gervase’s shoulder, clinging to him, not caring about anything other than the need to get out into the fresh open air. She was every bit as astonished—and frightened—by her own reaction to the situation as she was by the physical aspects of the caves themselves. In her mind’s eye she could envision herself, crushed like a leaf beneath the rock as the cave closed its mouth on her in the darkness. The vision of it was so strong she became terrified that her very fear could make it happen. She had never felt so irrationally afraid. She felt like a dumb wild thing caught in a trap, helpless and pathetic. If she could have fainted, it would have been a relief.

  But every nightmare must end, and eventually they reached the top of the steps out of the tunnel. Gervase brought her into the open air, and set her on the firm ground, as weak as a kitten. She followed him a few steps, clinging to his jacket, her legs weak and wobbling, and as they stepped outside into the sunshine, thought returned.

  She thought two things: I shall never again laugh at anyone who is afraid of heights, enclosed spaces, spiders, anything; never did I dream that I could react this way. And secondly she thought, Gervase must surely despise me now, I shall see disgust there in his eyes when I look at him.

  It took all her courage and determination just to stand up straight, hold her head up and her shoulders back. She felt like crumpling into a heap and sobbing. She found Gervase was putting an arm around her waist.

  ‘There’s a tearoom over here. I think you could do with a drink.’

  She nodded, silent, and allowed him to guide her inside. On the far side of the large open room was a huge picture window. He began to steer her in the opposite direction, to a quiet corner near the door, but she went to a table by the window and sat down. It was a magnificent view down to the valley of the gorge and the little town and the river. But she looked up at the broad blue sky.

  Gervase gave their order at the counter and came to sit beside her. She immediately began to apologise for her behaviour, not daring to look into his face. He shushed her gently.

  ‘Dottie, dearest. It’s perfectly all right. You’ve had a fri
ght, and you don’t need to apologise for that.’

  Had he just called her ‘dearest’? She lifted her eyes to his, and saw his expression held nothing but concern. Her heart leapt. Nevertheless she continued in her attempt to explain.

  ‘I had no idea—never—I just—had no inkling I could possibly feel so...’

  ‘I know, Dottie, I know. But it’s my fault. I never thought to warn you. I feel terrible for subjecting you to that ordeal.’

  ‘It was my idea! I’m so sorry I humiliated you...’

  He laughed and waved her apology away. A quick glance about him showed no one nearby. He leaned close and kissed her full on the mouth, a long, lingering kiss. ‘It’s quite all right,’ he murmured softly, drawing back a little. ‘I didn’t care what anyone thought. My only concern was for you.’

  The waitress brought their teas over. Dottie’s was very strong and there were four sugar cubes in the saucer. When the waitress had given them a fond smile and gone back to her counter, Gervase turned back to Dottie. Relief flooded her whole being; tears smarted in her eyes. He pulled her against him as she fished for her handkerchief. He dropped a kiss on her hair.

  ‘Darling Dottie,’ he said.

  ‘Bring Miss Manderson a brandy, Michaels,’ Gervase ordered his butler. ‘I took her to the Heights of Abraham and we went on the guided tour down into the Great Masson Cavern. She needs a stiff drink after that.’

  The butler gave a delicate shudder and said, ‘Cripes, Miss, you wouldn’t get me down in them caves, not if you was to pay me a hundred pounds.’

  Dottie smiled at him, immediately smitten with the genial old chap. ‘I’ve learned my lesson, that’s for sure. Never again!’

  ‘Indeed, Miss.’ He sent a scornful look at his master then turned back to Dottie. ‘And I presume you don’t really want a brandy, do you, Miss? In my experience it’s really only the gentlemen who like that stuff.’

  Seeing Dottie’s hasty shake of the head and wrinkled nose, he added, ‘Now I can offer you a nice cup of tea. Or you might prefer a sherry, Miss. Mr Gervase had an excellent stock of Dulce and also some Amontillado, according as you prefer.’

  Dottie considered her options before saying, with a grin, ‘D’you know, I think I’d just like a cup of tea.’

  The butler nodded gravely, and with a glance at Gervase, he said, ‘She’s too good for you, sir!’

  Gervase’s mock outrage followed the butler from the room. When he had gone Gervase turned to her and said in a rueful voice, ‘I’m afraid he may be right about that.’ Dottie laughed, not for a minute taken in by his pretence at humility.

  The butler returned ten minutes later, not just with a pot but with a full afternoon tea. He and a smiling young maid brought in trays of food which they deposited on a low table in front of the sofa. Dottie ate her fill of the daintiest sandwiches and the most appealing little novelty cakes. When the butler came in again with more hot water, Dottie asked, ‘Who made all this wonderful food?’

  ‘Ah that would be my wife, Mrs Michaels, what is cook here.’

  ‘I suppose I couldn’t lure the two of you to London, could I? Anyone who can cook like this must be worth their weight in gold.’

  Mr Michaels appeared to consider Dottie’s suggestion very seriously before finally shaking his head. ‘I’m sorry, Miss. I don’t think Mr Gervase could manage without us. Otherwise, I’d jump at the chance.’ They exchanged a grin, and as he turned away, he winked at Dottie.

  Once they were alone again, Gervase twined a lock of her hair around his finger. ‘I must say, you’ve got a nerve, trying to poach my staff right under my nose. But there might be a way for us to both get what we want.’

  She pretended not to know what he meant. ‘Well I don’t see how. After all, within the year you’ll be married to Penny.’

  ‘Penny!’ He pulled a face. ‘Heaven forbid! What on earth makes you think such a thing?’

  ‘She adores you!’ Dottie pointed out, laughing at his expression. She reached for another tiny Victoria sponge.

  ‘I’m just useful to her, that’s all. She likes having a man to make all the decisions for her. She’d have any man who would be prepared to dance attendance on her.’

  ‘Hmm, you might be right. She seems to enjoy being the object of male interest.’

  ‘Definitely.’

  ‘She said she used to follow you around hoping you’d notice her.’

  ‘She did. She was very annoying, actually. And a horrid, spotty kid at that. With a lisp.’

  ‘Gervase! That’s so unkind!’ Dottie gave him a playful slap. ‘I’m sure she wasn’t that bad. Though none of us are at our best in our mid-teens.’

  ‘I was,’ he said smugly. ‘I was already devastatingly handsome.’

  Dottie did an unladylike snort at that. ‘I’m sure you’d like to think so.’

  ‘I bet you were every bit as gorgeous as you are now,’ he said, nuzzling the hollow of her neck. She decided to put some distance between them before he got out of hand.

  ‘How about a tour of your magnificent home?’ she said. With a resigned grin, he got to his feet, and for the next hour he became a tour guide, showing her the many and varied points of interest of his home and telling her his plans for the garden. When they came back to the drawing room, it was time to go back to Penny’s.

  When they got back, Penny had already gone up to change for dinner. Gervase was, of course, invited to stay. He entertained them both with his wit, though most of it was directed at Penny who lapped up his attention. Then, just after nine o’clock, Penny went up to bed for an early night, pleading a slight headache, for which Dottie was most grateful. Margaret didn’t seem to be around, so Dottie and Gervase were completely private in the drawing room.

  She sat almost on his lap, and they kissed again and again. Gervase murmured all kinds of romantic nonsense in her hair and there was no doubt in her mind that they were both rapidly falling in love. There was conversation, all inconsequential: precious little of note was said. At last, at almost one o’clock in the morning, Gervase reluctantly tore himself away.

  ‘I must go. If I don’t go now, I shan’t want to go at all, and I don’t want to compromise you, Dottie my love. It’s still more or less a respectable time of night!’

  She was almost tempted to suggest he stayed but was sure her hostess would view it as an appalling abuse of her hospitality, Dottie helped him on with his jacket and after one last kiss, reluctant to close the door and shut him out, she stood there and watched him drive away.

  She went up to bed, taking care to make as little noise as possible. She sat by the window thinking about what was developing between them and what it might mean. After all, even that very morning, she had told herself there was nothing more between them than a mild flirtation. Yet now...

  She told herself she was happy, that she was in love, and happy. She knew Gervase felt the same—he hadn’t said outright that he loved her, and she knew men didn’t always find it easy to say the words out loud, but called her ‘my love’ and ‘dearest’, and two or three times he’d implied a future for the two of them, a future together. He was making plans. He clearly wanted to marry her. She must think about that, and presumably, consider alerting her parents to the fact that there was a new man in her life and that they needed to make his acquaintance. She went to bed light-hearted and happy.

  Towards morning Dottie’s romantic dreams of dancing in Gervase’s arms at their wedding turned to darker thoughts, and she was clinging, by her fingertips from the side of the cliff above Matlock Bath, her green evening dress flapping in the breeze. She glanced down into the dizzying abyss to see her shoe fall from her foot. She watched it plummet through the air until it made a tiny splash in the river down below. The vertical cliffs of the gorge had become rocks at the edge of a hungry ocean, and the rising tide slashed at her feet, soaking her dress right through and weighing it down. Her hair was plastered to her face and neck by torrential rain, and when, as she was about to
fall to certain death on the rocks below, a strong masculine hand came out of the darkness to grab her, hauling her up to safety, she looked into the face of the man who had saved her, whom she knew deep in her heart she loved as she could love no one else.

  It was the face of William Hardy.

  Chapter Ten

  THE IMAGE STAYED WITH her all the morning, haunting her almost to the point of tears. She dismissed it again and again as nothing more than a mere childish guilt and grief for the loss of first love, or perhaps just the aftermath of her fright the previous day—she dismissed it repeatedly, but it persisted.

  After lunch, they sat in the dreary drawing room, Dottie was listless, doing nothing whilst Penny busied herself with some embroidery that was giving her trouble. She kept either splitting the thread or having to unpick and rework the stitches she’d made. Dottie wondered why she bothered, she had neither pleasure in nor aptitude for the handicraft.

  ‘Goodness, what a late night you must have had! I presume Gervase came in for a nightcap?’

  Dottie couldn’t be bothered to think up any excuse so she simply said, ‘Yes, he did come in for a short while.’

  Penny gave her a sly smile. Wagging her forefinger at Dottie in a mock lecture, she said archly, ‘And I do hope he was the perfect gentleman, since you had no chaperone.’

  Dottie forced herself to smile. ‘Oh yes, of course he was.’ She was praying that Penny wouldn’t ask anything more, but Penny seemed to lose interest as she dropped her thimble and pricked herself at the same time. Dottie helped to fish the thimble out from under the coffee table, and by the time order was restored, Penny seemed to have forgotten the topic of conversation. After a few more minutes, Penny laid aside her needlework and strolled over to look out the window. An inane comment about the weather followed. Dottie wondered how she was going to make it through the rest of the day without screaming. All she wanted was to be in Gervase’s arms. He would scare off those nightmares.