by Erica James
‘What an extraordinary thing to say.’
Evelyn looked at him, her dark eyebrows raised. ‘Do you think so? I for one regularly ponder how to go about murdering my mother, but I barely give love a second thought.’
Kit didn’t know whether to laugh or remonstrate.’
‘And there I go again,’ she said, ‘I’ve shocked you, haven’t I? Take no notice. But I do urge you to read one of Romily’s novels. She has a perceptive understanding of human nature, at its worst and its best.’
‘She may well be seeing a lot of it at its worst in the coming days,’ said Kit ruefully.
‘Yes, I daresay your family won’t make things too easy for her. However, beware. She’ll get her revenge by putting you all in a book and having you bumped off one by one in the most grisly fashion.’
Now he did laugh, causing three old biddies at a nearby table to turn and stare. He recognised them as Elspeth Grainger, Edith Lawton and Ivy Swann. He had noticed them looking his way ever since he and Evelyn had entered the tea shop. He gave them a friendly smile, then, realising he was enjoying himself more than he had in quite a while, decided to confide in Evelyn as to why he would be staying on at Island House.
‘So you see,’ he said at length, ‘as always, my father had the last word.’
‘Why be so cynical?’ she said. ‘Why not respect your father’s wishes and see if you can be friends with your family? Why not be the one to make the first step to make it happen?’
‘I fear you imagine I’m a better person than I really am.’
As if warming to her theme, Evelyn leaned across the table, so close Kit could almost count the smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. ‘Then why not surprise yourself by seeing just what you could be capable of. My God, Kit, if you’re prepared to learn to fly and go to war, surely you can help to build bridges with your family? No, don’t bother trying to answer that, I don’t have the time. I’m sorry, but I must finish my shopping and get home to mother. She’ll be expecting her lunch.’
Kit paid for their coffee and teacakes and they left together, Evelyn in the direction of Teal’s the grocer’s, and Kit to the post office, but not before Evelyn proposed they meet again at the weekend.
Which put a decidedly happy spring in his step.
Chapter Eighteen
Allegra had missed breakfast, having been disgustingly sick first thing that morning. Even now, she felt queasy at the thought of lunch.
Just how long would this go on for? she wondered wretchedly as she walked the length of the garden up to the house. Was there something she could take to stop it? Perhaps she ought to visit the doctor in the village. But what if it got out that she was pregnant? If she could only make it through the next seven days, she would then go to London and see a doctor there. An anonymous doctor who wouldn’t ask too many awkward questions.
Then what? What was her big plan? As Roddy had advised her last night, returning to Italy didn’t seem the most sensible thing to do in the current climate. Perhaps she should take his advice and remain here in England.
But what to do about the child she was sure she was expecting? Could she go somewhere and live unobtrusively for the next seven months, then reappear again claiming she’d rescued a Jewish baby just like Hope had? If she did that, she’d be regarded as the child’s saviour, practically a saint for acting so selflessly. But it would be a lie that she would have to live with for the rest of her life, for there would be no handing back the baby, as Hope would be doing. No, this child she was carrying would be hers forever.
But to live as a liar for the rest of her life would make her as bad as Luigi. She grimaced at the thought of the man who had betrayed her so cruelly. The man who had left her in this terrible mess.
There was always the option of having the baby and giving it up for adoption. That would be the simplest solution, but knowing what she had gone through as a child herself made her reluctant to consider it as a possibility.
Yet her true nature – her wild, rebellious nature – was calling to her to be brave, to throw caution to the wind, stand defiantly before the world and claim that she was unmarried and expecting a child. And what of it! But if she did that, the poor little thing would be forever labelled a bastard. He or she would be tainted for life just as Allegra herself had been.
She had so very nearly confided in dear old Roddy last night down at the boathouse, but she hadn’t had the courage. Because as long as she was the only one who knew she was pregnant, she could almost get through each day believing it wasn’t true, that it was all in her imagination.
Back at the house now, she stepped into the drawing room through the open French doors. Romily was there, sitting at the walnut desk, her head lowered as the pen in her hand scratched across the lined page of a notebook. She looked up when she realised she wasn’t alone.
‘I’m sorry if I disturbed you,’ Allegra said, deciding to assume the role of apologetic house guest. Which in so many ways was perfectly apt, given that the atmosphere was akin to a stage play of a country-house drama.
Putting her pen down and straightening her back, Romily said, ‘That’s all right. I really should stop for lunch now.’
‘Are you working?’ More acting – contriving to show interest.
Romily nodded. ‘Yes. Does that seem very callous to you? Jack only buried yesterday, but here I am writing?’
Allegra shrugged. ‘Not really. If it helps, why not? I wish I had something to do, other than waft about the house and garden. I’m bored out of my mind.’ She made a performance of drifting over towards a small occasional table and bending down to breathe in the fragrance of a vase of sweet peas.
‘We could put you to work in the garden if you like,’ Romily said. ‘I’m sure your help would be appreciated; there’s always plenty to do.’
Allegra affected another careless shrug. ‘And I’m equally sure I would be as good as useless. I have no idea what to do to make things grow.’
‘I’m told gardens are like children: if fed well and given a firm hand now and then, they flourish quite happily.’
Flopping into the armchair near the open door, Allegra adopted a friendly smile, the sort to invite a sharing of confidences. ‘Can I ask you a personal question?’ she said.
‘Of course. I’m sure you have many you’d like to put to me.’
‘Had my uncle lived, do you think you would have had children?’
Romily picked up the fountain pen and twirled it slowly between her fingers. Allegra could see she had not expected the question. But then she herself hadn’t expected to ask something quite so personal either, or something so close to home.
‘I don’t think I know the answer to that,’ Romily said. ‘Not in all honesty. It wasn’t something we ever discussed. Why do you ask?’
‘I suppose I’m just curious,’ Allegra said mildly, trying again to affect a persona of casual indifference. ‘You don’t appear to be the maternal type, but you seem quite at ease with Annelise.’
‘I don’t believe I am the maternal type, but Annelise is easy to like, wouldn’t you agree?’
Leaning back in the comfort of the chair, Allegra crossed her legs, then uncrossed them. ‘Maybe that’s because we can’t help but feel sorry for her.’
‘You could be right. What about you, Allegra, do you think you’ll have children one day?’
She was saved from answering the question by the shrill ringing of the telephone on the desk. ‘I’ll see you in the dining room,’ Romily said as she reached for the receiver and picked it up.
Having been summarily dismissed, and wondering why on earth she had started the conversation in the first place, Allegra went upstairs to freshen up. She was on her way back down when she saw Kit coming in through the front door. He was whistling jauntily and looking particularly pleased with himself.
‘You were out a
long time posting those letters,’ she said. ‘Were you trying to avoid spending any time with the rest of us?’
‘Perish the thought, Allegra. Actually, I bumped into someone I haven’t seen in a long time. Do you remember Evelyn Flowerday?’
Allegra thought for a moment, searching back through her memory to the last time she had been here at Island House. ‘Do you mean that clever girl you were always pining for?’ she said eventually.
He frowned. ‘I wouldn’t go so far as to say that, but yes, that supremely clever girl.’
‘How very agreeable for you, a romantic stroll down memory lane.’
‘Once more, I wouldn’t go so far as to say that. But it was certainly pleasant seeing her again. Coming for lunch now?’
They crossed the hall together, and when Kit pushed open the dining room door and stepped aside to let her through first, and she thanked him, he said, ‘See, we can be perfectly civil to each other after all.’
‘The question is, can we maintain that civility for a full week?’
‘Oh, I think for the amount of money at stake, we can make a fair pretence of it, can’t we?’ remarked Arthur. He was standing at the far end of the dining room looking at the garden. ‘You of all people should be able to manage it, Allegra, being such a consummate actress.’
Something about the way he held himself, one hand pushed deep into the pocket of his trousers, the other holding the cigarette he was smoking, and the way he didn’t even bother to turn around and look at them, made Allegra want to take a poker to him.
‘I wonder how Jack’s will would work if one of us died before the week was up?’ she asked Kit. ‘Would we still inherit, and if so, would we each then have a greater share of the pot of money?’
Arthur turned around. ‘Threatening to do away with me must surely contravene the terms of my father’s will. It’s also hardly an example of the family accord the old man was hoping for.’
‘Who said anything about doing away with you?’ said Allegra. ‘I was merely talking hypothetically.’
He gave a loud guffaw, but without a trace of amusement. Then he tapped his left eye – the eye she had blinded as a child with Kit’s catapult. ‘Of course you were, Cousin Allegra,’ he said. ‘It must be having a crime author in the house with us that put such a thought into your pretty little head.’
‘I have it on good authority that Romily’s books are very good,’ said Kit, pulling out a chair for Allegra. He was doing what he always did, thought Allegra, putting on a show of blithely ignoring the undercurrent of his brother’s simmering hostility.
‘Oh?’ said Arthur, stubbing out his cigarette in an ashtray on the sideboard behind him. ‘And who might that authority be?’
‘Evelyn Flowerday. I was just telling Allegra that I met her in the village earlier. She seems to think that Romily has a very insightful way of looking at people.’ Kit laughed. ‘Who knows, we might all come under her microscope during this week. Perhaps you’d do well to mind your Ps and Qs, Arthur. Evelyn was also saying that she’s offered Meadow Lodge as a home to take in an evacuee. Do you suppose Romily will have to do likewise here?’
‘It appears so,’ said the woman herself, appearing in the doorway with Hope behind her. ‘Lady Fogg, our newly appointed billeting officer for the village, has just telephoned to say in her inimitable way that it’s all hands on deck. Apparently it’s just what a grieving widow needs, a couple of children to keep me busy. She’s paying us a visit tomorrow morning to discuss the details.’
‘Ma Foghorn hasn’t changed, has she?’ said Kit, moving quickly to pull out a chair for his stepmother at the head of the table. ‘Still dishing out the orders as per usual.’
Romily smiled at him and sat down. ‘Her type is born to dish out orders.’
‘Will you do as she says?’ asked Allegra, thinking of the conversation they’d had in the drawing room, and still trying to fathom why she had instigated it. What had got into her?
‘I told Lady Fogg what everyone is probably telling her: that I’ll do what needs to be done and for however long it needs to be done.’
Having taken the chair at the opposite end of the table, Arthur said, ‘I assumed you’d be returning to London once this week was up. To your flat.’
‘A miscalculation on your part, Arthur,’ Romily said lightly, unfolding her napkin.
‘When are the evacuees arriving?’ asked Kit.
‘I gather that will be one of the details with which Lady Fogg will provide me. I imagine it will be after you’ve all left.’
‘Assuming we do,’ said Arthur with a smirk.
At that point Florence came in with a large soup tureen. The smell of food made Allegra’s stomach clench and she suddenly felt very hot. She fanned herself with her hand.
‘Are you all right, Allegra?’ asked Romily quietly as Florence began serving the soup.
‘Just a little warm,’ she murmured, still fanning herself and praying that her stomach would settle. She took a cautious sip from her water glass.
‘Lady Fogg also informed me that she’d just heard on the wireless that Parliament has been recalled and Neville Chamberlain has said that we’re now in imminent peril of war.’
‘So it’s really going to happen,’ murmured Hope, staring miserably across the table.
‘It would seem so,’ said Romily. ‘Nazi Germany is showing no sign of backing down.’
When Florence had left them, Arthur said, ‘Talking of Germans, Hope, where’s that tiresome charge of yours?’
‘I’ve told you before, Arthur, please show some respect and call her by her name.’
‘Very well, where is Fräulein Annelise?’
‘She’s had her lunch already and is now having a nap, if you must know.’ Hope sighed. ‘I never knew a small child could be such overwhelmingly hard work.’
‘Then perhaps you should have thought twice before accepting the responsibility,’ said Arthur. ‘You have only yourself to blame. Please don’t look to us for sympathy.’
‘What a perfectly heartless monster you are, Arthur,’ said Hope.
‘I’m just being honest. Whereas you, as always, are too wrapped up in your emotions to see what’s as plain as a pikestaff to the rest of us.’
‘Oh yes,’ said Hope, staring down the table at him, ‘and what is that precisely?’
‘That you’re hopelessly out of your depth and wishing you had never gone to Germany in the first place on some fool’s errand to see Dieter’s family, because then you wouldn’t now be stuck with a child that’s draining you of all energy. Is that precise enough for you?’
‘I say, Arthur, give it a rest, won’t you?’
‘That’s all right, Kit. I can fight my own battles, thank you very much!’ Hope’s voice wobbled, and to Allegra’s surprise, the unimaginable happened: her cousin’s cool reserve faltered and she burst into tears and fled from the room, knocking over her chair as she went.
Chapter Nineteen
Hope was in the cocoon-like warmth of the Victorian glasshouse in the kitchen garden; it was where she’d always escaped to when she was upset as a youngster. More often than not, Arthur’s cruelty had been the reason. On one particular occasion she had sobbed her heart out for hours on end. It still upset her to think of it. To this day she still could not understand how her brother could have done what he did.
On her seventh birthday, she had been given a tame canary. She had loved that beautiful little bird so much. One day Arthur deliberately let it escape from its cage in her bedroom. It flew straight out of the open window, but to her delighted relief returned that same evening. However, a few days later she found the cage open and no sign of the canary. She discovered it dead on the ground below her bedroom window; it had been crushed flat. She knew Arthur had done it, although he vehemently denied it. From that day on she kept her room locked and wore the key aroun
d her neck on a ribbon.
At the sound of footsteps, she turned to see Romily looking in through the doorway of the glasshouse. Her heart sank. Being found by a woman who was so sophisticated and composed, and so perfectly in control of her emotions, made Hope feel a hundred times worse; as though she was a pathetic child who’d made a fool of herself by throwing a tantrum.
‘You poor thing,’ Romily said. ‘What can I do to help you?’
Hope tried to say something, but couldn’t manage it; her throat was too bunched up with anger and tears. All she could do was shake her head and try to blow her nose on her already sodden handkerchief.
‘Here,’ said Romily, coming over and sitting on the dusty wooden stool beside her, ‘take mine.’
Reluctantly Hope took the proffered square of prettily embroidered linen.
‘Now you can tell me to mind my own business, but putting aside your brother’s despicable provocation, it strikes me that you’re probably suffering from a combination of exhaustion and anxiety, in the way that any new mother would. Am I right, or am I totally wide of the mark? And as I said, you could just tell me to mind my own business.’
Hope wiped her eyes and blew her nose again. ‘I just feel so completely overwhelmed,’ she said. ‘I’ve never looked after a child before. I do all those illustrations for children’s books, but I don’t know the first thing about them. Now that I’m responsible for one, I’m failing spectacularly in every way. And there isn’t any time to do anything else.’ She kept to herself that the worst of it was that Arthur’s provocation had upset her because it was entirely true. She did regret taking on the responsibility of poor little Annelise. Moreover, she was being torn apart by guilt that she could think of herself before Sabine and Otto.
‘Kit mentioned that he thinks you’re up against a deadline to deliver some illustrations to your publisher. Is that also what’s worrying you?’
Hope nodded. ‘I’ve promised I’ll have the bulk of the drawings with them by early next week. But I have no idea how I’m going to do it. I thought I’d be able to work at night when Annelise was in bed, but I’m just too shattered to do anything of worth.’
