‘Tell Clarence, Nanny, that if he doesn’t behave I shall tell his mother, she will be here at any moment.’
The nanny hauled the howling children up the stairs. Trailing behind was the little golden-haired boy, his silky hair just like David’s. Clarence began to shout that he wanted his mother, and was pulled away up to the nursery.
‘David? You awake, old man? Just had a call from that gel Evelyne whatsit.’
David lay in the large double bed with its frills and canopy, his injured leg propped up on pillows. ‘Oh, Christ, that one from last night, I thought we’d got rid of her … I say, want a game of cards? Double or quits?’
Freddy sighed. There David sat, looking as angelic as ever, bathed, his hair shining, almost sparkling, his complexion fresh.
‘Just that it could be a trifle embarrassing, Primmy called and she’s on her way here. Don’t think it’s a frightfully good idea for them to meet, do you? You were making a bit of a meal of her, you know … David?’
Unconcerned, David shuffled his pack of cards. ‘Can’t you get rid of her for me? You know how I hate to upset Primmy … what on earth does she want, did she say?’
Freddy scratched his head and shrugged, muttered that it was something to do with the house, David’s old home.
‘You think you could sneak her up the back way so no one will know? See what she wants?’
Freddy nodded. He always did what David wanted, always had. Deep down he knew why. He would do anything to be near Lady Primrose, even if it meant taking care of her husband.
Evelyne stood at the iron gates and peered through them, up the gravel drive to the big white manor house. Without the twinkling fairy lights the drive seemed longer, and the house had lost its fairy-tale aspect. The sweeping lawns were devoid of peacocks, but the flowerbeds and the hedges were as immaculate as ever.
Freddy met her in the drive, as if he had been looking out for here. He seemed ill at ease, nervous of her, and cleared his throat, ‘Would you come this way, just follow me.’
They followed a path leading away from the front of the manor, around to the back of the house that had been part of his dreams for so many years, and in by the servants’ entrance.
Heather flicked the velvet curtains back into place. She was spying, she knew it. David was obviously up to his old tricks again. The girl looked positively wretched.
She went back to reviewing the firm’s accounts. She now ran the family business, Freddy paying not the slightest attention to it, although he dipped into their joint account freely. Heather never rebuked him, never questioned what he did with all the ‘spending money’. She was frightened that he might tell her the truth. What she didn’t know couldn’t hurt her.
Lady Sybil sat by the fire wrapped in a thick woollen rug. She appeared weighed down by her treasured array of beads.
‘Who was that outside? I heard the gravel crunch.’
‘No one, Mother, just the gardener.’
The clock chimed three.
Evelyne could hear the chimes as she and Freddy climbed the back stairs. He had said not a word, simply gesturing to her to follow him. As they crossed the landing towards David’s bedroom, Clarence ran from the nursery, being chased by Nanny.
‘Watch it, Clarence, don’t fall over and hurt yourself,’ she warned.
The little boy ran on, disappearing from view with the nanny calling after him. Freddy tapped on the bedroom door and opened it. ‘Here’s your visitor, old chap, don’t make it too long.’
Freddy turned to Evelyne. ‘I hope you’ll keep quiet about the boxing match should anyone ask you, you know there was a frightful rumpus afterwards. Police were called in to keep the rabble quiet, and David and I think it best you don’t mention our presence there to anyone, all right?’
Evelyne nodded her head, and Freddy went into the bedroom. He laughed at something David must have said, then opened the door wide for Evelyne to enter.
The room was vast, and the ornate four-poster bed had a frilled and flounced canopy with more flounces round the base. A huge tallboy with a mirror on top flanked by carved angels dominated the room. A dressing-table swathed in the same fabric as the bed was covered in little silver pots, brushes, a hand-mirror, and shaving equipment in a silver rack. There were clothes draped across the back of a velvet chair, and a large tray of half- eaten food rested on a stand.
David lay back on a mound of pillows, the embroidered frills matching those on the sheet. He was wearing monogrammed silk pyjamas, and he looked as handsome as ever, just a fraction paler.
‘Well, hello, Flame, come in and sit down. Have you had some tea?’
Unaware that Evelyne could see him in the mirror, David raised his eyebrows questioningly at Freddy.
‘S’all right, old man, I’ve briefed her, she won’t let the cat out of the bag … be back in about ten minutes, toodleoo.’
He closed the door, and Evelyne was left standing awkwardly in the centre of the room.
‘Well sit down, girl, here, next to me, but gently, the leg’s really painful.’
Evelyne perched on the end of the bed and took a deep breath, hardly able to meet his smiling blue eyes.
‘Suppose you met his wife? Dreadful-looking, isn’t she? But then poor Freddy had to take what was available, needed the cash. They run a chocolate factory you know, absolutely loaded. Still, I must say I’m eternally grateful, got me back here in no time …’
He had the grace to blush slightly, aware that they must have abandoned her at the boxing match. He reached over and poured himself a glass of whisky from a cut-glass decanter.
Evelyne blurted out, ‘You didn’t remember me at all, did you? What did Mrs Darwin tell you about me?’
David downed the drink in one and shrugged, then he told her Mrs Darwin was a drunkard, she’d just said that there was a beautiful girl waiting at the house. He gazed at the ceiling, frowned. ‘They tell you about me? They treat me rather like a loony you know, because I can’t remember my past. Well, my father did. If it weren’t for Freddy I’d probably have been put into some kind of home. I’m all right, though, and maybe it’s for the best. God knows what’s hidden in the recesses of my mind, God knows.’
Evelyne twisted her hands and mumbled that she was the girl Doris had brought to the house. She bit hard on her lip, but couldn’t stop the tears. David picked up her hand and pulled, making her move closer until she could smell his lavender perfume, then drew her fingers to his lips and kissed them. She moaned softly, then withdrew her hand.
‘You’re married, you should have told me.’
David cocked his head to one side and asked, ‘Why?’ He wanted to know what on earth it had to do with her. She moved off and paced the room, and slowly, bit by bit, she told him everything, even down to buying her outfit, hiring the chauffeur-driven car. He listened, put a cigarette into a holder and lit it, breathing out the smoke. He was staring into space, and suddenly, out of the blue, he spoke, not to Evelyne but to the wall, ‘Did you know that the average life expectancy of a subaltern on arrival in the trenches was little more than three weeks?’
His face crumpled, like a child’s, a puzzled furrow on his brow. He touched his forehead with one finger, pressing hard, and then took another drift of smoke into his lungs and turned his clear, ice-blue eyes to her. ‘I’m sorry, what did you say?’
‘I love you, and I’ve been in love with you since I was fourteen years of age.’
There, it was out, she’d said it, said everything she had intended to say, and at the finish she felt drained, empty.
‘I’m very flattered, sweet girl, but tell me what did you intend me to do with this love of yours? Oh Christ, did I make a play for you yesterday? I was drunk, you know that, surely?’
Evelyne stared at him. He flicked the ash off the end of his cigarette and looked enquiringly at her. She couldn’t meet his gaze. He vaguely remembered what had happened last night, and he remembered Evelyne. But he had been drunk, he excused himself. Looking at her now he couldn’t believe he had made a pass at her, and all she had just told him meant nothing to him. He had absolutely no idea who this woman Doris was. His eyes narrowed, he leaned back and stared. After a moment he asked in a clipped, cold tone, ‘What do you want? Well, what do you want?’
Evelyne twisted her hands, swallowed hard, and said, ‘Half of your father’s house is mine, Mrs Darwin said her wages have not been paid.’
