‘Yes, Guy,’ she said, also ignoring the hapless Frank, who clutched his plate and sat down. ‘What do you want to do?’
Guy put down his knife. ‘I thought perhaps the beach? I don’t know, really. Whatever anyone else wants.’ He looked at Cecily. ‘What do you like doing when you’re down here, Cecily?’
‘Me?’ Cecily looked astonished that anyone should ask her opinion. ‘Um – I like swimming in the sea, and playing card games and reading my book.’ She stretched out her legs. ‘And not having to pose for Mum, which I don’t have to do today, thank goodness.’
‘She’s painting you?’
‘Yes.’ Cecily glanced around, to make sure Frances wasn’t near the breakfast room. ‘It’s pretty dull,’ she confided.
‘Your mother’s a wonderful painter,’ Guy said. ‘Who knows, one day you could be hanging in the National Portrait Gallery.’
‘That’d be nice,’ Cecily admitted. ‘I just can’t see anyone wanting to gawp at me, that’s all.’
‘Nonsense, Cec,’ Jeremy said, walking behind her. He patted her head. ‘You’re a looker, isn’t she, Frank?’
As Cecily glowed, Frank, still watching Louisa, said, ‘Oh – ah. Of course. Yes.’
‘Frank . . . Franty, your name is just like Mummy’s,’ Cecily said, flushing with exhilaration. ‘I think we should just call you Bowler Hat from now on. To avoid any confusion.’
‘Yes,’ Louisa said, looking up suddenly, giving a thin smile. ‘Bowler Hat’s the perfect name. Because I’ve been thinking about it and Cecily’s right. You do look as if you should be wearing a bowler hat. Shorts really don’t suit you. Your knees are awfully thin.’
Into the silence that followed this statement came Mary. ‘Now, does anyone want some more coffee?’ she said, wiping her hands on her apron. ‘Eggs? Frank, how about you?’
‘No – no, thanks,’ Frank said. He smoothed his hands nervously along his muscular arms. He looked too big for the small seat, the cosy dining room.
‘We’re calling him Bowler Hat now, Mary,’ Louisa said. She pushed her chair back from the table and stood up, her long legs clad in a pristine pair of shorts, this time pale blue. She languidly stretched her arms above her head. ‘Not Frank. It’s too confusing.’
‘Bowler Hat, eh?’ said Mary, collecting up the empty scrambled egg dish. ‘Right you are.’
When Miranda and Cecily were cleaning their teeth in the little sink in their room after breakfast, Miranda said carelessly, ‘So, was Frank asking Louisa something a bit . . . rude, last night, Cec? Is that what you overheard?’
Cecily’s mouth was full of toothpaste. She stopped, toothbrush in hand.
‘Wha’?’ she said. ‘Something about sex.’ Miranda mouthed the last word. ‘Something she didn’t want to do.’
Cecily bent over the sink and spat, and when she stood up again her small face was red.
‘I wasn’t eavesdropping. Honestly. I wasn’t.’
‘I know you weren’t,’ Miranda said. ‘I don’t think the Bowler Hat’s very nice,’ Cecily said. ‘What did he do?’
‘Well.’ Cecily spoke in a whisper, and turned the square tap so the water was running. ‘I was watching them, because I heard them say my name. I had the windows open ’cause I couldn’t sleep. They were sitting on the floor, and he . . .’ She paused. ‘Oh, my goodness.’
‘What?’ said Miranda, nearly mad with curiosity. ‘He . . . well, he put his hand on her . . . chest.’
‘Oh. Is that it?’
‘Miranda!’
‘Come on, Cecily. You’re such a baby!’ Miranda turned the tap off. ‘What did Louisa do?’
‘She pushed him away,’ Cecily said. ‘Quite hard.’
‘What did he do then?’
‘He asked some other stuff. I’m not saying.’ She was bright red now. ‘And he was angry. He said, “For God’s sake, Louisa. Don’t be so frigid.”’
‘Gosh,’ said Miranda. ‘The Bowler Hat is really Stewart Granger. Who’d have thought it?’
‘He is not Stewart Granger.’ Cecily was furious at this impugning of her idol. ‘Stewart Granger is tall and handsome, and a gentleman. And Frank is . . . tall. That’s it.’
‘Oh, he’s handsome. And I think he’s rather sweet, in a buttoned-up way,’ Miranda said, musing, looking out of the window. ‘And the brother, too.’
Cecily frowned. ‘Oh, goodness,’ Miranda said in irritation, turning round and catching her sister’s expression. ‘Do grow up a bit, Cecily. You’re such a baby. Life’s not like bloody boarding school, you know. One of these days you’ll realise it’s normal for men and women to want to be with each other, you know.’ She looked in the mildew-spotted mirror above the sink and ran one finger carefully over a silken dark eyebrow. ‘It’s going to be hot again today. Very hot. I hope the others don’t get hideously sunburnt at the beach.’ She smiled at Cecily, and ran one hand over her smooth, coffee-coloured skin. ‘Have you ever kissed a boy?’
‘Me?’ Cecily said pointlessly. ‘No.’ She turned away. ‘Stop making everything about boys and girls, Miranda.’
‘That’s what life is about, Cec darling,’ Miranda said. ‘Look at Mummy, flirting with every man that comes her way. Look at Louisa, sticking her bum out at the Bowler Hat, like she’s an ape in the zoo – even you, Cecily dear. It’ll happen to you one day—’
‘You’re vile,’ Cecily said, pushing past her. ‘I’m not listening. Stop it.’
She picked up her swimming costume and threadbare towel, and ran downstairs.
The path down to the sea from the house was narrow, impassable in winter. Every Easter, the overgrown brambles that threatened to strangle the high hedgerows were cut away. In late July, the brambles had crept back, tangled together with goosegrass, wild roses and ivy and croaking with grass-hoppers. Cecily led the way, followed by Guy and Frank. Louisa and Jeremy said they’d pack up the hamper.
‘It’s only eleven, and it’s baking already,’ Cecily said. She jumped over a trailing bramble. ‘The sea will be gorgeous, it’s lovely and warm but it doesn’t get too hot. We went to Italy a couple of years ago,’ she added airily, ‘and already by now the Mediterranean is like a bath. So warm and soupy, it’s disgusting.’
‘Where in Italy?’ Guy asked. ‘I’m going in August, for a month.’
‘I love Italy, you are lucky,’ Cecily said. ‘We went to Florence, and Siena, and then on to the Tuscan coast. I wasn’t actually there with friends, you know. Daddy was doing a lecture,’ she explained.
‘I understand,’ said Guy gravely. ‘But I want to go back one day. When I’m a student myself.’ She slowed down a little, and turned back to look at Guy. ‘I want to travel all over Europe. I’ve drawn a map of where I’m going to go.’ She stopped. ‘Here’s the path. It’s a bit tricky, so be careful.’
The steps were only a couple of feet wide, through the cliffs. ‘Good God,’ Frank said, as they started climbing down. ‘I’m a bit unsteady.’ He looked back. ‘Will Louisa be all right, carrying that huge great hamper down the steps?’ he asked.
‘Oh, she’ll be fine,’ Cecily said blithely. ‘She’s been doing that walk since she was a toddler, Bowler Hat. Calm down.’
But Frank said he’d stay back and carry the hamper with Jeremy, so Cecily and Guy carried on down.
‘Ye gods and little fishes!’ Guy exclaimed, when they reached the bottom. He rubbed his head. ‘This is all ours? You’re sure?’
Cecily ran across the sand. ‘It’s not strictly speaking our own beach, but who else comes down here? No one!’ She grinned at him, holding her hair back from her face. ‘Isn’t it wonderful?’
‘It’s great,’ Guy said, setting down his pack. ‘Everything here is great.’ He smiled at her. ‘I don’t know how you can bear going back to school, when you live in a place like this.’ His gaze roamed back towards the fields. ‘And your parents are marvellous people, too. So interesting, so relaxed.’
Her smile grew a little more rigid. ‘I suppose. S
o what are your parents like?’ she asked.
‘Oh, you know.’ Guy sat down on one of the huge black rocks. ‘They’re more Bowler Hat than . . . than your parents. Very correct. Think Weybridge is the centre of the universe. Very kind, rather strict.’ He grimaced, a bit helplessly. ‘We don’t often see eye to eye, put it that way. They certainly don’t watch TW3. And as for discussing the Profumo scandal . . .’ He laughed. ‘My goodness, if they had a daughter like you and she knew some of the things you know I think they’d have a heart attack.’
Cecily was picking up stones, but she stood up at this and looked at him. ‘Why?’ she said simply. ‘What’s wrong with a daughter like me?’
‘Nothing,’ Guy said, shaking his head at her. ‘Absolutely nothing. You’re not like most other girls, that’s all. You think for yourself, not for others. It’s great. Well, I think so, anyway.’
‘That doesn’t sound very alluring,’ Cecily said, scratching her arm. ‘Girls don’t want to be told they’re a bit odd, Guy. I jolly well hope you don’t say that to girls at Oxford. No wonder you’ve had to tag along with your brother for the holidays, if that’s the way you normally speak to your hosts.’
Guy gave a shout of laughter. ‘Come here, you vile child,’ he said, getting up and racing towards her. He grabbed her and tickled her, pinning her arms above her head while she screamed.
‘Stop it!’ she cried breathlessly, but he carried on. ‘Stop it, Guy, stop it!’ Suddenly her mood changed, as if she wasn’t finding it funny any more. ‘Get off.’
She leapt up. ‘I’m sorry,’ Guy said, standing up, breathing hard. ‘Cecily – sorry, I didn’t mean—’
‘It’s fine,’ she said, and moved away from him, towards the sea.
Louisa appeared at the bottom of the steps. ‘Here,’ she called, as Jeremy and Frank emerged behind her, gingerly carrying the hamper. They were followed by Archie, who was wearing tortoiseshell sunglasses. Louisa looked at Cecily and Guy in a rather disapproving manner. ‘You’re making such a racket, you two.’
Cecily turned away, biting her lip, as Frank lifted the hamper clear above his head and carried it the last few steps onto the beach. ‘Whew,’ he said, laying it down on the sand. ‘That path is pretty hair-raising.’
‘Thanks, Frank,’ Louisa said, glancing at him. ‘Now, what have we got in here?’ She knelt down on the ground, and he gently pulled her head towards his crotch as she opened the hamper. Her fingers fumbled on the leather straps as Frank stroked her hair, softly, looking down at her flaxen blonde crown, his fingers working their way through her scalp. ‘Um,’ Louisa said, faltering. ‘Well—’
‘Is there anything other than ham for lunch?’ a voice behind her said, and Miranda stepped onto the beach, in a bathing suit of blue and white vertical stripes that accentuated every bump and curve of her body. She gave Archie a half-wave. ‘It’s just I don’t really like it, especially the way Mary cures it. It’s awfully soapy.’
‘Yes,’ said Louisa, not blinking. ‘There’s tomato, with some lettuce and mustard.’
‘Oh,’ said Miranda, her expression unreadable behind her large black sunglasses. She shrugged her shoulders. ‘Well, that’s fine. I’ll just pick out the tomatoes.’
Louisa opened her mouth, but Jeremy said hurriedly, ‘Thanks so much, Louisa, that all looks wonderful. Anyone fancy a game of rounders before lunch?’
‘Games?’ said Miranda. She spread her towel delicately on the sand. ‘Oh, no, thanks. I’m going to sunbathe. And read my Private Eye.’ She lay down, leaning up on her elbows, and, making a tiny moue with her lips, produced a magazine from a canvas bag.
Cecily opened her mouth to speak, and then closed it rapidly again. Louisa gave a loud snort. ‘How amusing,’ she said. ‘Let me know if you need any explanatory notes. Or let Guy know, rather.’
Frank cleared his throat. ‘Louisa,’ he said, placatory. ‘Why don’t we go for a walk along the path? We can play rounders later.’
‘Yes, please,’ Louisa said. She looked up at him and smiled. ‘I’d love that.’ She took his hand. ‘Let’s go.’
They disappeared up the steps. Miranda looked around. ‘Oh, has Louisa gone off to play with Frank?’ she said, after a moment. ‘I was hoping she’d get me a drink. He’s forgiven, I take it.’
‘Miranda,’ Archie said, under his breath. ‘Stop it.’ He turned to the others and rocked on his feet. ‘We can play rounders with four, can’t we? Improvise a bit?’
‘Of course,’ said Guy. He looked up at the path and then back at Miranda. ‘Sure you won’t play, Miranda?’
‘Oh.’ Miranda was rather trapped. ‘Um – no, thanks, Guy dear. I think perhaps later? I do so want to read my Private Eye.’
‘I feel sorry for Miranda,’ Cecily said, as the four of them moved across to where the beach was smooth. ‘It must be awful, being so bad at whatever it is she’s trying to be.’
‘Shut up, Cecily,’ Archie said automatically. ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about.’ He spun the cricket bat around in his hand. ‘Hi! Leighton, Jeremy, what do you say we play cricket instead? I fancy trying out my new fast bowling technique. It puts Wes Hall to shame.’
‘Great idea,’ said Jeremy, whose bulky frame was better suited to rugby than cricket. ‘Cecily, do you want to bat?’
‘Yes, I do,’ Cecily said. ‘Miss Moore said I was a great batswoman this term. I’ve really come on, apparently. Perhaps I’ll play for England one day.’
The three men were silent. She looked at them, smiling slightly.
‘Oh, sorry, I forgot. I’m a girl. How ridiculous of me.’
‘Right,’ said Archie, handing her his bat. ‘Show us what you’re made of.’
A rather hilarious game of cricket ensued, as Cecily demonstrated on a tiny pitch that she was, in fact, a talented batsman. The tennis ball landed in the sea so many times the game had an extra added spin to it, but this did not daunt Cecily in the slightest.
‘My hand-and-eye co-ordination is excellent,’ Cecily said immodestly, when Guy congratulated her. She smiled at him. ‘I’ve often been told so. I’m remarkable.’
‘So I can see,’ Guy told her. He looked up at Louisa and Frank, back from their walk. ‘Hi, you two.’
‘Where did you go?’ Archie asked, as Louisa opened the hamper.
‘Oh, just around, up along the rocks,’ Louisa said. ‘There are loads of tourists on the beach behind us.’ She lifted out a large package wrapped in greaseproof paper. ‘Isn’t this fun, a picnic like this on the beach?’ She gave a great contented sigh. ‘Oh, it’s lovely when everything’s lovely. Here are the sandwiches,’ she said, suddenly practical Louisa again. ‘Frank, can you give them out?’
‘Of course.’
‘We walked pretty fast,’ Louisa went on. ‘It’s lovely, there’s a good breeze when you’re up on the path. I saw a lovely flower, quite unusual. What did we think it was, Frank?’
‘You thought it might be a Meadow Cranesbill,’ Frank said. ‘Wow,’ said Miranda, gingerly inspecting the pile of sandwiches Frank was offering her. ‘Fascinating. What japes.’
* * *
After lunch, Jeremy, Frank and Louisa lit cigarettes, and sat back. The occasional light spray of water hit them, but otherwise everything was still.
‘I want to get as boiling as possible, and then dive into the sea,’ said Cecily, closing her eyes and stretching out. ‘So that my skin feels hot to the touch.’ She slid one slim leg across a smooth black stone. ‘It burns!’ she said.
‘It’s great,’ Frank said. ‘We could be in Greece. Or India.’
‘Or France, it gets jolly hot in France,’ Jeremy said. ‘I want to go to India one day,’ Cecily said. ‘Go and see where Daddy’s from. Except it’s Pakistan now, Lahore.’
‘I want to go to India,’ Guy said. ‘Some friends of mine thought they’d go after they’ve come down from Oxford.’
The others were silent. ‘It’s a long way,’ said Louisa eventually.
‘
Well, but we’ve got the rest of our lives,’ Guy said easily. ‘I want a bit of adventure before I settle down. In ten years’ time, I’ll be a boring old something-or-other. I want to be able to look back and say, “Oh, yes. I did that.” Before I go back to sleep by the fire.’
‘You’ll never be a boring old something-or-other, Guy,’ Frank told his brother. ‘I will be. Not you. You’ll be living in a flat on the Left Bank, wearing a beret and smoking Gitanes, talking about the summer you spent with Arvind Kapoor.’
Guy gave a short laugh. ‘The Bowler Hat’s right,’ Louisa said. ‘You’ll be up at the Moulin Rouge every night, hanging out with cancan dancers and drinking absinthe—’
‘I say, when is this?’ Guy said, amused. ‘1890? Is Toulouse Lautrec my best friend?’
Louise looked rather stumped. ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ she said.
‘Where will you be in ten years, then?’ Guy asked her. ‘Not one of the cancan dancers, I’ll bet, Louisa. Not you.’
‘Oh. I don’t know. Where do you think I’ll be?’
Guy put his coffee cup down and stared out to sea. ‘I think you’ll be in New York, running the UN.’
‘Oh, Guy! Come off it!’ Louisa said. ‘He’s right,’ Frank said. ‘I think you will.’
‘Yes,’ said Archie. ‘Hundreds of men underneath you. You’d like that, Louisa.’
‘Shut up, Archie, you little pig,’ Louisa said. ‘I didn’t mean—’
‘God, you’re vile, you really are.’ Guy and Frank watched her, puzzled. She turned her back on Archie and swivelled round to face Frank. ‘You don’t think that, really, do you?’
Frank was still staring at Archie in confusion, but he stopped and wrinkled his nose. ‘Don’t know, but I can imagine it, Louisa. You’re a terribly organised girl. Awfully clever, much more than me. You’re a real go-getter.’
‘Well, I don’t know if I want to be a go-getter,’ Louisa said archly. She seemed a little disturbed by this. ‘Perhaps I just want to be at home. Have some children, look after them. Be a good wife.’
‘Urgh.’ Cecily made vomiting sounds behind her. ‘Please, Louisa.’
Love Always Page 15
