Mother came forward angrily from the terrace as the twins dripped their way up the lawn. ‘Really, Helena! Why ever didn’t you have the sense to stop them?’
As I stared at her, dumbfounded, Conan pushed past me. ‘My fault, I’m afraid, Aunt Ria
My mother’s face softened. ‘You’re our guest Conan – besides, Helena should have stopped you.’ As I stalked off I heard her saying to Lady Maud, ‘Boys will be boys – high spirits are only natural at their age.’
There was a painful tug at my plait; I turned, hand raised to Conan, but he danced out of range, cried, ‘Boys will be boys’, and ran off, laughing. I trudged up to my bedroom, seething.
But at least with Conan there we had an excuse for leaving the house at breakfast and roaming over the park and into the woods as we pleased - until we would hear the distant stable clock strike, and race back, dishevelled and hot, with barely time to wash our hands before luncheon. I did not enjoy luncheon. New guests would turn to me, expecting Mother’s daughter to be quickwitted and lively. They always seemed to speak just as I had filled my mouth with roast meat - I would chew desperately, racking my brains for a reply while Conan laughed at me from the other side of the table. When at last I had managed to swallow my half-masticated food and whisper an answer, it would sound weak and silly even as I uttered it. The guest’s eyes would glaze as he listened, before turning away from me with a politely dismissive smile, and I burned with shame as Mother glared at me from the foot of the table. Once I heard her say loudly to Sir Ernest Webern on her right that she dreaded, simply dreaded, the thought of having to bring Helena out. I cringed as Sir Ernest smiled his wolfish grin and whispered his reply in her small shapely ear.
When Conan had been at Hatton for almost three weeks a letter arrived from the twins’ godfather, inviting them to join his fishing party in Scotland. They were wild with excitement at the idea. ‘Say we can go, Mother, please say we can go.’
Mother frowned. ‘It’s not very convenient, with Conan here,’ but Papa broke in curtly.
‘John’s been very good to them - of course they must go.’
Mother tossed the letter angrily down on the table. ‘You answer it, then.’ She turned back to the rest of her correspondence.
After breakfast we wanted to go out to the head gamekeeper’s cottage. Papa had taken the dog cart so we had to cram into the governess cart behind the lawn-mower pony. The boys thought this quite beneath their dignity and made me drive. Then they taunted me because the lawn-mower pony was so slow. As we came back to the house I gave him a last desperate flick with my whip and he turned and looked at me reproachfully, then suddenly broke into a trot. The cart lurched forward and there was a shout from behind as the gate flew open and Robbie fell headlong out, to land sprawling on the gravel at Sir Ernest’s feet. Mother came quickly down the steps as he picked himself up. ‘Really, Helena, your driving is atrocious - you wouldn’t be safe with the garden roller!’
I smouldered; it was Conan who had vaulted in over the side and not bothered to latch the gate, but I knew better than to say so.
The next day it poured with rain, so we played billiards. Conan produced some cigarettes; the boys all puffed on them until Mother walked in and told them only cads and women smoked cigarettes.' She tossed them a box of Papa’s cigars and then sat down to watch. The twins inhaled manfully until they both went green and had to leave the room hurriedly, but Conan smoked his cigar with a swagger, right down to the butt. When he had finished Mother laughed, and smoothed his lapel before she rustled out.
She was always nicer to Conan than she was to us. Alice said it was because Aunt Alice had been Mother’s twin, and they had done everything together until she had died having Conan’s baby sister, and Conan’s sister had died as well. Alice said Mama had come to the schoolroom and told her, and had cried and cried while Miss Walker patted her shoulder and then sent Alice away to the nursery. I did not know whether to believe Alice or not - I just could not imagine Mother ever crying.
Next day it was fine again so we bicycled over to the Home Farm in the morning. As soon as we had started Conan challenged us to race him and my brothers pedalled furiously ahead. My serge skirt clung damply to my black-stockinged legs as I pedalled and my face was wet with sweat, but I could not catch them up. My front wheel veered into a pile of drippings, I bounced madly and then felt the ominous bumping. I slid forward out of the saddle and began to push my useless bike towards the red-brick cluster of farm buildings.
Forlorn and miserable I trudged up the short hill. There was a derisive shout from the top window of the mill. Conan’s laughing face yelled, ‘Slow coach - old Hellie’s a slow coach!’ Bitterly I pushed on.
I left my bicycle outside the farm workshop; one of the men would mend the puncture and ride it back for me later. I went into the sties, but the piglets seemed to have lost their appeal today so I wandered disconsolately out again. The goose hissed warningly at me, protecting her goslings, so I stood still, and stared glumly at the red-combed rooster. He strutted superciliously among his flock, carelessly elbowing one of his wives out of the way, so he could peck at a particularly luscious beetle, then, casually bestriding her and tugging sharply at her neck feathers with his beak, he trod her. Arrogant, thoughtless males.
Suddenly there was a whirr of panic-stricken wings as Conan appeared round the corner of the cowshed, flapping his arms and emitting hideous crowing noises. The cowardly cockerel leapt off his hen and led the squawking retreat. I called, ‘Oh, the goslings - mind the little goslings, Conan!’ But the heavy grey goose was already running forward, wings spread, neck arched, hissing her defiance. Conan shot out his hand to catch her below the beak, but she was too quick for him - he gave a sharp yelp of pain and backed away, nursing his injured hand. I started to laugh at his astonished face.
‘Serves you right, young Master Conan - playing the fool like that.’ It was Mary, the cowman’s wife, stout and red-faced as she came waddling out of her kitchen in her sacking apron. ‘Come on then, I’ll put it under ’pump.’
The twins and I stood watching ghoulishly as Mary sluiced the blood from between Conan’s finger and thumb, and inspected the damage. I said reprovingly, ‘The mother goose was only protecting her young, Conan. She was very brave, you’re much bigger than she is.’
‘All right, Goody Two-Shoes, spare us the lecture.’ But his bright blue eyes flashed a grin in my direction as he spoke. Mary was smiling at him as she wrapped a rag round his hand.
Eddie offered to take me back on his crossbar, but Conan insisted I ride on his. I clung to the handlebars as his strong legs thrust the pedals round, and felt the heat of his panting breaths on my neck. We left word at the stables for our horses to be ready saddled after lunch, then rushed into the house.
The afternoon was hot so we kept to the shade of the trees as we roamed over the park, until Eddie called, ‘Race you to the oaks - ready, steady, go!’ We galloped off, hooves pounding on the springy turf.
Conan won, but I was close behind. We reined in, laughing and panting. I patted Flirt’s sweaty neck, then we began to walk the horses on. The sun beat down on our backs, my head felt damp under my boater so I pulled it off and swung my plaits free. Ahead of us the lake shone in the sunlight. It was Eddie’s idea. ‘Let’s bathe. The horses have cooled off now, but I’m hotter than ever.’ The water shimmered invitingly before us.
I protested, ‘But we haven’t got our things with us.’ Robbie said quickly, ‘There’s no one about, we don’t need our suits. And Mrs Rendell will lend us something to dry off with - I’ll go and ask her now.’ He cantered off towards the gamekeeper’s cottage.
I still protested. ‘But what about me? I can’t go all the way back to the house for my bathing dress.’
Conan drew level and grinned at me. ‘So poor little Hellie will just have to sit on the bank like a good little girl - and not get her feet wet.’ His eyes taunted me.<
br />
‘I shall bathe if I want.’
He laughed, and cantered ahead.
Eddie and Conan were already ducking each other in the water by the time Robbie got back with a bundle of towels. He sprang off his horse, dumped the towels on the ground and headed for the shore, undressing as he ran. Boots and socks, jacket and shirt, trousers and pants were scattered each side of him. He leapt up on to the diving rock and stood poised for a moment with arms outstretched, then his slim young body flashed through the air and sliced the shining surface.
I led my horse and Robbie’s into the shade and tethered them. In the shelter of their bodies I began to unbutton my habit. Eventually I was down to my camisole and knickers; bending down I untied the ribbon below my knees so that the frills hung loose, then ran towards the lake.
The sudden cold shock of the water took my breath away and before I had a chance to get it back, Eddie’s arms came round my waist in a bear hug and my feet shot from under me. I gasped and choked and fought until he slipped away like an eel; I followed in my slow, serious back stroke.
The boys were racing each other across the lake, but I did not like to go so far out of my depth, so I floated in the shallows for a few minutes then swam slowly back along the shore. The thin nainsook of my underwear clung to my body as I clambered out by the diving rock. The rock itself was too hot to lie on until I fetched one of Mrs Rendell’s threadbare towels and stretched out on it. When the sun had dried me I turned over to lie on my front, but this year my chest hurt on the hard surface. Raising myself on my elbows I gazed down proudly at the small curved swellings of my new breasts as they hung forward inside my camisole. I slid my fingertip inside the lace frill and gently stroked their soft fullness, dreaming in the hot sun.
‘Helena.’
I jerked my head up quickly, and looked straight into Conan’s bright blue eyes. He was crouched beside the rock, his head on a level with mine. We gazed at each other for a moment, then he lowered his eyes, and I lay very still while he stared at my breasts. I watched the pink flush run up his cheek until it met the dark curve of his lashes, then slowly he raised his head, and the familiar teasing smile was on his face again. He sprang up on to the rock beside me and commanded, ‘Dry me, Helena.’ But as he squatted down in front of me the towel round his waist slipped, and in the moment before he caught it I saw his maleness, larger and fuller than my brothers’. His face reddened as he tied the towel tightly round himself again, then he suddenly threw back his head and laughed. ‘So we’re quits now, Helena!’
My own face flamed as I picked up the old towel and began to scrub his back.
Next day I woke with the familiar sense of misery as I remembered that my brothers were leaving me. They were laughing and joking at the breakfast table, while I pulled a piece of toast to pieces and tried to force it down my throat. I would miss them - how I would miss them.
‘You’ll drive us to the station, Hellie.’ It was a statement: they did not wait for my nod of acquiescence.
Conan’s long lithe body uncurled itself as they jumped up. ‘I’ll come too.’
I looked up in protest. I did not want to share my brothers’ last hour with anyone else, least of all Conan, who always teased me when I cried. But it was too late, he had already left the morning room. Drooping, I followed. By the time the twins and I were outside Conan was perched up in the driving seat. Eddie jumped up beside him, and I climbed resentfully into the back of the dog cart with Robbie.
Tears filled my eyes as I desperately hugged my brothers goodbye. Then the train was in, they were on it, and only two waving hands in the distance were left to me before they too disappeared. I turned and walked back to the barrier, swallowing the lump in my throat, trying not to disgrace myself in the face of Conan’s mocking grin. But at least he did not say anything as the tears began to trickle down my cheeks.
I hardly noticed that we had turned off the main drive, and were following a rutted track. As we bumped along I raised my swollen eyes to Conan. He said, ‘It’ll be boring back at the house - all those smart friends of Aunt Ria’s waiting for me to make some witty Irish quip.’
He sounded almost resentful, and I felt a flash of sympathy between us. I gulped down my tears. ‘I hate house parties - I don’t know how to converse, and Mother always looks at me so scathingly, as if she knows I’ll never say anything clever in my whole life.’
‘Poor old Hellie.’ Conan’s voice was quite friendly. I liked him better on his own. He pulled Daisy up as we curved past the copse. ‘Let’s go for a walk - it’ll be cooler in here. Will the mare be all right?’
‘Oh yes, Daisy’s very placid.’
Conan looped the reins over the railings and knotted them; Daisy lowered her head and began to graze. He vaulted lightly over the top rail. ‘Come on then.’
As soon as I had climbed over he seized my hand and pulled it through his arm, and for a moment it was as if I were walking with my brothers - but only for a moment. The muscles of Conan’s arms tensed as I held him, and he pressed my hand too tightly against his chest. But I did not mind; I was grateful for his company.
We walked for a while, then he stopped. ‘Are you sad, Hellie - because the twins have gone?’
‘Yes, yes I am - and Guy won’t be home for weeks.’ My voice trembled.
‘Then why don’t we pretend /’m Guy, come early - that would cheer you up, wouldn’t it?’
I opened my mouth to say that he was not really like Guy at all, but there was a look of excitement in his eyes, and I found myself infected by it. ‘Yes,’ I said recklessly, ‘Let’s pretend.’
Conan walked away and jumped up on to a log. ‘There, the train’s just come into the station. Now, Hellie, I’m Guy.’
And for a moment, by a trick of the light, he was Guy. I ran forward, arms outstretched, and he threw himself into them and we hugged each other and I felt suddenly happy again. I raised my head and put my lips to his cheek - but it was smoother than Guy’s. I moved, uncertain, but Conan’s grip tightened and now I wanted to kiss him, so I did. But he turned his face until our lips met. His mouth was soft and warm under mine and I clung to him for a moment, then I broke away and whispered breathlessly, ‘But I don’t kiss Guy like that.’ Conan grinned his wicked grin. ‘Well, I think old Guy’s served his purpose - stand still, Hellie, I’m going to kiss you again.’
I stood quite still while his lips roamed over my neck and cheeks, and circled my mouth and then came to rest on it again. His lips were soft but insistent and gradually I opened my mouth under his, until the tips of our tongues met and danced together in the warm moistness. I clung and clung until he suddenly lifted his mouth and pulled me down hard on to the springy pine-smelling turf. I tripped and fell sprawling on top of him and began to giggle, and he laughed with me as we lay in a tumbled heap.
In the still air we heard the chime of the stable clock and I jumped up and began to brush down my skirt. ‘We must get back - Papa will be wanting the dog cart.’ I felt very shy now, and I ran ahead through the trees - then stopped, confused. Sir Ernest was sitting in the back seat of the cart, legs stretched out, puffing on a large cigar.
‘Ah, good. I was waiting for you youngsters to reappear. I came out for a stroll after breakfast, but it’s too hot for walking now, you shall drive me back.’ He was smiling, but I saw his eyes flicker over my crumpled frock, where stray pine needles still clung. He looked over my shoulder at Conan; his eyes narrowed a little then he guffawed and leant down to give him a buffet between the shoulder blades. Conan laughed as he sprang into the driving seat with the reins in his hands, but I felt hot and embarrassed as I climbed in beside him.
We played croquet in the afternoon. I was very conscious of Conan as his strong arm swung the mallet, and once he brushed past me and my heart beat faster and his bare hand touched mine.
Mother sent Miss Fisher to tell me I must come down to dinner tonight: a guest had had to leave early, so she was a lady short. Normally I would have been appr
ehensive, but tonight I felt a little thrill of excitement at the idea of dining downstairs.
Conan sat opposite me at dinner. He laughed and joked with Juno while I sat dumb. But as Juno turned to her neighbour he raised his wineglass and, in an almost imperceptible gesture, tilted it in my direction before he drank. The colour rose in my cheeks as I looked down at my own childish lemonade.
The gentlemen came into the drawing room almost at once after dinner. Conan strolled over to me. ‘It’s too fine a night to stay indoors - come out on to the terrace.’ I looked up at his face; the blue eyes staring down at me were quite serious now. My heart beat faster as I stood up and followed him.
But we did not stay on the terrace. As soon as we were out of the pool of light cast by the window, Conan reached for my hand and pulled me down the steps and on to the lawn. I glanced back a moment, and saw Sir Ernest’s broad shoulders outlined against the open window - then I was running hand in hand with my cousin across the springy turf. The moon was full and the night was silver and I laughed aloud as we leapt down the last flight of steps. Conan pulled me to a halt; I swayed towards the black shape of his body outlined against the moonlight and felt his warm lips come down on mine. Excitement coursed through me. Then he pulled free and caught my hand again, tugging me on. ‘Where are we going?’
‘To the maze - to see the maze by moonlight.’ His strong fingers hurt my hand as he pulled me on, but I did not care.
The moon cast strange eerie shadows in the maze. They confused me, and once I went wrong, but then we were in the well of light in the centre. Conan’s face was black and white as he turned towards the small pavilion in the clearing and hauled me after him. Inside he suddenly dropped my hand and began to rush from seat to seat. I stood in the doorway, bewildered, as he seized cushion after cushion and threw them in a pile on the wooden floor. Then he swung round, caught me by the arms, and pushed me down in the midst of them.
Song of Songs Page 7