the window into
the sunless quad behind the hotel.
‘Does your father know about this chap?’
‘No, nothing.’
‘Or that you brought him back with you?’
‘Certainly not.’
‘Where’s he actually staying in London?’
‘He knows someone who’s got a place here.’
Casserley sits down again. He removes the cigarette end from
his holder and inserts a fresh one then leans back, legs outstretched and
crossed, black brogues gleaming from spit and polish.
‘I can’t tell you how glad I am that you’re home, Beatrice.
I’ve really missed you. Why don’t we go out for supper tonight?’
*
Bea opened the ivory-coloured musical box on her dressing
table. Arie bought it for her in a shop near Dover railway station. Its little
pink ballerina turned as she was ordained to do forever and the room filled
with the tinny notes of Goodnight, go to sleep. Bea watched till the porcelain
figure could dance no more for in its tawdry innocence was the story of her
life and the memory of a lover’s first kiss, all summoned back by the tune of a
clockwork toy.
Chapter Nine
McCall fell ill with bacterial pneumonia on New Year’s Day.
His forehead was hot and damp, the right side of his chest in spasms of pain.
The white sheets were speckled with a fine spray of blood coughed up during the
sleepless night. A locum drove out to Garth Hall and prescribed antibiotics.
Francis was nowhere to be found as Bea and Evie prepared
lunch.
‘You must think us a family of old crocks, Evie.’
‘No, it’s Mac working too hard that’s the fault and him not
looking after himself.’
‘I’m afraid you’re right. That boy has always worried me.’
Evie was due to catch a late afternoon train back to London.
Part of her did not want to go. For someone who read maths at Somerville and
was an empiricist if nothing else, the indefinable presence she experienced in
the stillness of Garth’s long, low drawing room defied rational explanation. It
was as if she was being led by those who had once dwelt there and now awaited
her, too. She could just about describe the how of what she felt but not why.
Less ethereally, Evie also knew she was being tested,
auditioned to complete Bea’s mission in life. But could she ever measure up to
Helen’s broken promise? Or did the entrancingly painted scenery of Garth Hall
hide a stage door through which it would be wiser to disappear before the
audience whistled her off?
McCall was asleep when Evie went to kiss him goodbye. Bea
drove her to Ludlow Station but the London connection was delayed two hours by
more bad weather. Bea suggested coffee and cake at De Grey’s Café.
Flurries of snow danced around the spangled Christmas
decorations still strung between Ludlow’s narrow streets. Clee Hill loomed in
the distance, pure white against a slate blue sky.
‘What of your people, Evie... your parents?’
‘There’s only my father.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that. Your mother’s passed on, has she?’
‘In a way, yes.’
Evie was aware she did not have to reply in these terms. But
like McCall said, everyone has need of a priest some day.
‘How do you mean, Evie?’
‘She left us... I was only little.’
‘How awful. But you and your father must be very close.’
‘Yes... we were, once.’
Again, there was a pause, a silence Evie deliberately left
in the air.
‘But not anymore? You’ve had a falling out?’
‘Something like that, yes.’
‘Do you want to tell me what it was about?’
Bea leaned across the table and took Evie’s hand in her own.
Evie was suddenly close to tears and looked away.
‘He says he never wants to see me again.’
‘No, surely not. Why should he say such a terrible thing?’
‘It’s my work, you see... he’s never approved of what I do.’
‘What’s he got against it?’
‘He says I’m a traitor.’
‘A traitor? To whom?’
‘A traitor to him, to my class... everything he’s ever
worked for.’
‘And what’s his
the sunless quad behind the hotel.
‘Does your father know about this chap?’
‘No, nothing.’
‘Or that you brought him back with you?’
‘Certainly not.’
‘Where’s he actually staying in London?’
‘He knows someone who’s got a place here.’
Casserley sits down again. He removes the cigarette end from
his holder and inserts a fresh one then leans back, legs outstretched and
crossed, black brogues gleaming from spit and polish.
‘I can’t tell you how glad I am that you’re home, Beatrice.
I’ve really missed you. Why don’t we go out for supper tonight?’
*
Bea opened the ivory-coloured musical box on her dressing
table. Arie bought it for her in a shop near Dover railway station. Its little
pink ballerina turned as she was ordained to do forever and the room filled
with the tinny notes of Goodnight, go to sleep. Bea watched till the porcelain
figure could dance no more for in its tawdry innocence was the story of her
life and the memory of a lover’s first kiss, all summoned back by the tune of a
clockwork toy.
Chapter Nine
McCall fell ill with bacterial pneumonia on New Year’s Day.
His forehead was hot and damp, the right side of his chest in spasms of pain.
The white sheets were speckled with a fine spray of blood coughed up during the
sleepless night. A locum drove out to Garth Hall and prescribed antibiotics.
Francis was nowhere to be found as Bea and Evie prepared
lunch.
‘You must think us a family of old crocks, Evie.’
‘No, it’s Mac working too hard that’s the fault and him not
looking after himself.’
‘I’m afraid you’re right. That boy has always worried me.’
Evie was due to catch a late afternoon train back to London.
Part of her did not want to go. For someone who read maths at Somerville and
was an empiricist if nothing else, the indefinable presence she experienced in
the stillness of Garth’s long, low drawing room defied rational explanation. It
was as if she was being led by those who had once dwelt there and now awaited
her, too. She could just about describe the how of what she felt but not why.
Less ethereally, Evie also knew she was being tested,
auditioned to complete Bea’s mission in life. But could she ever measure up to
Helen’s broken promise? Or did the entrancingly painted scenery of Garth Hall
hide a stage door through which it would be wiser to disappear before the
audience whistled her off?
McCall was asleep when Evie went to kiss him goodbye. Bea
drove her to Ludlow Station but the London connection was delayed two hours by
more bad weather. Bea suggested coffee and cake at De Grey’s Café.
Flurries of snow danced around the spangled Christmas
decorations still strung between Ludlow’s narrow streets. Clee Hill loomed in
the distance, pure white against a slate blue sky.
‘What of your people, Evie... your parents?’
‘There’s only my father.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that. Your mother’s passed on, has she?’
‘In a way, yes.’
Evie was aware she did not have to reply in these terms. But
like McCall said, everyone has need of a priest some day.
‘How do you mean, Evie?’
‘She left us... I was only little.’
‘How awful. But you and your father must be very close.’
‘Yes... we were, once.’
Again, there was a pause, a silence Evie deliberately left
in the air.
‘But not anymore? You’ve had a falling out?’
‘Something like that, yes.’
‘Do you want to tell me what it was about?’
Bea leaned across the table and took Evie’s hand in her own.
Evie was suddenly close to tears and looked away.
‘He says he never wants to see me again.’
‘No, surely not. Why should he say such a terrible thing?’
‘It’s my work, you see... he’s never approved of what I do.’
‘What’s he got against it?’
‘He says I’m a traitor.’
‘A traitor? To whom?’
‘A traitor to him, to my class... everything he’s ever
worked for.’
‘And what’s his
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