by Roberta Kray
Lolly was instantly reminded of Joseph and what he’d said to her in the tunnel. They say blood’s thicker than water but it ain’t always true. Sometimes you’ve got to start from scratch, make your own family. She didn’t know why the words had stuck in her head but they had. Maybe it was a sign, something she should take note of, but no sooner had the thought crossed her mind than a bowl of stew was placed in front of her and all she could think about was eating.
The woman who served the food was small and wide with a large bosom. ‘I hope you’ve got a good appetite, love. There’s plenty more where that came from.’
‘Ta,’ Lolly said.
‘And feel free to come down to the kitchen any time. I’m always glad of the company.’
‘Mrs Docherty makes the best cakes in the world,’ Mal said.
‘Oh, get away with you. When was the last time you ate one of my cakes?’
Mal patted his stomach and smiled. ‘I’ve got a middle-age spread to worry about. Lolly doesn’t need to be concerned about her waistline.’
Mrs Docherty laughed and left the room. While Lolly dug into the most delicious stew she’d ever tasted, Mal and Stanley kept up a steady flow of conversation. Occasionally, one or other of them would ask her a question, but on the whole she was left to get on with her meal. It was only when Stanley said, ‘You’ll have to find a school for her. Have you thought of anywhere?’ that she stopped eating and looked from one to the other.
‘Do you like school, Lolly?’ Mal asked.
‘Not much,’ she replied honestly. ‘I’m no good at anything.’
Mal smiled. ‘Everyone’s good at something. You just haven’t found out what it is yet. What do you like doing?’
Lolly frowned as she thought about it. Her only happy memories were of being with her mum – and those days had gone for ever – or sitting with Jude on the green corduroy sofa. ‘Films,’ she said eventually. ‘I like watching old films.’
‘Ah, well that’s a turn up. Did you know Esther’s an actress? In fact, she’s filming right now in Cornwall.’
‘What’s it called?’
‘Jamaica Inn. It’s based on a novel by Daphne du Maurier. Have you read it?’
Lolly shook her head. ‘What’s it about?’
‘Oh, shipwreckers and smugglers and women in peril. We may have a copy somewhere. I’ll see if I can dig it out. Esther’s only got a small part, but I’m sure it will lead to greater things. It’s been a while since she last worked.’
‘Why’s that?’
There was a short, uneasy silence. Mal seemed on the verge of saying something, but then changed his mind. Another few seconds ticked by. Stanley cleared his throat. Lolly wished she hadn’t asked.
‘It’s a long story,’ Mal said. ‘I’ll save it for another day.’
Stanley rose to his feet with what sounded like a sigh of relief. ‘Thank you for supper, but I’d better make a move. I don’t want to get back to London too late.’
‘You’ll call?’ Mal asked. ‘If you get any news?’
‘Of course.’
Lolly wondered what the news might be about, but kept her curiosity to herself. The three of them walked to the front door together where Stanley said goodbye and trotted down the steps towards his car. He was just about to get in when she realised she couldn’t let him go without asking something. Quickly she launched herself down the steps after him.
‘Mr Parrish! Wait!’
He turned, looking startled, as if she might be about to beg him to take her with him. ‘What is it? Are you all right?’
‘Yes, but could you… could you do me a favour?’
‘If I can.’
‘Could you find out how Joseph is? You know, the guy I told you about? Joseph Clayton. Could you ring the hospital? I just want to know if he’s okay.’
Stanley nodded. ‘Joseph Clayton. I’ll see what I can do.’
‘Thanks.’
‘You take care,’ Stanley said. ‘Oh, I almost forgot.’ He took out his wallet, removed a small white business card and passed it over to her. ‘My number. You can call me any time. Leave a message if I’m not there and I’ll ring you back.’
Lolly shoved the card into her pocket and ran back up the steps where she stood with Mal and waved as the car began its journey down the drive. She watched until the tail-lights disappeared from view. She had a curious feeling in the pit of her stomach, as though she was watching her last link to Kellston slip away for ever.
‘Will he come back?’ she asked.
‘Of course. Why wouldn’t he?’
Lolly shrugged, knowing that sometimes people went away for good.
‘It’s cold out here,’ Mal said. ‘Let’s go in.’
But still they stood for a while longer, side by side, gazing silently into the darkness.
29
When Lolly woke the next morning it was to the vision of a hundred peacocks. She had left the curtains partly open and light slid through the gap. While she gazed at the birds, she reviewed her situation, trying to decide how she felt. Relief was at the top of the list – there would be no Cecils to face this morning – but also a sense of trepidation. Everything was new and weird and different. From past experience, she knew how hard it could be to fit in, to be accepted.
She got out of bed and padded over to the window. The view across the garden took her breath away. There were wide lawns and winding paths, trees, shrubs and hedges, and straight ahead the silvery expanse of a lake. No cars or buses, no sounds of traffic at all. Even the spitting rain couldn’t detract from the beauty of the scene spread out before her.
Last night, Mal had provided a guided tour of the house, each room – or so it seemed –grander than the last. Her eyes had grown large as her feet had sunk into the deep-pile carpets. She had never seen such stylish furniture before, or so many statues and paintings. There was even a library full of books. What she had noticed most, however, were the clocks. They were everywhere, all shapes and sizes, from tall plain grandfathers to smaller, fancier ones flanked by golden cherubs.
‘My father was a clockmaker,’ Mal had explained. ‘Or an horologist if you want the technical term.’
‘Did he make all these?’
‘Only some of them. He was a collector. He liked beautiful things.’
‘Do you make clocks too?’
‘No, I’m not smart enough for that. And I haven’t got the patience. I just sell them. Although it’s more watches than clocks these days. Do you have a watch?’
Lolly had shaken her head, glancing at her bare wrist as if one might have suddenly materialised while they were walking round the house.
‘We’ll have to get you one. I’ll take you to the store and you can choose your own.’
Lolly left the window and looked over at the clock in her own bedroom. It was five past eight. Usually, at this time, she’d be getting ready for school but today she didn’t have to face that particular horror. No lessons, no maths or French. It was like being on holiday, although she wasn’t quite sure what she was going to do with herself.
She went to the bathroom, had a wash and brushed her teeth. She thought about Mal Fury as she got dressed. He was an easy sort of person to be with, not like some adults, but she was still wary of him. People weren’t always what they seemed to be. Her instincts told her she could trust him, but she’d reserve judgement until she got to know him better.
Lolly went downstairs and along the hall to the room where they’d eaten supper last night. The table was empty. She pushed her hands into the pockets of her jeans and stared at it, not sure what to do next. A voice behind her made her jump.
‘If it’s breakfast you’re after, you’ll have to go to the kitchen.’
Lolly spun round to find Mrs Gough standing by the door. ‘Oh, right, okay.’
‘Mrs Docherty will fix you up with something. It’s downstairs. Do you know where the stairs are?’
‘Yes,’ Lolly said, remembering the way from the tour Ma
l had given her.
‘And don’t forget that Theresa’s coming at ten. She’ll meet you in the hallway. Make sure you’ve got your coat on.’
‘Okay.’
Mrs Gough gave another of her disapproving looks before quickly turning and heading off towards whatever urgent business needed her attention next. Lolly wasn’t upset or even offended by the woman’s attitude. A spot of mild disapproval was nothing compared to the outright hostility of some people. She was thinking especially of the Cecil boys, and was glad she was finally free of them both.
Downstairs, the kitchen had a big wooden table and numerous pots and pans hanging from hooks on the wall.
Mrs Docherty greeted her with a smile. ‘Hello, love. Did you sleep well?’
‘Yes, ta.’
‘Now, what can I get you for breakfast? You must be hungry. Do you like eggs?’
Lolly nodded.
‘Boiled, poached or scrambled?’
‘Scrambled, please.’
‘That’s fine. And I’ll do a few rashers of streaky to go with it. You can manage a bit of bacon, can’t you?’
‘I think so.’
‘Good. You sit yourself down and I’ll get it sorted. Won’t take me long. I’ve got to say it’s nice to have some young blood in the house. And with Mrs Fury back at work, it’s all change for the better. Perhaps we’ll see some life around the place again.’
Lolly watched as Mrs Docherty put a pan on the stove and heated up some oil. ‘Is she a famous actress?’
‘Well, she was when she was young. Not that she’s old or anything now – of course she isn’t – but I mean when she was in her late teens and early twenties. She won an Oscar, you know. Best Actress. She was Esther Gray back then. It was before she was married and there was all that awful business with…’ Mrs Docherty paused and gave a sigh. ‘Still, perhaps things are looking up for her again. I hope so.’
Lolly wanted to know what the ‘awful business’ was, but didn’t like to ask. Instead she said, ‘What was the film called?’
‘Oh, it had a strange name – Dark Places. Not very cheerful, is it? But everyone said she was wonderful. A real star. Which is something to be proud of, considering she was so young and all at the time.’
Lolly tried to remember if she had ever seen the title on Jude’s shelves, but didn’t think she had. Thinking of Jude made her sad. She felt a long way away from Kellston and wondered if she’d ever get the chance to see him again. ‘What was it about? The film, I mean.’
‘I don’t recall all the ins and out. It’s years since I saw it now.’
The smell of frying bacon made Lolly’s mouth water. She heard the spit and crackle as Mrs Docherty flipped the slices over in the pan. For all her sadness, there was something comforting about being down here in the basement; it felt warm and safe. She yawned even though she wasn’t tired.
‘You need some fresh air. What are your plans for today, then?’
‘I’m supposed to meet someone called Theresa at ten. Mrs Gough says she’s going to take me shopping.’
Mrs Docherty glanced over her shoulder as she stirred the scrambled eggs. ‘You’ll like Theresa. She’s from the village, a nice girl, although her mouth tends to run away with her at times. I wouldn’t believe everything she tells you.’
‘What sort of things?’
Mrs Docherty laughed as she served up the food. ‘You ask a lot of questions, don’t you? Here, get this down you. It’ll set you up for the day.’
While Lolly ate, Mrs Docherty poured herself a mug of tea, spooned in three sugars and sat down at the table. ‘It makes a change to see someone with an appetite. Half of what I make in this house goes to waste. Mrs Fury hardly eats a thing, and he’s more often out than in. Most times, when he gets back from work, he only wants a sandwich.’
‘It’s very nice,’ Lolly said between mouthfuls.
‘Maybe things will buck up now you’re here. The place has been too quiet for too long.’ Mrs Docherty took a sip of tea and gazed at Lolly over the rim of the mug. ‘I was sorry to hear about your mum, love. You must miss her.’
Lolly stopped eating for a second, her fork poised mid-air. She couldn’t count the number of ways she missed her mother, but didn’t know how to put it into words. ‘Yes,’ she said eventually. ‘I do.’
‘Course you do. And nothing’s quite the same as your own kin, but you’ve got friends here. Any time you fancy a chat, you just come on down. There’s never a need to be lonely.’
‘Okay.’
‘I mean it. You’d be doing me a favour. I could do with a bit of company myself.’
Lolly still had an hour to spare after breakfast. She thanked Mrs Docherty again, ran upstairs to get her coat and then descended to the ground floor where she went through the rear doors into the garden. With time to kill, she may as well explore the grounds.
Outside, the air was crisp with a cold snappy wind. She jogged down the wide flight of steps. At the bottom were two big terracotta pots, one either side, like guards to the house. They were filled with ivy and winter pansies and some other plants she didn’t know the names of.
Lolly pushed her hands into her pockets and set off along the path that led towards the lake. She passed an abandoned tennis court on the way, the net removed, weeds pushing up through the concrete. When she stopped and listened she could hear nothing apart from the wind running through the trees. As she drew closer to the water, the ground became soft and pulpy underfoot. She danced around the puddles, relishing her freedom from school. It wouldn’t last for ever so she might as well make the most of it.
Eventually she came to another smaller path that skirted the lake. Did it go all the way round? It was impossible to tell. The weeping willows leaned over, obscuring her view. She knew that was their name because her mum had said so when they’d seen one in a park. It had stuck in her head because it was so sad.
‘Why are they called that?’
‘Because they come from China and they’re missing home.’
Lolly wasn’t sure if this was true – her mother hadn’t always been the most reliable source of information – but she wanted to believe it. She gazed at the long, trailing branches, their tips skimming the water. She was missing home too. A lump formed in her throat but she swallowed it back down. It wasn’t good to think about the past too much.
Crouching on the bank, she dipped her fingers into the cold water and quickly pulled them out again. Freezing. She sucked in a breath and wiped her hand on her jeans, trying to get it dry. The wind caught the surface of the lake, creating choppy waves that rolled and ran and eventually disappeared to nothing. By her feet were large clumps of reed-like things with dark brown velvety heads.
Lolly straightened up and walked a short distance along the path. She didn’t want to go too far in case she got back late to the house. Apart from the wind, there was no other sound. It felt odd, kind of wrong, to be in a place without people; she was used to the busy streets of London, to the roar of traffic and the constant hum of life.
After a few metres, she stopped again and gazed out across the water. It was then, as her eyes scanned the horizon, that she got a strange prickling sensation on the back of her neck. She whirled around but there was no one there.
