Wait For the Dawn

by Jess Foley

  As the young man left the room, Mr Donovan took his chair behind the desk again. ‘Miss Halley,’ he said, ‘I’m most dreadfully sorry to have kept you waiting. Unfortunately something came up and I was quite obliged to leave the office for a while. I do hope it hasn’t inconvenienced you too much.’

  Lydia assured him that it had not.

  ‘I’m glad to hear it,’ he said. ‘Time is precious for everyone.’ He smiled at her, and clasped his hands before him. ‘And we want to get off on the right foot, don’t we?’

  She smiled back, and felt that she might begin to relax a little.

  Stepping smartly through the streets, she headed for the little teashop where she and Ryllis had hoped to meet. It was now past two o’clock. The interview had gone on longer than she had anticipated, and she had only just been released from it. She could not believe that Ryllis would still be waiting. Surely she would have got tired and given up long before this time.

  Lydia turned through the square, passed into one of the side streets, and eventually came to the teashop. Moments later she was inside and looking around. As she had feared, there was no sign of Ryllis – but in any case, there was no knowing whether Ryllis had even managed to get into Redbury today in the first place. After a few seconds’ hesitation Lydia approached a woman behind the counter.

  ‘Yes, miss?’ the woman said. ‘What can we get for you?’

  ‘I had arranged to meet my sister here,’ Lydia said. ‘She’s sixteen, a little shorter than I, dark-haired, pretty . . .’

  ‘Oh, yes, miss,’ the woman nodded. ‘I know who you mean. She was in a while ago. Had two cups o’ tea and then left. Wearing a dark blue cape and a black straw bonnet with crêpe trimming.’

  ‘Yes, that would be her,’ Lydia said, and added, ‘I don’t suppose she said anything to you before she went?’

  ‘No, miss, she just up and left.’

  Lydia thanked her and went outside on to the street again, where she stood with the pedestrians moving around her. From here she was able to see the town hall clock. It was a quarter past two. She had no idea what to do, and after a minute of standing there she set off, wandering through the streets, looking around her.

  During her meanderings, constantly on the lookout for any sign of Ryllis, she stopped to make a couple of purchases. The first was on seeing punnets of strawberries on sale at a stall in the square. She decided to buy some for her father, who was very fond of them. He had tried on occasions to grow them over the years, but had always lost out to the slugs and the birds. Her second purchase was at a secondhand book stall, where for twopence she bought a little book of Lord Byron’s poems.

  Then, after well over half an hour of wandering she came to a stop. She was getting nowhere. During her search she had even returned once to the teashop, just in case Ryllis had decided to go back there, but, as she expected, there was no sign of her, and by all accounts she had not been back in the meantime. Lydia now began to wonder whether Ryllis might have decided to return to Barford. In which case she, Lydia, might go on searching for ever.

  At one side of the main square was set a little garden, like an oasis. It had within its confines a white marble drinking fountain, and a decorative archway of thatch, while a cascading laburnum tree cast shade over a couple of old wooden benches. Lydia hesitated for a moment, and then went into the garden and sat down in the cool shade of the tree, setting beside her on the bench her bag and basket. The sun was strong in a cloudless sky, and the day had become extremely warm. There was just one couple besides herself there, and she was glad of the peace and the chance to rest as she watched the pedestrians moving back and forth about the square. From here she had a good view, and should be able to see Ryllis if she happened to walk by.

  The minutes passed. From a nearby tower a clock struck the hour of three. The sun shining through the laburnum threw a dappled shadow over the bench and the flags below, and Lydia continued to sit there. The elderly couple got up and moved away into the square. After a little further rest, Lydia told herself, she would take one more meander through the main streets of the town, and then, if there was still no sign of Ryllis she would give up looking.

  As she sat gazing out she became aware of a shadow moving on her left and, turning, she saw the figure of a tall man carrying a briefcase moving into her line of vision. He stepped to the fountain, briefly put his hand into the stream of water, shook it, and then wiped it dry with a blue chequered handkerchief. As he put the handkerchief in his pocket he moved to the other bench close by and sat down. Lydia moved her gaze back to face the square. Another five minutes, she told herself, and she would get up and resume her search.

  All at once she was distracted in her thoughts by a wasp that came hovering over the basket with the strawberries, and she flapped out at it with her hand. The unwelcome creature flew away, but unfortunately her fingers caught the handle, and the next second the basket was tipping over and falling off the bench, spilling the book and the strawberries onto the flags.

  Even as she gave a little gasp of surprise, there came an exclamation from the man, and he was at once rising and stepping towards her.

  ‘Here – let me help you.’ Stooping low, he began picking up the strawberries and replacing them in the little punnet. Lydia thanked him, and between them in a few moments they had rescued the fruit. ‘They’ll be perfectly all right once they’ve been washed,’ the man said. He had a light, warm voice, with no immediate discernible accent of the West country. Lydia thanked him for his kindness, and he touched his bowler hat to her and said he was glad to be of service.

  He still held in his hand her little book of poems, and now he said, ‘D’you mind . . .?’ and glanced at its spine to read the title. ‘Poems of Lord Byron,’ he said. Then added, ‘Or is it the Bad Lord Byron: mad, bad, and dangerous to know?’

  ‘Perhaps not so bad,’ Lydia said. ‘My father called him a man without a soul. But how can a man who wrote such beautiful things be without a soul?’

  The man opened the book, turned the pages and then read:

  ‘So, we’ll go no more a-roving

  So late into the night,

  Though the heart be still as loving,

  And the moon be still as bright . . .’

  He closed the book and handed it to her. ‘Oh, I think he had a soul,’ he said.

  Lydia placed the book in her basket beside the strawberries, then looked back at the man. He must be in his mid-twenties, she thought. His smile was warm, showing white, even teeth. He had dark brown hair, and grey eyes that looked steadily back at her. He wore a formal looking suit of charcoal grey with a fine, pale grey pinstripe.

  Suddenly conscious of his returning glance, she was aware that she was staring, and quickly she looked away and off into the throng of pedestrians moving about their business.

  ‘Are you looking for someone?’ the man asked.

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘My sister. We’d planned to meet here in Redbury, but I was late and we missed one another. Consequently, neither of us knows now where the other one is.’

  ‘Oh, dear. What shall you do if you can’t find one another?’

  ‘Well,’ she said, ‘I shall just have to give up and go on home, and so, I suppose, will Ryllis.’

  ‘Did you come into Redbury especially to see her?’

  ‘No. I had to come in on business, but as my sister sometimes has to come in here on a Saturday to do shopping it seemed like a good opportunity for us to meet for a cup of tea. We don’t get many chances.’

  ‘May I ask where you’ve come from?’

  ‘Capinfell.’

  ‘Ah, yes.’ He nodded. ‘I know of it, though I’ve never actually been there. Beyond Merinville, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes.’ She turned her head, once again looking about her.

  ‘Where did you arrange to meet?’ he asked.

  ‘At a small teashop in Regency Street. The trouble is, I was so late getting there, she must have given up waiting. She’ll pro
bably have done what I’ve been doing – gone walking around the place, looking. It’s such a shame, for she can’t always get away. Now I don’t know what to do. She might well have started back to Barford by now.’

  Neither spoke for a few moments, then he said, ‘Did you get your business completed here?’

  ‘I beg your pardon? Oh, yes, I did, thank you.’ She gave another distracted sigh. ‘What am I going to do? This is so foolish. Should I stay in one place or start wandering around again? I suppose I could try the teashop one last time.’ She gave a little chuckle. ‘I’m quite lost, it seems.’

  ‘It’s always a good idea,’ he said, ‘to have one special place to go to.’

  ‘I – I’m sorry?’

  ‘What I mean is, perhaps you don’t have to be lost, but if you are lost, then it’s as well to have a special place to run to.’

  ‘Oh?’ she said.

  ‘And for a start,’ he added, ‘a place where a loved one would know where to look.’

  She nodded, smiling. ‘And what kind of place would that be?’

  ‘It doesn’t really matter. Though it’d probably be as well to choose a place where you can wait in comfort.’ He looked around them. ‘This place would do as well as any other – even if the weather’s bad, I should think. If it rains you could always duck under the little thatch there.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose so.’

  He shook his head. ‘It’s a shame you’ve missed your sister. What did you say her name is?’

  ‘Ryllis. Amaryllis. Oh, and I was so looking forward to seeing her today.’ She looked up at the blue sky. ‘It’s such a beautiful day. I thought we might buy some sandwiches and tea or lemonade and have a little bite in the park or somewhere.’

  ‘Well, it’d be a perfect day for it, but so it should be.’

  ‘Why’s that?’

  ‘Well, today is the 21st, the longest day of the year.’

  ‘Oh – yes. Yes, of course.’

  ‘Don’t you think that’s special?’ He nodded. ‘I do. Only good things should happen today. And –’

  He broke off, for suddenly Lydia was rising from her seat, looking out into the square.

  ‘Ryllis!’

  She took a step forward as Ryllis came hurrying towards her out of the throng.

  ‘Oh, Lyddy!’ Ryllis carried a large, full basket over her arm. ‘Oh, what a relief, Lyddy,’ she said. ‘I thought I’d never find you.’

  The two sisters embraced. ‘And I’d just about given up too,’ Lydia said as they drew apart. ‘I thought surely you must be on your way back to Barford by now.’

  ‘I almost was. What happened? I waited for ages in the teashop.’

  ‘I’m afraid my interview got postponed,’ Lydia said. ‘Anyway . . .’ She turned now to the man, who stood nearby watching the reunion. ‘Thank you so much,’ she said to him, and then, ‘Sir, I’m afraid I don’t know your name.’

  ‘My name is Guy,’ he said. ‘Guy Anderson.’ He smiled, taking in Ryllis. ‘And quite obviously this is the missing young lady.’

  Lydia said, smiling, ‘Yes, this is my sister, Ryllis Halley. And I’m Lydia. Lydia Halley.’

  He shook their hands, then said with a self-satisfied smile, ‘Well, you see, Miss Halley, I was right, wasn’t I?’

  ‘You were right?’ Lydia said. ‘What about?’

  ‘About choosing a special spot, in case you ever find yourself lost.’

  Lydia said, turning to Ryllis, ‘Mr Anderson says one should always have a special place, in case one ever loses one’s way. That way, a loved one will always know where to look. He chose this place.’ She gave a little laugh as she turned to him. ‘It looks like you’re right, Mr Anderson. Perhaps you’ve got secret powers.’

  He chuckled. ‘Perhaps I do. It works for homing pigeons, and it worked for you two, didn’t it?’

  The three laughed together, then the man said, ‘Well, I mustn’t keep you ladies. I understand that you, Miss Ryllis, have to go to Barford.’

  ‘Yes,’ Ryllis said, ‘and I haven’t long before I must start back.’

  ‘Then I shall leave you to your picnic or whatever you plan to do.’ He picked up his briefcase, touched a hand to his hat. ‘And I’ll wish you a good day.’ He gave a little smiling nod to each of them in turn, and as Lydia and Ryllis said their goodbyes, turned and stepped away.

  Standing side by side the two sisters watched as he moved off among the people, as his figure diminished and vanished in the distance.

  ‘Well,’ Ryllis said, ‘how did you meet him?’ There was a definite note of approval in her voice.

  ‘Oh – he just came by while I was sitting here catching my breath.’

  ‘Very handsome,’ Ryllis said.

  Lydia heard herself say, ‘D’you think so?’

  ‘I do – and I’m sure you must do too. How could you not?’

  Lydia ignored this last remark and, changing the subject, said, ‘Well, what shall we do?’

  ‘I’ll have to start back by four,’ Ryllis said. ‘Which doesn’t give us long. Even so it’ll be remarked on, my being late. Still – can’t be helped. If I get told off, I get told off.’ She gestured across the square. ‘We’ll go to that teashop, shall we?’

  The teashop was busy and noisy, but it was close by. They managed to find seats inside where it was cool, and there ordered from the maid glasses of lemonade, and for Ryllis a small slice of game pie.

  ‘Well,’ Ryllis said, giving a contented sign, ‘here we are at last.’ Then, leaning forward across the table, she said, ‘So – tell me how your interview went at Seager’s.’

  ‘Oh, it went very well,’ Lydia said, a note of excitement in her voice. ‘The employment manager, Mr Donovan, was extremely pleasant, and he told me a lot about the store, and the goods they sell. Oh, it’s a marvellous place, Ryllis, just marvellous. I never realised it was quite so vast. Of course I’ve been in there occasionally over the years, but – oh, you just can’t have an idea. That store sells just about everything that a person could wear or carry.’

  ‘Yes, I know. I take it, then, that you’ve been offered a position.’

  ‘I have.’ Lydia gave a breathless little laugh. ‘I showed Mr Donovan my reference from Cremson’s and he seemed to think it was very satisfactory. He spoke of vacancies in several situations.’

  ‘What will you be doing, then?’

  ‘Well, I told him I’d prefer to be in one of the offices behind the scenes, rather than out serving customers in the shop proper. So – I’ve been offered a position in the postal order room. They have such a huge volume of orders coming in by post for the different goods, and they need a great many staff to keep up with it all. Mr Donovan says there’re over fifty clerks dealing with the postal side of the business.’

  ‘Over fifty!’

  ‘Yes, they’re that busy.’

  The maid brought their order at this point, and they sipped at their drinks and Ryllis took a mouthful of her pie. Then, looking up over her glass, Ryllis said, ‘When do you start, Lyddy – at Seager’s?’

  ‘Well, I have to give my fortnight’s notice in at Cremson’s, which I’ll do on Monday.’ She gave a little shrug. ‘So I guess I can start in two weeks. Oh, there’ll be so much to do in that time. For one thing I’ll have to find myself some lodgings. Mr Donovan got one of his clerks to give me the names and addresses of a few landladies who are looking for respectable people.’ She tapped her bag. ‘I’ve got a list of them, so that’s what I want to settle before I start back to Capinfell.’

  Ryllis raised her eyebrows a little. ‘I wonder what Father will say to all this.’

  ‘I can’t imagine. Though he knows the worst of it now, and he’s barely talking to me as it is.’

  ‘Well,’ Ryllis said, ‘he’ll get used to the idea in time, particularly once you’ve gone, but it might not be easy in the meantime.’

  Lydia shook her head and frowned. ‘Yes, I know, but – oh, let’s not talk about that. I don’t want to
think about it.’ Then, her brow clearing, she said, ‘What about you, little sister? Enough about me. What’s been happening to you? How are you getting along at The Laurels?’

  ‘Oh, about the same.’ Screwing up her pink mouth, Ryllis added, ‘Nothing seems to change there, more’s the pity.’

  ‘Oh, but you somehow seemed a little – happier when you wrote. In your letter to me you hinted at having something to tell me. Something good. Wasn’t that so?’

  And now Ryllis smiled. ‘Well, yes. I have got something to tell you, and it is something good, I think.’

  ‘Well?’ Lydia waited.

  Ryllis finished the last of her pie and pushed the plate aside. ‘I met someone,’ she said.

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Yes, I was returning from the post office in Barford last month, and – I met someone.’

  Lydia took a sip from her glass and waited.

  Ryllis went on, ‘There was a bird, fallen out of its nest. A baby rook. Well, not fallen out of the nest, but tossed out by the parents. It landed right by me as I was walking along beneath the trees. It gave me a little start; I wondered what it could be. And then . . .’ she smiled again now, ‘then this young man came along, just as I was looking at the bird, and he said we should take pity on it and put it out of its misery, and kill the poor thing.’ She shrugged. ‘So – that’s what he did. He got this big stone and – and killed it.’ She gave a little shudder. ‘Oh, I couldn’t have done it.’ She took up her glass, found it empty and set it down again. ‘Anyway, his name is Thomas Bissett.’ She smiled again. ‘He’s eighteen, and he lives in Barford. His father’s a farmer, but not on some little farm – quite a big affair, with lots of land and quite a grand house, too.’

  Lydia smiled. ‘Well, you kept that little secret to yourself.’

  Ryllis smiled. ‘Yes. I don’t know how. I so wanted to write to you all about it.’ She frowned. ‘D’you think it’s all right, Lyddy?’

  ‘What d’you mean, all right?’

  ‘Well, you know – what with Mother having just died in March and . . . Well, I mean, there I am, finding some – well, some happiness. Perhaps it doesn’t seem quite right. Coming so soon.’