by Caro Fraser
‘A governess? Henry, she’s hardly—’ Sonia broke off at the sound of a commotion and shouting in the garden below. ‘Gracious heavens! What on earth is going on?’
Both of them went to the window and Haddon flung it open. Below them, outlined by the light from the drawing room, two figures struggled on the grass. The girls stood nearby, shrieking at them to stop.
‘My God,’ said Haddon, ‘it’s Latimer and that Asher fellow – fighting!’
‘Oh, good Lord, make them stop!’ exclaimed Sonia. She hastily pulled on a robe and went downstairs. By the time she got there, Dan was endeavouring to separate the pair, who were grappling fiercely. Paul seemed to have landed a couple of telling blows, for Charles’s nose was bloodied and one eye was closing up.
‘Get off him, man!’ shouted Dan. ‘Paul, for God’s sake – that’s enough!’
Paul allowed himself to be dragged away from his opponent. Charles sat there on the dewy grass, his thick hair over his eyes, wiping the blood from his nose with the back of his hand.
Sonia stood in horror, her hands over her mouth. Haddon had by this time made his way down to the garden.
‘What do you two mean by brawling like this?’ he demanded.
Charles, breathing heavily, got to his feet. ‘He accused me of cheating at cards – and he insulted me.’
‘You’re beneath insult!’ Paul pushed his hair out of his eyes and straightened his jacket.
‘That’s enough!’ said Haddon. ‘I don’t care to hear the reasons. I suggest you both come inside and have a brandy, and apologise.’
They trooped through the French windows and into the drawing room. Paul, eyes still blazing, accepted the brandy that Haddon poured for him, and swiftly knocked it back.
Charles declined the brandy. ‘Thank you, I won’t. I think it’s best if I go and clean myself up and get to bed.’ He turned to Sonia. ‘I apologise for my behaviour, Mrs Haddon. I lost my temper and acted unforgivably. You didn’t deserve this, after all your kindness.’
‘My dear boy, I’m just concerned for your eye. It looks so painful. Can’t we put something on it?’
‘I’m sure I’ll be fine.’
‘No, I insist. Come with me.’
Charles turned to Haddon. ‘I apologise to you, too, sir. Goodnight.’ He left the room with Sonia.
There was a silence.
‘I must say I’m surprised at you, Paul,’ said Haddon. ‘You and Mr Asher may not see eye to eye on many matters, but I don’t take kindly to fighting in my house.’
‘As I didn’t strike the first blow…’ Paul frowned and stopped. ‘Naturally, I apologise. It’s just the fellow has done things that I can’t abide in any man.’
‘Oh?’
The room was hushed. Dan, Meg, Eve and Diana were silently willing Paul to say nothing more, but he went on. ‘That young woman – Madeleine. When we’ – he glanced at the others – ‘when we were in the woods, during the picnic the other day, we found her and Asher together in a somewhat compromising situation. It’s evident that he was, to say the least of it, taking advantage of her. I’ve had a pretty low opinion of him since then, and I’m afraid tonight my feelings rather got the better of me. I’m sorry.’
Haddon’s expression was inscrutable. After a moment he said, ‘Whatever your feelings, I don’t think it justifies the kind of behaviour you both exhibited this evening.’
At that moment Sonia returned to the room. ‘Charles has gone to bed. I suggest we all forget this unpleasantness and do the same.’
People drifted out of the room, murmuring goodnight. Dan stayed behind to finish a cigarette. Meg began to gather up the scattered playing cards. After a moment she sat down on the sofa with a sigh.
‘Are you OK?’ asked Dan.
‘Yes, I’m fine. It was just rather horrible. I hate to see people fighting like that.’
‘They’re a couple of damned fools,’ said Dan. He took a last drag from his cigarette and put it out. He stood for a moment, his hands in his pockets, then crossed the room and sat down next to her.
Meg could feel her heart beating very hard as she shuffled the cards. Dan leaned back against the sofa cushions and watched as she dealt out a game of patience.
Meg felt she must break the silence. ‘Not a very pleasant end to your stay.’
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ said Dan. ‘This is rather nice. Sitting here with you.’ He put out a hand and stroked her hair. She gazed at the cards, mechanically turning them out in little bundles of three.
‘Red five,’ said Dan. He lifted her hair to one side and began to stroke her neck. Meg gave a little shiver of pleasure. She closed her eyes and sat very still, lips parted, concentrating on the sensation of his fingers on her skin. Dan wondered if perhaps he wasn’t in with a chance after all, on this, the very last night of the house party. As he gazed at the sloping curve of her shoulders, the softness of her dark hair, the lashes of her closed eyes, a feeling suddenly swept over him that was more than mere desire, unlike anything he had ever experienced before. For reasons he couldn’t define, he wanted the moment, the game of patience, the room, the fact of her, here with him, to go on for ever.
The door opened and Paul put his head round. Dan drew his hand away.
‘How about a game of billiards before turning in?’ Paul glanced at Meg. ‘Care to come and keep score, Meg?’
Meg began to gather the playing cards together clumsily. ‘No, thanks all the same. I’m off to bed.’
*
By the time Paul and Dan finished their game of billiards, it was almost half eleven. Paul went upstairs, and Dan wandered through the drawing room and on to the terrace to finish his brandy and smoke a last cigarette before turning in. The night sky was clear and the moon almost full. The garden was awash with shadow and silver, and Dan leaned on the stone balustrade, breathing in the night air and ruminating on the events of the last two weeks. A pity Paul had spoiled that promising moment between him and Meg an hour ago. Just as he was wondering whether it might not be worth going up to Meg’s room and tapping on her door again, someone switched on a lamp in the drawing room behind him. Dan turned and saw Eve standing by the French windows, clad in a mauve silk kimono, her black hair loose about her shoulders, an unlit cigarette between her fingers.
‘I see I’m not the only one who can’t sleep,’ she said.
‘Can’t say I’ve tried yet,’ replied Dan. He left the terrace and came into the drawing room, and picked up a lighter from a side table and lit her cigarette for her.
Eve blew out a plume of smoke. ‘Thanks.’ She nodded at his brandy glass. ‘I think I could do with one, too.’
Dan went to the drinks tray and poured her a small snifter of brandy. She sat down on the sofa and Dan sat down next to her, loosening his black tie.
‘Quite a night.’
Eve sipped her brandy. ‘Actually, I’m surprised nothing has happened before now. According to Diana Paul can’t stand Charles Asher, and the business with the nanny was the last straw.’
‘Well, that’s rather the point. It wasn’t his business.’
‘I suppose one should be prepared for a positive barrage of sex hormones flying about during a house party. It does build up a peculiar kind of heat, wouldn’t you say?’
‘Can’t say I’ve noticed,’ replied Dan, thinking how right she was.
‘Of course you have.’ Eve smiled and leaned back against the cushions, the folds of her kimono parting slightly, revealing the pale curve of her breast. ‘For instance, in a situation like this, wouldn’t it be wonderful if two people who are mutually attracted could reach some kind of an arrangement and just…’ she paused, ‘make the most of it?’
Just as she was sliding her hand on to his thigh, the drawing-room door opened. Eve swiftly removed her hand, closed her robe and picked up her brandy glass.
It was one of the housemaids. She hesitated in the doorway. ‘Beg pardon, sir, ma’am. Mr Haddon asked me to lock up. I need to close the windows
.’ She gestured towards the terrace.
‘I’m sure we can attend to those,’ said Eve.
Dan got to his feet. ‘No, you go ahead, Dilys. Miss Meyerson and I are just off to bed.’
Eve put out her cigarette, drained her brandy, and rose. She and Dan left the drawing room together. They mounted the staircase in silence. When they reached the landing, Eve put out her hand. Her fingers felt cool and light in his. When he kissed her, it held none of the depth or tenderness of kissing Meg, but the sensuality and promise of pleasure were enough. He slipped his hands beneath her robe and found her naked body. He thought momentarily, regretfully, of Meg and her delightful innocence, and wished he could try, for her sake, to be a better person.
‘Your room or mine?’ he murmured.
Eve smiled. ‘Mine’s closer.’
He followed her along the corridor, slipped into her room behind her, and locked the door.
6
DAN WOKE LATE the following morning, and when he went downstairs he found only Sonia and Diana in the breakfast room.
‘So sorry I’m late.’
‘I’m sure we all needed a good sleep after last night’s excitement,’ said Sonia.
Dan helped himself to kedgeree from one of the silver chafing dishes and sat down.
‘How’s Paul this morning?’ he asked Diana.
‘Oh, fine. Not a mark on him. Poor Charles came off worst. He’s already left, apparently.’
Sonia nodded over her teacup. ‘He decided to catch the same train as the Cunliffes. Very diplomatic, in the circumstances.’ She rose from her chair. ‘Do excuse me. I have a few things to attend to. I hope I shall see you all before you go.’
*
Avril and Madeleine were in the nursery, tidying up the toys on Sonia’s instructions. Madeleine was telling Avril a story as they did so. Avril squatted by the dolls’ house, straightening the rooms, listening.
‘But why did the princess let her father lock her up in a tower?’
‘She had no choice. She was a king’s daughter and she had to do as he said. Anyway, he thought he was protecting her.’
‘I wouldn’t have let him lock me in a tower. I’d have kicked and screamed. And I’d’ve bitten him. Very, very hard. Really, really hard. Right on the arm. Like this.’ She sank her own small teeth into her forearm, then drew back to inspect the mark she had left. She showed it to Madeleine, who nodded, and then stood up.
Avril looked up at her. ‘Where are you going?’
‘I’ve just remembered something I have to do. You stay here. I shan’t be long.’
‘But you haven’t finished the story.’
‘I’ll finish it later.’
Avril feigned absorption in the dolls’ house until Madeleine had left the room. Then she went out and crept down the passage towards Madeleine’s bedroom. The door stood a little ajar and, peeping in, Avril could see Madeleine. She was changing her dress. She was changing into that yellow sundress, the one she wore when she went to Papa’s studio.
As quiet as a mouse in her plimsolls, Avril went downstairs and out of the house, and ran through the orchard to the studio. She was ready to be chased away by Papa if he was already there, but when she pushed open the big, creaking door, the barn was empty. She hurried to the ladder and climbed up to the hayloft. There in the fragrant dark she waited, excited and fearful.
Haddon fought against the idea of going to the studio. After his determination that Madeleine should leave the house – though that was still an unfinished conversation with Sonia – it would be beyond foolish to allow the events of yesterday to be repeated. Yet, as he had always known he would, he went. He passed through the orchard, noting the fullness of the fruit and the tinge of autumn in the air, pretending on some false, careless level that he had no other purpose in mind than to put the finishing touches to the painting. He pretended, too, that the question of whether she would come or not didn’t even enter his mind. He felt like two people, one aware of the other’s lies, unable to prevent them or their consequences.
In the studio he cleaned his brushes and tidied various props and artefacts. She wouldn’t come. He let this certainty take shape with the passing minutes, and pretended he would be relieved if it were so. Then he heard the door open and looked up, dry-mouthed, to see Madeleine come in. She came straight to him, and with the frankness of desire put her arms around his neck and kissed him.
The softness of her mouth and the swell of her young breasts against his body caused his heart to jump, almost to lurch, and then he was aware of it beating thickly and painfully, with a sensation of fullness that was not entirely pleasant.
‘I couldn’t stop thinking about you,’ she murmured. Taking his hand, she placed it beneath her skirt, between her legs, and he realised she was wearing no underwear. He fell against her, moving her back against the wall of the studio, and she gave a soft gasp of satisfaction and pleasure as he spread her legs and began to unfasten his trousers.
Above them, hidden in the darkness of the hayloft, Avril watched.
*
It struck Dan, after he had finished his packing, that it was a pity he hadn’t taken up Haddon’s invitation to visit him again in his studio. He had enjoyed the conversation that first day; he should go down now and say farewell and thank him for his hospitality. He sauntered across the courtyard and through the orchard.
When he reached the barn, Dan knocked as he had done on that first day. There was no reply, so Dan opened the door. The sight of Haddon and Madeleine together against the wall of the studio was the last thing he had expected. They turned and saw him, and immediately Haddon moved away, pulling up his trousers. Whatever might have been said or done by any one of them in that moment, all possibilities were swept aside by a sudden scraping sound; the three of them looked up and saw the ladder to the hayloft toppling sideways in a slow arc. It came crashing to the floor, catching the edge of one of the tables and sending pots and brushes flying. There at the edge of the loft crouched Avril, peering down. She began to cry. No one quite knew what to do.
Haddon shouted something at his daughter, and went to seize the ladder from the floor, trying to lift it. Dazed by the whole bizarre scenario, Dan went to help. Madeleine took the opportunity to hurry out of the barn. Between them, Haddon and Dan managed to prop the ladder against the edge of the hayloft, where Avril stood screaming and crying.
‘There, I’ve got it,’ said Dan, steadying the ladder. ‘You can get down now,’ he said to Avril. ‘Come on.’
But Avril backed away from the edge, wailing.
Haddon stood panting in the middle of the floor. ‘Get down!’ he roared. ‘Get down here now!’
‘I say, steady on—’ began Dan. He stopped, because Haddon suddenly winced and staggered, then keeled over on to the floor. ‘Oh, dear God,’ muttered Dan. He abandoned the ladder and knelt down, gazing anxiously at Haddon’s prone figure, trying to remember what little first aid he knew.
Avril’s crying faded to a whimper. She climbed down the ladder and stared at her father. He was groaning, making puffing noises, and his mouth was a strange colour. Dan turned to her. ‘Run up to the house and get your mother! Get anyone! Tell them we need a doctor. Go on – run!’
Terrified, but obedient for once, Avril scampered out of the barn.
Dan tried to hoist Haddon into a sitting position, assuring him help was coming. Haddon sat breathing painfully for a while, then he reached up and grasped Dan’s lapel with one shaking hand. His face was beaded with sweat, and he was trying to say something, but the words seemed to choke him. His grip on Dan’s jacket slackened, his breath grew shallow, and his eyes dimmed. His body went slack and fell sideways on to the dusty studio floor.
‘Christ and damnation!’ muttered Dan. He put a hand to Haddon’s neck but could feel no pulse. He stood up, running his hands through his hair in desperation. He looked around and saw the broken easel and the fallen canvas. In a pathetic attempt at least to set something right, he picked
up the canvas, which was lying face down, wiped away fragments of dirt and dust, and set it with its face to the wall. He gathered together the broken easel. Haddon lay on his back, his sightless, staring gaze fixed on the high beams of the barn. After a moment Dan knelt down, put out a hand and closed his eyelids.
*
After she had told everyone, and they had all run from the house to the barn, Avril didn’t know what to do. She didn’t want to go back down there. So she went up to the nursery. She crept behind the big, wooden rocking horse and sat huddled there. Images of all the things she had seen flapped in her mind like dark shadows, like the wings of a big black bird. She pictured the bird strutting and scratching across her brain, the way the crows did on the roof sometimes. She wanted to beat the bird away, make it fly off. She squeezed her eyes shut and told herself that if she tried to forget everything about Madeleine and Papa and the ladder and every other horrid thing, it would fly away. She would push out the thoughts, she would never again let them creep across the edge of her brain, the place where the rest of the world stopped and her own mind began. Never, ever. After a long moment she opened her eyes and let out a breath. There. The bird had lifted its wings and flapped away, and it would never come back. She sat listening to the commotion in the house far below, all the commotion about Papa, and it was some time before anyone thought to come and find her.
*
The shock of Henry Haddon’s death spread quickly throughout the house. None of the guests knew the neighbourhood, or who to call, and it fell to Meg to pull together the disparate strands of the fractured household and weave some kind of order. She rang the doctor to attend to Sonia, who was too shocked and distraught to deal with anything, then called the undertaker, and attended to various necessary domestic rearrangements. The rest of them were mere bystanders, uncertain, in the face of this appalling tragedy, whether to stay or go.
After the undertaker’s men had brought Haddon’s body up to the house, Sonia retreated to her sitting room. In the moments when Dan caught glimpses of Madeleine, as members of the household moved around in a state of panic and uncertainty, she was careful not to meet his eye.