Jasper studied the over-large presence of Bunty, framed in the doorway.
‘Bunty! You gorgeous creature! Just let me look at you. Alison tells me you’re still my number one fan.’
Bunty patted her rollers, beneath her hair net and readjusted the cord on her quilted dressing gown. ‘Of course. And I’ve dressed especially in honour of your visit, as you can see.’
‘Why, so you have,’ Jasper teased. ‘Quite the leading lady in fact.’
‘Speaking of leading, let me lead you inside, Jasper. Alison looks as if she’s asleep on her feet, poor girl.’
Tucking into a huge slice of Bunty’s fruitcake, Jasper watched Alison climb the stairs. ‘Sleep well, little sister. You see I kept my promise. I’ve brought you back so you can still see Max in the morning.’
Alison was too tired to reply; instead she merely nodded. She was opening her bedroom door when she heard Jasper call.
‘Say! What do you two guys plan to do in the morning that’s so important? Perhaps I can come too?’
‘Pick violets in the early morning dew.’
Jasper paused with the fruit cake midway between his lips. ‘What! Are you serious?’
‘I expect she is,’ Bunty broke in softly. ‘Love does strange things to you, you know.’
‘I guess it does Bunty,’ Jasper reflected, wiping crumbs from his top lip. ‘I also guess I haven’t found it yet. I’ve done some crazy things in my life, but baby,’ Jasper continued breaking into a Brooklyn accent, ‘I ain’t never picked dew-covered violets before.’
Bunty shook her head. ‘Jasper, you are incorrigible.’
‘I know,’ he sighed, popping the last of the fruitcake in his mouth. ‘Alison’s already told me that once this evening.’
‘I would imagine you mean last night,’ Bunty yawned. ‘Now, are you going to let me show you to your room, or do you intend to stay up and listen to the dawn chorus?’
*
Hearing church bells peal, Alison groaned and buried her head in her pillows. She was far too tired to go to church this morning. Instead, vaguely aware of Bunty’s efforts at a comparatively noiseless departure for St Faiths, she turned over and went back to sleep.
‘Hey! Lazy bones! What happened?’
‘What do you mean?’ said a muffled voice from beneath the covers.
‘Weren’t you,’ Jasper called from the doorway, ‘supposed to be picking daisies this morning?’
Daisies? Daisies! Though the church bells had long since stopped, alarm bells rang in Alison’s head. Quickly throwing back the covers she leapt out of bed. ‘You mean violets. I was supposed to be picking violets! Oh, Jasper! Why didn’t you wake me up?’
‘Because,’ he yawned noisily, ‘I’ve only just surfaced myself.’
‘Then I suggest you put some clothes on,’ Alison scolded. ‘You look quite disgusting. ‘What on earth do they call those things you’re wearing – thongs? Because that’s what they look like.’
‘These, for your information,’ said Jasper, patting the narrow strip of leopard-print silk, ‘just happen to be designer...’
‘Well, whoever designed them must have had a brain the size of a pea!’
Jasper grinned and reaching for her kimono, hanging on the bedroom door, put it on.
‘Jasper. What are you doing?’
‘Merely following your instructions and putting something on. You told me I look disgusting – remember?’
‘But that’s my kimono! Besides it’s far too small for you.’
Jasper looked towards the dressing table mirror. ‘From where I’m standing, I’d say it just about covers the important bits.’
With Jasper’s attention elsewhere, Alison reached into a drawer and quickly put on a pair of panties. Then pulling her thigh-length nightie down over her bottom, she added. ‘Well, how about letting me have that kimono back. You could borrow Bunty’s dressing gown. I’m sure she wouldn’t...’
‘Actually, I’d already thought of that,’ Jasper said, turning to ruffle her hair. But...’
‘But what?’
‘When I opened the bedroom door, I found that hairy hound of hers curled up on it. And when I went to move him, he growled at me somethin’ awful. So, I thought I’d borrow something from you instead. Say, I’m starving. Any chance of some breakfast?’
With Alison making fresh coffee and toast, Jasper peered along the shelves at Bunty’s collection of records and videos. ‘Jeez! What a selection,’ he said, picking out one of the long playing records. ‘These must go back to the year dot. Half of these guys must be dead by now.’
‘Mmm,’ Alison said sadly. ‘But they made some great music. As you can see, Bunty’s still got that video of Singin’ In The Rain. Though it’s a wonder it’s not worn out by now. Do you remember that night in New York, when we left the restaurant and it was pouring with rain? How...’
‘We danced and jumped in the puddles?’ Jasper’s face creased into a broad grin. ‘Yeah, why that night we even got old Ollie to let his hair down. I think everyone thought we were crazy. Gee, that was a great night, Alison. You must come back to New York again soon. Perhaps even bring Max with you.’
Mention of Max made Alison’s stomach lurch. She’d been totally preoccupied with Jasper. She must go and ring Max right away.
Listening to the constant ringing tone, Alison was aware of Jasper humming the song ‘Good Morning’ as he cut more bread for the toaster. When she finally gave up and replaced the receiver she was greeted with a loud burst of, ‘Good Morning to You!’
Seeing her dejected face, Jasper crossed the floor towards her.
‘Hey! What’s the matter. It can’t be that bad, can it?’
‘He’s not at home,’ Alison sighed wistfully. ‘There’s no reply from The Grange either.’
‘Well,’ Jasper suggested, tactlessly, ‘perhaps they’re all out picking daisies.’
‘Violets.’ Alison corrected.
*
Max had indeed been picking violets. In fact he’d walked the entire boundary wall of Craven’s Stables, gathering the tiny closed buds. It didn’t matter that they weren’t fully opened yet. He just wanted to present Alison with as many as he could find, when he called to see her.
‘Morning, Max. How was your supper?’ Terry called, stepping out to sample the morning air.
‘We never had it. Alison couldn’t make it. She had to go to London unexpectedly. How was the radio concert?’
‘Brilliant! Simply brilliant! There was a change of soloist at the last minute. That chap with the unpronounceable name broke his wrist or something and Oliver Benedict flew over from the States at short notice. If I’d known you were on your own, I would have called you over to join me. It was a jolly good bottle of claret, too.’
Max wasn’t listening. The name Oliver Benedict was ringing in his head. Alison’s brother! That’s why she hadn’t been able to give him prior warning about her trip to London. To be honest he hadn’t listened too carefully to Constance last night when she’d telephoned. He’d been far too upset he wouldn’t be spending the evening - and night - with Alison. Memories of waking to find her warm and tenderly responsive body next to his, filled Max’s soul with pure joy and longing. He needed to see Alison now. And if she wasn’t there, then he would wait until she was!
Walking back to the house for his car keys, Max saw Terry beckon him over. He held something in his hand and waved it in Max’s direction.
‘Here it is. I wondered if you’d like to borrow it?’
Max looked down, puzzled. Terry was holding a CD.
‘Oliver Benedict,’ Terry explained. ‘It’s his latest CD. I only bought it last month. The Saint-Saens Cello Concerto No 1 in A minor is my particular favourite. See what you think. There’s no hurry to return it.’
Placing the CD on the passenger seat of the car, Max studied the black and white photograph of Oliver Benedict on the cover. He looked older than he’d imagined. Also extremely serious, with his heavily lidded ey
es and thick eyebrows, drawn together in a frown. Small wonder, he thought, switching on the ignition, Alison frequently gave the impression of being unusually deep and reflective. It must have been the influence of her older stepbrother.
Chapter 25
At Keeper’s Cottage, it was the influence of Oliver’s younger brother that now held sway. Jasper, in his attempt to lift Alison from her depressed and miserable state, was tearing about the sitting room with Bunty’s blue rain-hat pulled down over his thick blond hair, while emulating Donald O’Connor’s rendition of ‘Make’Em Laugh’.
‘Don’t you dare!’ Alison called, when he ran towards the settee. ‘Donald O’Connor might have been able to bounce off the sofa, but I very much doubt if you can.’
‘Spoilsport,’ Jasper gasped, out of breath and reaching for her hand. ‘Still at least I’ve succeeded in one thing.’
‘What’s that?’
‘I’ve at least brought a smile to your lips.’
‘Yes,’ Alison agreed. ‘It might be an old film, but as far as I’m concerned Singin’ in the Rain was one of the best. Do you remember the scene where the sound goes out of sync?’
‘You mean, when Gene Kelly as Pierre, says "I love you. I love you!”
‘Yes and...’ but Jasper wasn’t listening. Instead he flung Bunty’s hat in the air, disregarding where it landed, swept Alison into his arms, carried her to the settee and got down on one knee at her feet.
‘I love you. I love you!’ he repeated, prompting Alison to continue.
Having suppressed her giggles, Alison gazed down at Jasper and moaned longingly, ‘Oh, Pierre.’
It was at that moment, the four-legged Jasper roused himself from the floor, and began barking loudly. Looking up in alarm, Alison saw Max, ashen-faced and tight-lipped, standing in the doorway.
‘Max! How long have you been there?’
‘Long enough to see...’
Following Max’s gaze, Alison turned and looked at Jasper. He was retying the borrowed kimono, where it had worked loose as a result of his theatrical activities.
‘But Max!’ Alison called, attempting to straighten her nightie before rising from the settee. ‘This is…’ To her surprise and horror, Max had already turned on his heels and was halfway down the garden path.
Pushing past Alison, who’d let out a stifled sob, Jasper ran to the doorway. ‘Hey, buddy. You’ve got it all wrong.’
‘Yes!’ Max snapped icily, opening the car door. ‘I obviously have!’ As an afterthought, he looked down at the small bunch of violets he held in his hands. ‘Oh, Pierre. Perhaps you’d like to give these to Alison.’
Momentarily dumbstruck and stooping to gather up the scattered flowers, Jasper called desperately. ‘But my name’s not Pierre, it’s Jasper! I’m Alison’s...’ But his words never reached Max’s ears. In a burst of smoking tyres and exhaust fumes, Max accelerated angrily away.
*
‘Jesus!’ cried Jasper, returning to the sitting room. ‘The fella’s a maniac! And you mean to say you love that guy?’
‘Yes,’ sniffed Alison. ‘I do.’
When Bunty returned from church, five minutes later, she found Jasper and Alison sitting in exactly the same place.
‘Good gracious!’ she gasped, spying her hat in the aspidistra and the peculiar angle of the settee. ‘What on earth’s been going on here? Is this supposed to be a scene from one of your Hollywood movies, Jasper?’
‘No,’ he muttered gloomily. ‘I guess it was more like a scene from one of Shakespeare’s tragedies. You know Bunty, the guy must be a complete idiot!’
‘Who is?’
‘That Max fella. There I was on my knees, telling Alison I loved her, you know like Gene Kelly in the film? So Alison was swooning in my arms and this guy comes in and thinks it’s for real. Can you believe that?’
It took Bunty a while to comprehend the recently described scenario.
‘Well,’ she said, thoughtfully. ‘I suppose if I was a man... who’d come along to ask the woman I loved to marry me... and I found her half-dressed in the company of an equally half-dressed good looking male… In the heat of the moment, I’d be too upset to see reason.’
‘What?’ gasped Alison? slowly absorbing Bunty’s explanation.
‘According to Connie,’ Bunty explained, removing her wayward hat and plumping up cushions, ‘Max was going to ask you to marry him last night.’
‘Is that what Max told her?’
‘Not in so many words. But all the signs have been pointing in that direction... at least George and Connie seemed to think so. I thought you knew, Alison?’
Alison shook her head sadly.
‘So why didn’t the idiot guy stay to hear me out?’ Jasper asked.
‘Because, as I told you last night Jasper, love does strange things to you.’
‘Then remind me never to fall in love.’ He sighed, reaching for Alison’s hand. ‘Come along, Alison. Let’s go get dressed and I’ll take us all out to lunch.’
‘But I’m not hungry, Jasper,’ Bunty heard Alison say weakly, as she was led away.
When the bewildered dog padded into the sitting room, Bunty eyed him ruefully. ‘Jasper,’ she said. ‘Am I glad you’re not like your namesake!’
*
‘But Constance! It’s because I love Alison so much, I reacted as I did. Can’t you see that? Besides, how the hell was I supposed to know it was her stepbrother? As far as I was concerned, she was there half-naked, swooning over this Adonis look-alike called Pierre.’
‘Are you sure you’re not exaggerating just a teeny bit?’ Connie ventured. ‘I thought you’d said originally that Alison was in her nightie and Jasper was wearing Alison’s kimono.’
‘Well... yes, he was,’ Max said, coolly. He refrained from adding it was seeing Jasper in Alison’s kimono that had caused him to snap in the first place. One of his favourite earlier memories was of that morning in the kitchen at Keeper’s Cottage. He’d been talking to Bunty and, not realizing he was there, Alison had come downstairs newly showered, with her hair still damp and her skin glowing, and she was wearing that same kimono.
‘Max? Did you hear what I said?’
‘What? Oh, no... Sorry. I was miles away.’
‘I was saying. Why don’t you give Alison a ring? Invite them all over for a drink this evening; Alison, Bunty and Jasper. Bunty was saying in church that Jasper’s a decent fellow, really, even if he does tend to go over the top on occasions. You know what some of these actor folk are like.’
‘Only too well!’ Max muttered, under his breath.
‘In a way, I think it’s quite funny,’ Connie said without thinking.
‘Oh, yes! Let’s all have a jolly good laugh at my expense.’
‘Max Craven!’ Connie retorted angrily. ‘Stop feeling sorry for yourself! It was a mistake. Anyone could have made it.’
‘No, they couldn’t,’ Max said. ‘Only I could be so damned stupid and that’s what makes me even more angry... With myself I mean, not Alison or Jasper. I’m ashamed to admit, I never even waited for an explanation. And - when he called me buddy, I could have hit him!’
‘Then it’s just as well you didn’t. So why don’t you go and ring Alison?’
‘You mean go and tell her what a complete and utter fool I am? She probably won’t even want to speak to me after this.’
‘There’s one way of finding out. Now go!’ Connie commanded, giving him a hug.
‘No luck?’ she asked, seeing his disappointed face when he reappeared.
‘No reply. I’ll try again later.’
When he did eventually make contact with Bunty, Max was told Alison had returned to London with Jasper.
‘I understand they’re meeting up with Oliver again. Anyway, I think it will do Alison good to be with her stepbrothers for a while and have a short break.’
‘You mean away from me?’ Max enquired, flatly.
‘No, Max, I don’t mean that at all. But Alison’s been thinking about h
er mother a great deal lately. It’s only a year ago that she was nursing Elizabeth through the final stages of her illness.’
‘I know,’ Max considered thoughtfully. ‘She’s also been working flat-out ever since.’
‘Exactly, and for that reason, I think she needs a change of air.’
‘I would hardly call the choking fumes of London “air”. You know how much Alison loves the Church Haywood countryside?’
‘Well, she’s only going to be there for a day or two, then she’ll be back. You’ll see.’
*
‘Come with you! Back to America?’ Alison asked wide-eyed.
‘Why not?’ Oliver replied. ‘Every time I phone, you say you’re too busy, either looking after Bunty’s dog or else involved with some major interior design project. What are you working on at the moment?’
‘Nothing,’ Alison said dejectedly. Her original plans for this week had been to go and look for furnishings for Max’s bedroom at Craven’s Stables. He’d seen a Regency four poster and wanted her advice on hangings for the bed and windows.
‘Muslin,’ Alison whispered under her breath. That’s what she’d told him. It was less heavy than chintz and brocade and she could just visualize swathes of muslin draped...’
‘Alison, come back...’ urged Oliver’s deep, soft voice. ‘Come back with me tomorrow night, please. There’s going to be this wonderful concert at Carnegie Hall and I’d really love you to be there…’
‘All right,’ she found herself replying, almost too tired and bereft to argue. ‘I’ll come. But I’ll need to pack and...’
‘All you’ll need is your passport and your toothbrush. Leave everything else to Jasper and myself.’
‘Yeah,’ agreed Jasper, who’d remained unusually silent throughout the meal. Oliver had instructed him, on pain of death, if he so much as opened his mouth and upset Alison again... ‘We’ll have great fun together shopping on Fifth Avenue.’
*
The following morning, watching Terry put the final nail in the board announcing ‘PRIVATE PROPERTY’, Max turned to see a sleek, black limousine purring to a halt at the far end of the gravelled drive. From afar, looking at the vehicle’s tinted windows, it was impossible to distinguish the car’s occupants. Deeply irritated, Max turned back to Terry. ‘If it’s that damned property developer again, please tell him to take himself and his fancy car, back to where he came from. As I said, when he called the other day, Craven’s Stables is not for sale! It is my home and I intend to live here myself!’
Secrets From The Past Page 27