by K. M. Peyton
‘Hey, you, girl!’ she shouted, as Lily trundled a barrow of weeds towards the compost heap for her father. ‘Come here!’
Lily came.
‘This dog needs about two miles at least, every day. If you do it for me, I’ll give you twopence. That’s generous, for just enjoying yourself. Suit you?’
Lily considered saying that no, it didn’t, but a close look at Aunt Maud persuaded her that it would not be wise. She had an aggressive, masculine stance, foursquare on the drive in her long, belted leather overcoat, felt hat pulled firmly down on her big grim head, little grey eyes beadily taking in Lily’s inadequate presence. She was not a kind smiling auntie as in children’s books but, as Gabriel had predicted, a battle-axe.
‘What’s his name?’
‘Ludo. Be firm with him.’
‘What is he?’
‘A dog.’
‘I mean—’
‘A dog of no pedigree. It’s of no consequence. Here, take the lead.’
The dog of no pedigree was a good deal more amiable than his mistress and Squashy and Barky both took to him with delight. Lily’s heart lifted, seeing that walking the dog, to obey a demand from above, was something her father could scarcely condemn given as Aunt Maud was in lieu of his employer. Ludo was large and brown and sweetly obedient, like a larger Barky. The two dogs of no consequence quickly became like brothers. Seeing them together gave Squashy such delight that their father grudgingly permitted him to do the dog-walking together with Lily.
‘Interfering old bitch,’ he muttered though, as Lily and Squashy danced away across the park.
‘Can I have him?’ Squashy asked Lily. ‘For my own? Like Barky.’
‘No. He belongs to Miss Sylvester.’
‘I shall steal him.’
‘She will know where he is. She will come for him and have you put in prison.’
Squashy started to cry.
‘Don’t be silly. Of course you won’t go to prison. You can take Ludo for walks all the while she’s here and that’s good enough.’
Sometimes Squashy drove her mad. But walking the dogs every morning was more fun than most of the things she had to do, so bully for Aunt Maud, Lily thought. If the dog loved her she couldn’t be that bad.
Mr Sylvester was generous to all his staff at Christmas and gave them big joints of meat and branches of holly, and delicacies for the old and sick. At home he didn’t bother much but Aunt Maud took over, stoking up the fires in the gaunt rooms and organizing the festive dinner. The kitchen staff and the housemaids were all terrified of her and complained to Antony, but he told them he was terrified of her as well and there was nothing he could do about it. He kept well out of her way.
Rose and Violet complained that she was upsetting Helena, but there was nothing Antony could do about that either.
‘That girl should get out more,’ Aunt Maud declared. ‘There must be some way of educating her, this day and age. Claude does nothing to improve her life, shutting her away with those two demented women.’
Antony agreed with her, but what could he do? ‘Talk to Father about it.’
‘He’s so wrapped up in his work, thinks money solves everything. Throws it at you two – Eton for you, a mindless paradise for Helena – solved, as far as he is concerned. Useless. Eton’s done nothing for you save keep you out of his way. Not that I’ve noticed, at least. Bored? Buy you an aeroplane. Problem solved. So what are you going to do, Antony, when you leave school next year?’
‘I’m not going to university.’
‘I said, what are you going to do? Not, what are you not going to do?’
Antony realized that his flippant answer to the same question from Lily – ‘enjoy myself’ – would not go down very well with his aunt. His latest, vague idea had been to hang around Brooklands, although not actually to work. He didn’t think that would impress his aunt. A bit of motor racing appealed, if his father would finance it. Somehow he didn’t think Aunt Maud would be impressed.
‘I haven’t really thought about it much.’
‘That seems to me to be your whole attitude to life. You’ve got a brain, haven’t you? Good heavens, Antony, you’re a man now. Are you so spineless that you are going to trail along in your father’s wake, spending his money, being quite useless? You could come and live with me in Hampstead if you want and get a job in the City. Start a business. Or go abroad and see the world. I’m sure your father would finance that.’
The idea frightened Antony. He had never thought much about going abroad: it did not interest him. He had a very parochial outlook. He knew his limits: a fair amount of brain, but little initiative, indolent, lacking ambition. He had no core. He wasn’t brave: flying the aeroplane had proved that. He knew himself quite well, and sometimes it filled him with despair. He wasn’t even mad on girls like most of his friends. The adoring Lily pleased him, but he wanted no more of her. What was wrong with him? He only teased her with Melanie Marsden to see her spark up. The fun he had with the boys in Eton was more to his taste, but where did that get you? In prison, if the worst happened. The only idea he had with what to do with his life was very short term, as far as the great party he planned in the summer, in the grotto, but he would hardly tell that to Aunt Maud.
‘I will talk to your father about it.’
This did not frighten Antony, for his father would just take the easy way out, whatever it was. Perhaps he was more like his father than he had realized? He had never thought of this before. He was not responsible for his deficiencies, he couldn’t help it! This thought cheered him considerably. He was just like his father! With luck he might have inherited his father’s genius for making money.
For the time being he turned to making plans for Lily to do the parachute jump and to making arrangements for his big party. Lily’s jump first. He was convinced there was no danger in it, but not convinced when the moment came she would be brave enough to jump. He wouldn’t be able to make her, after all. But she was a very spunky girl and he had hopes. If only he could do it himself! He determined, after Lily had had her go, to get a pilot at Brooklands to take him up. When his father was away in the summer would be a good time. His father need never know. For enough money, someone would oblige him, especially as they all told him it was as safe as houses.
His father was going to South America in June or July, so that was when he would have his party. At the time of a full moon.
His Eton friends were all to camp by the lake, or bed down in the house with their own gear if they wanted, and they could have the run of the kitchen as he was going to give all the staff time off. Getting rid of Violet and Rose was his biggest problem, for the party was for Helena. She would be dressed in her most beautiful clothes and come to the grotto in a punt. Of course Violet and Rose would not allow it, so they would have to be locked in somewhere out of the way. He wasn’t sure yet how he would manage this, but it could be worked out easily enough he was sure. Alcohol might come into it. He was sure they were secret drinkers. Then the party would take place in the grotto, which would be lit with hundreds of candles and the food and drink would all be spread in the great interior cave with the fountains playing, and everyone would come by water and music would be played and there would be dancing and swimming under the light of a full moon. He had the invitations already given out, only the date to be finalized.
‘You haven’t given me one,’ Lily said.
‘I don’t need to. I know you’ll be there.’
‘You will need me.’
‘Yes, I’ll need you.’
It was so exciting just talking about it, and with Simon and John and Cedric helping to work out the sequence of events, the parking, the ordering of the food, the hiring of the tableware – ‘No, forget that. We’ve got mountains of plates in the dining-room cupboards – we can use those.’ Mountains of incredibly valuable china, Spode and Minton and Crown Derby, Lily thought, but she knew better than to protest.
‘We can punt it all across the day be
fore, and everything we need. The food can be delivered straight there, we can carry it across the bridge ourselves. It will be ready-cooked, the joints and hams, and the desserts all made up, I’ve worked it all out, what to order.’
‘And the drink of course,’ said Simon.
‘Yes, from Father’s wine merchant. He knows.’
‘What, your father?’
‘No, the wine merchant, ass. I’m tipping him to keep it under his hat.’
‘Your father’s bound to find out.’
‘Yes, but it’ll be long over when he comes home. And he won’t mind. He’s never given me a party in my life before so I’ll say it’s a birthday party really, a bit late. That’s all. He owes it me.’
Lily was pretty sure it was not going to be the sort of birthday party Antony’s father would approve of, but nobody mentioned the obvious. It was too much fun doing it their own way. Lily had been told not to tell her father, but she knew that he was already aware of something going on, and so was probably most of the village. He didn’t ask her, saying only, obscurely, ‘Know nought, say nought, that’s my motto.’
‘Maybe you could do your jump at the party, Lily, when we’ve practised it first. It would be fantastic—’
‘What, into the lake, to amuse your friends? I don’t love you that much, Antony. I’m only doing it once, without anyone seeing, somewhere private. And even then I might not, when the moment comes.’
‘Soon, Lily. The next time I’m here when the weather’s right. No wind. In the dawn, just when it’s light but everyone is still asleep. It will be wonderful.’
Will it? Lily wondered. Her insides tingled at the thought. It was big in her head now, this thing she had to do, and it filled her with excitement, misgiving, downright panic. But she knew if she refused it, she would never forgive herself.
Aunt Maud went home, taking the dog, and Squashy cried inconsolably, driving Lily mad.
‘Barky loved him too. We both want him!’
‘He’ll come back when Aunt Maud comes again. Not long, I expect.’ Not in the middle of Antony’s party, she prayed. Aunt Maud had intimated that with her brother expected to be in South America for a few weeks over the summer, she might ‘drop in’ to keep an eye on Antony. Antony had lied to her and told her he was going to be staying with friends in the early summer, and she said she would come later, though she also needed to check her itinerary for her annual trip to the French Riviera. One could only pray.
‘The old bat! She thinks I’m not to be trusted.’
A wise old bat, Lily thought, but did not say. ‘Forget about her. She’s a pain. Nice dog though.’
‘Yes, nice dog.’
Squashy started to cry again.
‘I want Ludo!’
Lily wanted to hit him, but knew she couldn’t. Oh, to be up in the sky, floating slowly down with the clouds all round and the sun shining on her and her soul free like a bird … she longed for it suddenly: a rare, rare brightness beckoning, which she would remember for ever. Antony said it was as safe as houses, and no one else knew they were going to do it.
APRIL, 1922
9
‘Now the weather’s warmer, the first Sunday with no wind. Early in the morning, so no one will see,’ Antony had said on a Long Leave at home in the spring.
Already Lily could feel the excitement mounting.
‘If I come home specially, you won’t funk out, will you? You won’t let me down? I trust you.’ His eyes had been challenging.
‘I might at the last moment. How can I tell? I might not be able to make myself—’
‘I shall never forgive you.’
‘How can I tell though? If it was you – it’s not as if the plane’s on fire or anything so’s you’ve got to get out. Only a bit of fun.’
‘I know you can, Lily. That’s why I love you so.’
That clinched it. She said no more. But the fear bubbled inside her. She tried not to think about it. But it was like those volcanoes they had been taught about at school, always ticking away beneath the surface, to erupt in flames without warning (not in England fortunately) – the fear leaped into her throat without warning when she was cooking or pulling up a cabbage or just lying in bed nearly asleep. Fear or excitement, she could not tell, just the feeling of bursting with an uncontainable emotion, indefinable … when it was over, if she were still alive, how dull life would be without it … although there would still be the party to anticipate …
Her father thought she was sickening for something. ‘What’s wrong with you, gel? You’re like a cat on hot bricks.’
She tried to play it down, contain it. But she didn’t have long to wait. Antony arrived unexpectedly, saying he had been suspended, whatever that meant, for a couple of weeks. Not to come back till after the Easter hols. His father gave him a thrashing, then was quite nice to him, forgetting all about it.
‘A fortnight off is a waste of his money, that’s all he thinks of. He doesn’t really care about what I did.’
‘What did you do?’
‘Oh, a bit of larking about. Bit of a birthday celebration – I am eighteen now, don’t you see! Someone got hurt though, so we got into trouble. Nothing really.’
It sounded like her parachute jump.
‘Tomorrow, eh, Lily? The weather’s just right, no wind, clear visibility. We can go off early and be back for breakfast. No one need know.’
‘Yes, all right.’
In a way, it was a blessing to get it over. No more agonising. Dead or alive, it would be decided. To be dead would be so peaceful.
‘Piece of cake,’ Antony said.
From that moment, through the evening and all through the night, Lily’s brain wrestled with emotions she could scarcely contain, ranging from a pitiful fear of death to euphoria of a blazing intensity. Sleep was impossible. It was a calm spring night, the sky glittering with stars. She felt she was to become part of the sky like the stars themselves, a magical being at one with the clouds and the raindrops and the highest flying eagles, pitched from a prosaic little aeroplane into a sphere unknown to human beings: the great canopy of the sky, all alone. She did not think her mind would work in such conditions, to instruct her to do all the things Antony had taught her, to save her life. To walk out on the wing and jump off backwards, not to pull the ripcord until she was well free, not to panic … impossible …
‘They do it all the time in America … Lindbergh’s done it four times …’
Then to think: it’s all a dream, Antony just said it for a joke and it’s not going to happen. And then the hollow disappointment worse than the fear, the falling into a black pit of misery to think her boring life was not to be illuminated by this wonderful intimacy with the clouds and the sky, out there alone in inestimable space … I am going batty, she said to herself. I might never recover my brains after this. They say a great shock sends you loopy. Antony is doing this to me. She told herself that hundreds of men had jumped out with parachutes and lived to tell the tale, and Antony had bought her the latest design by Mr Irvin, unimaginable that it would not work, a piece of cake indeed, go to sleep. Impossible.
The stars began to fade and the grey light of dawn filtered into her bedroom under the eaves. She crept out of bed, dressed rapidly and went downstairs. She had put out her warmest clothes and a scarf to contain her hair in case it should get caught in the rigging. What hadn’t she thought of? Absolutely nothing. Her brain had now cooled and she felt calm and slightly sick. It was impossible to think of eating, so she unlatched the door quietly and went outside. The sharp fresh air was wonderful, a slap in the face to shift her stupid imaginings. She drank in deep breaths and started to walk firmly away from the cottage. Would it be the last time? Don’t be so stupid! The lake with its familiar blurring of mist hiding the far trees lay silent and mysterious as always. Would the sight of it be her last? Don’t be so stupid!
‘Lily!’
‘Oh, Antony!’ The relief at seeing him, all the ridiculous clutter in her he
ad dropped into oblivion. She did not notice that he too was pale, and frightened, yet seeing her he also laughed, and they hugged each other.
‘I didn’t think you’d come!’
It had been a hope, in reality, his night having been spent sleepless in a terrible fear at what he was asking of her. But seeing her so game, laughing, changed his mood.
All the same, he said, ‘You don’t have to, Lily.’
‘Oh yes, I do,’ she replied. ‘I must do it.’
She had not suffered those weeks of doubt to fail at the last moment. She did not know the thoughts that were going through Antony’s head: that if she were to be killed, then he too would crash the plane and die. It was a wild and impulsive resolution. He could not believe, in the cold light of dawn, that he had been so stupid to ask her to do this thing. It had been in the nature of a joke initially. He had not expected her to agree.
‘You are wild, Lily!’
‘Hark who’s talking!’
They walked down the side of the lake together towards where the little plane stood waiting. Antony had had the tank filled, and the brand-new parachute was sitting waiting in the passenger seat. It looked to Lily cumbersome and grim, a rucksack thing with heavy straps. Antony arranged it on her and gave her instructions.
‘When I give the word you climb out onto the wing. You can see that’s quite easy, holding onto the strut. The wind will try and blow you off so to jump is quite easy. You just let go and go off backwards, the wind will take you. But don’t pull the cord until you’re well clear. You’ve got to fall clear first, else the chute might open and get caught in the tail. Fall clear first and then pull the cord to open it. It’s very simple.’
‘Yes.’
‘I’ve picked an airfield about twenty minutes away, not near anywhere and no one will be about at this time of day, so with luck we’ll have the place to ourselves.’
God, if her father found out! Lily thought. But it was scarcely daylight, and little stirred. The sky was steely grey, with just a faint streak of a greenish dawn beginning to stir behind the trees. Even the farmers were still asleep. If they were not back before her father was up she could say she went out for … what? She would think of something before they got home. She shivered.
