To Dream Again

by To Dream Again (retail) (epub)

  ‘And the dean?’ Mercy hardly dared to ask.

  Jane gave a harsh chuckle.

  ‘The devil looks after his own, sure enough. He was made a bishop – the Bishop of Seaton.’

  Mercy had to bite back a harsh laugh. How like Blanche to have chosen such a name! A subtle revenge!

  ‘Seaton! Why, that’s your brother’s name, Mrs Lisburne!’ exclaimed Elsie. ‘Oh, silly me! It must have been your name too, of course. What an extraordinary coincidence!’

  It would have been the ideal moment to have revealed her relationship, but something held her back. She had heard so much, learned such a lot about her background and her family’s that she felt she needed to wait. She needed to assimilate Blanche’s story, to get to know her grandmother again. She became aware of Jane Agnew watching her intently.

  ‘Yes, extraordinary coincidences do happen, don’t they?’ said Jane, her eyes, so keen and astute beneath their painted lids, never once leaving Mercy’s face. ‘Now I think we really have worn poor Mrs Lisburne out. You’re looking quite tired, my dear. You work too hard. I suggest you go and have half an hour to yourself, somewhere where you won’t be disturbed.’

  ‘That sounds good advice. I think I’ll take it.’ Mercy rose. It was true, she felt exhausted, containing her emotion had drained her. ‘Thank you for showing me your album. It was… fascinating.’

  With this understatement she left them, conscious of Jane Agnew’s gaze boring into her back as she went.

  She lay on her bed, her eyes closed, but she did not sleep. The story she had just heard went round and round in her head. Poor Blanche, she kept thinking, poor Blanche – she was so young and there was no one she could turn to. Was it any wonder she was so bitter about the gentry? It did not require much effort to imagine her hurt in the early days, her bewilderment, her fear. How she had supported herself there was no knowing. How she survived at all was a testament to her spirit. Yet she had survived and raised her son.

  Mercy thought of her father; he was such a cold, self-centred being, totally impervious to the needs or feelings of anyone else. Had these traits been inherited from the self-indulgent man who had seduced Blanche then deserted her? The hypocrite who had callously lied to save himself?

  Suddenly, the idea of her grandmother struggling to bring up a child who was so unloving, so self-absorbed, was too much for Mercy, and she began to sob. Sixty years after the event, Blanche’s granddaughter wept bitter tears at the tragedy of it.

  Peter noticed she had been crying the moment he came in.

  ‘What’s wrong, darling?’ he demanded full of concern. ‘Has something happened to upset you?’

  ‘I’ve found out the truth about my grandmother! Oh Peter, what she went through… it must have been unbearable.’

  He held her in his arms until the new wave of weeping abated, then he said, ‘Would it help to tell me about it?’

  She nodded. ‘Joey must hear it, also. Blanche was his grandmother too.’

  Joey and Peter listened in silence until Mercy told all she had learned. Neither of them spoke for quite a time.

  ‘I’ve heard some rotten stories in my time,’ Joey said eventually, ‘But this one takes the biscuit! Poor Old Un, no wonder she used to hit the bottle. Who could blame her?’

  ‘Who indeed!’ said Peter quietly. ‘You said nothing to Lady Agnew or Mrs Hastings about being their cousin’s granddaughter?’

  ‘No. I’m not sure why. Hearing her story made me see Blanche in a new light, I think I needed time to get used to this different view of my grandmother. The Blanche I knew was often difficult, yes and drunk too. Yet we suspected there was something more, didn’t we, Joey? She sometimes told us stories of her childhood when everything was idyllic and prosperous. A lot of people thought it was the drink talking; but it wasn’t. It was all true.’

  ‘Lady Agnew and Mrs Hastings are very well connected, you know,’ Peter pointed out. ‘There’s a fair smattering of titles in their family, not to mention rather a lot of “old” money. Do you want to claim your place among them? It might be difficult to prove anything legally, though I dare say it’s not impossible.’

  ‘I don’t know!’ said Mercy desperately. ‘I’m not even sure we should even mention it to Lady Agnew and her sister, let alone take legal steps. Oh, I don’t know what to do!’

  ‘I do!’ said Joey decisively. ‘You can please yourself. I say let sleeping dogs lie. From what I’ve seen those with “old” money have had a lot of practice at hanging on to it, and I don’t fancy risking all we’ve worked for in lawsuits over some doubtful inheritance. Just having a share in this place has given me what I want out of life, as close as I can manage. What I haven’t got I can’t have.’ He paused, then went on. ‘Finding relations who are entitled to wear coronets isn’t going to make a ha’p’orth of difference.’

  Mercy nearly asked him what it was he wanted so badly, then stopped herself just in time. She already knew. There was no flirtatiousness in the glances between him and Angie now, only love and a deep sadness. They were caught up in the oldest triangle of all. Joey could not help loving Angie, yet he was determined not to hurt Queenie, no matter what it cost. At least he seemed able to find relief from his private unhappiness in his work. She wondered what comfort there was for Angie.

  ‘Perhaps you’re right, it might be better to leave well alone,’ she said quietly. ‘I’ll have to think about it.’

  Mercy felt she had suffered enough shocks for the time being, she was quite unprepared for yet another. The next morning she was called to the reception desk where a departing guest was paying his bill.

  ‘I hope you enjoyed your stay, Mr Griffiths,’ she said.

  ‘Very much, thank you,’ he replied, pocketing his receipt. ‘I think I should identify myself.’ He handed her a card.

  It took a moment for the neatly printed words on it to register.

  ‘Oh!’ she exclaimed. ‘You’re the inspector from the AA!’ She had almost forgotten they had applied for entry in the Handbook.

  ‘I am,’ he smiled. ‘It’s the Association’s policy for us to make ourselves known to the hotel management after we have settled our bill.’

  A dozen questions hovered on the tip of her tongue, one more important than all the others. Oh, if only she could ask how many stars he was recommending. Instead, she had to content herself with inquiring, ‘I hope you found everything satisfactory?’ Then she gave a groan. ‘Miss Manning! You were there!’

  ‘I was indeed.’ His eyes twinkled. ‘Don’t look so stricken, Mrs Lisburne. We appreciate that in the hotel business you are dealing with all the vagaries of humanity. How you cope is the important thing. You’ve nothing to worry about. In due course you will receive the official report.’

  Nothing to worry about! What did he mean by that? She pondered over it long after Mr Griffiths had left.

  ‘He must have been favourably impressed,’ said Peter, when she told him.

  ‘Not necessarily. He might have only meant that he would ignore the Miss Manning episode. It gives us no clue as to what he thought of the hotel.’

  ‘There’s no use worrying about it,’ said Joey. ‘What’s done is done. We can’t change anything now. We must wait for the report.’

  Mercy found precious little time to brood on the matter. All of the high summer months were exceedingly busy. She was quite relieved to have one responsibility removed when the Mannings finally took their aunt to live with them. In what seemed no time at all it was August, and the Regatta was upon them again. The hotel was full, and they were all extremely busy. She was grateful for the hectic activity, in an odd way it gave her a breathing space, for not only was she anxious about the hotel’s ratings, she still could not decide whether or not to make her background known to Lady Agnew and Mrs Hastings. Then the need for any immediate decision was taken out of her hands. The sisters announced that they were leaving.

  ‘With such regret, dear Mrs Lisburne,’ said Mrs Hastings warmly. ‘I
f it wasn’t an emergency we wouldn’t go; and at Regatta-time too! We’ve enjoyed ourselves so very much here, haven’t we, Jane?’

  ‘For once we’re in total agreement,’ replied Jane Agnew. ‘But go we must. An old friend has been taken ill, and she has no one else.’ She held out her hand and took Mercy’s in a firm grip. ‘You have our address haven’t you? One day, when you feel the time is right, perhaps you will write to us, or telephone? Having found a second Mercy I would hate us to lose touch.’

  She released her hold and patted Mercy’s arm.

  ‘I’m very glad you came to stay here,’ Mercy said urgently. ‘Very glad indeed.’

  ‘You’ve no idea what a pleasure it’s been for us knowing you – oh, and your little girl. We had a lovely chat with her in the garden just now.’ A mischievous smile spread across Jane’s face. ‘Such attractive names you chose for her,’ she said. ‘Jennifer Blanche…’ And her smile grew even wider.

  She hurried off, trailing her sister behind her. As she went out of the door, however, she turned and gave Mercy a knowing wink.

  * * *

  Regatta days always seemed to start earlier than any others and have more activity packed into every hour. This year was particularly frantic, for the hotel had entered the Wild Goose in several events, captained by Peter and crewed by enthusiastic guests. Not surprisingly, in the general pandemonium the post was neglected for once. It was late afternoon, when the crew of the Wild Goose had returned jubilant at having won their heat, before Mercy finally got round to dealing with the pile of letters on the desk. The one stamped with the badge of the AA was near the bottom. For a full minute she stared at it, her heart pounding. Then she told herself not to be so stupid, it was only a letter and it had to be opened. First, though, she sent messengers scurrying to find Peter and Joey.

  ‘You can have the honour,’ they told her, leaning over her shoulder to watch.

  She wished her hands would stop shaking. Finally she managed to draw out two sheets of paper. The first was simply a formal letter, informing them that the inspector’s report on the Villa Dorata Hotel was enclosed. Turning over the page her eyes scanned the printed words hungrily.

  ‘Very high standard of comfort and cleanliness… staff most attentive and courteous… excellent amenities provided for convenience and pleasure of guests… surroundings and level of decor exemplary…’ The phrases leapt off the page, then there, in the last paragraph was the vital information:

  ‘It is unusual for us to award such a high accolade to an hotel as small as the Villa Dorata, but the general standards maintained by this establishment are exceptionally high. Our inspector particularly commended the warmth of the welcome extended to the guests by the management, and the happy, friendly atmosphere that pervaded throughout. We are happy, therefore to award the Villa Dorata Hotel four stars, and the hotel will be classified as such in the next edition of our Members’ Handbook.’

  The next few minutes were a total blur to Mercy. She found herself being hugged and kissed by her husband and brother at the same time, the tears pouring down her cheeks.

  ‘Celebrate! We must celebrate!’ declared Peter. ‘We’ll hold a party for the guests tonight.’

  ‘On Regatta Night? Most of them will be out!’ said Joey. ‘No, let’s have a personal celebration now, and a party for the guests and the staff at the end of the Regatta. You two go out this evening on your own, for once. I’ll hold the fort.’

  ‘What about you?’ asked Peter.

  ‘I’ll take some time off tomorrow instead.’

  It did not seem fair, him staying behind on such a night, but Mercy did not argue. He had a hopeful air about him, as if he had already made up his mind how to spend his leisure time. She guessed Angie was involved somewhere.

  ‘That’s a splendid suggestion,’ she said. ‘You’re a dear, do you know that?’

  ‘Naturally!’ he grinned.

  ‘It’s all very well talking of taking nights off,’ stated Peter. ‘Some of us still have work to do. I must be off, I’ll see you later.’

  ‘We haven’t decided where we’re going to celebrate tonight!’ exclaimed Mercy.

  ‘Leave it to me! I’ve an idea. It’s to be a surprise.’ Peter kissed her on the cheek, aimed a mock blow at Joey, and left the office.

  ‘You know who we have to thank for our four stars, don’t you?’ said Joey, after the door had closed. ‘Your Old Man!’

  ‘He certainly works hard, and the sailing—’

  ‘I’m not talking about the yachting side of the business… What were the inspector’s special comments? Something about warmth of welcome, and a happy, friendly atmosphere. They are the important parts of the report – things which lift the Villa Dorata Hotel out of the ordinary – it’s all thanks to Peter.’

  ‘I know what you mean,’ said Mercy, understanding him at last. ‘He thinks of the guests as friends who happen to be staying with us, and treats them accordingly.’

  ‘Exactly! This is one long private house-party as far as he is concerned. I don’t think it has quite sunk in yet that this is an hotel and no longer his private home.’ Joey gave a chuckle. ‘I hope it never does sink in, either. The paying customers lap it up, the more so because he is absolutely genuine.’

  ‘Yes, he’s genuine all right,’ said Mercy half to herself. ‘He cares about people and wants them to be happy. That’s what makes him such a perfect host.’

  ‘And that’s what gained us four stars! You take care of that man, do you hear me?’

  ‘I will,’ said Mercy, and she meant it.

  * * *

  Peter was extremely mysterious when they drove away from the hotel, later that evening.

  ‘Where are we going to dine?’ Mercy asked.

  ‘Wait and see!’ was the only reply she got.

  At first she did not recognize the little restaurant in Torwood Street. Only when they stepped inside did she know it for the place where she and Peter had eaten supper on the night they first met.

  ‘It’s exactly the same!’ she exclaimed in delight.

  ‘I fancy the lighting is electric now instead of gas, and I hope they’ve changed the tablecloths, otherwise I think I agree with you.’

  ‘Fool!’ she said fondly.

  ‘You wouldn’t have called me that then.’

  ‘Oh no! I was far too shy of you! You seemed like a being from another world to me.’ She smiled at the memory. ‘I was so ashamed of my rough hands I kept my gloves on.’

  ‘So you did! I’m glad you don’t have to feel so conscious any more.’ He reached across and covered her hand with his. ‘I ordered our meal when I booked the table. Lamb cutlets, with a good Muscadel to drink. I hope you don’t mind.’

  ‘You remembered!’

  ‘Of course I remember! I haven’t forgotten a single detail about that night, and I never will!’

  It was like stepping back in time. The years were pushed away, and all the emotion of their first meeting came flooding back as they ate the same food and sipped the same wine.

  ‘This is ridiculous,’ Mercy said softly. ‘I’ve been married to you all these years, yet I feel just as I did then, unreal and excited and very happy.’

  ‘Good,’ said Peter. ‘The evening isn’t finished yet, there’s more to come.’

  When they had eaten, he drove her through such a warren of side streets that Mercy had no idea where she was. They left the car, turned a corner, and there were the lights of the seafront and the pier below them, reflected in the dark waters of the bay. Peter led her along a narrow path bordered by bushes. As soon as she set foot on it Mercy got her bearings.

  ‘Rock Walk!’ she exclaimed.

  ‘Right! We’re in good time for the fireworks.’

  ‘The fireworks! Good heavens, I’d forgotten all about them!’

  ‘I hadn’t. For years I’ve wanted to bring you back to the exact spot where we met, just the two of us, but somehow with the children… Now, if we can only find where you were�
��’

  ‘It’s down a little, I think, and further over. Oh, it’s still there! The bridge! That’s where Dolly and I stood all those years ago to watch the Regatta fireworks.’

  ‘And where you caught the eye of a couple of young mashers. My, didn’t I think myself dashing in those days!’

  ‘Well, you were very dashing! I was so impressed.’

  ‘No, you weren’t. You didn’t want to have anything to do with me. If Dolly hadn’t wandered off with Freddie Parkham you’d never have gone with me at all.’

  ‘Perhaps I wouldn’t.’

  She said the words with wonder. A chance happening, choosing this one spot from which to watch the fireworks, had altered her whole life. Anywhere else and she would never have met Peter. Her entire future had depended upon such a slender thread; she had never realized it before. She clutched at the rough rail of the bridge, and drank in the cool leaf-scented air. Everything had altered so little! The ilex bushes and the palms and the tropical shrubs had grown in the intervening years, shrouding the cliff face with greenery. Looking down, the lights along the pier and bordering the sea were brighter, there were more cars crawling at a snail’s pace through the crush, the ladies’ hats were smaller, less flower-like. These were the only changes. The atmosphere was still the same, even up here among the people who thronged the precipitous Rock Walk to get a better view. The feeling of light-hearted anticipation, the good-humoured excitement had not altered.

  ‘They’re still the same, and still so beautiful,’ she breathed.

  ‘What are?’ asked Peter.

  ‘The yachts. They could be a little town, out there on the water, with all their lights.’ She gave a laugh. ‘I remember looking at them when I was here with Dolly and thinking, if Blanche’s stories were true I might have some grand relations out there on one of those yachts who would recognize me and rescue me from poverty, so that I could become a lady. Such silly dreams!’