‘You must be thirsty, too. We’ve got all the refreshments set out on the terrace. I’m sure we can find some nice cold lemonade for you.’
‘Oh, yes, please, Aunt Marianne,’ the boy replied with gratitude clear in his wide eyes. ‘I’m gasping.’ He smiled up at her and she took his hand once again. Perhaps children weren’t so bad, after all!
CHAPTER FOUR
‘Look, there’s William!’
Little Adam’s face lit up for the first time and Marianne followed his gaze along the terrace. Stepping through the French doors from the dining room were her parents’ other close friends, Dr Elliott Franfield and his wife, Ling, with their two younger off-spring, Mary and William. Mary was a young woman now, but at thirteen, William was the nearest to Adam’s age out of everyone present.
‘Do you know him well, then?’ Marianne asked her young charge, relieved since she was beginning to wonder what to do with Adam next – particularly as she wanted to spend as much of the party as possible with Michael Bradley!
The child nodded. ‘You know Grandma delivers all the babies in our village? Well, she sends for Dr Elliott if she needs him. Sometimes he comes to the farmhouse and if he’s not at school, William comes too. He wants to be a doctor as well.’
‘Yes, I know. They come here too, quite often. Elliott’s our family doctor as well as a friend, you see. Now, off you go then.’ Marianne smiled down at little Adam. ‘We got the croquet things out of the tack room this morning. You and William could set them out on the lawn if you want to play.’
‘Oh, yes please, Aunt Marianne! Thank you!’
The boy shot away towards his friend. At least he was happy now and Marianne could go off in search of Michael. First though, she must add her own welcome to her parents’ greeting of the Franfield family.
‘Elliott, Ling, how good to see you!’ she greeted the doctor and his wife.
‘Haven’t we got a good day for it?’
‘At least it’s not raining!’ Marianne grinned back. ‘Do help yourself to food and drink. I think you know most of Mum’s friends, but there are a few people from Princetown you might not have met before.’
‘Don’t worry, we can introduce ourselves,’ Ling answered with a friendly smile. ‘We might know more people than you think. I was brought up on the moor near here, remember.’
‘And I can see one or two of my patients from Princetown as well,’ Elliott put in. ‘So don’t worry about us. Have a chat with Mary. I see Will’s setting out the croquet equipment with young Adam.’
‘Yes. The lawn’s not very flat, but it’s only for fun. Oh, Mary, you look lovely!’ she cried as the girl appeared behind her parents. ‘What a beautiful dress!’
Marianne liked Mary. They always got on well whenever they met, and Marianne wished the Franfields lived a little closer than Tavistock so that they could see more of each other. As the crow flew, it was probably the same distance away as Rosebank Hall where her sister, Kate, had lived since her marriage to Philip Pencarrow. Possible on horseback in one day, but quite a trek. She could get to Tavistock by train, of course, but even that took an hour allowing for the connection at Yelverton. And there were only a few trains a day between Princetown and Yelverton which restricted journey times as well. No. Once again it would be so much easier if Hal would allow Marianne to drive his precious motorcar!
‘Do you like it?’ she realized Mary was asking a little bashfully. ‘I designed and made it myself.’
‘Did you really? Goodness, you are clever! Mum’s brilliant at sewing, but I’ve never had the patience. But your dress looks quite perfect!’
Mary Franfield indeed looked extremely fetching. Like her mother, she was tall and willowy with a halo of bouncing tawny curls and lively chestnut eyes. A small number of pale freckles dusted her button nose, giving her a cute, childlike appearance, yet there was a quiet shrewdness in her youthful face that gave the impression of being mature for her years.
Marianne linked her arm through Mary’s elbow and led her down the terrace steps. ‘Had any news yet about your nurses’ training?’ she asked.
‘Yes, I have.’ Mary’s eyes gleamed with enthusiasm. ‘I’ve been accepted at the Florence Nightingale School at St Thomas’s in London.’
‘That’s marvellous!’
‘It certainly is because you’re supposed to be twenty-one to start, and I’m only nineteen. But because I’ve been helping out on the wards at the cottage hospital here since I was sixteen because of Dad, they’ve agreed to take me. I have to do an eight-week course at the Preliminary School – I start the week after next – and pass an exam at the end, but then I’ll begin proper in September.’
‘Well, congratulations!’
‘Thank you,’ Mary blushed. ‘It’s what I’ve always wanted to do. And it shows men that we women can have proper careers, too!’
‘Of course we can!’ Marianne concurred, feeling for not the first time that in a reserved way, she had a kindred spirit in her young friend. ‘Men might be physically stronger in some situations, I admit, but woman can be just as strong if not stronger in other ways.’
‘Absolutely!’ Mary laughed.
‘Shall we try and prove it in a game of croquet?’ Marianne suggested. ‘I’ll go and find Michael and see if he’d like to play.’
‘Michael?’ Mary appeared mystified.
‘Yes. Michael Bradley. Captain Adam Bradley and his wife’s grandson.’
‘Oh, yes. I think we met as children once or twice through your mother, but I don’t really remember him.’
‘Well, you go and help Will bang in the hoops and I’ll try and extricate Michael from wherever he is.’
Marianne turned, joyous with expectation at the prospect of having Michael to herself again. Well, not exactly to herself, but she would at least have more of his attention while they were playing croquet. Ah, there he was, talking to Philip and looking incredibly handsome in a fashionable striped blazer and grey flannel trousers. She was almost breathless as she approached them and had to make a conscious effort to tamp down her excitement.
‘We’re having a game of croquet,’ she interrupted their conversation. ‘Would you like to join us, Michael?’
‘Croquet? Lord, I haven’t played that for years,’ he frowned.
‘Oh, don’t worry. It’s just for fun,’ she assured him with a giggle. ‘We won’t play by all the proper rules. It can get so complicated and so serious. The grass is so uneven you couldn’t play properly if you wanted to.’
‘Well, in that case—’
‘You’ll need someone else to make the teams even, won’t you?’ Philip put in as he glanced across to where William was trying valiantly to hammer in the hoops.
‘Yes, we will.’ Marianne’s brain whirled. She must make sure Michael was on her team. ‘You join Mary and Adam,’ she instructed Philip, ‘and Michael, you can make up the other team with me and William. We’ll be fairly evenly matched then. Come on. I’ll introduce you.’
She danced along in front of Michael in a flurry of laughter. The introductions she made were brief, wrapped up as she was in the prospect of enjoying the game in Michael’s close company. But first they must finish setting out the course.
‘Should be over there, the next hoop, shouldn’t it?’ Mary pointed out.
‘What, here?’ Michael called, and began to drive the said hoop into the ground.
‘Yes, it makes a sort of double diamond course,’ Mary confirmed, ‘with the single peg at the end. You have to hit it to complete the round.’
‘I’ll get the balls, then, if we’re ready,’ Marianne announced, brimming with happiness. ‘What colour shall our team be, Michael? Black and blue or the red and yellow?’
‘As I’ll be hopeless at it, we’d better make it black and blue. That’s what I’ll be when you’ve finished hitting me for making us lose.’
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‘Oh, you!’ She pushed his arm playfully, her fingers tingling at the physical contact. ‘Have you got a coin to toss to see who goes first?’
‘I certainly have,’ Michael replied obligingly. ‘Mary, you should choose as the female guest.’
‘Heads, then,’ the girl smiled back.
‘Right.’ Michael flipped the coin, slapping it down on the back of his hand. ‘Heads it is. So your team goes first. Sorry, Marianne.’
‘Tut, tut!’ she joked with a mock frown and then laughed aloud. ‘Go on, Adam, you start.’
The gentle thud of mallet on wooden ball began the game and very soon they were engrossed in the friendly rivalry it created. There was much laughter and cries of ‘Oh, dear,’ ‘Good shot!’ or ‘Cheat!’ as they fell about in helpless mirth. Marianne thought she had never been happier – except when she was galloping across the moor on Pegasus, of course – but for once in her life, she had put that to the back of her mind. For now, she was basking in the new and utterly delicious sensation of being in love – since she was sure that this all-encompassing euphoria that had wreathed itself about her was because she had fallen headlong in love with Michael Bradley.
The day passed in a haze of delight. Marianne flitted among the guests like a butterfly, her heart soaring on invisible wings, but always returning to rest by Michael’s side.
‘Can I fetch you a drink?’ he asked. ‘You look flushed from dashing about looking after the guests, so now I should look after you.’
Flushed? Oh, Lord, that was from being near him! Thank goodness he had not guessed the real reason. Or perhaps it would have been good if he had!
‘Oh, yes, please,’ she answered him, feeling positively effervescent. ‘Some of Patsy’s home-made lemonade would be lovely. I think I’ve had enough wine for one day, and Dad’s going to propose a toast with champagne later on.’
Michael gave her such a deep, warm smile that made the corners of his eyes crinkle, and Marianne’s heart turned a somersault. She watched him cross the lawn, a tantalizing thrill reaching to her fingertips so that she was almost disappointed when Mary came and sat down beside her.
‘He’s nice, isn’t he, Michael?’ the younger girl said with a shy blush in her cheeks. ‘Mum knew his father quite well when they were young.’
‘So I believe.’ Was that a dart of resentment Marianne felt prick her side? But Mary was such a sweet girl, and as Michael walked back towards them with a glass of lemonade, Marianne felt the moment pass.
‘Thank you, that’s so kind.’ She gave Michael her most winning smile. Their fingers touched as he handed her the drink, and a glorious sensation sizzled up her arm. She saw his eyes lift from their hands to her face, the moment not lost on him either, it seemed. Her heart melted for the umpteenth time that day so that it was almost like blancmange.
‘When are you coming over to the farm next?’
Her sister Kate’s voice drew Marianne from her dreamlike state. ‘Soon. Once Adam and Becky have gone home.’
‘Don’t make it too long. Adam breaks up from school soon. He loves being around and about on the farm, with his grandad especially. But we can go up onto the moor for a picnic or something, just the three of us. It’ll be lovely. Like old times.’
Marianne forced a smile to her lips. Like old times? No, it wouldn’t! In the old days, it would have been just the two of them, and they wouldn’t have taken a picnic. They were always too excited to bother about food, although in August, they would have picked wild whortleberries, their fingers and lips stained purple from the bittersweet juice. They would try to wash their hands and faces in Dartmoor’s clear streams or fast-flowing manmade water courses called leats that wended across the moor. But their attempts to clean themselves usually ended in a game of launching water over each other until they were both drenched. Or they would remove their boots and socks, and hiking their skirts and petticoats about their waists, paddle in their drawers. Marianne was sure they would never do that again, and she supposed, with a sigh, that it would be inappropriate now they were grown women. What a shame. But, oh, what memories!
Her father was calling for silence now as Patsy whisked among the guests with a tray of glasses charged with bubbling champagne. Seth proposed a toast to his wife and slices of cake were distributed to be enjoyed with the sparkling drink. The June sun was sinking in the rose-hued sky and in the evening light, the shadowed folds of the moor took on dusky shades of grey and lavender. Guests began to take their leave as the day drew to a close, satiated with happiness and yet reluctant for the party to end.
Marianne was born along with the general drift to the front of the house. The Pencarrows, Kate and young Adam with them, of course, had already left as they had a long journey to cover in the wagonette pulled by Clomper, but others either did not have so far to go or were travelling by motorcar. Among the departing guests, the Franfield family were making their way towards Elliott’s shiny black vehicle.
‘Thank you for a wonderful day, Rose,’ Marianne overheard Ling say as she kissed her mother goodbye. ‘I do hope you enjoyed it yourself.’
‘Oh, it’s been perfect!’ Rose still radiated with delight. ‘Thank you so much for coming.’
‘Wouldn’t have missed it for anything,’ Elliott put in. ‘You must all come to us for Sunday lunch soon. Can’t promise I won’t be called out to a patient, mind. Goodbye, Seth, and you, Hal. Take care of yourselves.’ Elliott shook hands with Marianne’s father and brother, and then gave her a paternal peck on the cheek. ‘In we get, then. Oh, we’re missing Mary. Where’s she got to?’
He glanced around and Marianne, too, turned her head. A cold blade of steel touched against her heart. Under the portico, Michael and Mary were facing each other, holding hands and gazing earnestly into each other’s eyes like star-struck lovers. Then Mary evidently heard her father calling and began walking towards the family motorcar – still holding hands with Michael.
The dreams that had woven about Marianne’s heart all day crashed to her feet. Her muscles stilled and only her eyes had the power to move as she watched Michael open the car door for the pretty young girl.
‘You will write to me, Mary, won’t you?’ Marianne heard him implore.
‘Of course I will!’ Mary answered equally as fervently, her cheeks blushed an excited peach. ‘But where should I send a letter to?’
‘I hope it’ll be letters in the plural. But send them to the estate in Herefordshire. Grandad will always know where I am and send them on.’
‘I’ll do that. But do take care on that ship of yours, Michael.’
‘They’re all the family company’s ships and Grandad wouldn’t be too pleased if I sank one of them, so yes, of course I’ll take care. And I hope I’ll see you before, but if not, good luck when you start your nursing course.’ And with that, he lifted her hand to his lips.
Marianne rocked on her feet. Her mouth uttered appropriate words of farewell to all their guests, but she knew she was speaking by instinct alone. Michael was standing next to her as they waved off the last vehicle, and slowly Marianne regained painful control of her senses.
She might have known. Michael was a pleasant young man who had been polite and friendly towards her. But she was older than him by several years and Mary was of a much more suitable age. And Mary was more like him in character, reserved and gentle but with an underlying determination – whereas Marianne knew herself to be self-confident and outward-going. Too outward-going at times, she supposed. So, though it broke her heart, she could understand why Michael had found her young friend more appealing.
Ah, well. It had been nice while it lasted, this daydream of hers. But that’s all it could ever be. She had lived by that secret, solemn vow all these years, and it was right for her, after all. It came back to claim her now like an old friend, a pair of worn, comfortable slippers. She snuggled back into its warm familiarity where she
felt safe and protected. And swore never to leave it again.
‘My God, look at this.’
It was the next morning and the family and their house guests were taking breakfast together. Marianne was helping herself from the dishes of hot food on the dresser, her mental shield comfortably in place again, sealing her mind to further hurt. Michael and his great-aunt and great-uncle were catching the mid-morning train to return to Plymouth. Marianne would restrain herself until they left the house, but she would not go to the station to say goodbye. The instant the Napier turned out of the gates, she would scurry out to the horses, saddle Pegasus and streak out across the moor in the opposite direction to cleanse her heart of its agony once and for all.
Now though, like everyone else in the room, her attention was drawn by the quiet shock in her father’s voice as he lifted his glance from the newspaper headlines. He always read the paper in his study after breakfast, but Patsy delivered it to his place at the table each morning.
‘What’s that, Seth?’ Adam took the newspaper from his old friend and everyone waited, instinctively on tenterhooks, while he took out his spectacles. His face immediately stiffened, as Seth’s had done, as he scanned the lead article, and then he raised his head with a profound sigh. ‘Archduke Ferdinand of Austria and his wife were assassinated in Sarajevo yesterday by some Serbian students or some such. Well.’ He paused to rub his hand over his mouth before he went on, ‘With the situation in Europe as it is, I can’t see that going without serious repercussions. And I mean serious.’
‘You mean . . . it can only lead to one thing?’ Michael said hesitantly.
‘Yes.’ His grandfather gave a solemn nod. ‘It might not be immediate, but it’ll force a chain of events, I’m sure. My friends, I believe that war is now unavoidable.’
A tangible silence slithered menacingly about the room. Marianne had a horrible sinking feeling in her stomach and she put down her laden plate. She suddenly wasn’t hungry any more.
‘So . . . all that was going on yesterday while we were having such a wonderful time here?’ she murmured.
Teardrops in the Moon Page 5
