by Iris Gower
‘I’m not worried about Rosie,’ Mrs Ward said bluntly. ‘I’m worried about that baby of hers.’
It was good to have the old colonel, Betty, and all my guests arrive and fill the house. Soon the dining room blazed with candles and lamplight and happy diners were drinking wine from sparkling glasses and eating the good food Mrs Ward and Treasure had prepared.
Now the whole house was wired for electricity. It was long overdue, but I knew my guests preferred the old-fashioned lighting that heightened the atmosphere of the old mansion. It was also conducive to ghosts, so it seemed, with the apparent ‘happenings’ on the landings.
I never saw ghosts when I was alone; I never felt threatened by anything other-worldly in my house. It was the humans I feared and mistrusted.
‘How is your romance progressing?’ Plump Betty pressed against William with her large bosoms.
‘Not very well, as it happens.’ William was unusually terse.
Betty wouldn’t allow matters to rest there. ‘I’m so sorry to hear that, but you are among friends here. You can talk freely to us.’
Colonel Fred leaned forward. ‘While that is true, Betty, some things are best left alone, don’t you know?’ He held the brandy bottle towards William. The colonel had no truck with wine – ‘newfangled nonsense’ he called it. He loved his brandy and insisted on bringing his own brand, which he always took to his room. He saw me glance at him and the bottle and smiled. ‘You see, dear Riana, I have my own spirits to keep me warm of a night. Try some, William. It will help you to relax and sleep.’
William accepted, more for the sake of peace than because he wanted to drink the brandy, but he continued to share the brandy for the rest of the evening. Later, I winked at the colonel, as I could see William was getting merrier and relaxing very well against Betty’s plump shoulder. Betty herself was flushed with success. She’d always had a fancy for William.
There were no ghost sightings that night so instead the gathering became a party, with someone putting the gramophone on and playing dance music. I helped the colonel roll back the carpet to reveal the wooden floor, and he took a new guest, a Mrs Lampeter, in his arms and performed a creditable slow foxtrot. Betty inveigled William to dance, and he was propelled round the room with Betty’s full bosom projecting into his skinny chest.
I heard the front door open, and my heart beat faster as I hoped Tom had come to see me at last, but it was Justin. He entered the room, immaculately dressed in a dinner suit and a gleaming white shirt with a black bow tie. He held out his hand, and reluctantly I accepted it. ‘What brought you here?’ I asked none too graciously as we danced.
He smiled down at me and bent to kiss my cheek. ‘A very beautiful lady,’ he said. I gave him a wry look, and he shook his head, laughing at me. ‘No, dear Riana, not you, lovely though you are. Diane wanted me to ask you to give her more paintings. It seems she has a commission for you, so I thought I’d drive down straight away.’
I frowned. Diane knew that Justin wanted my house. Why would she speak to him about coming to see me? ‘I think you must be mistaken,’ I said icily. ‘Diane would contact me herself if she wanted me. I doubt if she’d ask you, of all people, to bring me a message.’
‘Ah, but I have won her over.’ Justin sounded smug. ‘She believes I am the true heir to Aberglasney, and she thinks we should try to get along. It would be in your best interests, seeing as we will be married as soon as you come to your senses.’
‘Don’t be so silly!’ I pushed him away from me. ‘I don’t even know you why you imagine I should take your word for anything, and why on earth would I want to marry you?’
‘Expediency, my dear Riana. We could live here together, and we would be very happy, I’m sure.’
‘I take it you have no money and you would let me pay to do up the house and live on my earnings in the meantime. Now, if you are really the legal heir then go fight your case in the courts. Until then, leave me alone.’
I left my guests to party, and on the stairs I encountered Betty leading William to his downfall. She had a wide smile on her face as William fondled her plump rear. There was no sign of ghostly images as I made my way to my bedroom. I lay fully clothed on the quilt and closed my eyes. I could scarcely hear the music from the drawing room, but I wished all my guests a happy night and smiled as I thought of William, who was about to learn what passion was all about. And then I fell asleep.
THIRTY
Once my guests had departed on the Monday morning I dressed and took the train to Swansea and then on to London. I had to see Diane to find out what she was thinking of, encouraging Justin to come to Aberglasney!
Diane was not tucked away in her little sitting room, mourning her dear Mr Readings, but instead she was out visiting his grave, so the maid told me. I thought how fortunate Diane was to still have maids and a cook. I had only Mrs Ward and Treasure, and I was lucky to have them. So I waited, enjoying a cup of real ground coffee instead of the usual Camp coffee I had at home. No doubt Mr Readings had purchased a stock of it before he died, and Diane had found it and was enjoying her usual luxuries.
At last she returned, and in attendance, much to my surprise, was Rosie. Mrs Ward’s daughter had changed drastically; she looked neat and respectable. She was struggling with brown paper bags bearing the names of the few good shops that had survived the war.
I put down my cup of very good coffee and hugged Diane. ‘Could we have a word in private, please?’ I asked meekly. ‘Hello, Rosie, how are you?’
‘I’m very well, Miss Riana.’ This was a Rosie I didn’t know: demure, respectful, nicely dressed in a modern full skirt, and with her hair tied up in a ponytail. She looked what she was: a very young girl. Perhaps she’d changed her ways . . . or maybe it was all an act to fool Diane.
‘I’ll take the bags upstairs.’ She edged towards the door. ‘I’ll be careful to hang everything up for you, don’t worry.’
Diane sat down and took off her gloves. ‘I think I’ll have a cup of coffee with you,’ she said. ‘I feel a “telling off” might be on the cards.’
‘No,’ I said. ‘Well, not exactly. I just don’t want Justin popping into my house whenever he takes it into his head, that’s all. Don’t trust him, Diane. Now, tell me, where on earth did you come across Rosie?’
‘She just applied for a job, that’s all. And as for Justin, he might well have a claim on your house. He is Edwin’s son, after all.’
I decided to shelve the matter of Rosie; just now there were more important things to discuss. ‘But Justin is not Beatrice’s son, and she’s the one who sold me the house.’
‘Just take the document to the solicitor and find out for sure, that’s my advice. Justin seems a decent enough young man to me – a little arrogant, maybe, but well intentioned and charming.’
‘Did he ever pay you a penny for any of the paintings he’s bought?’
‘But Riana, he’s broke so he never buys any paintings. He does some clerical work for me instead. I’m rather sorry for him, really, and if you don’t want him I’ll have him.’ She was smiling, but I could see Justin had charmed her – just as he charmed and fooled everyone except me.
‘Well, until everything is sorted I want him to keep out of my way. I don’t love him and won’t marry him, not even for Aberglasney.’
‘Think about it,’ Diane said. ‘He’s handsome and partial to you, and in the old days many women married for expediency.’
‘A marriage of convenience, like in books!’ I said scathingly. ‘Well, I have a career and a house that I’ve brought to life again. If Justin had a claim, why didn’t he come forward when the house was little but a ruin, the gardens overgrown and the Americans stationed at the bottom of the garden?’
Diane lifted her eyebrows. ‘At the bottom of the garden? Like fairies in books!’ She smiled with humour.
‘Very funny.’ I sighed heavily. ‘I know I’m a fool, Diane, but I love Tom. Whatever he’s done I can forgive him, if only he love
s me as he says he does.’
‘Better have one willing suitor who wants to marry you than have a fly-by-night, excuse the pun, like Tom, an American pilot who might well go home as soon as he finds whatever it is he wants here. At the moment, he’s conspicuous by his absence, isn’t he?’
There was a gentle knock on the door, and Rosie peeped in. ‘Anything you want, Mrs Readings?’ she asked.
I looked at Diane in surprise, and when the door closed behind Rosie I had to ask, ‘She’s very polite to you, isn’t she?’
‘She’s a very good help, and I get on with her well enough.’ Diane smiled. ‘Mind you, she did quote you as a reference.’
I rather took offence at that. ‘The cheeky little madam!’
‘I like the way she calls me Mrs Readings. She’s about the only one who does.’
‘Why did you and he never marry before?’ I asked.
‘I think dear Mr Readings wanted to keep his options open, dear. He had other “ladies” and I knew it, but I didn’t question him on it. He would have been defensive, and I know he didn’t want me to be possessive, so I pretended to be as unbothered by our arrangement as he was.’ She hung her head. ‘But I was never content to remain a mistress – and then, at last, he asked me to marry him, and he died making me a widow almost immediately.’ She stopped speaking and looked down at her pale long fingers, with her engagement ring and the band of gold sparkling up at her.
‘At least he gave you the ring as a promise,’ I said comfortingly as I hugged her. Grief and loss were dreadful emotions. I felt them every time Tom walked in and out of my life.
‘We will have a quiet day today.’ Diane lifted her head. ‘I’ll rest if you don’t mind and then tomorrow I will come with you to the solicitor in Swansea and we’ll sort out the matter of the house.’
‘I already saw my solicitor,’ I told her. ‘He told me that Aberglasney was indisputably mine.’
‘Best to be sure,’ she insisted. ‘You know I’m good at business, Riana, and I’ll read the bill of sale properly and ask to see Edwin’s will as well.’
‘I understand Edwin didn’t make a will.’ I forced a smile. ‘Seems he didn’t have time after he was accused of murder.’
We set out early the next day. Diane drove us with skill and speed through the bombed streets of London and out into the country, both of us quiet with our own thoughts until we reached Swansea.
A cart pulled by an old horse drew in beside us as Diane stopped the car alongside the curb outside the solicitor’s office, the man shouting out in a raucous voice, ‘Rag and bones!’ and handing out pennies and farthings for old rags or pots and pans. Anything he could make use of. As I stepped out of the car I could see the poor overladen horse jerk the cart into movement, the creature’s head dipping up and down with the effort of moving the weight until the wheels began to roll freely along the street.
To my agitation, the door of the solicitor’s office was locked. A policeman stood outside, and I looked up at him questioningly. ‘I had an appointment this morning to see Mr—’ I got no further as the policeman held up his hand.
‘There’s been an unfortunate incident in the building, madam. There are fatalities. You must go away. The building inside is unsafe.’
‘Fatalities?’ I echoed his words and looked at Diane aghast.
‘I shall find out what’s happened,’ she said firmly. ‘I have a friend, a top man in the service. I will speak to him.’ She took my arm and propelled me to a small, neat tea shop just around the corner from the solicitor’s office, and I sat there stunned, meekly drinking tea and waiting for her to come back.
After my third pot of tea, Diane returned. She was pale, and I quickly called for another cup and poured her some hot tea. ‘It’s bad,’ I said, and she nodded.
‘There was an explosion. Several people have been killed. The police think it was an unexploded bomb from the war. I’m sorry, Riana. I should have come with you before now.’
‘It’s not your responsibility,’ I said shakily. ‘I saw the lawyer myself and he said everything was legal enough, that Justin was an illegitimate son and had no claim. I wonder how Mr Jeremy is. I do hope he’s escaped the explosion.’
‘I doubt it,’ Diane said. ‘It’s terrible, they don’t know how many people are under the rubble, but as it’s a building of offices of legal people, it shouldn’t be too hard to make an identification of the deceased.’
‘So an unexploded bomb caused all this havoc.’ I was quite shaken. ‘Poor Mr Jeremy, he was very old. Too old to be working, really.’
Diane gave me a quick look and poured more tea for herself. ‘All our young men are still trying to recover from the war. Oh dear, I feel quite shaken. I wish I’d never suggested coming here.’
‘Well, you weren’t to know there would be an explosion, were you? Look on the bright side, we could have been caught up in it all.’
Diane shivered. ‘Don’t be so cheerful!’ Her tone held a touch of sarcasm, and I smiled to myself. Diane was getting her old spirit back.
Diane became weary of the peace and quiet of Aberglasney after a few days, and on the following Monday we had lunch in Swansea and then I waved her off. I waited until I could no longer see her car in the distance, and then turned to look straight into the dear face of Tom.
‘Riana.’ There was a world of love and sweetness in his voice, and in spite of myself I wanted to sink into his arms.
We stood looking at each for a long moment, and then we both moved and he was kissing me, holding me as though he would never let me go.
He took me for tea in a simple tea shop, and we sat holding hands over our cooling tea. I knew questions could wait, and I went with him willingly for a walk – along the darkening streets, through Victoria Park, along the sea front – holding hands like lovers. Well, we were lovers, even if we’d made love only once.
He booked us a room in a guest house, and I went with him willingly. I decided that if I could only have him sometimes that was better then nothing at all. Did he love me? I was afraid to ask, but he wanted me, I could see it in his eyes, and for now that was enough.
He took me gently, slowly, and I revelled in his touch. Sensations I’d never known before swept my body, tingling my senses and bringing me to a cascade of desire and a tumbling of joy as my body and senses were lost and my mind was bursting with stars. And then, sated, we lay on the bed alongside each other holding hands, his broad chest rising and falling with the breathlessness we were both feeling.
In me there was a wonder that any man could rouse such passion, such burning, melting love. I adored Tom. I loved every shape of his lean body: his fine buttocks, his strong legs, his broad chest. I loved him.
Later we showered and shared a bottle of precious red wine in our room. I had no nightclothes with me so I wrapped myself in one of Tom’s shirts and sat cross-legged on the bed, holding my glass between my fingers. I had never been so happy in all my life. And then Tom spoke.
‘You should marry Justin Mansel-Atherton, you know.’ He said it gravely, with no hint of a smile, and my heart almost stopped beating.
‘What did you say?’
‘For your own good, Riana. He’s eligible, young, attractive . . . He might well have a claim to Aberglasney, you know.’
I was tearful and furious all at once. ‘You’ve just made love to me in the most wonderful way, and now you are telling me to marry another man! Are you mad?’
He took my hand, and though I tried to pull away he held on to me. ‘Riana, there are people who want me dead,’ he said. ‘If I lived with you, even, I’d be putting you at risk, don’t you understand that?’
I dragged my hand free and flopped down on the bed. ‘I don’t understand anything!’ I almost screamed at him. ‘I love you, Tom, don’t you know that? You appear and disappear without a thought for my feelings! I don’t know what you are involved with, but I don’t care. I just want to be with you!’
‘Sleep on it.’ Tom spoke abruptl
y. He tucked himself inside the bedclothes and turned his back on me. I sat up, staring at his hair, which lay in curls on his neck, for a time. I wanted to touch his hair, kiss his neck, but in the end I closed my eyes, turned away from him and cried myself to sleep.
In the morning Tom had gone, and when, shamed, I went to check out, I found he hadn’t even paid the bill properly. He’d left a sheaf of notes as if I was little more than a prostitute.
I hurried to the station. I just wanted to get home, shut myself in my room and try to heal my tattered pride. I didn’t want to do anything – no painting, no social weekends with the ghost hunters. Perhaps I would just marry Justin and, as a married woman, get a sensible job and let Justin figure out the best way to keep the house in a good state of repair. If Justin was the real heir, I presumed he’d inherit whatever money the Mansel-Athertons had hidden away.
It sounded an easy way out – just hand over responsibility to someone else. I sat listening to the clackety-clack of the train, closed my eyes and went over every detail of my night of love with Tom in my head.
THIRTY-ONE
Diane became a frequent visitor to Aberglasney. The trouble was, she always seemed to have Justin in tow – as well as Rosie, who cooed and fussed over Diane as though she were a princess.
Diane enjoyed the ghost weekends and continued to market my paintings, and I thought her respect for Justin and her dreams of him marrying me and making my life easier were sweet but ill placed. The more I saw of Justin, the more I knew I loved Tom, despite everything.
One happy event in my life was that my painting grew in maturity. I put new focus on the house, painted odd corners of the rooms with ghostly images lurking mistily in them. I often painted the old cloisters, which had been built hundreds of years ago, and thought of Tom and me sitting under the arches on a summer’s day, when deep shadows and brightly-patterned sunlight had shaped the gardens. I often thought of those days with nostalgia and hurt in my heart.
