by Jess Foley
After supper that evening, Lydia did little other than sort out items of laundry and take them to a washerwoman who lived nearby. She could pick up the items, washed and ironed, on Saturday, she was told. Afterwards, she walked on to the Victoria Gardens and strolled on the pathways between the herbaceous borders. All the time she thought of Guy as he had been walking at her side.
At breakfast the next morning she told Mrs Obdermann that she would be going out for supper, and would not need any provided in the house. The landlady asked if she planned to be back late, indicating with her tone that she didn’t want to make a habit of leaving her lodgers to bolt the door. No, Lydia told her, she expected to be back before half past ten.
‘I don’t want you to think I’m overly fussy, Miss Halley,’ Mrs Obdermann said, ‘but we have to have rules, and I find it hard to sleep when I know the house isn’t locked up.’
‘Of course. I understand perfectly.’
There came a knock at the door at five minutes to seven that evening. Mrs Obdermann, knowing that it was almost certainly Lydia’s caller, did not answer it herself, but started up the stairs to fetch Lydia. Lydia, however, had heard the rapping, and was already out on the landing as Mrs Obdermann reached it.
‘Your caller, I think, Miss Halley,’ the landlady said, and Lydia thanked her. She moved past her on the landing and went down into the hall and opened the door.
Standing on the step in the small porch, Guy tipped his hat and said, smiling, ‘Good evening. Am I too early?’
Lydia returned his smile. ‘No, not at all. I’m quite ready.’ She stepped back into the hall to check herself before the mirror, touching at her hat and smoothing down her jacket. Then, as satisfied as events allowed, she moved back to the foot of the stairs, where she called up to the landlady, who still hovered on the landing, ‘I’ll see you later this evening, Mrs Obdermann.’
‘Yes, indeed,’ the older woman called back down. ‘I hope you enjoy yourself.’
Lydia crossed back to the front door, closing it behind her, and Guy turned and led the way up to the front gate, beyond which the familiar horse and carriage waited. He helped Lydia up and then climbed beside her and took up the reins. As the carriage started off, Guy said: ‘I thought we’d drive a little into the country and find a place to eat. Get away from the town for a while. I thought it was safe to bring the trap again; it looks promising to stay fine.’
The place they eventually decided on was the Crown and Hare, an inn about a mile out of the city. Guy said he had eaten there on an earlier occasion, when he was once home on leave from his regiment.
Leaving the horse and carriage in the care of a stable boy, Guy led the way into the inn. The interior was quite crowded, and the landlord, after greeting them, asked if they would like to sit outside. ‘It’s such a beautiful evenin’, sir,’ he said, ‘and you’ll be away from much of the noise.’
Guy and Lydia agreed, and the landlord showed them through the room and out of a door to a courtyard where three tables were placed. Two were occupied by people who sat eating and drinking, while a third, set in a small alcove, was vacant. Led to the empty table, they sat down on tall-backed benches facing one another. Would they, the landlord asked, like something to drink while he fetched the bill of fare? After briefly consulting Lydia, Guy asked for some wine, and the man went away, saying it would be brought to them.
‘He’s found us a nice spot, don’t you think?’ Guy said, looking around.
‘Oh, yes, indeed.’
Beyond the flagged area on which the table stood lay a lawn with herbaceous plots. Just a few feet from where they sat grew roses and nasturtiums and pansies, and their scent rose up in the evening air and hung there, sweet and fragrant. A small dog came to them, stopping beside Lydia, and she patted him a couple of times before he moved on in search of attention elsewhere. Lydia took off her gloves and put them in her bag on the bench. She was filled with the same sense of excitement she had known on going to the theatre. It was another new experience. In just a few days, it seemed, her whole life was taking on a different hue.
After a little while a young maid came to them with a white cloth which she spread over the table. That done she set down cutlery, and a jug of wine which she poured into glasses. When she had gone, Guy lifted his glass. ‘Here’s to you – Lydia.’ She held up her own glass and he touched it with his. Then he drank a little of the wine and smiled at her over the glass’s rim. ‘Taste your wine,’ he said, and watched her as she sipped at it.
‘It tastes delicious,’ she said. ‘It tastes of fruit and summer.’ She sipped again. She was unaccustomed to wine. Only on three occasions had she ever tasted it before, and that was when visiting Evie’s house at Christmas time. Three stolen occasions, and not one of them known to her father – like this glass in her hand, like this whole evening.
The landlord appeared beside the table, holding a slate from which he read off the bill of fare. They chose smoked fish, followed by roast beef and vegetables. The man went away again and they were left there in their little silence, touched only by the voices from the other tables and the laughter and murmuring from inside the inn. After a while, Lydia could hear music. ‘Can you hear?’ she said. ‘Someone’s playing a violin.’ The melody was some vaguely familiar tune whose title at that moment escaped her. It didn’t matter; she loved the sound. Guy, appearing content, gave a little sigh of pleasure and from his jacket pocket took a cigarette case and a box of matches. Lighting a cigarette he blew the smoke out into the soft summer air, and Lydia watched it curl and drift away.
When their food was served they ate slowly, enjoying the fine tastes and textures. The landlord came to them again when the beef was finished and from his offerings they ordered fresh strawberries and cream, and Lydia thought again of the fruit that had spilled over the flags that day, and of how Guy had helped her to gather them up. Now, as they ate, the sound of the violin drew closer, and then there the man was, suddenly at their side, the sweet sounds of the instrument floating out. He began to play Only Come! When he had finished playing a chorus a man at the next table took up the song and sang along to the violin’s accompaniment. He was thickset and in his forties, with an unromantic appearance, but his voice was the warmest baritone and was sweetly in tune with the strings of the violin.
Come, when dawn first climbs the hills
To light the sky;
Come when the shadows on the rills
Show day must die;
Come, when the last faint evening chime
Is hushed and dumb; hushed and dumb;
Come in spring or wintertime;
But only come. Only come.
The song ended and the singer inclined his head to the violinist and sat down to a little burst of happy applause. As the violinist moved away to another table Lydia said to Guy, ‘That was beautiful. The playing and the singing.’
Guy smiled. ‘Perhaps just a fraction sentimental?’
‘I don’t care,’ she said. ‘I love it.’
The strawberries were eaten, Lydia drank a little more of the wine, and then coffee was served. Taking a sip from the thick cup, she tasted the coffee – a little strong – and thought, I shall never sleep after this.
‘What are you thinking?’ Guy said.
‘I was just thinking,’ she replied, ‘that I mustn’t forget the time. I mustn’t be late. I told Mrs Obdermann I’d be back by half past ten.’
‘What would happen if you’re late?’
‘Well, nothing drastic, I suppose. I’ve got my latchkey, so I can get in all right. She won’t have bolted the door against me, but I’ve no doubt she’ll be listening for my return. I have to bolt the door when I get in.’
‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘I’ll get you back.’ He took a drink from his coffee cup and then gave a deep, heartfelt-sounding sigh of pleasure. ‘Oh, Lydia, I’m so glad you decided to come to Redbury that day – and that you and your sister missed one another.’
Unable to meet
his steady gaze, Lydia lowered her glance and took refuge in taking up her wineglass and gazing down into it. She held it with both hands, and looked down into the ruby glow. It was like gazing into the heart of some precious gem. All the time she could feel Guy’s eyes upon her and and then she felt her fingers enclosed as he reached across the table and wrapped his hand around hers. She almost flinched. She did not move her hands however, but remained as she was, and closed her eyes, conscious of the very sound of her breathing and the touch of his strong fingers on her own.
‘Oh, Lydia,’ she heard him whisper across the table, but she did not open her eyes, and still did not move her hands.
Then she felt his fingers gently remove the fingers of her right hand from around the glass, and draw her hand towards him across the table. She wanted to open her eyes and see what was happening, but she could not. She sat there and allowed her hand to be carried to him, and, as she discovered a moment later, it was carried to his mouth, for she felt a softness upon her fingers and realised that it was the softness of his lips.
She opened her eyes then and looked across the table at him. He sat leaning forward slightly, his eyes steady upon her own, his right hand holding her own right hand to his mouth. Her own mouth formed a little O, but still she did not withdraw her hand, and she watched as, still with his eyes upon her, he moved it and kissed her fingers again, pressing his lips upon her fingertips, her knuckles. She could feel her hand trembling under his touch, and was sure that he must be aware of it too. There was nothing she could do to prevent it, however, her trembling; and it was nothing to the fluttering that was going on about her heart.
‘Oh, yes,’ he said, raising his head, ‘I’m so glad you came to Redbury that day.’
Now, after another moment, she moved to withdraw her hand, and felt him reluctantly release her. She put down her wineglass and looked vaguely around her at the summer evening scene. She heard herself say, ‘I shall have to go,’ and gave a little sigh.
‘Right – we’ll just finish our wine and coffee and we’ll go.’ He drank again from his cup, then said, ‘Oh, I wish you weren’t leaving town tomorrow. Why d’you have to decide to go to Capinfell?’
‘I told you,’ she said. ‘I’m going to see my father.’
‘Yes, I know. I’m teasing. I just wish you weren’t going.’
‘I must.’
‘And you won’t be returning until Sunday.’
‘No.’
‘What time are you coming back?’
‘I shall try to catch the six-twenty from Merinville, which gets into Redbury just after seven.’
‘That’s two whole days you’re going to be away.’
‘Yes.’
‘Is it possible we can meet when you get back on Sunday?’
She frowned, shaking her head. ‘Oh, I don’t think so. I think I shall just feel like going back to my lodgings.’
‘Oh – shame.’
‘Well, for one thing I’ll have to get ready for Monday.’
‘I suppose so.’
‘Oh, I dare not be late. I’m a new girl, don’t forget. I feel every eye is upon me – and will be for a while yet.’
‘Is it possible, then, that we can meet on Monday evening?’
She nodded. ‘Yes, that’s possible – if you wish.’
‘I do wish.’ His voice was soft, but urgent. ‘I do indeed. Shall I meet you outside the Victoria Gardens again?’
She paused. ‘All right.’
‘Say half past seven.’
She nodded. ‘Half past seven.’
‘What if it’s raining?’
‘Well – I’ve got an umbrella.’
‘Or you could wait opposite in the doorway of the Rose and Flag.’ Then he added, ‘No, no, that wouldn’t do. What about your reputation?’
‘Then I must pray for fine weather,’ she said.
She looked around. The violinist had gone back into the inn and the people from the next table were gathering their belongings and preparing to leave. ‘Really,’ she said, ‘I have to go. I must go.’
He nodded, and at once called the serving girl who was passing, and asked for his bill. A few minutes later he and Lydia were moving into the stable yard where the boy brought them the mare and carriage. Guy gave the lad some coins and then helped Lydia up into the seat and climbed up after her. The light was just beginning to fade.
They rode for some distance without speaking of anything of importance, and Lydia was glad to keep the conversation on safe ground. For the most part she kept her eyes on the road ahead, rarely turning to take in Guy’s face. She had put her gloves back on, but she could still seem to feel the touch of his mouth upon her fingers.
At last they entered the city again, and as the Victoria Gardens came in view Lydia stirred in her seat. The end of the day was looming. Guy called out to the mare, ‘All rightie, Tess. Whoah there, old girl,’ and pulled her to a halt. As the carriage stopped, Lydia turned questioningly to him.
‘I don’t want to take you back yet,’ he said with a shrug.
‘But I have to get back,’ she said. To her ears her voice sounded slightly breathless. Little wonder, she thought: these past hours with him – nothing like it had ever happened to her before.
They sat looking at one another, just for a few moments looking into one another’s eyes, until Lydia, feeling herself flushing in the fading light, lowered her glance and turned her head away.
Above the trees of the Victoria Gardens the moon was pale and gleaming in the clear sky, a huge white disc with all its shadows clear upon its surface. Guy lifted his gaze to it as it hung over Lydia’s head, and said, ‘Look at the moon. It’s beautiful,’ and she turned and looked up into the sky. ‘Yes, it is.’
He gazed at her as she sat with raised head, a little smile hovering on his mouth. ‘There is a man in the moon,’ he said. ‘You can see for yourself – and he’s smiling.’
Then, leaning towards her, he put his arms around her and drew her to him, and kissed her. It was not a long kiss, just a moment’s pressure of his lips upon hers, but for all she knew it could have taken a lifetime. As he released her and drew back there came from a few yards away the sound of a little cheering ‘Whoops!’ and glancing around they saw that the sound had come from two young urchins who were passing. Now, as the boys caught the couple’s eyes, they raised their thumbs in triumph and grinned.
‘Cheeky little beggars,’ Guy said, grinning in spite of himself, and then turning to Lydia added, ‘but I must watch your reputation. Can’t have you going back to Capinfell ashamed to show your face.’
She said nothing. She was still reeling from the kiss.
‘Seriously,’ he said, ‘I shouldn’t have done that. I truly should not.’ He frowned, then gave a sound that was half chuckle, half sigh. ‘Though I can’t truly say I regret it, not for a moment, and if I could, I would do it again.’ He leaned slightly towards her. ‘Would you let me?’
Lydia briefly closed her eyes and put her hands to her mouth. Everything was happening so fast. ‘Mr Anderson, I –’
‘Guy.’
‘Guy.’
She remained sitting there. She seemed to be caught in some kind of spell, a spell that even the vulgar shouts of the boys had not been able to break, but she had no experience of anything like this. ‘I must go in,’ she said.
‘Right,’ he said, lifting the reins. ‘Let’s get you back to Little Marsh Street.’
With a flap of the reins and a word to the mare they were on their way for the last yards of the journey.
Chapter Nine
On the way back from the store just after two o’clock on Saturday, Lydia stopped at a butcher’s and bought a piece of mutton. After that she went to the washerwoman’s house and picked up her clean and ironed laundry.
Back at her lodgings she packed a few things into a bag and then went in search of Mrs Obdermann.
‘Just to let you know that I’m leaving now, Mrs Obdermann,’ Lydia said when the land
lady answered her knock on the sitting-room door. ‘I’m off to get the train.’
‘And you won’t be back until tomorrow, is that correct?’
‘That’s right. Sometime in the evening. I expect to get back about seven, but it depends on how my father is. He says he’s not that well, so I might take a later coach from Capinfell, but don’t worry about supper for me.’
‘That’s not a problem,’ the landlady said. ‘I’ll make you a cold plate and leave it in the larder. If you’re late it won’t matter.’
Lydia left then, and made her way to the railway station where, after a wait of some twenty minutes, she was able to get a train for Merinville. From there she travelled by coach to Capinfell. As she rode she thought again of Guy, and looked forward to their coming meeting on Monday evening. It seemed a lifetime away.
The church clock was striking six as she walked up the lane to her home, and she could feel her heart bumping slightly as she thought of seeing her father again. But there was no need for her to be anxious, she told herself. Although he had not been warm in his letter to her, at least he had not been disagreeable.
In a way that she could not have described, the sensation was a little strange as she let herself in at the back door. She had never been away from home for such a period in her life before. Two whole weeks. It was odd, she thought: everything in the house was just the same, and yet it all seemed a little different. Then she realised: it was her mother’s presence that was missing. Coming home would never be quite the same again.
‘Hello, Father?’ she called out as she moved through the scullery. ‘Are you there?’
There was no answering voice, and she thought perhaps he had gone out, but a moment later she entered the kitchen and there he was, sitting at the table, his notes and his papers spread out before him.
