‘Absolutely! I’m putting my house in order. A saying, and an actuality . . .’ She gazed at him, almost hungrily. ‘Gosh, I have missed you. You’re so grown up, dear. I’d hardly know you.’
The school had been evacuated in the New Year to the Lake District and he hadn’t been able to come home. It was a day’s travelling from London to Dorset, but even longer from Dorset to Windermere.
You sent me away, he wanted to say, but didn’t. Of course I’ve changed. He felt a vibrating soft mass against his leg and looked down. ‘Sweep!’ He scooped the fluffy, gangly bundle up, and Sweep purred even more furiously, urgently pressing her face against his hands. ‘Sweep.’ He nuzzled the soft spot between her ragged ears. ‘Ah, you’re older.’
‘She keeps me company. She’s no trouble. She sleeps in that enormous wardrobe in your room.’
Ant set the cat down on the floor again, and she immediately jumped into a box of old books and sat looking at him with unblinking glass-green eyes. ‘How’s Daphne?’ he said, without really thinking.
‘How should I know? Ant dear, I haven’t seen her for an age, not since she abandoned us last year.’
‘I just thought you might have heard from her.’
She looked up, her thin shoulders hunched. The hair that Daphne had cut so short the previous summer was now past her shoulders, greyer and wilder than ever, and she didn’t put it up as she formerly had done, so it hung in lank streaks around her face.
But her green eyes flashed suddenly as she said, ‘I don’t need to hear from her. I can tell you what she’s up to, Ant dear. She’s having fun. Dancing. Seeing who’ll buy her dinner. You know dear Daphne. She wouldn’t cross the road for a good cause but she’d jolly well cross the country for a good party. Oh, yes. Now, I absolutely must feed you.’ She went over to the kitchen counter and began slicing clumsy hunks of crumbling National Loaf. ‘We’ll have dripping and toast for tea, and I’ve some actual tea leaves from the Rev.’
‘Good old Rev,’ said Ant.
‘Oh, he’s a darling man, a good friend. And what luck, Ant, we’ve a few plums he brought round this morning from their orchard. We’ll have a real feast. And afterwards – ah-ha!’ She slapped her hands together. ‘What do you say to a game of mah-jong?’
He nodded happily and their eyes locked. ‘Sounds marvellous.’ Her eyes shone and she was Dinah again, caught up in the joyous enthusiasm of the moment. Ant honestly believed then that everything might still be all right.
They sat in the kitchen with the remains of tea and a soporific warmth stealing over both of them as the afternoon sun gave a golden glow to the wooden room. A vase of dying dahlias, velvet red and hot pink, bent under their own weight, scattering pollen on the slightly sticky table. He found he could ignore the mess. He smiled, gazing out of the window at the bay and the sky, and when he looked at his great-aunt she was smiling at him. She wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her kimono.
‘I want to talk to you about something, Ant dear.’ She got up, and opened the French windows. ‘That’s better. Some fresh air.’
‘What is it, Aunt D? Want me to find another game I can beat you at, is that it? Happy Families is over there—’
She laughed, then hesitated for a moment, looking out at the sea and back at him. ‘Ho – no, thank you, dear. Listen, Ant. I’m afraid it’s rather serious.’ And Dinah cleared her throat. ‘I told you about my daddy, didn’t I? Your great-grandfather? He built the Bosky for my mother, as a surprise.’
‘Yes, I know.’
‘He was a gambler, Ant, did I ever tell you that?’
‘Yes, you did.’
‘Good. Well, don’t forget it, dear boy.’ She gripped his hands, suddenly. ‘Oh, Ant. He gambled, he won, and he built this house, and then he gambled again and lost. Lost everything. And it killed him. Well, I took a sacred oath in the Temple of Ishtar. I stood there, I held up my hand, it was all terribly dramatic. “I won’t be like him.”’
She got up, and said bleakly, ‘Well. I failed. I’m his daughter after all, you see. I’ve gambled, Ant. And I’ve lost everything.’
Ant didn’t understand. ‘You’ve lost the – the house?’
‘Not the house. Not yet. That’s what I want to talk to you about.’ She stood up, moving towards the sideboard slowly, as though she were lame, or in pain. She took out some papers. ‘Ant dear, I wonder if you would sign these. I had them drawn up by Mr Hill. I’d always have given the place to you anyway, but if you sign them then all will be fine.’ Something more was muttered under the breath. ‘It will all be fine.’
Ant moved towards her, took the papers from her and set them on the kitchen counter. He glanced at them briefly. ‘“Title Deeds”. “Transfer of Assets”. I don’t understand—’
‘I’m giving you the Bosky,’ she said, jutting out her chin. There was a martial light in her eye. ‘Then they can’t take it away from me.’
‘Who’s “they”?’ he asked, with a creeping, nauseous feeling of unease.
‘Oh – people who want to destroy me. She came back for it,’ she said, slowly. ‘Couldn’t find it. Even thought it was right under her nose, hanging there, all the time. Above her nose, I should say . . .’
‘Aunt Dinah . . .’
She put out one shaking hand. ‘It’s yours. Then you’ll always have something. No matter what happens. No matter what they try to do.’
And she pushed the sheaf of thick papers towards him.
‘Oh,’ Ant said, shrugging, and feeling rather sick at the sight of the official words, the huge seal at the bottom of the letter. ‘Aunt D, let’s not worry about this right now. You boil the kettle. I’ll go and put my old pair of flannels on. Why don’t we go for a walk? We can plot the summer—’
Dinah slapped the folded papers down in front of him. ‘No. Please, dear. Here,’ she said, opening one page and then flattening it down with her outstretched palm. ‘Sign here, and then it’s done, and it can’t be changed.’
‘But it’s your house, not mine.’
‘Please,’ she said, urgently. ‘Dear Ant, for me. Do it for me . . .’ She watched as he scratched his name in his looping hand by the black-inked ‘X’ and then gave a great sigh. ‘Wonderful,’ she said, and she smiled at him, raising her shoulders and letting them drop, as though releasing herself of a great weight. ‘That’s that!’
Ant handed the fountain pen back, looking at her. ‘I wish I hadn’t.’
‘Nothing will change,’ she said, and she stood up and put the sheaf of papers on the sideboard. ‘Nothing at all, dear. It’ll still be my house to all intents and purposes, but if they come for me, or try to take it away—’
‘Who’d try to take it away from you?’
She gave a thin smile, and scratched her nose. ‘No one! It’s just silly talk, a precaution. But what if I have to travel and you need to stay on here? Well, then – it’s yours. It’s always yours and everything in it. We’ll just carry on as normal, yes? You understand?’
He didn’t, and he wouldn’t, not for a while, but he nodded, and just then a face loomed through the French window, and he started.
‘Ah,’ said Dinah, with satisfaction. ‘She said she’d call round. Come in, dear! He’s here!’
There, knocking happily at the window, smiling broadly, was Julia. At the sight of her Ant blushed, the impure thoughts he’d had about her all year since the previous summer rushing back. She rattled at the metal door frame, trying to open it, her curls bouncing around her head, and when nothing happened Ant stood up to help her. He pulled at the heavy cold handle and eventually the door gave way, and she stumbled into the sitting room, almost landing on the floor but for Ant’s arm.
‘Oh, I say – thanks.’ She leaned heavily against him, and smiled up at him, her eyes gleaming with delight.
He smiled back at her. She was tanned, and the halter-neck strap of her swimming costume was slightly too small, cutting into her plump, golden flesh. He tried not to stare at her breasts. She had grow
n since last year, was taller than ever and her breasts were larger too. Her slim, strong fingers gripped his arm; there was a smattering of freckles across her nose, on her cheeks.
‘Hello, Julia,’ he said, and she squeezed a little harder on his arm, moving against him.
‘Well,’ she said, in that low, clear voice of hers, full of laughter, ‘hello, old bean.’
‘Julia’s been here most days, asking when you were arriving – haven’t you?’ said Dinah, and Julia nodded, unabashed at this display of enthusiasm – indeed, it was one of the things he’d always liked so much about her, that she never tried to be aloof.
‘We broke up ten days ago and came straight down and Ian’s already driven Father almost to distraction. I’ve been so utterly bored, waiting for you, Ant,’ she said, and he could smell the salt on her skin and the faint sweetness of her. ‘We missed all the action – did you hear about the Mustangs crashing over at Smedmore in May?’ She turned to Dinah. ‘Did you see them, Miss Wilde?’
‘Yes,’ said Dinah vaguely. ‘Terrible.’ But she had picked up an old, gold-tooled book and was flicking purposefully through it; Ant glanced down, and could only see pictures of burial chambers and rows of skeletons, golden headdresses, the shine on the photographic paper that gleamed in the darkened room.
‘You had your hair cut,’ Ant told Julia, touching the bouncing bob of curly hair. ‘It suits you.’
‘Run along, why don’t you, and go for a walk by the dragon’s teeth,’ Dinah said, glancing up. ‘You must be dying for some fresh air, Ant, cooped up on trains all that time. Watch out for the barbed wire – they’ve repositioned some of it, and it’s a nasty shock if you’re not careful. And I know it doesn’t need saying, but don’t go on the beach. They’ve evacuated everyone down at Shell Bay, did you know? Joe saw them moving the concrete in the other day. Big army nobs down here all lined up inspecting the bay. Something’s happening there. I’m sure of it.’
She tapped her nose and Ant nodded, but he wasn’t sure if she was telling the truth or not.
‘Maybe they’ll come for us next,’ she said. ‘Tell us to move on.’
‘Oh, Miss Wilde, I’m sure they won’t,’ said Julia. She glanced over at Ant. ‘Well? Shall we go?’
He didn’t want to leave Dinah alone, but Ant realised he couldn’t bear the stuffy, dirty, too-hot house that was now his, not for a moment longer. He nodded. ‘I’ll see you later, Aunt D,’ he said to his aunt, picking up his blazer. ‘Won’t be long.’
‘Take your time, all fine,’ she said, in a sing-song voice, and she stood up, and began peering into the boxes again, lifting things out, putting other things in. ‘Never fear, Ant dear, never fear.’
Chapter Twenty-Six
He didn’t lose his virginity to Julia that evening, or the next, but a few days later, in the sand dunes, as evening came. He had been back at Worth Bay for five days by then, trying to settle back into life with Aunt Dinah. The weather was still, clear, hot, the nights thick with stars, the Milky Way visible over the Channel towards France, brighter than ever on those blackout nights. In later years Tony would stand on the porch and try to see that pale swirl of countless stars, as on those cloudless warm nights, but he never could.
It was on a night like that, amongst the dragon’s teeth high up towards Bill’s Point along the coastline, that they did it. Julia had already prised from him the existence of the French letter, and he was desperate for her, wild almost, and both of them thought it made sense. It seemed like a natural thing to do, in this world where concrete pillars and bollards lined the bay, where planes strafed the sands, and where danger was still everywhere.
They didn’t think it was wrong, or that they were too young, or that they were deceiving anyone. It was as natural to them both as kissing had been. Afterwards, as he lay still inside her, panting and worried he might pass out, she began to giggle and then, moving her head back so that the curls mingled with the sand, properly laugh, her small white teeth shining in the gathering gloom.
‘Well, what’s so funny?’ he said, grinning at her.
‘Oh, I don’t know. That I’ve done it with you. You’re just divine, Ant, and you seem to have no idea. I can’t believe it.’
‘Can’t believe what?’
She slid her body up so she was free of him, pulled on her knickers, then nestled back against him. He stroked her freckled forearms. ‘If there was more choice, you wouldn’t choose me,’ she said into his chest, quietly. ‘But I’d always choose you.’
He could feel the tips of her nipples, hard again, and her thudding heart, and he held her to him more tightly. ‘That’s rubbish, Julia – don’t say things like that. Anyway, I thought we were in it together, both of us.’
‘Oh, yes, of course,’ she said, and then she closed her eyes, slowly. ‘Us against everything. Especially the Nazis. And Pa.’
‘And school.’
‘And school. And being selfish and petty. The greater good.’ Julia sat up and he could see she was about to start on again about equality – she was jolly obsessed with it, this idea that women were given a raw deal. ‘We should all be fighting together. Miss Bright has a friend working in a munitions factory, in Liverpool, putting the sulphur into the shells. It’s turned her face and hands bright yellow – they call her Canary – but she loves working, she was at home doing nothing before except cleaning and cooking for her husband who didn’t even work. And the minute the war’s over she’ll lose her job. The men’ll want it back. Men want everything for themselves, the power, the money, and they keep women down in a position of servitude. When you get married, you resign from your job. Can you imagine that, Ant?’ She actually shook a fist at him. ‘These awful magazines like Woman telling girls they need to wear stockings and wave their hair and silly things men don’t have to do. Women are the objects . . .’ Ant nodded, and she trailed off, looking up at him through her lashes. ‘Talking of objects. Honestly, Ant, I don’t want to hark on about it but you really are awfully handsome now.’
‘Now!’
‘You know what I mean. You were a boy when we met. Now, you’re not. You’re a heartbreaker. A matinee idol. How’s the acting, by the way?’
‘I was a servant in Antony and Cleopatra last term.’
He hadn’t told anyone at school that he liked acting. He’d been picked to be a soldier in the end-of-year production of Antony and Cleopatra because he was tall. ‘You and the other poofs, eh, Wilde?’ Johnson had said, when he’d seen him in his Roman soldier costume, queuing to go into the ballroom, which was now their hall, of the old country house on the shores of Lake Windermere to which they’d been evacuated. ‘Ha! Look at Wilde, chaps! He’s got make-up on! Dressed up like your mother, Wilde. She’d be over the moon to see you using her eye pencil.’
How dreary, how pathetic to be this Johnson, with his small, small tales of life in a large house in Surrey and the father who taught him to shoot and the big brother who was out in Cairo ‘doing his bit’. The tennis court ‘rolled every week in summer by our gardener, Philpott’, holidays in the south of France before the war, the tedious Christmas family traditions he insisted on telling one about. He would grow up pink, baby-faced, querulous, snide, small-minded, mean, idiotic. Ant knew this. He found lately that he knew more than his contemporaries, as though tragedy had widened his world view, made him see and understand more. Ant had promised himself right then, shivering in his costume in the cool of a Cumbrian July, that he would never ever be a Johnson. He would be wild and curious and open to everything.
‘I’m certain you were wonderful.’
‘Not really, Jules. I stood at the back with a spear.’
‘I’ll bet you held the spear jolly well.’ She slipped her plump breasts into her brassiere, fiddling with the hooks. ‘No, no, don’t worry. You’d better dispose of that,’ she said briskly, pointing to the condom, elongated and ridiculous-looking. ‘Wrap it in your handkerchief, chuck it away later.’
‘Have you done this b
efore?’ he said, smiling up at her with his hands behind his head, and she hit him.
‘No! Of course not. You’re the first, and if Pa or Ian knew we’d be for it, absolutely. He didn’t even want me to go to school but Mummy’s aunt paid so he had to accept. He really can’t stand the fact that I’m brighter than Ian. I am. I’ll go to Girton if they’ll have me. He’ll never let me, of course.’
‘Really?’ Tony was surprised. ‘Even your father? But he’s all for education and everything—’
Julia gathered her cotton floral frock and pink cardigan together. ‘Since we’ve been back, I’ve noticed, he’s become much worse. A Land Girl fixed his car in the ATP the other day, on the way back from the station. I thought he’d die of anger, he was so ashamed.’
‘But he loves Aunt Dinah. And she’s – well, she’s like a man, in lots of ways. Does exactly what she wants.’ He was proud of her for it.
‘He’s a hypocrite. I think he doesn’t understand it, this new world, and the war, and it makes him furious. That’s what Miss Bright at school says, anyway. She says men hate us having the freedoms they’ve got, and that’s how we know it’s worth fighting for. Miss Bright was in prison for Votes for Women, you know. I’d go to prison for it.’ She leaned over him, and the smell of her, salty, sweaty, sweet like roses, the feel of her firm, soft skin almost undid him. She kissed him. ‘We must be careful, but gosh, there’s a war on, and life is short.’ Her face shone in the light from the setting sun, rippling on the sea. ‘Wasn’t this nice, anyway? I thought it was awfully nice.’
‘I should say.’ He sat up, grinning shyly, and fumbled in his blazer pocket. ‘Here. Would you like a cigarette?’
‘No, thanks,’ said Julia, pulling her dress back over her head, her springy hair emerging first with a bounce. She scrambled into her sandals, and it struck him then how funny the business of it was, the taking off of clothes and artifice, and how natural it was to be naked as they had been five minutes ago, to put himself in her as she had spread herself for him, brushing her hair out of her eyes, moving down to meet him as he pushed inside her, and both of them at the same time saying to the other, ‘It’s lovely.’
The Wildflowers Page 32
