by Laura Wood
“I used to be quite good, actually,” he admits, with one of those rare, eye-crinkling smiles. “It was the only way to get away from Caitlin, when she was following me around all day, wanting to play at tea parties.”
I laugh at this, enjoying the image.
“Are you having a good time?” he asks.
“Oh, yes,” I sigh, unable to control my enthusiasm, even in front of him. “It’s wonderful, exactly how I imagined it. I’ve just been dancing my legs off and now I’m dying for a drink.”
“Let me get one for you,” he says, offering me his arm politely. I look at it suspiciously, but we seem to have called some kind of truce for now, so I slip my hand into the crook of his elbow and we make our way through the crowd to the long bar that has been set up against the wall. Behind it the barmen in white jackets are rattling and twirling silver cocktail shakers with a great amount of energy. I watch them for a while.
“You really are enjoying yourself, aren’t you?” Robert says then, and I turn to find him looking at me.
“What do you mean?” I frown, wondering if it’s a trick question.
“Just that I can see it in your face. You look … happy.”
“That’s what Caitlin said,” I admit. “And I told her I didn’t understand how anyone could be unhappy when they are surrounded by all of this.” I gesture around me, Caitlin’s words seeming even stranger as I take it in with another frisson of excitement.
“Ah, and what did Caitlin say to that?” Robert asks, and his body seems suddenly very still, his eyes watchful.
“She said that people could be unhappy anywhere,” I reply, thinking of the tension in her voice as she said it. His jaw twitches, and his eyes look sad, just for a fleeting moment. I am surprised to feel an immediate, desperate need to cheer him up. There is more going on here than I am being told, that much is obvious.
“Maybe you don’t enjoy these things as much as I do because you’re just so old and stuffy?” I ask sweetly, widening my eyes and looking up at him.
“What manners.” He gives a put-upon sigh. “Twenty-three is hardly old.”
“Hmm.” I tip my head to one side, considering this. “Then I suppose you don’t have to be old to be stuffy after all.” I grin. “How interrresting.” I roll the word around my mouth in a good impression of his own drawling indifference.
Robert looks down at me from under raised eyebrows. “Brat,” he says, but there’s no sting in it.
I stick my tongue out at him as if we are a pair of squabbling children.
“What will it be?” the bartender asks us.
Robert looks at me. “Well?”
“Just a water, please,” I answer, drumming my fingers on top of the bar.
“A water, and a whisky, please,” he tells the bartender, who disappears to fetch the drinks.
“Are you going to dance?” I ask, turning and leaning back against the bar so that I can see all the couples who are currently hitting the dance floor. I wonder idly if he is a good dancer – he carries himself with a kind of grace that makes it seem likely.
“Why? Are you asking?” He looks at me as though he knows exactly what I was thinking. In fact, I think, he looks quite unnecessarily pleased with himself. I expect he’s used to girls falling all over themselves wanting to dance with him.
“Oh, no,” I say. “I’m sure a man with such a … serious nature doesn’t have much interest in these modern dances.”
“Modern dances?” Robert frowns. “You’re trying to make me sound old again.”
“I’m not trying to do anything.”
He snorts. “You’re not overly concerned with the social niceties, are you?” His gaze sharpens as it rests on my face.
“You don’t know anything about me,” I say with great dignity.
“I know you’re the kind of girl who breaks into people’s houses and steals all their apples,” he says, taking our drinks from the bartender and handing me my glass.
I suppose I can’t argue, but I’d rather not dwell on that little detail. “I had something to drink when we came in,” I say, changing the subject. “It was so sweet it tasted like fruit juice.”
“A Mary Pickford.” Robert winces. “I warned Caitlin she shouldn’t have them circulating because everyone will be falling down drunk before midnight, but she says that’s half the fun.”
“I like her a lot,” I say.
“Who?” Robert asks. “Mary Pickford?”
“No, silly! Caitlin.”
Robert smiles, and his face is softer than I’ve seen it before. “I’m glad. She likes you too. I can tell.”
I feel a glow spread through me at his words. “She’s done an amazing job on the party,” I say, gesturing to the scene that surrounds us.
“Mmm.” The noise he makes is non-committal. He really doesn’t seem to be interested in any of it. How strange to be so unmoved by all this splendour.
“Don’t you think so?” I ask, exasperated. “Not up to your high standards?” My voice is a challenge. The way he takes all of this for granted infuriates me, especially after Caitlin mentioned – even fleetingly – the pressure that these parties put on her. It’s obvious how much hard work has gone into this evening, and yet he is so dismissive of it.
There’s a pause; he looks at me and his green eyes are cold. “I couldn’t care less about the party,” he says shortly. “All this…” he gestures around with his hands “… performance.” His voice is almost angry. “The only thing that recommends it to me at all is that it seems to keep my sister occupied.”
“So that you don’t have to play at tea parties with her, I suppose?” My voice is acidic. He is so overbearing, I can’t stand it. It’s as if he can’t bring himself to care about anything, as if he’s too good for all of it. “I doubt that Caitlin needs to be kept occupied like she’s a … a child.”
It is clear that any thawing out that has happened between us is at an end.
“That,” he grinds out, “is not what I meant.”
We stand in silence for a moment, glaring at one another.
It is then that Laurie appears. “Hello, darling.” Her voice wraps around us, low and husky. “I’ve been wanting you to introduce me to your new friend all night.”
I know perfectly well that she is only being kind, but when those sleepy blue eyes look me over approvingly I feel my back straighten and my chin lift.
“Ah, yes.” Robert’s voice is back to being smooth and polite; the hostility has left his eyes. “Laurie,” he says, “this is Lou. Lou, Laurie.”
Laurie slinks forward, pressing a kiss to each of my cheeks. She smells like something warm and spicy, almost masculine. It suits her.
“Would you care to take a walk?” Laurie asks me. “Only if you can spare her, sugar?” She turns to Robert, caressing his arm. I am a little stunned to be singled out like this. What could Laurie Miller possibly want with me?
He smiles down at her. “Of course,” he says, and I know he’s probably relieved to get me out of his hair. Well, that feeling is certainly mutual.
“I’d love that,” I say. A look passes between Robert and me that is like a clashing of swords.
Laurie is glancing between us. “Is everything all right?” she asks.
Robert takes her fingers in his hand and presses them fleetingly to his lips. “Of course,” he says again, and I feel, just for a second, as if the same wall that surrounds Jack and Alice has appeared here as well. My heart thumps hollowly. Then they both turn their attention back to me, Robert drops Laurie’s hand and the feeling is gone.
Laurie and I leave Robert at the bar, where he has already been commandeered by more partygoers, and we plunge into the trees. Almost immediately the noise recedes and we are in a different world. Caitlin has set up sofas, blankets, cushions in between the trees, creating dozens of intimate, secret spaces where it feels as if anything could happen. Some of them even have gauzy white curtains pulled across for greater privacy.
We
wander slowly down the avenue, and in one alcove we find Bernie, surrounded by a group of lovely boys who are hanging on his every word. He flutters his fingertips at us in greeting, but makes no other effort at conversation. Further along we find an empty white velvet sofa wedged cosily beneath two pear trees, and Laurie sinks gracefully into its cushions.
“Where did Caitlin get all this furniture from?” I marvel, perching on the other side of the sofa and enjoying the feeling of being tucked away and hidden from the world, as the branches of the trees curl into one another above our heads.
“No one throws a shindig quite like Caitlin.” Laurie smiles, a seductive smile. The practicalities are obviously not of interest to her.
“I’ve never seen anything like it!” I exclaim, then kick myself for looking too eager. I try to lean back into the sofa in the same way as Laurie, but what looks effortless and comfortable in her leaves me looking stiff and unnatural, like a china doll. In the end I give up my attempts at sophistication and sit like a child, tucking my feet beneath me.
Laurie watches my manoeuvres from under her long lashes with some amusement.
“I’m sorry to steal you away from all the action,” she says finally, and I flush at her words, hoping that she doesn’t think that because Robert and I were alone together there was anything flirtatious going on. That couldn’t be further from the truth.
“I wasn’t in the action, I was only talking to Robert,” I say in a way that I hope is dismissive. Hearing the words out loud, though, I realize they sound a bit too familiar. “I mean, we were … he was just … talking to me about his sister,” I finish weakly.
Laurie doesn’t look at all concerned by my rambling, and I relax a little. It makes sense, I think. Even if I had been flirting with Robert, I’m hardly a threat to her. I glance over at her again and she looks like one of those expensive white cats, stretched out imperially across the sofa.
“It’s so nice to see someone new around here.” Laurie’s voice is almost a purr as well. “The Cardews do have a habit of introducing one to the most interesting people.”
The way she says it makes me frown. It’s a bit too close to what Bernie said earlier. I fold my arms protectively across my chest. I am hardly a curiosity to be put on display.
“Caitlin told me all about you,” she says then, and I freeze. What version of everything has Caitlin told Laurie? Family friend or trespasser? “About the whole sneaking into the house thing,” she clarifies.
My shoulders slump. Oh, that version of everything.
“Don’t look so downbeat,” she says, “I thought it was a riot.”
“You did?” I ask hesitantly.
“Sure. You didn’t hurt anyone, did you?” She shrugs – an action so languorous it takes fully twice as long as it would take anyone else. “So, what’s the problem?”
I tuck a loose lock of hair behind my ear. “I don’t know,” I say, looking up towards the branches that cocoon us here. Something about Laurie has me opening up to her. There’s something hypnotic about her gaze, the lack of judgement there. “No one seems angry about it, but that feels strange, sort of back to front. I shouldn’t have done it … anyone else would be upset. It was wrong.” It’s the first time I’ve admitted as much and I realize that it has been worrying me a little.
“Honey.” Laurie leans across and pats my arm. “There’s enough trouble in this world that you don’t need to go looking for more. You can trust me on that one.” She reaches into her white stole, where a hidden pocket contains a silver cigarette case.
“I suppose,” I say, rubbing my nose as she places a cigarette between her lips and lights it. “You’re all very kind,” I finish.
Laurie chuckles at that. “Oh, no,” she assures me. “We’re a lot of things, but kind is certainly not one of them. Believe me, no one would have invited you if they didn’t want to. We’re all out for ourselves here, don’t forget that.”
I sit quietly for a moment as Laurie blows smoke rings. I can’t tell if she’s being serious or not.
“Well, I think you’ve been kind to me,” I say. “And I really don’t see what there can possibly be in it for you, but I’m glad that I’m here.”
Laurie smiles then. “I think it will be quite the summer,” is all she says in response.
“The whole summer.” I sigh, seeing it stretch out in front of me, daring to dream that I get to be a part of it.
Laurie’s eyes narrow a little. “How old are you, Lou?” she asks after a moment.
“I’m almost eighteen,” I reply.
“Hmm.” She doesn’t say anything else for a while, just carries on smoking her cigarette with a calmness that is almost awful. “And what do you plan to do after the summer?” she asks.
I freeze.
“I-I don’t know,” I say, drawing shapes in the grass with my toe. “I’m not exactly … that is, I’m a bit…” I trail off.
“You’re at a loose end at the moment?” Laurie murmurs, and I’m beginning to think that her sleepy gaze is deceiving. She seems to be peeling me back to get at something important, something I’m afraid to admit even to myself.
“Why do you say that?” I ask quickly.
“Something about the way you talk about the summer. Like it’s an escape.”
I am silent, thinking this over, forced to acknowledge that Laurie is right.
“I guess at some point I’ll get married,” I say at last.
“Oh?” Laurie arches one elegant eyebrow. “And to whom, may I ask?”
“Oh, no one in particular,” I say, rubbing my arms, feeling a sudden chill in the air. It’s the first time I’ve voiced the thought that has been pushing in on me for weeks, maybe months. “My sister – Alice.” I exhale. “We always do, or did, everything together, and she’s just got married.”
Laurie dips her head, which I think is her version of an encouraging nod.
“I suppose that’s what everyone’s waiting for me to do.” My voice is small. “That’s what girls in Penlyn do.”
Laurie exhales slowly. “Sometimes it’s a good idea to get married.” She pauses. “But a woman should have … passion. If not for her husband, then for something else.”
“Do you have passion for Robert?” I ask, and then I am mortified by my own question. The idea of Laurie and Robert together is something I can’t quite get my head around.
Laurie doesn’t seem to mind. “I like Robert a great deal,” she replies. “And he and I understand one another. We’ll be happy together, I think. But for me passion is for outside of marriage.” She says this serenely, as though it’s something she’s considered carefully. I’m not sure that I know what she means.
“I think Alice has passion in her marriage,” I say. “But she’s lucky. She married someone she truly loves.” I draw my knees up to my chest. “I know that the next thing for me is to get married. I’ve finished school, I’m the oldest one at home now, and it’s my turn. But…”
“You want something more,” Laurie says evenly, as if she is simply stating a fact.
“Yes,” I say, surprised. “Yes, I do.” I haven’t said it aloud before, and it feels almost like a betrayal of Alice to admit it, but Laurie is forcing me to talk about things I have been afraid to look at too closely. “Is there something more?” I ask, a note of desperation creeping into my voice.
Laurie breaks into peals of unexpected laughter. “Oh, honey.”
“It sounds like I found out where the real party is.” A deep voice interrupts Laurie’s merriment, and I look to see Charlie standing in front of us.
I jump up, and Laurie flings out a graceful hand as though she expects Charlie to prostrate himself at her feet. He settles for squeezing her fingers.
“Hallo, sis,” he says. “I came to see if Lou here wants to take another turn around the dance floor?” he asks with a boyish grin. “Caitlin’s been looking for you too,” he adds.
“Yes, go,” Laurie says. “I’ve monopolized you long enough.”
Laurie shakes her head. “I think I’ll stay here and see if anyone interesting comes along.” She leans back on the sofa and stretches her arms above her head, a wicked look in her eye. “Though, Charlie, be a lamb, will you, and send someone over with a bottle of whisky?”
“Sure,” Charlie agrees easily, and reaches out to take my hand.
I catch Laurie’s eye.
She winks.
We leave then, and Charlie sets off to find the required bottle of whisky, agreeing to meet me back at the dance floor. I trail through the avenue, thinking over my conversation with Laurie as my fingertips brush against the line of tree trunks. I’m walking past one of the curtained alcoves when I hear Caitlin’s voice.
“Why do you ask me that when you know I can’t?” she cries, and her voice is angry.
A low voice answers, though I can’t make out what it says, and I understand, suddenly, that I’m being impossibly slow, and that she’s in there with a man.
“Why can’t things carry on as they are?” I hear Caitlin say with a brightness that sounds almost desperate.
Again, the response is indistinct, a low, insistent hum.
“Darlllling,” she says, stretching out the word, and her voice lingers in the air, soft and persuasive.
I leap back at the intimacy of her tone. Whatever this is, it is definitely private, and I feel like an intruder. I start to walk away, and Caitlin’s untidy laugh drifts behind, chasing after me through the tree-lined avenue.
I am caught by a couple of people who are keen to know who I am and how I know the Cardews, and I can feel their greedy curiosity like fingers running across my skin. I answer vaguely, politely, but this only seems to increase their interest. By the time I reach the dance floor Charlie is already waiting for me, but the music has stopped.
“The band are taking a break,” he explains. “They’ll be back in a minute. Can I get you a drink?”
I shake my head. “No, I’m fine, thank you,” I say.
Caitlin reappears then, all glittering eyes and flushed cheeks. She’s a girl with a secret, and I wonder if one day she’ll tell me what it is. For now, she grins at us. If I didn’t know better I would think nothing of it, but her grin has that same bright, brittle quality that I heard in her voice earlier, and I’m certain that there’s something anxious behind it. “What are we all standing around for?” she demands. “Where’s the music? Let’s dance!”
