As she walked through the hall, she noticed the light was on in Archie’s study and the door had been left ajar. When Rafferty had disappeared back into the tent, she turned and wandered into the study.
To her surprise she saw her father standing by the window, staring out into the storm, his fingers toying with the cigar that smoked into the warm, musty air. He did not notice her at first, and once again she found herself in the awkward position of spying on him. His profile was solemn, his mouth set into a hard, grim line. It was as if he played the role of being the jovial, good-natured husband, father, and uncle when he was in company and then became someone very different when he stepped off the stage and was alone. For a moment Celestria wondered which was the real Robert Montague. After the unsettling conversation with her mother in the ladies’ room, the idea made her head spin.
Suddenly he turned and caught her watching him. She gasped, but her father’s face softened and broke into a wide smile. “My darling,” he said, leaving the storm and his heavy thoughts to join her at the door. “It’s unlike you to be so quiet!”
“And it’s unlike you to be so serious, Papa. Are you all right?”
He chuckled and shook his head. “There’s one hell of a storm out there tonight. Very unusual for this time of year.”
“You looked so sad,” she persisted. Monty looked at his daughter quizzically. “You are all right, aren’t you?”
“I’ve never been better,” he replied, and his grin convinced her that this was true.
“I prefer to see you smile,” she said.
“Then I shall make sure I always do.”
“Where’s Mama?”
“Will you dance with me, Celestria?” he asked suddenly, and Celestria didn’t know whether he had ignored her question or whether he hadn’t heard it.
“I’d love to. I’m one ‘young thing’ Mama won’t mind your taking in your arms.” He was astonished. Celestria grinned up at him, aware that the wine had made her reckless. She felt a frisson of excitement at having caused such a reaction. He shook his head and patted her hand.
“Come, let’s get you onto the dance floor before you say something you’ll regret.”
Later that night Monty stood again by the window in his brother’s study. The rest of the household had retired to bed. The smell of cigarettes and wine lingered in the air, turning it sour as the hours passed. He held an empty champagne bottle in his hand. He had opened his waistcoat and undone his bow tie so that it hung loose about his neck. The rain still rattled against the glass, and the wind moaned eerily as it raced around the house to catch its tail. He was no longer the jovial Monty whom everyone knew and loved, but a man dogged by his past and the empty reality of his future. He had sown the fields of his life without a thought for the harvest. The fun had been in the growing, but he had lost control of the crop. There was only one way out.
6
The morning after the party, Julia burst into Celestria’s bedroom, her face as gray as cold porridge, declaring in a voice husky with anxiety that Bouncy was not in his room and hadn’t been seen since his young cousins had left him on the stairs the night before. “You saw him, too, didn’t you, Celestria?” Her voice broke, and she began to cry. She looked suddenly very small standing in the doorway in her dressing gown, her hair unbrushed and sticking out like a feather duster. Celestria staggered out of bed.
“I told him to go to bed,” she replied, wincing at the pain in her head. She pulled her dressing gown off the back of the door and yawned loudly.
“Did you see him get up? Did he go to bed?”
“No.”
“He’s not with Nanny. I could murder the silly woman for allowing this to happen.” She rubbed her forehead with the palm of her hand and took a deep breath. “It’s fine. It’s a big house. We’ll find him.”
“Didn’t Harry and the others see him to his room?”
“Of course not. They’re just boys.”
“Let’s search the house from top to bottom. He must be somewhere!”
Julia shook her head helplessly. “We’ve scoured the place. Everyone’s looking, but he’s nowhere.”
“He was frightened of the storm. He wouldn’t go outside, surely!” Celestria remembered his running towards the sea the day before, and a sickness rose up from her stomach.
She joined in the search, starting with the attic. She opened every cupboard, looked under every bed, chest of drawers, sofa, and chair. She called his name, but she knew instinctively that he wasn’t there. The house felt empty. Her heart hung suspended as horrific possibilities surfaced in her mind. She pressed her nose to the window. The rain had stopped, and the sky was pale and blue in the innocent light of dawn. Below, the sea was calm. Had Bouncy ventured down to the beach on his own?
They all searched together, silently, their greatest fear unspoken. Celestria had a terrible vision that the sea had taken him. Swallowed him up. Dragged him down to the bottom, where he now lay, still and unbreathing. She saw Nanny, like a specter, calling his name in a frail and hopeless voice. She dared not catch her eye. They shared a secret that was now heavy with implication: how close she had come to losing him the day before.
Archie stalked the gardens, his expression troubled. Every now and then he would stop, hands on hips, and shake his head in despair. How could a small boy disappear in the middle of the night?
Celestria ran down the wet path to the beach. Her bare feet hurt on the stones, but she was in too much of a hurry to go back for her shoes. She had to find out whether little Bouncy had drowned. She couldn’t tell anyone why she suspected he was there; she didn’t really know herself. Just that something was pulling her there, trying to tell her that the answer lay in the sea. The sun was warm on her face, although it was early. The air smelled clean and grassy after the storm. She reached the rocks and scanned them for her little cousin. Her heart thumped, her chest grew tight, but the beach stretched out before her, empty but for the odd seagull pecking at shells left behind by the tide.
Then she noticed it, or rather the absence of it. Her father’s boat. She looked up the beach to where it usually lay on the dunes, tied to a stake sticking out of the sand. It wasn’t there. The stake stood, forlorn. At first, she imagined the storm had taken it. But the dunes had been untouched by the waves, and the marks left by the boat being dragged down the beach were still fresh in the sand. They disappeared after a couple hundred yards, indicating that it had been taken out only a few hours before.
She had to tell her father immediately that someone had stolen his boat. Perhaps they had taken Bouncy, too. She ran as fast as she could, stumbling up the path, blinking away tears as the realization hit her that something was really very wrong. Because her feet were wet she decided to enter the house through the scullery door that led into the rooms that housed Purdy and the game larder and Julia’s butlers’ sinks. The lights had not been switched on, so she knew Purdy would be after his morning biscuit. In the panic of searching for Bouncy, everyone had forgotten Purdy. She opened the door and crept inside. It smelled strongly of dog. Through the gloom she saw him lying in his basket. Then, to her astonishment, she saw a small figure curled up beside him, his muslin pressed against his mouth, his little hands holding it tightly. It was Bouncy. The relief was intoxicating. Overwhelmed, Celestria began to sob. Purdy opened his eyes and sighed. He had obviously been awake for some time, waiting for his young friend to wake up so he could move. The child did not stir. Celestria crouched down and stroked his brow. His skin was warm and silky. He nuzzled his muslin and gave out a long sigh.
“Bouncy,” she said softly. He opened his eyes and sat up, looking dazed and disorientated, a frown heavy on his forehead. Purdy seized his chance and moved away, wagging his tail happily. “Bouncy, darling. What are you doing in here? We’ve all been looking for you.”
“I was frightened of the th-th-th-thtorm,” he replied in a small voice, rolling his muslin into a ball and pressing it under his chin. “Where’s Mummy
?” She scooped him into her arms and kissed his temple. He smelled of Purdy.
“Let’s go and find her. You can’t imagine how happy she’s going to be to see you.”
Julia had prepared herself for the worst. Her youngest, most precious child had wandered off into the night and drowned in the sea. It was only a matter of time before they discovered his small body washed up on the sand. She envisaged the policeman at the door, the funeral, the tiny coffin, and her grief, which would plunge her into eternal darkness and despair.
“Aunt Julia!” Celestria exclaimed, finding her in a heap on the sofa in the hall, surrounded by Archie, Penelope, Milton, Lotty, and a terrified-looking Nanny.
“Mummy!” cried Bouncy when he saw her, holding his arms out for her. Julia’s face opened like a sunflower before she collapsed in tears.
“Darling Bouncy!” she sobbed. “Where have you been?” She held him against her chest, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face in his hair.
“He was asleep in the dog basket with Purdy,” said Celestria.
“With Purdy? What on earth were you doing there?” Julia began to laugh.
“I was f-f-frightened of the th-th-thtorm,” replied Bouncy, snuggling into his mother’s embrace. “Purdy looked after me.”
“Clever Purdy!” exclaimed Archie, patting his son’s back a little too hard. “He’s a good chap. A fine gun dog and a nanny, too! Lotty, be a good girl and call David off the search. He went to look in the pond.”
“I’ll go and get the boys up,” said Nanny in a quiet voice. “Shall I leave Bouncy with you, Mrs. Julia?”
“Thank you, Nanny.” Julia watched the old woman walk away. “Nanny,” she added. Nanny turned, her hands clamped together as if in prayer.
“Yes, Mrs. Julia.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Julia.”
Celestria watched Nanny walk up the front stairs, her steps heavy and slow. She had a good mind to tell her aunt about the day before. Lotty was right; Nanny was too old. There were homes for people like her. Then she remembered her father’s boat.
“Where’s Mama?” she asked. “Someone has stolen Papa’s boat.”
“What do you mean?” said Archie.
“It’s gone.”
“Been washed away by the storm, I suspect,” said Milton. Monty’s boat was of minor concern compared with the near tragedy of Bouncy’s disappearance.
“No, it’s been dragged down the beach. The marks are still there.”
“I’ll tell your father when he comes down for breakfast,” said Archie.
Bouncy was now thoroughly enjoying the attention. Sitting on his mother’s lap, he was recounting his adventure.
“Ahem.” It was Soames. He stood stiffly in the doorway, pressed and polished in a crisp white shirt and tailcoat, out of place in the midst of dressing gowns and unbrushed hair. “Breakfast is served in the dining room, Mr. Archie,” he said, nodding slightly, embarrassed to find Mrs. Julia in her nightgown. His attention was diverted to the top of the stairs, where Pamela suddenly appeared draped in a pink silk dressing gown that reached the ground, her blond hair brushed back off her face, Poochi nestled under one arm. Without more ado, he discreetly withdrew.
“I hear we’ve lost Bouncy,” she said, then smiled in relief at the sight of her small nephew playing on his mother’s knee. “Thank heavens he’s safe. Poochi’s been up for hours scratching the door. Dogs know when something’s wrong. There, you silly pooch, you can relax now, he’s been found. Where was he?”
“With Purdy,” said Milton. “I’m going to have breakfast,” he declared, setting off in the direction of the dining room, where Cook had laid out fried eggs and bacon, toast, porridge, and sardines. “After last night, I’m ravenous. How about you, squire?” Archie nodded at his brother-in-law.
“It’s been one hell of a morning,” he said. “Breakfast, everyone. Don’t want it all to get cold.”
“Where’s Papa?” Celestria asked her mother as she glided down the stairs.
“I don’t know. Haven’t you seen him this morning?” She seemed unconcerned.
“His boat has been taken out,” Celestria continued.
Pamela looked confused. “I don’t think your father would sail out so early.”
“I think it’s been stolen. It’s been dragged down the beach. Probably a couple of hours ago.”
“Well, you’d better tell him when you see him. Don’t worry, darling, he can buy another one. It was a rather scruffy old thing.”
Celestria followed her mother into the dining room. Archie and Milton were already sitting at the large round table tucking into their cooked breakfasts. The room smelled of coffee and bacon, and Poochi began to salivate. “Oh, you’re hungry, little man,” said Pamela, placing him on the floor with a gentle pat. “How about a piece of bacon?” She proceeded to lift a slice with her fingers and dangle it above his nose. Archie raised his eyebrows as the little dog took a large bite and the whole piece disappeared in a single gulp.
“Shame to waste such a delicacy on that animal,” he said, eyeing the depleted dish of eggs and bacon on the sideboard.
“He’s been very unhappy this morning,” said Pamela, pouring herself a cup of coffee. “Small dogs are very sensitive.”
“If you’re not careful, Purdy will think he’s a piece of bacon and gobble him up for breakfast.”
Pamela didn’t laugh. She was totally humorless when it came to her beloved pet. She flashed her icy blue eyes at her brother-in-law and proceeded to sip her coffee. “That dopey dog is no match for my Poochi. He may be small, but he can be vicious. He has teeth like nails.” Archie couldn’t be bothered to argue.
“Did everyone enjoy the party?” he asked as the grown-ups took their places at the breakfast table. Celestria noticed that Melissa blushed a deep scarlet. Even her ears began to throb.
“It was delightful,” enthused Penelope. “Melissa, you’re blushing!”
“Melissa?” said Lotty in surprise. Then she recalled seeing her sister dancing with that irresistibly handsome Irishman who came with the Wilmottes. Celestria was now only too delighted to hand Rafferty over to Melissa, if he was what she wanted. Their tumble on the sofa had proved, in spite of being rather enjoyable at the time, that he wasn’t good enough for her.
“I think Melissa’s in love,” Celestria stated coolly, forgetting all about her father’s boat. Milton turned to his daughter.
“Melissa?” he said.
The poor girl could no longer contain her embarrassment. “He’s very charming,” she said in a quiet voice.
“Who is?” asked Pamela stridently.
“Rafferty O’Grady,” said Celestria. “He’s very handsome.”
“Your Rafferty?” said Pamela, turning to Celestria.
“He’s not my Rafferty. We danced, that’s all. He’s charming. He had eyes only for Melissa.” Melissa seemed relieved to hear this, and the blood drained from her face, leaving her as pale as a pancake.
“I’m glad the girls aren’t fighting over a man,” said Archie good-naturedly.
Pamela laughed, dropping another piece of bacon into Poochi’s mouth.
“Oh, I don’t think they’re after the same type of man,” she said smugly, recalling Lotty’s unsuitable love affair and her daughter’s certainty of marrying better than all of them put together.
After a while Julia came down dressed in white slacks and a long, pale blue cardigan. Around her neck large aquamarines matched her eyes, which were bright with happiness. She drank her coffee and indulged in a cigarette, which calmed her nerves and stopped her hands from shaking. Smiling in her usual radiant way, she entertained everyone with stories of the night before. Harry, Wilfrid, and Sam sauntered in, red faced, having been into the woods to check on their traps. They announced that the rain hadn’t drowned any rats, but kept them in their burrows, so the traps were empty. David sat in front of a large helping of eggs and toast while Lotty and Meliss
a whispered to each other, giggling behind their hands. Lotty’s wide eyes and Melissa’s pink cheeks told Celestria that Rafferty had done more than dance with her cousin. She couldn’t have cared less. At least she had rebuffed him, so her pride was undented. She looked around the table. The atmosphere was joyous. The party had been a success. Julia was relieved it was over. But the family was incomplete.
“Mama,” said Celestria.
“Darling, I think you and I should go into town today. There’s going to be an awful lot of clearing up to do, and we don’t want to get in the way.”
“Where’s Papa?”
Pamela looked around. “Why, that is a little odd. I can’t imagine where he’s gone. He doesn’t like to miss breakfast. Perhaps he’s having it in town. You know how he likes to chat to the locals.”
Celestria leaned across the table. “Uncle Archie? Did Papa take your car this morning?”
“No. It was still in the garage when I checked inside for Bouncy. Thought the little devil might have sneaked in during the night. Who’d have thought he’d have snuggled up with Purdy, eh?”
Celestria tapped her fingers on the table with impatience. “Isn’t anyone going to do anything?” she exclaimed hotly.
“I shouldn’t worry,” said Archie. “He’ll come in when he smells the bacon.”
“But his boat’s been taken out. What’s he doing in the middle of the ocean at this time of the morning?”
“Fishing?” said David with a smirk. “Perhaps he wants a herring for breakfast.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Something’s wrong; I can feel it.”
The table fell silent. They all looked at one another, then all eyes settled on Pamela.
“Did Monty go to bed last night?” Archie asked, mopping up the last of his egg yolk with a piece of toast. He didn’t appear at all concerned; rather, he was making a show of it for his niece.
Sea of Lost Love Page 7