The House at Riverton aka The Shifting Fog

An aeroplane droned overhead, a Bleriot XI-2 said Alfred, and a cheer went up amongst the crowd. A wave of excitement rolled along the platform, collecting us all in its wash. The conductor, a distant speck of black and white, blew his whistle then called for boarding through his megaphone.

‘Well,’ said Alfred, a smile tugging at his lips. ‘Here I go then.’

A figure appeared at the end of the station. Hannah. She scanned the platform, waved hesitantly when she saw David. She weaved through the crowd, stopping only when she reached her brother. She stood for a moment, without speaking, then she pulled something from her purse and gave it to him. I already knew what it was. I had seen it on her duchesse that morning. Journey Across the Rubicon. It was one of the tiny books from The Game, one of their favourite adventures, carefully described, illustrated and bound with thread. She’d wrapped it in an envelope and tied it with string.

David looked at it, then at Hannah. He tucked it in his breast pocket, rubbed his hand over it, then reached out and squeezed both her hands; he looked as if he wanted to kiss her cheeks, hug her, but that was not the way it went with them. So he didn’t. He leaned closer and said something to her. They both looked toward Emmeline, and Hannah nodded.

David turned then and said something to Robbie. He looked back at Hannah and she started searching through her bag again. She was looking for something to give him, I realised. David must have suggested that Robbie needed his own good-luck charm.

Alfred’s voice, close to my ear, pulled my wandering attention back. ‘Bye-bye Gracie,’ he said, his lips brushing hair near my neck. ‘Thanks ever so for the socks.’

My hand leapt to my ear, still warm from his words, as Alfred threw his kit over his shoulder and headed for the train. As he reached the door he climbed onto the carriage step and turned, grinning at us over the heads of his fellow soldiers. ‘Wish me luck,’ he said, then disappeared, pushed through the door by the others eager to climb aboard.

I waved my arm. ‘Good luck,’ I called to the backs of strangers, sensing suddenly the hole that would be left at Riverton by his departure.

Up at first class, David and Robbie boarded with the other officers. Dawkins walked behind with David’s bags. There were fewer officers than infantry, and they found seats easily, each appearing at a window while Alfred jostled for standing space in his carriage.

The train whistled again, and belched, filling the platform with steam. Long axels began to heave, gathering momentum, and the train drew slowly forward.

Hannah kept up alongside, still searching her purse, fruitlessly it seemed. Finally, as the train gained pace, she looked up, slipped the white satin bow from her hair, and held it up to Robbie’s waiting hand.

Further along the track my gaze alighted on the sole motionless figure amongst the frenzied crowd: it was Emmeline. She clutched a white handkerchief in her raised hand but she no longer waved it. Her eyes were wide and her smile had slipped into an expression of uncertainty.

She stood on tiptoe, surveying the crowd. No doubt she was anxious to bid David farewell. And Robbie Hunter.

Just then, her face lifted eagerly and I knew she’d seen Hannah.

But it was too late. As she pushed through the crowd, her calls drowned by engine noise, and whistles, and cheers, I saw Hannah, still running alongside the boys, long hair unbound, disappear with the train behind a veil of steam.

PART 2

English Heritage Brochure

1999

Riverton Manor, Saffron Green, Essex

An early Elizabethan farmhouse designed by John Thorpe, Riverton Manor was ‘gentrified’ in the eighteenth century by the eighth Viscount of Ashbury who added two bays, transforming the house into a graceful manor. In the nineteenth century, when countryhouse weekends became popular, Riverton again underwent conversion at the hands of architect Thomas Cubitt: a third level was built to incorporate more guest accommodation; and, in keeping with the Victorian preference that servants remain invisible at all times, a rabbit warren of servants’ rooms was added to the attic, along with back stairs leading directly to the kitchen.

The magnificent ruins of this once great house are surrounded by glorious landscaped gardens, the work of Sir Joseph Paxton. The gardens include two huge stone fountains, the largest of which, representing Eros and Psyche, has just been restored. Though now powered by computerised electric pump, the fountain was originally motorised by its own steam engine and was described as making the ‘noise of an express train’ when it was fired, due to the 130 jets-hidden amongst giant ants, eagles, fire-breathing dragons, horrors of the underworld, cupids and gods-that shoot 100 feet into the air.

There is a second, smaller fountain, representing the fall of Icarus, at the end of the rear Long Walk. Beyond the Icarus fountain is the lake and the summer house, which was commissioned in 1923 by Riverton’s then owner, Mr Theodore Luxton, to replace the original boathouse. The lake has become infamous in this century as the site of poet Robert S Hunter’s suicide in 1924, on the eve of the annual Riverton midsummer’s night party.

The generations of Riverton residents were also instrumental in sculpting the garden. Lord Herbert’s Danish wife, Lady Gytha Ashbury, created the small topiary area lined with miniature yew hedges, still known as the Egeskov Garden, (named for the Danish castle which belonged to Lady Ashbury’s extended family), and Lady Violet, wife of the eleventh Lord Ashbury, added a rose garden on the rear lawn.

Following a devastating fire in 1938, Riverton Manor fell into long decline. The house was donated to English Heritage in 1974 and has undergone restoration since that time. The north and south gardens, including the Eros and Psyche fountain, have recently been restored as part of the Contemporary Heritage Garden Scheme run by English Heritage. The Icarus fountain and summer house, accessed via the Long Walk, are currently undergoing restoration.

The Riverton church, situated in a picturesque valley near the house, contains a tea room (not managed by English Heritage) which is open during the summer months, and Riverton Manor has a marvellous gift shop. Please call the site (01277 876857) for details of the fountain firing.

THE TWELFTH OF JULY

I am to be in the film. Well, not me, but a young girl pretending to be me. Regardless how peripheral one’s connection to calamity, it would appear that to live long enough is to be rendered an object of interest. I received the phone call two days ago: Ursula, the young film-maker with the slim figure and the long ashen hair, wondering whether I would be willing to meet the actress with the dubious honour of playing the role of ‘Housemaid 1’, now retitled, ‘Grace’.