The Secret of Summerhayes. Merryn Allingham
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and he had been a voracious reader. He had loved tales of England, of knights and horses, of palaces and jousts. He must have borrowed a book from the library that mentioned Summerhayes, though he doubted the estate had ever seen a knight or a joust. Horses maybe, before the motor car displaced them.
Reluctantly, he turned back. He had wanted to find the garden again, walk the cracked pathway, circle the stagnant lake and pay homage to its shattered temple. But now was not the time. He had work to do and he needed a shower and a change of clothes. A day submersed in water meant he smelt of river weed himself.
When he got back to the small brick building, Eddie was just emerging, a towel slung over his shoulder. ‘Down to the showers, my friend, we’re going dancing.’
‘You may be, but not me.’
‘Don’t be a grouch. It’s just a village do – they want to welcome us to the bosom of their community.’
‘This is community enough. I’m happy to stay here.’
‘There’ll be a band,’ Eddie tempted. ‘And you know you love swing.’
‘I can imagine what kinda band.’
‘It’ll be the real thing. A couple of the guys were saying the village has hired a gang from Brighton. That’s the local fun palace. It should be good.’
‘Then go and enjoy. I’ve a report to write for McMasters on today’s hullabaloo. We avoided disaster by the skin of our teeth and there’ll need to be a rethink.’
‘You can do it tomorrow. Manoeuvres have been cancelled and we’re being stood down.’
‘How did that happen?’ Jos had been preparing for another day of punishment and was taken aback.
‘Our near disasters won’t have gone unnoticed. I guess the colonel will be doing his own rethink, so maybe you don’t need to write that report after all.’
‘Then God knows what’ll be in the new plan.’
‘You won’t know until tomorrow. So, c’mon, spivvy up and let your hair down.’
‘Thanks for the invite, Ed, but I’m beat.’
‘Me too, but never too tired to dance.’ Eddie looked at him closely. ‘Sure it’s not because there’ll be women there?’
Eddie was closer to the truth than he realised. But it wasn’t women he wanted to avoid; it was one particular woman. He hadn’t been able to get her face out of his mind. He needed to keep clear of her or she would get under his skin. She had got under his skin. But no further.
‘Chicken,’ Eddie taunted.
His friend wasn’t giving up. And how likely was it that Bethany Merston would be there? She had her old lady to look after. He gave in.
‘Okay, okay. I’ll come.’
She was tempted by the dance, she couldn’t deny it. Whenever she’d had the opportunity, she had loved to dance, but she was unsure of leaving Mrs Summer in Ripley’s care. It was true the old lady had seemed more settled in recent days. Elizabeth was no longer a name on her lips and she appeared to have forgotten the letters. Beth had continued to keep a sharp eye out for the postman, collecting any mail from the panelled hall immediately it arrived, but there had been no further alarms. She began to hope that the letters had stopped, though why they should have done was as much a mystery as to why they’d begun in the first place. But although Alice had recovered her placidity, leaving her for an entire evening was a step in the dark and Beth hesitated. Mr Ripley, though, when she talked to him, seemed unfazed by the idea and assured her that he and the mistress would be fine.
‘Just put her to bed, Miss Merston, and I’ll read to her. Or we’ll listen to the wireless together. And I’ll make sure she gets her nightcap.’
‘I’m not certain when the dance will finish. It could be late.’
‘It’s no matter. Once she’s asleep, I’ll leave her in peace and doze in here.’ They were in the sitting room. ‘You deserve a bit of a break. I know it’s not easy.’
‘Mrs Summer is no problem.’ And to be honest, she wasn’t. It was the unvarying nature of their daily routine that could be wearisome.
The old man shook his head knowingly. ‘She is and she isn’t. It were always the same. Mind you, it were her husband who were the real problem. Old Summer could be a hard man, though a fair enough employer. But Mrs Summer was always fidgeting over the household arrangements, never quite telling you what she wanted. I don’t think half the time she knew herself. It fair drove Mrs Lacey and me to distraction.’ Since this was very much what May had said, Beth could well believe him. ‘But you leave her to me, I can deal with her.’
‘I’ll think about it,’ she promised him.
‘Mind you do more than think about it.’
It was a kind offer but it wasn’t only Alice preying on her mind. If she went to the dance, what should she do about Gilbert’s offer? Probably accept it. It was just a lift. He could have no personal interest in her; he had a wife for heaven’s sake. But when they’d first met, his handshake had lasted just a little too long and, several times since then, she’d surprised him gazing intently at her. But she was allowing her imagination to become lurid. The offer of a lift wasn’t a date, and the dance itself was simply to welcome the Canadians to the village.
They were another problem, of course. Why did she keep finding problems? Eddie was certain to be there. He wouldn’t be able to resist the fun, and he’d take plenty of comrades along with him. If Jos Kerrigan were one, he most definitely wouldn’t be fun, and she didn’t fancy dancing her heart out while he scowled from the fringe. She was sure that Eddie would try to persuade him into going, but the more she thought of it, the more certain she became that he would fail. Lieutenant Kerrigan was unlikely to be a man who’d enjoy a village hop. And the thought of dancing, of throwing off the dreary pattern of wartime life for just one evening, was intoxicating. She weighed up the arguments.
She would go. She would go and enjoy herself despite the fact that her one best dress had faded slightly in the wash and her second best pair of shoes were scuffed at the heel. She feared the sole was coming loose, too – all the more reason to give them one last outing. Her frock and shoes were dowdy, but at least she could make something of her hair. Instead of tying its length at the nape of her neck she would pin it up, winding it into soft layers and pulling down a few tendrils to frame her face. While Alice slept that afternoon, she practised and after several unsatisfactory attempts, managed something with which she was happy. A puff of powder and a smudge of lipstick and she would be fine. No one would notice her dress. Outside, the blackout reigned and once inside the village hall, the lighting would be mercifully dim. She would dispense with Gilbert’s lift, she decided, and walk there by torchlight. That way, she would feel in no way bound to stay with him for the evening.
Her plan went like clockwork. Alice was amenable to being put to bed ahead of time and for once seemed excited by the evening ahead. She had demanded that Ripley bring the pack of playing cards and was looking forward to gin rummy and to beating her old butler. It was doubtful how accurately either of them would decipher the cards, but Beth was sure they would enjoy the sparring. She laid out the tray for the nightly cocoa, and a small plate of biscuits for them both. Before she left, she did a last twirl in front of the half mirror that was all her bedroom offered, and thought she looked passable. Her hair was positively elegant. Everything had gone swimmingly, so why was her stomach clenched tight? It must be that she’d become so unused to social occasions that taking herself to one felt as though she were climbing a very high mountain. But climb she did and, flashing her torch from side to side along the country lane, she reached the village without mishap. It was fortunate that all military activity had been suspended that evening. She would have hated to be forced again into a ditch and ruin the