The nature of the surprise did not concern her. It would most likely be some hideous Egyptian artefact or a monstrous moth that he would glory over for days. No, Phyllis was more annoyed that he’d been away for weeks and had left that sneaky-looking nanny in charge of the brat who ran rings around everyone. Phyllis simply had to glare in Vanessa’s direction to quell the beastly child, the only other person to have any control was Cookie and that was simply because she fed her. Phyllis smirked, the notion of Vanessa stuffing her fat face until she quite literally popped always served to amuse.
Contrary to the proposed afternoon tea, Phyllis had no intention of taking tea with Kenneth or his podgy daughter. To listen to his droning on about whatever he’d glued inside one of his tortuously boring albums was more than one could bear. His return was no call for celebration or squandering, they’d be getting out the bunting next. Perhaps the village band and the pompous mayor might attend. Phyllis shook her head. Disdain for her son oozed, like a festering sore while Vanessa caused further irritation on a daily basis. Just the sight of her was enough to ruin the day and Phyllis did her utmost to remain in her rooms until the nanny had taken her off to school. The child was sullen and spoilt, over-indulged in order to paper over her perceived nervous tendencies. Pah!
As expected, Kenneth had capitulated soon after Vanessa found her mother dead in the pool and this, according to the various doctors was the route of some psychosis or other. They’d been called in following tantrums and hysterics, or screaming her way through the night with tortured dreams, keeping everyone awake then refusing to go to school the next day. Phyllis pronounced the diagnosis as poppycock and firmly believed Vanessa could be cured by a damn good spanking and a strict regime.
No matter, it was high time the brat was sent off to school and if she had her way, Phyllis would choose one as far from Tenley as possible, the Highlands perhaps. The nanny was useless and allowed Vanessa to run free while she watched television and read magazines, or skulked off to the village pub once the coast was clear. Phyllis saw everything from her bedroom window and the days of paying out good money to the likes of that nanny would soon end.
No, it wasn’t the surprise that caused Phyllis such great agitation, the problem lay closer to home. Earlier in the year, when she became privy to second-hand rumours about goings on in the London house and the whiff of scandal reached her ears and left a bad smell on her upturned nose, Kenneth was summoned to her rooms and thoroughly interrogated. It wasn’t necessarily the rumours of a young woman, his mistress no doubt, that irked Phyllis because she welcomed anything that dispelled her fears that he was inclined elsewhere. No, what unsettled the matriarch was the change in her son.
“Mother I don’t know who tells you all this nonsense but I assure you there is nothing untoward going on in Kensington and anyway, I thought you’d approve of me sowing my oats, I am a gentleman farmer after all. Isn’t that what chaps like me are supposed to do?” Kenneth lit a cigarette and flopped onto the sofa, without being invited, and then crossed his legs and began tapping his foot impatiently, seeming somewhat amused by his retort.
“Do not be facetious with me, Kenneth. I won’t have it. But my sources are reliable and I have been told of late-night parties and music playing at all hours, so I suggest you curtail your louche behaviour forthwith. And look at me when I’m talking to you!” Phyllis was becoming increasingly irritated by her son’s attitude and despite summoning him, now wished him gone.
As Kenneth batted away her concerns, lied through his teeth and assured her that there was no necessity for a trip up to London, Phyllis noted the somewhat manly air and knew instantly that trouble was afoot. If a woman really was ensconced at the London house, she would be at the bottom of it all.
But there was a more serious cause for haste that added to Phyllis’s agitated state. She had noticed another change, not in her son, in herself. Having witnessed the very same affliction in her own mother, Phyllis feared this curse more than death itself; her demise of far less concern than the manner in which it occurred. To feel that loosening of grip not only on her son but her memory, along with bouts of great confusion had stirred in Phyllis waves of panic and necessitated a plan of action.
To begin with, she took to remaining silent until Cookie confirmed whether she was serving breakfast, lunch or dinner and recently, insisted on a newspaper being delivered to her room each morning, thus ensuring the day and date. Names evaded her, like blank spaces that rested heavily on her tongue and prevented speech, causing that wretched vague look to cross her face. She knew it was there, reflected in the bemused reaction from the staff. The nights were worse. Phyllis had such terrible dreams… or were they visions? Creatures would enter her room and crawl along the counterpane, clawing at the bedcovers while their eyes glowed in the dark, red or green, evil and menacing. Many times lately she had called out but nobody came so she waited for the morning, determined to stay awake until it was light.
Phyllis was left exhausted and terrified of what might become of her, so had to secure her position at Tenley, keep control of Kenneth and her estate otherwise she might be carted off to the asylum, just like her grandmother before her.
Footsteps on the stairs alerted Phyllis to the presence of Vanessa who shot past the drawing room door, no doubt to greet her father and his stuffed tiger, or whatever ridiculous relic he’d uncovered in London.
As the large front door was pulled open and she heard Vanessa cry out ‘Daddy’, Phyllis remained seated, determined not to welcome home her ineffective son. Her face was set like alabaster while ice cold eyes watched the door, poker straight and proud, each breath measured to blanket her rage. Phyllis listened to the commotion outside and waited patiently in her lair for Kenneth and his surprise to come to her.
Georgie and Kenneth
Georgie leant across and took Kenneth’s hand in hers. He was nervous, betrayed mostly by his pallor and clammy palm which he repeatedly wiped on his trouser leg. They had laughed and joked for most of the journey down from London but as they neared Tenley, she had sensed his mood change. Her heart hurt for Kenneth, her shy husband and wonderful friend.
“Darling, please try to relax, everything is going to be fine, I promise. I’ve told you, we are a team now, you and I, and an indomitable one at that. Just leave everything and everyone to me. I know what I’m doing.” Georgie brushed a fallen lock of hair from Kenneth’s face and when he turned, she smiled and saw from his eyes that he desperately hoped this was true.
“I wish I had your confidence and bravery, my love, I really do. Even though I’ve painted a brutally accurate and honest picture of my mother, you haven’t met her in the flesh and that is precisely what is worrying me, that and how Vanessa is going to react to having a stepmother… she’s so unpredictable and–”
Georgie shushed him mid sentence. “Stop this at once… We’ve been through this a hundred times and getting yourself into a state won’t help. Now relax and concentrate on the road. I will be by your side every step of the way, I promise. And I know I’ve asked a hundred times but are we nearly there because I cannot wait to see my new home.” Georgie adopted her firm but kind tone, one that worked well whenever Kenneth began to flounder and especially when he mentioned his mother.
“I’m sorry, my love, and yes, we are almost there in fact, this is it… just ahead is Tenley House, your new home, our new home.” There was no need for Kenneth to point ahead because it was impossible to miss it.
As they swung onto the drive and passed through the ornate iron gates that held the Tenley crest, Georgie couldn’t help but smile as her eyes settled on the manor house in the foreground. It was even more impressive than the photos Kenneth had shown her. Set against a crisp blue sky, surrounded by verdant pastures and woodland, it dominated the scene and soon, she would dominate it. After such a long time waiting and much to her surprise, in her darling Kenneth, Georgie had finally found what she was looking for – respectability and belonging. She had arriv
ed.
When Georgie had first set eyes on Kenneth, a forlorn-looking figure seated on a park bench, she hadn’t intended stopping to chat, or stopping at all for that matter. But when the heel of her boot snapped, mid-strut, causing her to lose balance and then hobble in an ungainly manner, he came to her aid, offering a gentlemanly hand as he guided her to the seat.
On hearing his cut-glass accent, Georgie immediately moderated hers and was thankful she’d left shop-girl Georgie at Whitley’s, swallowing down the expletives that had lingered on the tip of her tongue. Once they were seated, Georgie slipped off her broken boot as she thanked her rather tatty-looking knight who had clearly left his armour at home.
“Thanks so much for helping. These blasted boots cost a fortune… I wonder if they can be repaired.” Georgie held up boot and heel and gave Kenneth her best sad look.
“I really have no idea. I imagine so, but how are you going to walk with one leg longer than the other?” Kenneth imagined her limping home, lob-sided and looking rather foolish.
Georgie sighed and pretended to think, all the time weighing up her knight, trying to fathom the gorgeous chap by her side. She had him down as a writer. Yes, he fitted that bill. Rather tight for money but with a burning passion, raging within, or perhaps a boffin from the university with his tweedy jacket and crumpled shirt that was rather tired around the collar. Whatever he was, Georgie thought he was cute.
“I know. What if we snapped off the other heel then they would match.” Without waiting for an answer, Georgie whipped off her other boot. “Go on, have a go, I’ll hold it still while you yank it off.”
Her big blue eyes looked hopefully at Kenneth, and for a second he was entranced, quite fascinated by the thick layer of kohl that lined them, slightly smudged as though applied by a child. He had never been so close to a woman like this. She wasn’t like anyone he’d ever met, not personally, but there was something about her voice, it was soft and soothing yet with a hint of fun and mischief. And she smelled divine.
“Alright, if you’re sure, but that means you’ll have to get two heels repaired, not one.”
“Honestly it’s fine, let’s do this.” Georgie didn’t care about the boots. She would throw them away when she got home and pick up another pair on her next shopping spree. What she did care about was securing a date with the hot chap who was tugging at the heel of her boot with all his might.
When it finally gave way, nobody was more relieved than Kenneth because he didn’t want to look like a fool in front of the gorgeous creature, or the tramp and his dog who had settled on the bench opposite. He was perspiring slightly as she slipped her feet inside the boots and zipped them up her long legs.
Once she had made enough of a show, Georgie turned and smiled at Kenneth then held out her hand to introduce herself. “Thank you so much, kind sir. My name is Georgie and to repay you for such chivalry, I would like to take you for a cheeky drink, or perhaps a cup of tea, whichever you prefer.”
Kenneth blushed as he held out his hand, so damned grateful that Georgie, as he now knew her to be, had crossed his path. The desolation that swamped him only moments before had simply vanished.
Smiling broadly, he took her hand and replied. “Very pleased to meet you, Georgie. My name is Kenneth and I would be honoured to take tea with you. I suppose it’s far too early for a cheeky drink… is three o’clock too early?”
“Kenneth, it is never too early and I know just the place. Let’s go, and on the way you can tell me all about yourself and why you looked so dreadfully glum as I walked by. I’m a very good listener and we have all evening. I escaped from work after a dreadful migraine came on but it’s gone now, and I have nowhere in particular to go so I’m all yours.” As they stood, Georgie linked her arm through his and even though she felt him stiffen slightly, hung on tight.
As they walked and Georgie chatted, Kenneth began to relax and by the time they reached the park gates he didn’t feel quite so conscious of having a stranger firmly attached to his side, in fact he was rather enjoying it, that and the thought of not spending another evening alone.
They had been inseparable ever since. Over drinks in Georgie’s local pub, that was rough and ready, rather loud and smoky but in a strange way relaxing, Kenneth told Georgie all about the death of his wife two years previously and the effect it had on their young daughter who had since seen off three nannies and from what he could tell, the fourth was fast losing her patience. It wasn’t all down to Vanessa though. His pious outspoken interfering mother was impossible to live with and he was convinced her meddling and vicious tongue had much to do with the miserable atmosphere and subsequent resignations. Kenneth suspected her intention was to force his hand and have Vanessa sent away to school and while he accepted this might be a simple solution all round, he had to uphold his wife’s wishes. Daphne had been firmly against the banishment of their daughter.
Strains of another life and meddling grandparents came back to haunt Georgie and as she listened, felt empathy for the little girl who was at the centre of a broken family. Kenneth didn’t expand on his home life other than to say he had taken the coward’s way out and hotfooted it to London, seeking refuge in his town house. Soon he would have to face the music and head south and his responsibilities on the estate. On this note, Georgie suggested that if he only had a few days left in London then he should make the most of it – which he did.
They had three wonderful crazy days together where Georgie introduced him to her gaggle of arty bohemian friends who cared not who he was or where he was from. Kenneth was reborn. Never in his life had he met or mixed with such exotic creatures who danced and drank the night away, listened to jazz in smoky basements. Or ran through the streets in the rain and ate breakfast at six in the morning in greasy spoons, then slept it all off before dressing for dinner to do it all again.
During every moment, Georgie was by his side, waving at celebrities as they passed their table, holding his hand, pulling him onto the dance floor or introducing him to such-a-body, telling them he was the cleverest chap who knew everything about oodles of things. She made him feel like a king, a professor of dusty objects, a gentleman farmer and local philanthropist, a wonderful father and her own very dear friend.
Soon, all Kenneth could think about was Georgie and escaping to London. He spent far too long on the phone, laughing at her wild stories which kept him going while they were apart. The train journey took forever and the taxi always became stuck in traffic, causing a surge of panic to rise in his chest, forcing him to pay the driver and continue on foot, such was Kenneth’s urge to get to her.
And in return, all Georgie could think about was Kenneth. Not in a romantic way because she had realised on that very first day as she watched him at the club, blushing when she introduced him to Laurie and the others, that Kenneth was gay. Normally, she would have moved on but there was something endearing about him. He touched her heart. From his confessionals, Georgie had gleaned much about his cold upbringing and the dreadful time he had at boarding school, living constantly in the shadow of his all-rounder brother and under the withering scrutiny of his heartless mother. Eventually and without being pressured, he had been honest about his marriage to Daphne and Georgie could see he was wracked with guilt over her death and the strain of living a lie. But what brought tears to her eyes was the moment he told her all about his secret shame.
It was during his third visit to London and they had just returned from the club. It was 2am and both were exhausted and rather full of gin. As he lay on Laurie’s empty bed, just a few feet from Georgie, Kenneth told her of his loneliness, trapped in a world that would never accept him for what he was. He could never ever have a relationship with another man, not openly, not where he came from.
“I don’t want to feel that shame anymore, Georgie, or smell the urine as I descend the stairs to the lavatory at Liverpool Street and wait inside a cubicle for a stranger. Do you know how low that makes me feel, how debase?”
; “But it’s 1971, it’s not illegal to love another man, not anymore and anyway, there are men all over this city doing similar things with women in dingy alleys or the back seat of their car. And let’s not forget while the hoi polloi are slumming it, the gentry are off with their mistresses or being entertained in some private club or other. I know what goes on, Kenneth, so don’t dare feel ashamed, of any of it. You are what you are and I really don’t care.”
“Honestly… you really don’t judge me?”
“Not one bit. But I do think you should curtail your visits to the loos. I don’t want to be catching anything and anyway, I can introduce you to lots of lovely chaps so there’s no need.”
“Yes, perhaps you’re right. Meeting you has shown me another world. I love it here, you know, being in this room with you and spending time with your friends. I’ve wasted so much of my life but from now on I’m going to live it to the full.”
“That’s the spirit. Bugger the lot of them… if you see what I mean.” Georgie laughed and heard Kenneth chuckle. “Now try to sleep, stop tormenting yourself.” She looked over and saw his eyes were closed so she returned to her own thoughts.
Georgie had only ever been to the Kensington House the once and they stayed for minutes. It was no wonder as the place was rather depressing, a bachelor’s home that gave the impression of servitude, chilly rooms with empty cupboards, well kept and clean but faded, dull really. Georgie understood why Kenneth was eager to escape and it also brought her up short when she realised that if this was what he escaped to, whatever he was running from must be far worse. She could tell that Kenneth really didn’t mind the climb to the meagre room she squashed into with Laurie. He seemed quite content there, with her.
The Secrets of Tenley House Page 10