‘I thought a gentle walk down to the stables. Bill Latton is reshoeing Old Tiger today. I might have a quiet word with him.’
There was no need to ask what the word would be about. Lily would speak to the young man about discretion, the need for a financial contribution, and more care and kindness in his activities in the future. She would charm him, and slightly dazzle him with worldliness. The young man would listen to her, as he might to no one else.
‘I planned to call on Marjory’s mother later today,’ said Sophie. She and Lily smiled at each other in perfect understanding.
‘I must also catch up with my correspondence,’ said Lily. ‘I have been neglecting it shamefully.’ Miss Lily might have ceased training her lovely ladies and even vanished for years during the war and after it, but slowly news of her reappearance, far off in the land of cricketers and sheep, had emerged. Most post bags contained at least half a dozen letters for her from China, South Africa or Scotland. Sophie did not ask if their content was purely personal, or if Lily was once again a link in James Lorrimer’s intelligence games.
Lily, Green and Jones had played those games for decades. Violette had grown up with their consequences. But Sophie, who had once been tempted by a life of political influence as James’s wife, had accepted she was her father’s daughter, supplier of that most prosaic of substances, corned beef, even if Higgs Industries now sold as much canned fruit cup as beef, as well as canned vegetables and the surprisingly profitable line of baby food. And now bananas, which as Rose had pointed out conveniently did not ripen till long after they were picked.
Letters seemed to give Lily all the connection she needed to the world she had left. That was all Sophie needed to know about them.
‘And you?’ Lily asked, reaching for her coffee cup, the exact curve of her hand and arm an art form.
‘I thought I might treat myself to a ride along the river this afternoon. And Daniel is bringing Midge’s boys over this morning.’
‘Ah,’ said Lily. She sipped before replying. ‘In that case I will make sure to leave you alone with him. I doubt he is coming purely as a taxi service for Ben and Harry.’
Daniel Greenman — who Sophie had first known as John, a hermit of calm innocence and no known history — had lived in a home-made hut on the edge of Thuringa and her friend Midge’s property after the war, carving a cross for every man he had been unable to save, while healing the souls of local men wounded by the years of unrelenting violence and appalling leadership. Although he had taken up a psychiatric practice in Sydney shortly before her return to Australia, Daniel now lived just outside the township of Bald Hill, where he ran a small clinic offering peace and counselling to some half-dozen patients.
Daniel too, perhaps, had felt the noise and rush of Sydney were too much for him. Or perhaps he wished to be closer to the two children now running down to open the gate for his car: children who might have been his after the one night Sophie spent with him; before she had immediately flown back to be with Nigel before the surgery he had so unexpectedly survived.
He was the twins’ much-loved Uncle Daniel now. For the sake of Shillings there must be no doubt about Danny’s succession to the earldom and the estate that would otherwise be pillaged by the only other heir, a distant cousin.
Lily stood. ‘I will go and fetch my hat and begin my walk.’
‘There’s no need to go,’ said Sophie quickly.
Lily looked down at her, her expression hard to read. ‘Daniel has carefully arranged today so your children will not interrupt you. I suspect he has something to ask you, something he has wanted to ask for some time.’
Sophie flushed. ‘I think so too.’
‘And you have been avoiding being alone with him so he can’t ask it.’
‘Lily, I can’t marry him! You know I can’t.’
‘I know no such thing,’ said Lily gently. ‘I think you might be good for each other.’
‘But you . . .’ Sophie had no words.
‘Would I mind?’
‘Yes,’ said Sophie, determinedly. ‘And tell me the truth. The whole truth, not a convenient slice.’
‘Very well. Part of the truth is that I would like you to marry Daniel Greenman, because he loves you, and you love him, and our house would be a happy one if he moved in with us. The other part —’ Lily took an apparently unconscious step away from Sophie, as if to ensure she did not reach for her. ‘The other part is that I will grieve forever. But that will be the case whether you marry him or not. If we are adding up potential happiness, then marry Daniel Greenman.’
Lily’s step forward now might have covered years or a thousand miles, not a mere foot. She kissed Sophie gently on the cheek. ‘Be happy, darling Sophie. That is what I want most for you and for our children. Just be happy.’
She walked, swan like, through the French doors, her chiffon scarf flowing gently behind her, till only the scent of gardenia was left. Sophie closed her eyes to breathe in the scent, then opened them, as children’s voices and Daniel’s echoed from the gravel driveway.
She pulled the bell. ‘Jenkins, would you mind clearing the breakfast things and bringing a tea tray? And tell Mr Greenman I am out here.’
‘Yes, your ladyship.’
Chapter 4
In every courageous existence there is a time when you say, ‘This will be my life, not that.’ Sadly, few are brave enough to make their own choices, much less ones that break from every expectation.
Miss Lily, 1914
‘You are looking beautiful.’ Daniel lifted her hand and kissed it, a habit he had acquired when he moved back to Bald Hill — more than a kiss on the cheek, less than one on the lips. He sat next to Sophie as she poured him tea, black, the way he preferred it, with a slice of lemon.
‘When you say that, I almost feel as if I am.’ She laughed. ‘Or will be, once I’ve had a ride along the river and breathed sunlight again. Too many meetings, too many stuffy offices, too much smiling, too many signatures. But I’m finally free of business for a few months. I’m lucky to have such excellent managers.’
He laughed. ‘All of whom you chose.’
She smiled. ‘Some of whom I chose, and some I inherited. But I am still lucky.’
‘I doubt it. You give them freedom to do their best work, a chance to contribute opinions, a share in the profits. Few employers offer the same opportunity.’ He grinned at her. ‘I had a drink with Slithersole Junior last time he was at Bald Hill. Your employees like you and admire you. As do I.’ He looked at her seriously. ‘They accept you as easily as they would a man. It is an extraordinary achievement.’
‘Thank you.’ She gave him the smile that was automatic now, the smile that charmed, lifting her eyes to him slowly before letting the smile itself appear.
The gauche and impulsive young Sophie Higgs had been trained in charm in those magic months with Hannelore, Emily and poor dead Mouse before the war; had used that charm during her season as a debutante, and to establish her hospitals and relief centres during the war; and still used it now in business. She made each man feel a connection with her that was not sexual, but yet filled with the potential that exists between any two people. It was not even conscious any more, and yet she was still aware that so much of what she had achieved, in business and personally, was because of it.
And that too was something she could not tell Daniel.
‘Is it too early for lamingtons? Or one of Mrs Jenkins’s scones?’ It wasn’t quite an interruption, but she spoke quickly nonetheless.
‘I can’t resist Mrs Jenkins’s scones.’ He took one, split it, added butter and the soon-to-be award-winning pineapple and ginger jam. ‘So you have settled your business affairs for a while?’
‘Unless something unexpected happens — which I don’t expect. That sounds stupid, doesn’t it? You know what I mean.’
‘And Shillings?’
‘The estate is running smoothly.’
‘So you don’t plan to go back to England for a
while yet?’ The question was slightly too intent.
‘Not for a year at least, I think, and maybe more. Danny is still too young for all the attention. And it’s a long way. Lily tires easily.’
As she spoke Lily appeared at the front door, her straw hat decorated with everlastings, its gauze ribbons tied under her chin. She strolled down towards the stables, then stopped to watch the children set up the wickets.
Four is the minimum number for cricket, thought Sophie — two to bat, one to bowl, and one to be both wicket keeper and fielder. She watched as Danny took first bat. Harry’s bowl was expert but gentle, allowing the child the joy of hitting the ball. ‘Run,’ yelled Ben from the other wicket.
Daniel watched the children too, smiling. ‘I’m glad you’ve made Australia your home.’
Sophie smiled back. ‘I didn’t intend to stay so long. But even though I’d expected the stock market crash and most of what came with it, I underestimated how much it would affect Higgs Industries. I looked up from my desk and found we had been here four years. There was no pressing need for us to go back and so much to keep us here.’
She looked out at the line of red gums that marked the river that had once been the boundary of a property that now stretched across half the district, Midge Harrison and her husband owning much of the rest. ‘I feel my soul settle into place every time I see the shape of the hills change on the way back from Sydney.’
‘I’m glad.’ He watched the children. He didn’t add, ‘And now I can see the children, who may well be mine, grow up.’ But the words still hung between them. That too had been a factor in keeping the family at Thuringa.
He turned to her. ‘Sophie, you have been avoiding being alone with me for the last six months.’
Impossible to deny. She didn’t try.
‘Is it because you know what I want to say? What I am going to ask?’
Suddenly she couldn’t speak. Twelve years earlier she had loved this man and, eleven years ago, possibly, conceived his children. She had never stopped loving him. Love came in many flavours, as Miss Lily had told her — warned her. Her love for the man she had once known as John, her love for the man she now knew as Daniel, had changed as the years went by. It was even deeper and more profound than it had been on the night of moonlight and owl song when they had slept together.
‘Will you marry me?’ he asked simply.
Somehow she found her voice. ‘Why didn’t you ask before?’
‘After the conventional year of widowhood? Because I felt you were still too strongly Nigel Vaile’s wife.’
Of course, she thought bleakly. How could I not be? ‘But now I’m not?’
‘Now I’m hoping you will marry me.’
It should have been an easy choice. She loved him. She had Lily’s blessing. Legally there was no impediment, nor ever would there be. Nigel Vaile’s name was engraved on the cold stone tomb at Shillings. But could she marry Daniel without telling him . . .
It isn’t mine to tell, she thought. Which means I can’t marry him. Or perhaps I can . . .
‘Aunt Lily!’ Sophie looked up at Rose’s warning. But it was no brown snake or spider bite — just the cricket ball soaring from Danny’s bat towards Lily. Sophie saw Lily leap slightly, her hand reaching for the ball. She snatched it expertly from the air, then bowled it with overarm perfection back to Harry.
It was the action of someone who had played cricket all their youth. A young man’s youth, not a girl’s. It was the first time Sophie had ever seen Lily move like a man. And now she was a woman again, standing there, laughing with the children.
Sophie turned back to find Daniel still staring at Lily. He said nothing for a few moments, then looked back at Sophie. She swallowed dread, waited for him to ask.
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ he asked softly. His look hardened slightly. ‘Would you ever have told me?’
She could not pretend to misunderstand.
‘I don’t know,’ she said honestly. She rang the bell. ‘Jenkins, would you mind sending Toby to ask Lady Lily to join us in the library.’
‘Yes, your ladyship.’ Was that an expectant smile? Did Jenkins . . . did the whole staff . . . know that Daniel had come to propose to her? Was the champagne even now cooling in the refrigerator that was Mrs Jenkins’s joy?
She did not meet Daniel’s eyes as she stood and made her way into the library, where they would not be interrupted or overheard.
Chapter 5
A lie that has been told may wound. A lie that you let fester, uncorrected, may hurt a hundred times more.
Miss Lily, 1912
‘Sophie?’
Sophie turned to look at Daniel as he shut the library door. ‘I’m sorry. I . . . I can’t explain. I mean, I don’t have the right to explain.’
She sank into one of the leather armchairs, worn and comfortable since her father’s day. She and Lily had redecorated much of Thuringa, but this library, the heart of the empire, had been left unchanged. She wondered vaguely if that was another reason she had come here.
Daniel sat opposite, his face stony. ‘I think that after so many years of friendship, I have a right to know.’
‘Yes. Yes, of course you do. But I don’t have the right to tell anyone, not even you!’ She stood as Lily stood in the doorway, that two-second pause Miss Lily had taught all her ‘lovely ladies’, the one that made everyone in the room gaze at the door, that gave one time to smile and make eye contact as the men in the room politely stood.
For the first time Daniel did not rise from his seat at Lily’s entrance.
Lily’s smile changed, suddenly sympathetic now and with deep regret. ‘Ah, so you have guessed at last. I’m sorry,’ she said softly. ‘I would have been . . . easier . . . if you’d never known. It was the catch, wasn’t it?’
‘And the overarm bowling.’
‘That was automatic, I’m afraid. I played for decades.’ She shook her head. ‘Women play cricket too, of course. They even bowl overarm. But, yes, for a few seconds, for the first time in seven years, I was Nigel Vaile again.’
Daniel sat back, observing her. Is this how he looks at his psychiatric patients? thought Sophie.
‘Why the deception?’ He shook his head. ‘I am familiar with transvestism, of course. But this . . .’ He looked at Sophie. ‘Did you know that Nigel Vaile was a transvestite when you married him?’
‘Of course,’ said Sophie, just as Lily said more sharply than Sophie had ever heard her speak, ‘I am not a transvestite, if by that you mean a woman who is born trapped in a man’s body. I am Lily Vaile and I am Nigel Vaile.’
‘A split personality?’
‘Not in the slightest. You may put away your convenient psychiatric categories.’ The person who spoke had neither Lily’s charm nor Nigel’s gentleness. ‘I am one person, with two parts to their personae that I show at different times, because society is not yet able to accept someone is both a man and a woman. Seven years ago either Nigel Vaile or Lily Vaile had to vanish, and it was decided that Nigel should be the one to go.’
‘You make it sound as if it weren’t your choice.’
‘It wasn’t.’
Sophie looked up in shock. For the first time she heard Lily speak in Nigel’s voice. ‘I had a wife and children I adored, an estate I loved,’ said the voice of Nigel. ‘I gave them up because Lily Vaile had been a valuable British agent for several decades. Nigel,’ the sorrow in Lily’s voice was unmistakable, ‘was expendable. Lily was not.’
‘You are a spy?’
Lily smiled, once more the ‘Miss Lily’ that had charged thousands. Sophie could almost feel Daniel relax under its influence. ‘Keeping MI5 informed of the condition of the Thuringa cattle and the Bald Hill sheep? But yes, Lily Vaile was a spy, occasionally. Mostly more . . . an agent of influence. I still am, but by mail now, rather than in person.’
So those were not just the personal letters of friends. But then Lily’s network was composed of friends.
‘A woman c
an be of great influence,’ Miss Lily was continuing, ‘and is generally far less conspicuous than a man. Men also often speak ridiculously freely in the presence of a woman, assuming she won’t understand. My friends tell me what they have heard men say. And, as a woman, I created useful friendships between my protégées, who in turn influenced powerful men and passed information in both directions. Sophie only learned that the Miss Lily she loved and trusted was actually the Earl of Shillings after the war.’
‘Are you trying to tell me that you disguised yourself as a woman for intelligence purposes?’
‘Of course not. Various . . . difficult events . . . occurred when I was much younger. For a while I became convinced I was Lily, not Nigel. I was recruited as Lily. But as the trauma gradually receded I slowly discovered that I was still Nigel, too. Each year I lived as either one for months at a time. Seven years ago one of my students, and Sophie’s closest friend at the time, the Prinzessin von Arnenberg, intuited that Nigel and Lily were the same person. She used that to blackmail us into visiting Herr Hitler, at that time a disgraced politician with, it seemed, very little chance of success, to urge the Prince of Wales to support him.
‘But blackmail never stops. One day, Hannelore would have used the knowledge again. The scandal would have destroyed the network we had so carefully constructed.’
Lily . . . Nigel . . . met Daniel’s eyes. ‘It would also have destroyed my family. I will not have Danny nor Rose known as the children of a transvestite, as you so neatly put it — the person I am cannot be so simply labelled, but the general public is not interested in nuance. Hannelore now thinks she was mistaken. Lily lives and Nigel died.’
Daniel turned to Sophie. ‘So you knew, when you married?’
Nigel answered for her. ‘She knew. Sophie married me to save Shillings from my cousin, who would have exploited it and its people.’ He flashed her a smile of love and infinite regret. ‘And because she loved me, loved me both as Nigel and Lily. But Sophie is truly a widow. Sophie and I are now sisters-in-law; I am a much-loved friend —’
Lilies, Lies and Love Page 4
