‘Oh, but why bother with hotels? We can put you up for the night if you don’t mind a bunk bed and a continental quilt to cover you.’
‘I shall have to telephone my aunt.’
‘Nothing easier. There’s a call-box at the warden’s office and a carpark where it’s perfectly safe to leave the car.’
‘I can’t wish myself on you like that.’
‘Why on earth not? We seem to have wished ourselves on to you and your car all right. There are just the three of us and the cabin sleeps six. Do stay. We’d love to have you. I’m Isobel Lindsay and the lunatic cripple beside you is my sister Tamsin. The silent member of the party is Erica Lyndhurst, with whom I was at school.’
‘I’m not so silent that I can’t say thank you,’ said Erica Lyndhurst. ‘We’re very grateful, I can tell you, and we’ll be delighted to put you up after you’ve telephoned your folks.’
‘Do you have a name?’ asked Hermione’s seat-mate, the girl with the wrenched ankle. ‘I hardly dare open my mouth to ask because I’m well and truly in the doghouse, but I couldn’t help twisting my ankle. A grouse got up almost under my feet and I was so startled that I stepped back and my foot went into a hole.’
‘I’m Hermione Lestrange.’
‘Benenden, Roedean or Cheltenham Ladies’ College?’ enquired Isobel, who seemed to be the liveliest of the three.
‘Remand home, approved school and Holloway Gaol, if you
‘Our kind of woman, in fact,’ said Isobel. ‘But let us sort out the subordinate clauses. The name Lestrange rings a warning bell, although I expect I’m on the wrong platform. I attended a lecture given by an eminent psychiatrist called Dame Beatrice Lestrange Bradley and was much impressed. She was speaking about the problems of the one-parent family and when it came to question time I was determined to get in on the act, so I said that in my experience — I’m a schoolmistress, as you may have deduced — many of the children who came from one-parent families (mostly when the parent was a widow) were, I had to admit, far better behaved than those from many of the families where there were two parents. I asked her to explain this.’
‘But it’s not always true,’ said Tamsin.
‘I never said it was. I said it was true of many families.’
‘What was her answer?’ asked Hermione.
‘She said that enlightened mums expected good conduct, and therefore stood a good chance of getting it. She asked whether that didn’t apply to classroom discipline, too, and, of course, it does. She then referred me to the famous speech made by Gussie Fink-Nottle to the boys of Market Snodsbury Grammar School in which, quoting, no doubt, from a higher authority, he had assured the lads that education was a drawing-out, not a putting-in. She then reminded me that Mr Fink-Nottle was strongly under the influence of alcohol at the time, and hoped that she had answered my question to my satisfaction.’
‘It sounds typical of my great-aunt. The Delphic Oracle could have taken her correspondence course. I often think she ought to have gone in for politics. Personally I am the complete dumb-cluck of the family. I help my father on his pig-farm.’
‘I’m a painter of pot-boilers,’ said Tamsin, ‘and I hope this ankle isn’t going to be a perishing nuisance because I want to spend the next fortnight painting the forest and the moors.’
‘Well, you haven’t broken it, anyway,’ said Erica. ‘I’ll strap it up for you when we get back. I’m always dealing with minor accidents on the site.’
‘Erica’s father is a builder and surveyor,’ said Isobel, ‘and she’s stinking rich. She only bothers to know us because I was at school with her.’
‘I act as my father’s accounts clerk and general dogsbody,’ explained Erica, ‘and now he’s made me a partner. Our work slackens from now until the spring, so I thought I’d take a couple of weeks off. These two girls make a change, I must say, from a world of rough, hearty, booze-swilling workmen, much as I love ’em.’
‘Tamsin can get away any time she wants,’ said Isobel, ‘on the pretence of finding something to paint.’
‘Christmas and birthday-card subjects and, on commission, people’s dogs and horses,’ said Tamsin. ‘Any chance your father would commission a picture of his pet pig?’
‘Whereas I,’ continued Isobel, ‘am tied to school holidays. This time they’ve extended the usual half-term break from a week to a fortnight to conserve the winter fuel, so that accounts for my stabilising presence among you all.’
‘I suppose the four of us make a pretty good cross-section,’ said Erica. ‘We represent the land, commerce, education and the arts.’
‘Pigs, houses, schools and daubs,’ said Tamsin. ‘You three have your uses, I suppose, but what about me?’
‘At least you found a means to get us a lift home,’ said her sister, ‘and for that I am truly thankful. We went much further than we intended,’ she added, speaking to Hermione, ‘so her wretched ankle actually came in useful.’
The car began a long gradual descent and picked up a sandy road bordered by deciduous trees with a group here and there of Scots pines. Soon Hermione obtained a glimpse of wooden cabins half-hidden among the trees. Occasionally the car, which was now doing only about twenty miles an hour, passed little groups of walkers.
Under Tamsin’s directions, Hermione at last pulled up in a large gravelled carpark not far from a complex of buildings which included a public call-box.
‘Have you change for the phone?’ asked Erica, whom Hermione was soon to recognise as the unofficial mother to the party.
‘Oh, yes, thanks. I won’t be long.’ The result of the telephone call was unexpected. One of her aunts answered it and there was evident relief at that end of the line.
‘Thank goodness you phoned! We’ve been on to Stanton St John, but, of course, you had left. My dear, of all things, the maid has got mumps, so, of course, you mustn’t come anywhere near us at present. Your mother says you haven’t had it and it can be serious at your age. So glad you’ve found somewhere to stay the night. We must fix up your visit for another time.
‘O.K.?’ asked Isobel, when Hermione returned to the car. ‘We really ought to walk to our cabin from here, but the ankle had better be taken up to the door. We’ll get Tamsin indoors, then perhaps you’ll bring me back here where you have to leave the car, and you and I can then walk back together.’
‘What are all these buildings?’
‘The warden’s office and flat, a big lounge for the cabin people if they want a get-together, a television room, a playroom for the kids if the weather turns wet, a shop where we get our milk and newspapers and any oddments we run short of, a badminton court, a billiards room — you name it, it’s here.’
Hermione backed the car and, again directed by Tamsin, drove to the cabin which the three women had rented.
‘We’re rather on the outskirts, in a way,’ said Isobel, ‘although not far from the carpark, thank goodness. There is only one other cabin opposite ours, and even that you can only see through the trees. We don’t know what the people are like. We only came down today. Oh, well, here we are. Our home sweet home for a fortnight.’
Wooden steps led up to the front door of the cabin, and the structure itself seemed to be completely made of wood. Leaving Tamsin standing on one leg with Isobel supporting her, Erica unlocked the door and the three of them disappeared inside. Hermione unlocked the boot of the car and took out her own two suitcases which she put down at the foot of the steps. Erica came out again with Isobel and they picked up the suitcases and took them inside. Isobel rejoined Hermione and they drove to the carpark, left the car and then walked back among the trees.
It was not yet dark, but the number of leaves still on the trees made it shadowy in the woods. There were fallen leaves and pine-needles on the ground and miry patches in places along the walk. The air was fresh but not cold, and as they walked the few hundred yards which separated the carpark from the cabin, Hermione began to wish that she were staying.
The same thing appeared to be in Isobel’s mind. She asked what Hermione proposed to do now that she could not go to her relatives.
‘Go home, I suppose,’ said Hermione.
