The Nine Bright Shiners

by Anthea Fraser

  The children had flopped on to the hearth rug, and Jan moved to join them, holding out her hands to the fire. There was a tap on the door, and Lily entered with the coffee tray. That too, ornate and silver, was a familiar friend. Jan said tentatively, ‘I wonder if the children could have milk? They don’t really care for coffee.’

  ‘Of course,’ Rowena said. ‘Bring some hot milk, would you, Lily.’

  ‘Not hot milk!’ Julie exclaimed, before Jan could speak. ‘Hot milk’s disgusting!’

  Rowena raised an eyebrow. ‘Then by all means have it cold, and freeze your insides still further. But when I was a little girl, I drank what was provided and my opinion on it wasn’t either asked or given.’

  Jan said quietly, ‘Julie often speaks without thinking, but she didn’t mean to be rude, did you, Julie?’

  The child, abashed by her sudden disapprobation, shook her head.

  ‘So what do you say?’ Jan prompted.

  ‘Sorry.’ It was a mumble from a hung head, but it was an apology. Not sufficient, however.

  ‘Sorry, who?’ Rowena asked.

  Julie looked up in bewilderment, her eyes filling with tears.

  ‘Sorry, Aunt Rowena,’ Jan supplied, furious at this further chastisement.

  ‘Sorry, Aunt Rowena,’ Julie repeated, and buried her face in her mother’s lap. Jan stroked the tangled hair with trembling fingers. She would have a private word with her sister-in-law, she promised herself, and explain the children’s insecurity and their need for temporary licence.

  Ben, whose own views on hot milk were mercifully forestalled by his sister’s, sat glowering on the rug, his opinion of the proceedings only too apparent. And she’d told them to be good, Jan thought despairingly. Her own control was precarious enough; if Julie had really cried, she’d probably have howled with her.

  Fortunately, the best possible distraction appeared with Lily and the milk. A sleek and creamy Siamese, tail erect and gently waving, progressed across the carpet and, ignoring the two children, took up its accustomed place before the fire.

  ‘Careful!’ Jan warned, as two delighted hands reached out towards it. ‘It isn’t used to children.’

  Edward said, ‘If you don’t rush her, she’ll be quite willing to make friends.’

  ‘What’s her name?’ Julie asked, brushing away the last of her tears.

  ‘Lotus. Isn’t she beautiful?’

  The cat turned on him its brilliant blue eyes, placidly accepting the compliment.

  ‘What do you do with her when you’re on your trips?’ Jan asked.

  ‘Board her with her breeder. Your being here will spare her that.’

  Coffee over, Rowena led the way upstairs. The fourth stair from the half-landing creaked as it always had, and the worn leather cushion still lined the window-seat below the stained-glass pane. ‘When the sun shines through the glass, it’s like sitting in a rainbow,’ Jan told her children.

  ‘I’ve put you in the front guest-room,’ Rowena commented, turning to the left at the top of the stairs and opening the first door. ‘We’ve had a shower cabinet put in, which is quite useful.’ Lily had already brought the luggage upstairs.

  ‘Thank you, it looks very comfortable.’ The room was papered in a Laura Ashley design of sprigged flowers, with matching curtains and bedspread. It was quite in keeping with the heavy mahogany suite.

  ‘And the children are down the other end,’ Rowena continued, shepherding them ahead of her out of the room, ‘Ben in the old nursery and Julie in what was your room. I hope they’ll keep them tidy, and not give Lily extra work.’

  ‘Who sleeps in all the other rooms?’ asked Ben, ignoring the stricture.

  ‘Well, there’s our room, of course, and we’ve made the small one next to it into an en suite bathroom. The door to the right of the stairs is your uncle’s study, and at the end of the passage are the main bathroom and lavatory.’

  Julie, who had run ahead to verify this last piece of information, called back excitedly, ‘Mummy, the lavatory’s on a platform, and it’s got a shiny wooden seat!’

  ‘Where do these stairs lead to?’ Ben asked, looking up the twisting narrow flight.

  ‘The attics, of course. In the old days, the servants used to sleep there, but now they’re just boxrooms used for storage.’

  ‘Where does Lily sleep?’

  ‘At home. She comes at eight o’clock every weekday, and stays until six.’

  ‘There are a lot of rooms for just two people,’ Ben commented, which was what Jan had been thinking. She’d known Rylands as a family home, and couldn’t imagine why Edward and Rowena kept it on now; its upkeep must be considerable. Rowena was hesitating in the nursery doorway.

  ‘I should be grateful, Janis, if both our room and the study could be considered out of bounds. Our carpet is a pale colour, easily soiled, and there are delicate ornaments in there. And, as you might remember, Edward’s obsessionally neat, and not even Lily is allowed in his study.’

  Jan said stiffly, ‘We wouldn’t dream of going in.’ Or wouldn’t have, she amended mentally. The ban had probably roused the children’s interest.

  Rowena had the grace to look uncomfortable. ‘I meant during hide-and-seek, or whatever children play. Still, as long as that’s understood, we needn’t mention it again.’

  She left them to unpack, and the rest of the day passed in a disjointed, aimless fashion, aggravated by the malaise of jet-lag. Jan found she was tense, continually on guard for any faux-pas the children might make. And although no further awkwardness occurred, it was a relief when, after an early supper before Lily left, they agreed, unusually readily, to go to bed.

  The three adults ate a formal meal in the dining-room.

  The heating had been switched on only an hour before, and the room was still chill. Jan’s jaw ached from holding back yawns and it was also an effort to repress her shivers. She was thankful that Rowena suggested coffee in the drawing-room.

  ‘Now,’ she began, as they settled by the fire, ‘what’s all this about Roger?’

  Edward moved uncomfortably. ‘Come on, darling, it’s hardly our business.’

  ‘But Janis must need to confide in someone, and we are family, after all.’ She looked at her penetratingly as she handed her a coffee-cup.

  ‘There’s not much to tell,’ Jan said evasively. The last thing she wanted was to go over it now. Though she’d prepared a synopsis for just such a moment, she was too tired to remember it, and afraid any deep probing might precipitate tears.

  ‘I presume there’s someone else?’ persisted Rowena.

  ‘Would you believe the girl next door?’ Jan tried to laugh.

  ‘They were new neighbours, Ron and Pam Stevens. We invited them in to meet everyone, and became quite friendly.’ She paused, hearing the irony in the words. ‘And Roger simply – lost his head. I must have been blind – I’d no idea anything was going on.’ She drank the hot coffee, praying it would steady her.

  ‘And they just went off together?’

  ‘He did apologize. He said he couldn’t live without her.’

  Rowena snorted. ‘What about her husband?’

  ‘He went to pieces. They’d only been married a year or two.’ Jan drew a deep breath. ‘That’s all, really. Would you mind if we talked of something else? Tell me what you’re hoping to do in Peru.’

  Edward, seeming relieved at the change of subject, smiled. ‘This trip is sheer self-indulgence. We’re going to follow the Inca trail to Machu Picchu. We’ve always avoided it because it’s so popular with tourists, but this time we’re going in the rainy season, so it’ll be far less crowded. And of course we won’t have to worry about fresh water. From there, we’ll go on to Cajabamba. We try to go back every two or three years, though it’s more complicated now it’s in the emergency zone.’

  Jan said impulsively, ‘I was wondering on the plane why neither Father nor Laurence Cody ever went back after ’fifty-five.’

  Was there a tightening of the at
mosphere, or had she imagined it? But something made her look up, and she was in time to catch a warning glance between husband and wife. Then Edward said easily, ‘Well, they’d accomplished what they set out to do, hadn’t they?’ Which facile explanation, offered to her in the past and accepted until now, no longer satisfied her.

  ‘But Sir Reginald kept going back. Alone, then with Rowena, and then both of you.’

  ‘It was in his blood – he couldn’t stay away. He even called his house Cajabamba.’

  ‘I remember going there for tea. And that’s another thing; it seemed strange –’ She broke off, smothering a yawn. ‘Sorry, I can hardly keep my eyes open!’

  ‘What seemed strange?’ asked Rowena, and there was a note in her voice that jerked Jan awake. However, her chain of thought had been broken.

  ‘I can’t remember!’ she confessed ruefully.

  Rowena was sitting forward on her chair, her clenched fist on her knee. Edward glanced at her again, and she sat back.

  ‘I wonder if you’d excuse me?’ Jan murmured. ‘What with the meal and the warm fire, I just can’t keep awake any longer.’

  ‘Of course.’ Edward stood up. ‘Have you everything you want?’

  ‘All I want is bed and oblivion!’

  Rowena also rose to her feet. ‘I’ll send Lily with a cup of tea at eight-thirty. Will that be all right?’

  ‘Perfect. Good night, then. It’s – lovely to be home.’

  She was aware of them both staring after her as she left the room.

  CHAPTER 2

  That same evening, in a flat in Bayswater, Guy Marriott, freelance journalist, was having a drink with his girlfriend. They were sitting on a sofa, his arm across her shoulders, chatting through a mediocre television programme. Or, more accurately, he was chatting and she was trying to watch the play.

  ‘By the way,’ he remarked, ‘I can’t meet you for lunch tomorrow.’

  ‘Oh, Guy!’ Momentarily diverted from the screen, the girl pouted. ‘But we were going to buy my Christmas present.’

  ‘Sorry, I’ve got to go over to Broadshire. A lead’s come up on that story I’m working on.’

  ‘What story?’ But she was only half-listening, and almost immediately interrupted him. ‘Shut up a minute, I want to listen to this bit.’

  Marriott laughed good-naturedly and finished his drink. Shirley had little interest beyond the cinema and TV, but she was decorative and willing, and a chap couldn’t have everything. Abandoning his explanation, he got up to refill their glasses.

  The next day, Jan, in company with her children, renewed her acquaintance with the town of her birth. Truth to tell, she was glad to escape from the house. Edward was out finalizing his travel plans and Rowena wasn’t easy company.

  Also, there’d been more awkwardness involving the children. That morning Ben, on his way back from the bathroom, had momentarily lost his bearings and opened Rowena’s door instead of his own. Her voice from the stairhead thundered down the corridor, stopping him on the threshold just as he realized his mistake.

  ‘Ben! What did I say about going in there? How dare you disobey me like that?’

  Her angry voice brought Jan hurrying from her own room. ‘For goodness sake, Rowena! He only went one door too far. Look, darling, that one’s yours.’

  Ben, red with fury, muttered audibly, ‘Who wants to go in her stupid room, anyway?’ And though Rowena must have heard him, she evidently regretted over-reacting. She merely turned and went downstairs.

  The other incident was more puzzling. Rowena, perhaps attempting to make amends, had, after breakfast, handed the children an enormous pile of Christmas cards to be arranged round the room. Several of them illustrated the old song The Twelve Days of Christmas, and Ben started to sing the last verse, working his way down till he came to the ninth day. He broke off and turned to Julie.

  ‘What’s nine?’

  ‘Nine for the Nine Bright Shiners’, she supplied quickly.

  Jan, smilingly about to correct her, turned sharply at a crash from behind, and saw that Rowena, suddenly whitefaced, had dropped the flower vase she was carrying. After an uninterested glance over his shoulder, Ben turned back to his sister. ‘No, silly, that’s Green Grow the Rushes. I know, it’s “Nine ladies dancing” – look, here they are, on the card.’

  Jan slipped to her knees to pick up the broken glass. ‘Oh Rowena, what a shame! Was it valuable?’

  ‘A wedding present,’ Rowena said unsteadily.

  ‘But what happened?’

  ‘It just – slipped out of my hand and caught the edge of the table. Sheer clumsiness.’ But she was clearly shaken, and Jan was unconvinced.

  ‘Julie, go and ask Lily for a cloth to mop up this water,’ she directed, gathering up the scattered flowers while Rowena stood motionless, watching her.

  ‘I don’t know where the kitchen is,’ Julie protested, with the whine Jan dreaded creeping into her voice.

  ‘Of course you do. It’s round the corner, in the back hall.’

  ‘I don’t like it down there, it’s all dark.’

  ‘It’s a spooky house,’ remarked Ben unhelpfully. ‘Lots of dark passages and big cold rooms.’

  ‘What nonsense! Go together, then – and be quick. The water’s beginning to soak into the carpet.’

  Lily came hurrying back with them, bearing an assortment of cloths and exclaiming with concern at the shattered vase. The children, delegating responsibility, returned to the pile of cards. By this time, Rowena had regained her composure.

  ‘Stupid of me, but so easily done. Thank you, Lily, that will do now. Will you bring another vase from the flower-room? It’s all right, Janis, really,’ as she continued to dab at the carpet. ‘Such a fuss about nothing!’

  And another instance of over-reaction, Jan thought, getting up and smoothing down her skirt. But what had she reacted to? The words of a carol? It was at that point that she decided on the expediency of exploring Broadminster. It would get the children out of Rowena’s way, and in any case she was eager to see the old place again.

  To her delight, they were enchanted with it, especially Monks’ Walk. This lay in the heart of Old Broadminster, just across the Green from the Minster, and its roofs and chimneys clustered skywards in a glorious lack of uniformity, some crenellated, some flat, some gabled with dormer windows. Many of the old houses were whitewashed, their ancient beams picked out in black paint; others were rosy in weathered brick or stone. On the ground floor, most now housed antique shops, boutiques and coffee-houses, and their brightly lit windows were full of Christmas gifts. With fairy lights strung between the lamp-posts, the composite effect was like a scene out of fairyland. An enterprising trader was selling hot chestnuts on the corner of Queen’s Road, and the children clamoured to buy some, burning their fingers as they attempted to shell and eat the hot nuts.

  Their progress was slow, since Julie insisted they stop and gaze in each window. Over on the Green, the Salvation Army began to play carols, and the familiar tunes, albeit in very different surroundings, brought the nostalgia Jan dreaded. A man hurried past them, holding tightly to the hand of a small boy, and Julie’s eyes followed him. ‘Why doesn’t Daddy love us any more?’ she asked wistfully, and gave a little gasp as Ben dug her sharply in the ribs.

  Jan said hurriedly, ‘Let’s go in here; we must choose a present for your uncle and aunt.’

  During their stroll, she’d been aware of people staring at them. An explanation was offered by the girl in the antique shop. ‘My goodness, how brown you all are!’ she exclaimed. ‘You make me look not only pale, but blue! Have you been abroad?’

  Australia, Jan confirmed. On one wall was an ornately carved mirror, and seeing their reflections in it, she was aware for the first time of the family resemblance. They were all slightly built, with fair hair bleached almost white by the Australian sun and eyes startlingly blue against their tan. No wonder they stood out among the pale English faces.

  ‘Well, you’re certai
nly a good advertisement! Can I help you, or do you just want to browse?’

  Jan explained what they were looking for, noting that the shop sold gifts as well as antiques. She eventually chose a crystal vase for Rowena to replace the broken one, and for Edward a framed print of Broadminster in 1600. Julie was tugging at her sleeve. ‘Mummy, look at that funny bicycle!’

  The assistant smiled at her. ‘It’s called a pennyfarthing, because the back wheel is tiny, like farthings used to be, and the front one is big, like an old penny. The shop’s called after it – look!’ And she held up a piece of wrapping paper covered with tiny drawings of the machine.

  ‘Can you ride it?’ Julie asked, intrigued.

  The girl laughed. ‘I’m not allowed to try – it’s quite valuable.’

  As they left the shop, almost colliding with a man who was passing, something familiar about him made Jan exclaim involuntarily, ‘Miles?’

  He turned, meeting her eyes without recognition. ‘Good afternoon.’

  She said awkwardly, ‘It’s Jan – Janis Langley-that-was. I – thought I recognized you.’

  ‘Good God!’ he said, holding out his hand. ‘How are you? What are you doing here? I thought you were out in Canada or somewhere?’

  ‘Australia, but we’re over for Christmas.’

  ‘Well, well. Husband with you?’

  ‘Er, no – but these are my children, Ben and Julie. Children, this is Mr Cody, whose father was a friend of Grandpa’s.’

  But Miles was glancing at his watch. ‘Well, it’s good to see you after all this time. How long are you here for?’

  ‘Oh, ages!’ Jan said lightly. She hesitated. ‘Didn’t Edward tell you we were coming?’

  Miles said drily, ‘Edward and I don’t communicate unless we have to. Look, I’m sorry to dash off, but I’ve an appointment in ten minutes.’

  ‘Of course – sorry to –’

  ‘See you on Boxing Night, no doubt.’

  ‘Boxing –?’ But he was already striding away, and she realized she knew no more of him than she had on the plane. Was he married? Where was he living? There’d been a time, around Edward and Rowena’s wedding, when she’d fancied herself in love with Miles. She smiled wryly at the thought. But he was attractive, tall and broad-shouldered, still with that brooding quality he’d had as a young man.