Voices In Summer

by Rosamunde Pilcher

  ‘Doesn’t she have her own?’

  ‘No, she grows just about everything else, but not tomatoes. I’ll give her a ring and see if she’d like some.’ She went off to the telephone and returned triumphant. ‘She’s simply delighted. She says she’s been buying them in the post office, and they’re overcharging. We’ll take them down later.’

  ‘I’ll take them down if you like.’

  ‘Oh, would you? You’ve never seen her garden, anyway, and it’s a dream, and she’s always glad of someone to chat to. And perhaps she’d like to come to Gwenvoe with us tomorrow.’ Over lunch, she had finally persuaded her reluctant husband into agreeing, not only that a Saturday picnic would be a good idea, but that he would take part and accompany them all. ‘If she would, tell her we’ll bring the food, and one of us will pick her up. We’ll have to take two cars anyway.’

  As she came around the corner of the house, Laura had glanced into the garden. At the far end of the lawn Ivan and Gabriel sat cross-legged, talking. They had been there all afternoon, apparently engrossed, like a pair of old acquaintances catching up on the news of a lifetime. Laura was glad that he had not taken her off for the day on one of his energetic and exhausting expeditions. She felt protective as a mother about Gabriel.

  She had not been to Silvia’s house, but it was not difficult to find. The gate stood open, with the name on it, Roskenwyn. Laura went up the short gravelled drive and in through the open front door.

  ‘Silvia.’

  There was no reply, but the sitting room door stood open, and on the other side of this, a glass door led out into the garden. Here, she found Silvia, on her knees, working at her border with a small weeding fork.

  ‘Silvia.’

  ‘Hello.’ She sat back on her heels, the fork held loosely in her hand. She was in old jeans and a checked shirt, her face as usual almost concealed by her huge dark glasses.

  ‘I’ve brought you the tomatoes.’

  ‘Oh, you are an angel.’ She dropped the fork and stripped off her earth-stained gloves.

  ‘Don’t stop if you don’t want to.’

  ‘But I do want to. I’ve been at it all afternoon.’ She got to her feet. ‘Let’s have a drink.’

  ‘It’s only five.’

  ‘It doesn’t need to be alcohol. I’ll make a cup of tea if you like. Or we could have some lemonade.’

  ‘Lemonade would be delicious.’

  ‘Right.’ She took the basket from Laura’s hand. ‘I’ll bring it out. You can move around my garden and say ooh and aah, and when I come back you can tell me how good it’s looking.’

  ‘I don’t know much about gardens.’

  ‘Even better. I like uncritical admiration.’

  She disappeared into the house and Laura, obediently, walked around the beautifully staked and tended borders, which were a mass of flowers in every shade of pink and blue and mauve. No red, or orange, no yellow. Delphiniums stood high as a tall man, and smoky lupins smelled of every summer Laura could remember. Silvia’s roses were almost indecently flamboyant, thickly planted, and with heads as large as saucers.

  Sitting on Silvia’s little patio, with the tray of lemonade between them, ‘How on earth do you grow roses like that?’ she asked.

  ‘I feed them. Horse manure. I get it from the farmer up the road.’

  ‘But don’t you have to spray them and all that sort of thing?’

  ‘Oh, yes. Like mad. Otherwise they get bitten to death by greenflies.’

  ‘I don’t know much about gardening. In London we’ve only got a sort of yard with a few tubs.’

  ‘Don’t tell me Gerald hasn’t got you weeding yet? He’s a great one for organizing what he calls work parties.’

  ‘No. Nobody’s got me doing anything. Except pick a bit of fruit. I’ve been treated like the most expensive sort of guest.’

  ‘Well, it’s certainly worked.’ Silvia turned her blank, black stare onto Laura’s face. ‘You look marvellous. Better each day. Today, you look particularly well. You’ve lost that rather … anxious expression.’

  ‘Perhaps I’m not anxious anymore.’

  Silvia had finished her lemonade. Now she reached for the jug and refilled her glass. ‘Any particular reason?’

  ‘Yes, a very particular one. Gabriel’s with us. Alec’s daughter. She arrived this morning, off the night train.’

  Silvia put the jug back on the tray. ‘Gabriel. But she’s in Virginia, isn’t she?’

  ‘She was, but she’s come home. Nobody was expecting her. It was just the most wonderful surprise.’

  ‘I thought she never visited her father.’

  ‘She didn’t. And this isn’t a visit. She’s staying. She’s going to live with us. She’s not going back.’

  It occurred to Laura then that happiness was a strange thing, at times as uncontrollable as grief. All day, she had felt as though she were walking on air, and now was suddenly visited by the compulsion to share this happiness, to confide. And why not Silvia, who had known Alec since they were children, and had seen him at Tremenheere in his loneliness. ‘We’ll be a family. And I’ve only just discovered that that was what I always wanted. That’s what has been missing.’

  ‘Missing in your marriage?’

  ‘Yes,’ Laura admitted. ‘Marrying a man who was married before, for quite a long time, to another woman … it’s not always very easy. There are great chunks of his life that are shut away from you, like a locked room where you’re not allowed inside. But now Gabriel’s back, it’s going to be different. It’s as though she were the key that unlocks the door.’ She smiled at her own inadequacy. ‘I’m afraid I’m not very good at explaining. It’s just that, now, I know everything’s going to be marvellous.’

  ‘Well, I hope you’re right,’ said Silvia. ‘But I wouldn’t allow yourself to be too euphoric. You’ve only known the girl for a day. After a month of living with her, you’ll probably be glad to see the back of her. She’ll go off and find herself a flat of her own. They all do, these young things.’

  ‘No. I don’t think she will. Anyway, not for a bit.’

  ‘What makes you so sure?’

  Laura took a deep breath and then let it all out again without saying anything. Silvia said, ‘You’re looking guilty, like a woman with a secret.’

  ‘I am. I haven’t even told Eve yet because it isn’t my secret to tell.’

  ‘Laura, I’m the soul of discretion.’

  ‘All right. But don’t say anything.’ She smiled, because just being able to say it, aloud, filled her with joy. ‘She’s going to have a baby.’

  ‘Gabriel is?’

  ‘You mustn’t be shocked. You mustn’t sound shocked.’

  ‘Is she going to get married?’

  ‘No. That’s why she’s coming back to London with us.’

  ‘What on earth is Alec going to say?’

  ‘I think he’s going to be so thrilled that she came back to him, that the fact that she’s pregnant simply won’t matter.’

  ‘I don’t understand you. You look as though you were telling me you’d started a baby yourself. All radiant.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ said Laura, ‘that’s a bit how I feel. I’m happy for Gabriel and Alec, but mostly I’m happy for myself. That’s selfish, isn’t it? But you see, Silvia, from now on, we’re all going to be together.’

  With all this excitement, it wasn’t until she was leaving that Laura remembered the other message she had to give Silvia.

  ‘I nearly forgot. We’re all going for a lunch picnic to Gwenvoe tomorrow, and Eve wondered if you’d like to come with us.’

  ‘Tomorrow, Saturday?’ Silvia, as Gerald was constantly doing, stooped and pulled a weed from between the gravel chips of her driveway. ‘Oh, what a bore. I can’t. I’ve got an old girlfriend staying at the Castle Hotel in Porthkerris, and I promised I’d go over and see her. I’d much rather come to Gwenvoe, but I can’t let her down.’

  ‘What a shame. But I’ll explain to Eve.’


  ‘I thought something was missing,’ said Silvia suddenly. ‘Where’s your little dog? She’s always with you.’

  ‘She’s not well. May’s not talking to anybody because Lucy got into her room and was sick on May’s rug.’

  ‘What’s wrong with her? The dog, I mean.’

  ‘I think she’s eaten something. She’s a dreadful scavenger.’

  ‘The beaches begin to be filthy at this time of the year.’

  ‘I never thought of that. Perhaps I won’t take her to Gwenvoe tomorrow. Anyway, she gets so hot in the sand, and she won’t go into the sea, because she doesn’t like getting her fur wet.’

  ‘Like a cat.’

  Laura smiled. ‘Yes, just like a cat. Silvia, I must go.’

  ‘Thanks for bringing the tomatoes.’

  ‘Thank you for the lemonade.’

  Laura walked away from her. At the gate, she turned to wave and then disappeared behind the wall. Silvia stood outside her house. She looked down and saw another weed, groundsel this time. She stooped and jerked it out, and its fragile roots were covered in damp brown earth, dirtying her hands.

  * * *

  Gerald sat on a rock, in the shade of another one, and watched his family swimming. His assorted family, he corrected himself. His wife, his great-niece, her stepmother, and his own stepson. It was five thirty in the evening, and he was ready to go home. They had been here since noon, and although they had the spot to themselves, he was looking forward to a shower, a gin and tonic, the cool drawing room, and the evening paper, but just as he had started to make noises about departing, Eve and the others all decided to swim again.

  They were at Gwenvoe, but not on the beach. Instead, on leaving the car park, they had walked half a mile or so along the cliff path, and then dropped down onto the rocks. At first the sea had been far out, but as the afternoon slipped by, the tide came in, filling a deep gully, which split the face of the cliff like a fiord, and forming a natural pool. The water here was the deepest turquoise, clear and sparkling in the evening sunshine. Which was why nobody had been able to resist it.

  Except Gerald, who had had enough and chose to observe. Eve, his darling Eve, who was perfectly seaworthy, but the only person he had ever seen who could swim in a totally upright position, and Gerald had never got around to solving the sheer mathematics of this extraordinary feat. Laura was more conventional, with her unambitious breast stroke, but Gabriel swam like a boy, head down, brown arms moving smoothly, slipping through the water in a beautifully professional crawl. At intervals, she and Ivan would clamber up onto a convenient ledge and dive. She was waiting now to do this thing, perched on the rock like a sleek wet mermaid, wearing the smallest bikini Gerald had ever seen, her brown body sparkling with droplets.

  Eve and Laura came out at last, sat beside him, rubbing at their hair with towels, dripping all over the sizzling rock.

  Gerald asked wistfully, ‘Do you think we could go home now?’

  ‘Oh, my darling.’ Eve reached up her face and gave him a cool, salty kiss. ‘Of course. You’ve been very good and not complained once. And I think I’ve had enough for the day, although it’s always sad to end a day when it’s been so perfect.’

  ‘You should always leave a party when you’re still enjoying yourself.’

  ‘Anyway, I must get back and start thinking about dinner. By the time we’ve got everything packed up and we’ve walked back to the car…’

  She slid down the straps of her bathing suit, preparing to get dressed. ‘How about you, Laura?’

  ‘I’ll come with you.’

  ‘And the others?’

  They looked towards Ivan and Gabriel. Gabriel was in the water in the pool, treading water, looking up to where Ivan stood, high above her, poised to dive.

  ‘Ivan,’ Gerald called.

  He relaxed, turned his face in their direction. ‘What is it?’

  ‘We’re going now. What do you want to do?’

  ‘We’ll stay for a bit, I think.…’

  ‘All right, we’ll see you later.’

  ‘Leave some of the baskets for me to carry.’

  ‘We’ll do that.’

  * * *

  At Tremenheere, he drove the car under the archway and parked in the courtyard. Drusilla and Joshua were there, playing with a rubber ball, Joshua chasing it on his hands and knees, as he had not yet mastered the art of walking. He wore a grubby cotton vest and nothing else, and as they got out of the car, he sat on his fat brown bottom to observe them.

  ‘Have a good day?’ Drusilla asked.

  ‘Perfect,’ said Eve. ‘How about you?’

  ‘We went up to the walled garden and I turned the hose on Joshua. I hope you don’t mind.’

  ‘What a good idea. Did he like it?’

  ‘Thought it was a great joke. Couldn’t stop laughing.’

  They carried the picnic baskets into the kitchen. After the warmth out of doors, it felt marvellously cool.

  ‘I think,’ said Laura, ‘I’ll just run up and see how Lucy is, give her a little walk in the garden.’

  ‘What a good thing we didn’t take her,’ said Eve. ‘She’d have hated it being so hot.’

  Laura ran up the back stairs, and Eve began unpacking the remains of the picnic—always, she thought, a distasteful job, and the sooner accomplished the better. While she was doing this, Gerald joined her, carrying the hamper that had contained the wine bottles and the coffee thermos.

  Eve smiled at him. ‘Darling, it was lovely that you came with us. It wouldn’t have been the same without you there. Just leave that, and go up and have a shower. I know you’re longing for one.’

  ‘How did you guess?’

  ‘You’ve got a sort of hot and sweaty look. I’ll clear up, it won’t take me a moment. I’ll stack it all in the dishwasher, and—’

  ‘Eve.’

  Laura, calling from upstairs.

  ‘Eve!’

  They heard the panic in her voice, shrill as a scream for help, and looked at each other, their eyes meeting in apprehension. Then, with accord, they dropped what they were doing and made for the stairs. Eve was first, down the passage, and in through the open door of Laura’s bedroom. They found her standing there, with Lucy in her arms. The little bowl that Laura had left filled with milk was empty, and it seemed that she had struggled from her basket and tried to reach the door, for there were small pools of vomit all across the carpet. The smell was sour and sickening.

  ‘Laura.’

  The dog’s supple body was strangely rigid, her usually silky fur staring, her back paws dangling pathetically. Her eyes were open, but sightless and glazed, and her lips curled back from her pointed teeth in an agonized snarl.

  She was, quite obviously, dead.

  ‘Laura. Oh, Laura.’ Eve’s instinct was to embrace, to touch, to comfort, but somehow she could do none of these things. She put out her hand and laid it on Lucy’s head. ‘She must have been much sicker than any of us realized. Poor little thing…’ She dissolved into tears, hating herself for succumbing, but it was all too tragic, and she was incapable of controlling her distress. ‘Oh, Gerald.’

  Laura did not cry. Slowly she looked from Eve’s face to Gerald’s. He saw her dark eyes blank with the misery of loss. After a little, ‘I want Alec, then’ she told him.

  He went to her side, gently loosened the frantic grip of her fingers, and took Lucy’s body away from her, holding it against his chest. He left the women and went out of the room, and carried Lucy downstairs to the kitchen. He found a cardboard grocery carton and there, decently, laid the little body, covered it with the lid. He carried the box out into the woodshed, set it down on the floor, and came out, closing the door behind him. Later, he would dig a grave and bury Lucy in the garden. But now, there were more urgent things to be done.

  * * *

  It being a Saturday made everything infinitely more complicated. In the end, with the assistance of directory enquiries, he obtained the home telephone number of Alec�
�s chairman at Sandberg Harpers and put a call through to him. By the greatest of good fortune he caught that eminent gentleman at home, explained the bare facts of his dilemma, and was given, in return, a New York number at which Alec might be reached.

  It was now six thirty. One thirty in New York. He put the call through, but was told there would be a little delay. If he would care to stay by the telephone, he would be rung back. He set down the receiver and sat back to wait.

  It was while he was doing this that Eve came to find him. He looked up as she came into his study.

  ‘Is Laura all right?’ he asked.

  ‘No. She’s desperately shocked. She didn’t cry, she just started shivering. I put her to bed with the electric blanket on. I gave her a sleeping pill. I couldn’t think of anything else to do.’

  She came to his side, and he put his arms around her and for a little they said nothing, just indulged in wordless, mutual comfort. After a bit, she drew away from him and went to sit in his big armchair. She looked, he thought, desperately tired.

  She said, ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Waiting to speak to Alec. I’ve put a call through to New York.’

  She looked at her watch. ‘What time is it there?’

  ‘One thirty.’

  ‘Will he be there?’

  ‘I hope so.’

  ‘What are you going to say to him?’

  ‘I’m going to tell him to get the first plane home.’

  Eve frowned. ‘You’re going to tell him to come home? But Alec…’

  ‘He has to come. It’s all too serious.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘I didn’t want to tell you. But there was another of those dreadful letters. And Lucy didn’t die from natural causes, Eve. She was poisoned.’

  8

  ROSKENWYN

  DAWN. Sunday morning. The great jet dropped out of the sky above London, circled once, lined up on the runway at Heathrow, and floated down to a perfect landing.

  Home.

  Alec Haverstock, with no luggage save a small grip, which he carried, went straight through Immigration and Customs, across the terminal, and out into the cool, grey damp air of an English summer morning.