The Summer House Party

by Caro Fraser

‘You do it for Laura.’

  ‘Laura’s a baby. She can’t bath herself.’

  ‘But you’re not her mother.’ Avril began to whine in a silly, petulant way. ‘You’re my mother, my mother!’ She tugged hard at Sonia’s necklace, and suddenly it gave, sending amber beads rattling and rolling across the floor.

  Sonia clapped her hands to her bosom in an attempt to prevent any more from falling. ‘Oh, Avril! Look what you’ve done. I told you not to.’ She eased Avril from her lap, trying to contain the broken ends of the necklace. ‘Come and help Mama pick them up.’

  ‘No,’ replied Avril stoutly.

  ‘Oh, Avril,’ said Sonia reproachfully.

  Avril said nothing, merely turned and walked out. Meg stared after her. Did Sonia really think school had made her more agreeable? If anything, she seemed worse. She put her teacup aside and knelt on the floor with Sonia to pick up the scattered beads. Sonia spread a clean handkerchief on the floor and they dropped the beads on to it, one by one, as they found them. Sonia gathered up the handkerchief and sat down again with the little bundle in her lap.

  ‘Such a shame. Henry gave me the necklace for my birthday the year he died. Still, I can have them restrung. But they won’t be the same. I had to have some pearls restrung and they’ve never sat properly since.’ She sighed. ‘Don’t think badly of Avril. She’s had a very tiring term. And of course when she sees Laura having her bath it makes her want to be little again.’

  ‘I’m sure,’ said Meg. ‘How is Laura?’

  ‘Oh, quite delightful. Would you like to see her? We always have a little play together around this time of day.’

  They made their way upstairs to the nursery. Miss Bissett was busy with a basket of sewing, and fifteen-month-old Laura sat on a large quilt in the middle of the floor, surrounded by playthings. She held up her chubby arms in delight when she saw Sonia, who bent to pick her up.

  ‘She’s quite a big girl now, isn’t she?’ Sonia beamed with pleasure as she held her.

  ‘What a difference a month makes.’

  ‘It certainly does. She’s almost walking now. Watch.’ She lowered Laura to the floor, and Laura took a few unsteady steps, tottered, and sat down with a plop.

  ‘What a darling!’ laughed Meg. After watching the baby for a moment she asked, ‘What will she call you – when she’s old enough to speak, I mean?’

  ‘I’ve thought about that – aunt, I suppose. Aunt Sonia. That will probably do.’

  ‘And will you tell her about who she is, and so on?’

  ‘I suppose so – someday. Goodness, don’t spoil this nice moment with such speculations!’ Sonia knelt down and handed Laura a rattle, which she began to shake vigorously. Meg knelt down to join the two of them, wondering if Sonia had thought things through as clearly as she ought to.

  At that moment Avril came into the nursery. She sat down at the table and picked up a crayon to finish the drawing she had begun earlier. But after a few minutes she put it down. She rested her chin on her hand, chewing the end of one pigtail, and contemplated the trio on the floor.

  Sonia glanced up. ‘Come and play with us, darling. We’re having such a lovely time.’

  Avril gave no sign of having heard her mother. When Meg beckoned to her a moment later, Avril merely shook her head.

  For the next ten minutes, every time Meg glanced in her direction, Avril was sitting exactly as before, watching Laura intently, her expression inscrutable.

  *

  The last person Dan now wished to encounter, after all that had happened, was Paul, but it was inevitable they would run into one another, and they did so at Bellamy’s, their club, one evening in July.

  Paul was friendliness itself. ‘How are you, old fellow? I can’t believe I haven’t seen you since the shoot last year. Let me buy you a drink. I’m meeting Guy for dinner, but not till eight.’

  Dan, loafing in an armchair without any appearance of having to be elsewhere, could hardly refuse.

  Paul ordered a couple of whiskies and sodas. ‘So,’ he asked Dan, ‘how’s the world of journalism?’

  ‘Not bad, thanks. I’ve moved on from the arts pages – well, I still do the odd review – and now most of my time is spent reporting the political situation in Europe.’

  ‘Well, that’s fertile ground, certainly. The Germans seem to be arming at a feverish pace. I said at the time of the Anglo-German Naval Agreement that it was a mistake to let them arm beyond Versailles. All done in the name of stability, but look what’s happened. Now Hitler’s taken Austria, there’ll be no holding him…’

  Dan only half-listened; he was busy trying to puzzle out his feelings towards Paul. The strength of his conviction that Paul was deceiving Meg had weakened. He had talked it over in confidence with Harry, and Harry, playing devil’s advocate, had pointed out that Dan’s suspicions were based mainly on gossip and conjecture, and that he was probably placing undue significance on what he had seen that night in Soho. Now here was Paul, airing his political views in his usual bluff, somewhat patronising manner, being so like the Paul Dan had always known, that it was hard to think of him as a man who had cheated a woman into marrying him just to conceal his secret homosexuality. A fellow’s manner could disguise all kinds of secrets, but Dan had to accept that he had perhaps formed his suspicions too easily, and had been mad to voice them to Meg.

  ‘…and of course it leaves Czechoslovakia utterly exposed. I have no doubt there’s going to be a war. But Meg hates all that kind of talk. Understandable, really. Women don’t like anything that threatens their peace and security, especially when they’re nest-building.’

  Dan had no choice but to ask after Meg.

  ‘She’s very well, thanks. Baby’s due in a few weeks and, touch wood, all is going well. I’m being a good, attentive husband.’ Paul lit his pipe. ‘Actually, we had a bit of a tiff around Christmas time about my spending too much time in town, so I’ve had to mend my ways there. Though I’m granted special exeats where racing is concerned.’

  ‘How’s the business coming along?’

  ‘Pretty well, thanks. Slowly getting into shape, though we’re not ready for the big league yet. As a matter of fact, I’m off to watch the German Grand Prix in a couple of weeks. Should be interesting. Chance to see Herr Hitler at first hand. Say what you like, one can’t help admiring the man, the way he’s taken Germany by the scruff of the neck. By the way, I take it you’re coming to our garden party on Saturday? Can’t tell you the commotion Meg has made over the organising of it.’

  ‘I’m not sure I got the invitation.’

  ‘Really? I’m certain I told Meg to put you on the list. Oh well, come along anyway.’

  ‘I’d love to, but I’m afraid I’ll be at Trent Bridge.’

  ‘The Australia–Nottinghamshire match? Should be a good day’s cricket. Well, that’s a pity. I’m sure Meg would have loved to see you.’

  How far from the truth that was, thought Dan, and was struck by the realisation that by rights he should be feeling deeply ashamed of his behaviour. He had callously tried to destroy Paul’s life, and here he was, feigning friendship. But the fact was, he didn’t care. He would gladly have trampled over Paul’s happiness and felt not the slightest guilt, if he could have Meg. But that had been tried, and it had failed.

  ‘Yes, it is a pity. Do give her my best.’

  Dan left the club shortly before eight and walked along Piccadilly, wondering how it was that all the people he knew seemed to be settled and content in their lives, while his restless soul struggled to find a purpose. By the time he reached the Strand he had come to the firm decision that he needed to get away. He would ask the paper to let him travel to Europe as a correspondent, and report on the events which, it seemed to him, were unfolding with an ominous rapidity. The work he had done in Spain should stand him in good stead, and the Graphic needed someone on the ground out there if they wanted to keep up with their rivals. He would rent his rooms, get out of London, and leave the business of M
eg behind. She had her own life to get on with, and he had to start his again.

  Buoyed up by his decision, he had just decided to seek out Harry in the Wheatsheaf, his regular Soho haunt, when he heard a woman’s voice call his name. He turned and saw Eve emerging from her office. She gave him a smile that could have meant many things, but mainly that she was prepared to be friendly.

  ‘Working late?’ he asked.

  ‘Writing up a piece on the Evian conference.’

  ‘Oh, that thing Roosevelt’s organised in France.’

  ‘He may have organised it, but he hasn’t bothered to go himself. Sent some businessman as the US representative. That’s how important he thinks the Jews are. Do you know, they haven’t even let the Palestinian representative sit with the delegates?’ Her dark eyes shone, something Dan had always liked about her when she was angry.

  ‘You sound like you need to get this off your chest. How about a drink?’

  She sighed. ‘Why not?’

  Dan steered her towards the Cheshire Cheese and they settled at a table with gin and tonics.

  Eve quickly resumed the topic of the conference. Dan observed her as she talked, thinking how fresh she looked in her blue dress, her silky black hair framing her sternly pretty face. ‘No one cares, that much is clear. Every country protests that it’s doing as much as it can already – believe us, we feel sorry for the Jews, but our country is already overcrowded, taking refugees will mean more economic hardship for our people. The truth is, no one wants the Jews. Anti-Semitism is everywhere.’ Eve had been drinking quickly as she talked. Now she put down her empty glass.

  Dan picked it up. ‘Another?’

  ‘Make it a double. I’ve had a lousy day.’

  When Dan brought the drinks back to the table, Eve asked, ‘So, how are things with you?’

  ‘A bit up in the air. As a matter of fact, I’ve just made up my mind to ask the powers-that-be to send me to Germany as a foreign correspondent. I have personal reasons for wanting to get away from England for a while.’

  ‘Your married lady?’

  Dan nodded. ‘She’s out of my life. She chose her husband over me. In fact, she’s having a baby soon.’

  ‘Oh, I see.’ There was a silence, then Eve said, ‘I’m sorry our last meeting was unpleasant. I’m afraid I was upset.’

  ‘You had every right to be. I behaved badly.’

  She shrugged. ‘When you’re in love, there is no good and bad behaviour. You just do what you have to.’

  Dan sat back in his chair, sighed, and stretched out his legs. ‘Yes. So, that’s all over.’ He inspected his glass. ‘And I feel like getting drunk.’

  Eve smiled at him. ‘You know what? So do I.’

  *

  Two hours later they left the pub. In the street Dan kissed Eve.

  ‘Come back to my place,’ he murmured. ‘If you think that’s selfish and insulting, say so. I have no excuse, other than that I want you.’

  ‘I suppose it’s both those things. And I suppose I don’t care. I want you, too.’ She kissed him and they clung drunkenly to one another in the dark street for a moment, then turned and walked towards Bloomsbury.

  *

  The next morning Dan lay in bed, smoking, watching Eve as she dressed. She sat down on the edge of the bed and began to pin up her hair, turning to glance at Dan.

  ‘Don’t get the idea that last night meant anything. I can’t afford to be hurt again. It was what it was. Nothing more.’ She stood up, brushing down the front of her dress and slipping on her shoes. ‘God, I drank too much.’ She picked up the flask of water from beside the bed, splashed some into a glass, drank it back, then filled it again.

  ‘Perhaps we could see each other now and again – on an unofficial basis, obviously.’

  She gave him another sharp glance as she sipped her water. ‘Hm. We’ll see. Anyway, I have to go.’ She picked up her bag and hat from the chair.

  ‘I’ll call you,’ said Dan.

  ‘If you like.’ She bent and kissed his head, then left.

  *

  ‘I ran into Dan Ranscombe in town yesterday evening,’ Paul remarked to Meg at breakfast. ‘Seems he didn’t get his invitation to the party, for some reason. I told him to come along anyway.’

  Meg’s heart tightened. ‘He’s not coming, is he?’ She blurted it out before she had time to think.

  ‘No, he’s going to Nottingham for the cricket. You sound like you don’t want him here.’

  ‘It’s not that,’ said Meg hastily. ‘It’s just that it throws things out, having extra guests at the last minute. I entirely forgot to put him on the list.’

  ‘I shouldn’t have thought one more here or there would make much difference.’ Paul folded back his newspaper and helped himself to more coffee. ‘But it’s rather beside the point, since he won’t be coming. Anyhow, he said to give you his best.’

  ‘That’s nice.’ Meg was more composed now, but her heart was hammering. It would be like this for a long time, she supposed, whenever his name was mentioned. She rose from the table.

  ‘No more breakfast?’ asked Paul. ‘You’ve hardly eaten a thing. Got to think of the baby and keep your strength up, old girl.’

  ‘I’m not hungry,’ replied Meg shortly. She hated it when he called her ‘old girl’, but she couldn’t say so. He was only being affectionate. And affection was what their marriage was built on now.

  3

  MEG’S PARTY WAS the success she had hoped for. The sun shone, the guests enjoyed themselves, and Avril managed not to fight with the Kentleigh children.

  Sonia came splendidly attired in a dress of ecru silk, a gamboge chiffon scarf tied around the crown of her wide-brimmed sun hat, and her elegant arms tinkling with silver bracelets.

  ‘Dear Sonia must be the most expensively dressed bohemian ever seen,’ Diana remarked to Meg. ‘She puts us all to shame.’ She watched Sonia gliding among the guests, pausing to talk to Dick Seaman and a group of other racing enthusiasts who were seated under a large elm. ‘I’m going to go and help her break up the racing clique. They’re being very anti-social.’

  ‘Do – I must see if Mrs Runcie and the maids need a hand with laying out the food. I hope the wasps won’t be a bother.’

  Meg disappeared into the house and Diana wandered over to the group beneath the tree. She bent to kiss Sonia and slipped into the seat next to her.

  ‘Sonia,’ she murmured, ‘you are far and away the best-dressed person here. I utterly adore this fabric.’ She lightly touched Sonia’s dress.

  ‘Thank you, my dear,’ replied Sonia, reminding herself that young people no longer tended to observe strict social niceties, such as not discussing personal appearances. ‘I had it made up from some silk which Henry brought back from a trip he made to the Far East some years ago.’ She was unable to add that he had in addition brought back a most unpleasant venereal disease, which had required no end of treatment before it could be got rid of. That incident had almost ended their marriage.

  ‘Most unusual,’ said Diana.

  Sonia turned to acknowledge some remark made to her by one of the young men, and Diana glanced across the garden to where Roddy and Guy, who had just finished a game of tennis, were sitting chatting on the lawn by a bank of rhododendrons. Roddy was lounging on one elbow, his shirt open at the neck, his racquet next to him. He had let his red hair grow rather long, and kept tossing it out of his eyes. Paul was passing nearby and Guy called out to him, but to Diana’s bemusement Paul affected not to hear and carried on walking. She knew Paul was infatuated with Roddy. She had known it for months, though he himself would never have acknowledged the truth of it. She felt sorry for her brother. A couple of years ago, when Paul had singled out Meg as a suitable wife, Diana had been relieved that he had fixed on a decent girl, and not some gold-digger. But perhaps it would have been better had he married a hard-nosed society beauty who understood the bargain she was making, looked for her own pleasure elsewhere and let him get on with le
ading the life he should with whatever men he wanted. But no, that would never have worked. Paul seemed utterly without self-knowledge. The sexual step was one he would doubtless never take with any man. It simply wasn’t in him.

  The chatter and buzz of people making their way towards the al fresco luncheon tables made Diana turn her head. Meg was shepherding her guests, directing them towards plates and cutlery, bidding the maids replenish the jugs of lemonade and punch. She looked ‘blooming’, thought Diana, to employ that well-worn expression generally applied to pregnant women. But it really was the right word. Her skin and hair shone, and her face was happy. The marriage seemed to be a success. Perhaps Paul was one of those unusual creatures who could love women as well as men. Though she’d never, until Meg, seen any evidence of that.

  Diana watched as Roddy got to his feet, brushed down his trousers and made his way across the lawn with Guy. He looked in her direction and caught her eye. She winked at him, and he gave her a knowing smile. That was a promise. After lunch, when Paul was otherwise occupied, they would steal away into the surrounding woods and enjoy themselves.

  *

  When she felt that all her guests were settled, Meg helped herself to some food and headed with her plate towards the table where Sonia was seated with Paul and Diana and Roddy and others. She’d been so busy that she hadn’t yet had a chance to talk to her aunt. Paul found her a chair and placed it next to Sonia’s.

  ‘Oh, what a relief to sit down!’ said Meg.

  ‘You shouldn’t be rushing around so in your condition,’ said Sonia reprovingly, then added, ‘Though this is a most splendid party. You’re to be congratulated, my dear.’

  ‘I couldn’t have done it without Anna’s help. I don’t think you’ve met her, have you? I’ll introduce you after lunch. She’s been such a brick.’ Meg craned her neck to get a glimpse of the table where the children had been put. Avril was seated next to Frank Kentleigh, and giggled as Frank tried to put a cube of ice down the back of his sister’s frock. ‘Avril seems to be having fun.’

  ‘I’m just relieved she’s behaving herself. She does seem to be so much better around other children these days. Though she can still be rather difficult where Laura is concerned. No doubt she’ll get over that in time.’