I stood and watched for another moment, and then I said quietly, ‘OK. You do as you wish, but I’m going in. I’ll see you when you’re ready.’ Then I told Bess to stay with Vivi. On my way back to the house, I picked up Viviane’s rain-soaked coat and I had a good look around, to make sure nobody was lurking; nobody was watching her. As I walked away from Vivi, I thought I heard her say something.
I stopped and looked round. ‘What was that?’
‘Nothing,’ Viviane said.
But I had heard the words. I had heard them as clear as anything.
Goody Two Shoes.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
I TOLD JULIA I was going to go out for a couple of hours, to celebrate Christmas Eve with Daniel Aldridge.
‘At Fairlawn? With Robert Aldridge?’ Julia asked.
I did not want to tell her the truth, that Daniel was going to sneak away from the party to meet me in the darkness of the garden. So instead I said cheerfully: ‘Why not?’
‘Does Robert know you live with me?’
I perched on the arm of the settee beside her and took her hand. ‘Yes.’
‘Then don’t go, Amy. Robert won’t welcome you into his house.’
‘Daniel told me the whole village was invited. And anyway, Mr Aldridge could hardly make a scene at his own party on Christmas Eve in front of all his guests.’
‘If he’d had enough to drink he could.’
‘What does he have against your family?’
Julia said nothing.
‘Is it something to do with Caroline?’
Julia nodded. She looked down. A tear spilled out of her eye and dropped on to the back of her hand. ‘Oh Julia,’ I asked, ‘what did she do?’
The clock ticked and a cloud shadowed her face but then she shook it off.
‘I wasn’t here,’ she said. ‘I was in Weston. They kept it all from me. I didn’t find out until years later.’ She sniffed and wiped her nose. ‘Oh, let’s not talk of that now, not at Christmas. She wasn’t all bad, my sister, you know. She had a good side too.’
‘Then tell me about that.’
‘Her good side? Hmm. Well, she was very good at drawing, although sadly most of her drawings were in the shed when she set fire to its contents. And when she wasn’t telling me to go away and leave her alone, she was sometimes quite kind. She used to take me down to the lake. We had a secret place, a hollow with a fallen tree. We used to spend hours down there together. We’d swim and then we’d lie out in the sunshine to dry off and she’d tell me her stories. And she sang. She had a lovely voice.’ She smiled and then she was silent for a moment. ‘Blackbird,’ she whispered, ‘bye bye.’ Another tear made its way down her cheek and she brushed it away with her fingers.
I looked at the lights on the Christmas tree, their reflection in the black window glass. I had a sudden feeling of being watched, that uncomfortable ‘hairs standing up on the back of the neck’ sensation.
‘I won’t go out,’ I said. ‘I won’t leave you on your own this evening.’
Julia squeezed my hand. ‘Amy, darling, all I want to do is have this first Christmas without Alain over and done with. You go and meet your sweetheart. Borrow one of my dresses, if you like – take anything you want from the wardrobe and have a good time, and promise me that you won’t worry about me and Vivi. We’ll be fine on our own for a few hours.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Of course I am.’
I kissed Julia’s cheek, then I ran upstairs. I changed quickly, in my cold bedroom, then I went into Viviane’s room to say goodbye. The girl was lying on her bed asleep, her head resting on one outstretched arm. A book lay face down on the floor beside the bed – Rebecca. Her eyes were swollen and the skin of her cheeks was tearstained. I covered her over gently with a blanket, and then I leaned down to kiss her.
‘Sleep tight, sweetheart,’ I murmured, then left the room quietly, pulling the door to and switching off the light before I went.
CHAPTER THIRTY
THE NIGHT WAS cold and silvery, perfect for Christmas Eve. Even the lake was in the spirit, its surface black and smooth, reflecting the moon and the stars beautifully; it was innocent that night, pure, holding its breath. I was thinking about Julia and Caroline, the older sister taking the younger one to swim in the lake, and I was so wrapped up in these thoughts that I almost bumped into the back of Mrs Croucher, who was ahead of me walking down the lane.
‘Hello, Amy,’ she said. ‘Don’t you look a picture!’ She wheezed dreadfully. ‘You’re not going to the Christmas party at Fairlawn, are you?’
‘No … I’m going to meet somebody,’ I said.
‘Oh yes? A young man? I like to see the young folk enjoying themselves,’ she said with a smile. ‘Who is he? Anyone I know?’
‘It’s a secret,’ I replied with a wink. Then, to change the subject, I asked, ‘What about you? Are you heading for Fairlawn?’
‘No, dear. I’m on my way down to Sunnyvale. The vicar holds an early mass for those who can’t make it up to the church. It suits me better – I can be in my bed before midnight.’ She was wracked, then, by an alarming spasm of coughing that doubled her over. I patted her back and tried to support her. She leaned against me.
‘Mrs Croucher,’ I asked, ‘are you all right? Can I do anything for you?’
‘Oh goodness,’ she said, as she straightened, ‘my chest! This cold weather will be the death of me.’
‘Poor you,’ I said. ‘Are you sure you’re up to walking all the way down the hill?’
‘I’ll be all right,’ she said. ‘Perhaps someone will give me a lift home afterwards.’
‘If not, you must stay there,’ I said. ‘Here, take my arm. Let me help you.’
We walked on down the hill together. Candles flickered in the windows and the air was still with the special quietness of Christmas Eve. I no longer felt sad. My heart was beating with anticipation; every step I took closer to Fairlawn was a step closer to my darling. I said goodbye to Mrs Croucher at the fork in the road at the side of the lake, and hurried along towards Fairlawn. The entrance to the house was marked by two grand stone pillars topped by recumbent lions on either side of the drive. I looked at my watch. Even though I’d walked so slowly with Mrs Croucher, I was still a little early. I kept to the shadows and followed a smart family group through the open gates and up wide stone steps that led to a large front door. The door was open and inside I could see a girl in a pinafore and waitress headband taking coats while another handed out glasses of sherry. The first girl was flushed and nervous. She seemed young and out of her depth, desperate not to put a foot wrong. Caroline had once worked here, in this house, I remembered. Was that how she had been too?
The light from inside the house was like a beacon shining in the dark night. Behind the girl, in the hallway, a huge Christmas tree stood beside a grand staircase and a fire was burning in an enormous hearth strewn with holly and ivy and glowing with candles. The tricolour collie was lying in front of the fire together with two cocker spaniels. It all looked beautiful and welcoming. I felt a twinge of sadness that I could not go and join the celebrations, that I was excluded because of the actions of someone I had never met, and who had died before I was even born. I slipped back into the shadows, and waited by the pillar. Daniel found me there a few moments later. He kissed my cheek.
‘Come on,’ he said, ‘it’s not far.’
In a moment we were at the back of the house, quite alone and following a path that bisected the lawn to a gate that opened on to a dark bridle-path. I could smell the lake. I could feel the weight of all that water close by and the air was a degree or two cooler. The water changed the atmosphere as if the lake had a personality and it affected the mood of the valley around it, and the longer I was in Blackwater the more sensitive I became to the lake and its power.
‘Christ, it’s cold,’ said Daniel. ‘There’s a chance of a white Christmas yet.’
‘Oh, I hope so. Does the lake ever freeze over?’
‘When it’s cold enough, yes.’
‘We could go skating.’
‘We could.’
‘I used to take Vivi every year in Paris. We both loved it so much.’
‘Then you’d better pray for a cold winter.’
I held on to Daniel’s arm as he led me to another gate into the garden of a small lodge almost at the water’s edge. I’d seen the lodge before, and knew it was where Daniel lived, but I’d never been so close to it before. Three steps led up to a green door, lit by a lamp. Daniel took a key from his pocket, unlocked the door and switched on the light.
‘If ever you need me and I’m not here, there’s a spare key on the ledge above the door,’ he said. ‘Come in.’
He stood back and I stepped into a long room with a living area at one end and a bed at the other. There were two doors – a kitchen and bathroom, I assumed. The walls were decorated with paintings of birds and pencil sketches and coloured drawings. Daniel turned on a small lamp, with a peach-coloured shade that cast a rosy glow, and then knelt to light the gas fire. While he was doing that I looked at the pictures.
‘These are incredible.’
‘Drawing birds is all I’m any good at. And shepherding.’
‘And looking after your father.’
‘That too. They’re all rather niche activities but somebody has to do them,’ he said, laughing. ‘Sit down, Amy. Make yourself at home.’
‘Thank you.’
Daniel held out his hands as the flame flickered along the run of the fire. Then he stood and took off his coat. I followed the pictures to the far end of the room and sat on the bed, a soft double bed covered with coloured blankets and cushions. I unbuttoned my coat and took off my shoes, then I lay back on the bed and stretched my arms above my head. I knew what was going to happen and I felt very happy about it – happier, certainly, than I had ever felt with anyone I’d been to bed with before.
‘It’s so nice and warm in here,’ I said.
‘I’m glad you like it.’
‘And the bed is lovely.’
‘It’s old. I’m afraid the springs are given to creaking.’
‘It’s much nicer than my bed in Reservoir Cottage.’
He walked over to the bed and sat beside me. The mattress tipped me towards him. He reached out his hand and touched me just beneath the lobe of my ear. Then his fingers followed my jaw and my neck, down to the hollow of my clavicle. He leaned down and kissed me. ‘What’s your bed like there?’ he whispered.
‘It’s lonely,’ I said.
Daniel lay down beside me. He put his hand on my stomach, between my blouse and the waistband of Julia’s yellow silk skirt. One finger found its way beneath the elastic of my suspender belt. I shivered.
‘Your hand is freezing,’ I said. And then, because I didn’t wish there to be any room for doubt about what I wanted, I added, ‘It would probably be warmer if we took off our clothes and got under the covers.’
‘Yes,’ Daniel said. ‘It probably would. You go first.’
The mattress was so giving, already it felt like a friend to me. The flickering flames of the fire and the faint, whooshing sound of the gas in the pipes made the room cosy and welcoming. I undressed quickly and when I was naked I pulled back the covers and I slid underneath them. Only then did I look at Daniel, who was gazing at me with an expression of joy that was open and honest and adoring; it made my heart beat with such affection for him. I was given to him, I thought. We were meant to be together. It was so lucky that we had found one another.
‘I’ve thought about bringing you here a thousand times,’ he said, ‘and I thought I’d worked out every possible way the visit might play out, every word we might say to one another and every action we might take before you agreed, or didn’t agree, to get into my bed. I never thought for one second it would be as easy as this.’
‘I’ve never seen the point of making things difficult simply for the sake of propriety,’ I said.
‘Propriety is a very overrated virtue in my opinion.’
‘Mine too.’ I pulled the patchwork coverlet up to my chin. ‘Stop talking, Daniel Aldridge, and take off your clothes.’
Daniel did as I asked. He was more beautiful unclothed than he was dressed. He climbed into the bed beside me, put his hand on the side of my face, and then slid it down my neck, my shoulder, my breast so that I could feel my heartbeat reflected back to me from the palm of his hand. I could feel the heat of him. I reached my hand down and he bit his lip and closed his eyes, as if in exquisite pain.
‘Oh!’ he groaned.
‘Say something,’ I whispered.
He leaned down and he kissed me on the mouth. I kissed him back.
‘If you keep doing what you’re doing, I don’t know where this will end,’ Daniel mumbled. He put his face into my hair. He was breathing heavily.
‘I know where it will end,’ I told him.
And after that we were all hands and legs and mouths and skin, we were hot and excited and urgent and we fitted together. And afterwards as we lay wrapped in each other’s arms, breathless and shy and full of an incredulous happiness, hardly believing that such an amazing, unlikely bliss was possible, I said to Daniel: ‘This is the best part,’ and he replied: ‘All of it is the best part.’
We did not talk any more; our bodies wanted to come together again and it was less rushed this time, more deliberate, more tender. Afterwards Daniel kissed my face and stroked my cheek with the back of his fingers. ‘I don’t believe this,’ he said. ‘I don’t believe you. You are absolutely perfect.’
‘That’s what I think of you too,’ I told him.
We could not stop ourselves from smiling.
‘I’m afraid your gloriousness made me completely forget my manners,’ Daniel murmured into my hair. ‘Would you like something to drink, my darling?’
‘Yes, please.’
‘Then stay right where you are. Please. Don’t move. Don’t go anywhere.’
He stumbled out of the bed. I watched through the open doorway as he went into a small kitchen. I smiled as I watched his naked back amble across the room and then the curve of his shoulders as he crouched to open the refrigerator door. Outside, the church bells were ringing, calling the villagers to mass, and although Reservoir Cottage was not far away, it was far enough for me to feel as if I had left my life and my troubles behind, in a different world, and I didn’t want to go back to it. I wanted to stay where I was.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
DANIEL TOOK A bottle from the fridge, prised the lid free on the corner of the kitchen window ledge and caught the froth that spilled out in his mouth. He came back to the bed and passed the bottle to me.
‘It’s cider,’ he said. ‘We make it ourselves. There’s a press in the old stables at Fairlawn.’
I took a swig. ‘It’s very good. Do you sell it?’
‘We give a barrel to the pub once in a while. Mostly my father drinks it. That and the apple brandy.’
I took another drink then passed the bottle back to Daniel and rested my head on his shoulder. ‘Do you have any pictures of you growing up in Fairlawn?’
‘Why?’
‘Because I want to know all about you.’
‘I’ll tell you anything you want to know.’
‘I need pictures. I bet you were a really cute little boy.’
‘I wasn’t.’
‘Show me.’
Daniel sighed in the exaggerated manner of one who is pretending to do something under duress, leaned under the bed and came back up with a photograph album. We sat together, propped up by pillows, passing the bottle between us and looking at the pictures. At the front of the album were old images of various members of the Aldridge family, the men in moustaches, the women in pale linen, and of the house under construction, before the reservoir was flooded. At that time, the land behind Fairlawn was nothing more than a shallow valley – marshland that must have been a haven for wildlife.
‘When I
see a reservoir, I always imagine a drowned village beneath it,’ I told him. ‘I think of a ghostly church bell clanging beneath the water, presaging doom, and abandoned possessions floating through the rooms of submerged cottages.’
‘Nothing so romantic,’ Daniel said. ‘Most of the reservoir is not even very deep; only the area by the dam drops below forty feet. If there were a church anywhere in the lake, you’d see its spire and most likely its roof.’
‘Which I suppose would be a hazard for the fishing boats.’
‘Indeed.’
‘Who’s this, the lady in the hat?’
‘My mother.’
I looked back in time, into the face of a slender woman in brogues and a tweed skirt-suit, wearing a trilby at a jaunty angle. There was a ribbon around the crown of the hat, and a couple of feathers tucked into the ribbon. The woman’s eyes were in shadow, but her lips were dark against her skin, and her hair was so pale it seemed white in the photograph. She was holding a cigarette, in a holder, between her fingers. She looked poised and confident, a strong woman.
‘She’s very striking. Was the picture taken at Fairlawn?’
‘No, I don’t know where that was. It looks like some shooting party or other. And that’s her with my father on their wedding day at the church.’
‘Oh, it’s so glamorous! All those flowers and that’s such an exquisite dress. I wouldn’t have recognized your father. He looks so young and handsome. The moustache suits him so!’
‘He was fifteen years younger than my mother and quite the charmer in those days, by all accounts.’
‘He looks very like you.’
‘Everyone says the likeness is strong. This one here, that’s the only picture I have of the three of us together. It was taken the day after I was born.’
‘You were born at Fairlawn?’
‘I suppose I must have been. We’re all in the garden, under the chestnut tree.’
‘Your mother looks so well and so happy.’
‘She’d waited a long time for me.’
‘But you were worth waiting for.’
‘Of course.’
The Secret by the Lake Page 13
