by K. M. Peyton
Had Helena wanted to die? Was the unearthly music her swansong? How could anyone guess how her mind worked, so disabled by her lack of senses?
She saw Antony surface again, leaning his arms on the punt. Simon bobbed up beside him and they spoke to each other and then dived again. Most of the others had backed away now as time was passing and a terrible silence now fell on the crowd that was as cruel as all the screaming. Only Barky’s yapping echoed across the water.
Lily cuffed him. ‘Be quiet!’
He gave her an offended glance and lay down. She felt a terrible stillness take hold of her, freezing her tears, just as now all the boats were still on the water, the swimmers climbing back on board. They were turning away, starting to row for home, save for a few waiting. Squashy was sitting in Helena’s punt, waiting to see her home. The silence was painful after the crazy party noise; only the owls called, oblivious.
Lily waited.
She lost all sense of time. The full moon seemed relentless now, when a sweet darkness needed to fall, to pull a curtain over what had happened. Antony and Simon eventually gave up, exhausted, and swam back to the punt. Squashy was waiting for them. Lily didn’t want him to go back across the lake, and stood up, shouting for him.
Barky started off again, and Antony called out, ‘Lily!’
‘I want Squashy back!’
They rowed back to where she stood waiting, and Squashy jumped out. Lily could not say anything, appalled at Antony’s despair and grief.
Simon looked up at her, grey-faced. He nodded at Antony and said to Lily, ‘I’ll stay with him, take him home. I won’t leave him.’
‘No. Good.’
‘Cedric’s still looking.’
‘He knows the lake best.’
‘Are you all right, Lily? To go home alone?’
‘Yes, of course. I must take Squashy.’
‘He thinks she’s swum home.’
‘If only.’
They rowed away and Lily walked home with Squashy, who thought he would see Helena in the morning.
‘No, she’s still in the lake.’
‘I’ll find her and tell her to go home.’
‘Yes, you do that.’
‘In the morning.’
He skipped along, the water flying from him. Barky trotted close.
The lights went out in the grotto.
13
In spite of what had happened Lily went home and slept dreamlessly. When she awoke it was full daylight and she dressed quickly and went down the ladder, still stupefied with what she could remember. Her father was sitting at the table. Seeing him, she started to cry.
‘Eh, lass, don’t take it to heart. It were nothing to do with you.’
‘Have they found her?’
‘No. I’ve been out. They’ve the police and everything up there, and a couple of divers. I didn’t speak to anyone.’
Lily put her head down on her arms and sobbed. Her father watched her, then put his hand on her shoulder.
‘There, don’t go on. You could say it’s a blessing, after all. God’s way of sorting things.’
Lily could not say that she was crying for Antony more than Helena. It had been a stunning ending after all; she would never forget the unearthly voice echoing over the lake. It should have been a beautiful finale to an amazing party but, as her father remarked, God had sorted things. Maybe it was a blessing, but certainly not for Antony. She did not dare contemplate what it meant for Antony.
‘Where’s Squashy?’
‘He’s up there, watching. He says she’s hiding.’
‘Poor Squashy.’
‘Aye, poor Squashy.’ Gabriel’s voice was heavy.
‘I’ll go and fetch him.’
‘I’ll make you a drink. You two’ll be best down here while all this is going on. You don’t want to get involved.’
He made her a thin brew of tea and she drank it and went out. The morning was beautiful, just as the night had been, and the lake lay innocently empty. No boats, not even the swans. Several cars were parked by the bank on the other side, and the searching seemed to be going on up by the dam at the far end of the lake, way beyond the grotto. The smart cars of the party-goers had mostly departed.
Lily felt calmer after walking as far as the grotto. It was true what her father had said, that Helena’s dying was a blessing: how ever could she had lived on into old age in that weird set-up with the dreadful Rose and Violet? Helena was at peace. Perhaps her song had been a longing for death and peace, how could one tell?
She hesitated at the bridge that led into the grotto, but decided she did not want to see inside it again. Its magic would certainly be dissipated by now.
Squashy was coming towards her along the side of the lake, Barky trotting beside him. He saw her and came up.
‘Helena’s asleep. I can’t wake her up.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘She won’t wake up. I shook her. But she didn’t.’
‘Squashy! Where is she?’
‘Up there, in the reeds.’
‘But they’re all searching, the police and everyone! You haven’t told them?’
‘No. I was coming to tell you.’
‘Oh, Squashy!’
‘I’ll show you.’
Lily followed him, her heart thumping nervously. She wouldn’t have chosen to see Helena’s body but now she felt excited – that Squashy had found her! Dear Squashy, who thought she was asleep! There was a small inlet beyond the grotto which she knew well, as it was a place where the water was shallow and she had come here fishing with Squashy when he was in his trolley, and now Helena had taken it for her resting place.
It was very quiet, hidden from the top of the lake where all the excitement was, and Helena lay there just as Squashy thought, apparently asleep, washed into the reeds with her golden hair bobbing in the gentle wavelets, her gorgeous dress spread around her. Her face was turned up to the sun, her eyes were closed, and her expression was one of tranquillity, acceptance. She was just as beautiful in death as she had been in life, no sign of the struggle of drowning – how did one drown? Lily wondered. She had always thought it must be horrible, yet there were no signs of horror here. Only peace. Was it as her father had suggested, God’s blessing, that he took her and did not let her suffer? How could they ever know?
She stood quietly, moved by the fact that she was feeling comforted by looking at Helena rather than shocked and distressed. She was so much at peace. How could one be sorry for her? It seemed a fitting end now to the wild party, the full circle through excitement and joy to peace and oblivion. Squashy was playing with Barky, undismayed. Her father was right, Lily thought, that it was a blessing.
‘She’s not asleep, Squashy. She’s dead. You know about dead?’
Squashy considered.
‘Like our mother,’ Lily prompted.
But he had never known her. ‘Like that cow that Cedric buried?’
‘Yes. The cow died and that was the finish of her. He buried her in the ground. Helena will be buried in the ground. Because she’s no longer there. She’s gone, and left her body behind.’
‘Where’s she gone?’
‘To heaven. Where all dead people go. Nobody knows what’s it’s like there. You only find out when you’re dead, but when you’re dead you can’t come back and tell anyone, so nobody knows.’
Lily wasn’t sure about heaven and not sure about comparing Helena to Cedric’s cow, but it was something Squashy seemed to understand.
‘That’s why she wouldn’t wake up? She’s not here any more.’
‘That’s right.’
‘Barky won’t die.’
Lily did not feel up to contradicting this and coping with the eruption it would cause, so did not reply. She knew she had to go on to the end of the lake by the dam and tell the men where Helena was, but for a while she stayed. Barky licked Helena’s face.
‘He loves her,’ Squashy said.
Lily felt bereft, thinking of Antony
– what he had to cope with now, just when everything had been going so stupendously right. Was he searching up by the dam? She wanted to see him very badly.
‘Come on. We’ll go and tell them where she is.’
Squashy followed her along the shore, showing a lively interest in death. Do cows go to heaven? Do you meet all the other dead people? Do you have to talk to the horrid ones? What do you get to eat? Lily did not feel qualified to answer any of his questions and was glad to come across Cedric just before they got to the dam.
‘Are you all right?’ he asked her.
‘Yes.’
‘The police are here. They’re asking for Antony but I don’t know where he is.’
‘I don’t know either. But we’ve found Helena. Squashy found her.’
‘Oh, good. Well done, Squashy. He can show them where.’
‘She’s down in that little reedy inlet. Where we used to fish.’
‘Oh God, poor Helena. But what a way to go – unbelievable! The whole night …’ He shook his head. ‘I can’t get it out of my mind. The police are here – not sure why, asking all sorts of questions, mainly about where is Mr Sylvester. None of us know, I don’t think even Antony knows. And nobody knows where Antony’s gone. He’s not in the house. I guess he’s with Simon, but I’m not saying anything. I don’t know why they’re so interested.’
‘Now they know where she is they’ll check her out and go away, I should think.’
‘Our men are helping. They can get a cart and take her round to the house, but we need Antony. Or my parents will see to it, get her laid out properly and all that. And a funeral to arrange. Antony must sort it out with Reverend Simmonds.’
‘I’ll go and see if he’s at Simon’s.’
Lily was impressed with how Cedric seemed to be so much in charge. He went off to tell the police and the farm men, and she turned back, not wanting to see poor Helena manhandled back to the house. Cedric had been very useful the night before too, sorting out the drunken idiots. She had not noticed how much he seemed to have grown up, always having seen him in the shadow of the three superior brains. Perhaps when it came to practical things he was like herself, feet on the ground, a normal country person, untainted by public school ethics, unburdened by intellect.
She hurried back home, past Helena without looking again, and leaving Squashy to tell the tale to her father while she continued up to the village to Simon’s house. She knocked on the door of the Goldbeater house. What a lovely name he had, she thought while she was waiting … Simon Goldbeater … better than Sylvester … but Mrs Lily Goldbeater didn’t have the appeal of Mrs Lily Sylvester … she didn’t really like Simon very much after all; he could be very superior …
‘Oh, hullo, Simon. I’m looking for Ant. He’s needed. Is he here?’
‘Yes. Who wants him?’
‘The police, Helena, everyone.’
‘You’d better come in.’
Mrs Goldbeater came bustling down the hall. ‘Oh, Lily dear, what’s the news?’
‘We found Helena. They’re taking her back to the house. They want Antony. The police want him and he has to see to things.’
‘Oh dear. I told him he should be back down there, he can’t go into hiding.’
‘They want to know where Mr Sylvester is.’
‘Come and see him. Tell him all this. It seems like nobody knows where Mr Sylvester is.’
Antony was sitting in a chair in Mr Goldbeater’s study. He looked terrible, white-faced, red-eyed, stricken. He did not get up when he saw Lily, but gave a sort of groan.
‘They’ve found her. You’ve got to come. They want you.’
‘I can’t—’
‘You’ve got to. There’s no one else, Ant. You’ve got to tell them what to do.’
‘There, we’ve been telling him that, to get in touch with his father, to think ahead what to do with the poor girl, but he’s all to pieces.’
Simon said, ‘Come on, Ant. You’ve got to face the music. It wasn’t your fault, stop crucifying yourself. I’ll come with you, and Lily, and we’ll get John – he can start sorting out the funeral with his father. There’s tons of people to help you.’
‘And Cedric’s in charge taking her home. Come on, Ant.’
‘Yes, dear boy. Pull yourself together. You can stay here as long as you want, but they need your authority to decide what to do. Even if they find where your father is, it will be days before he can get back.’
With everyone goading him, Antony struggled to his feet. He was wearing some of Simon’s old clothes and it seemed to be an effort for him to merely stand up. Certainly he had exhausted himself the day before, especially with the time he had spent swimming in the lake searching, but there was a desperation beyond the physical exhaustion. No doubt it was grief for Helena finely balanced by fear of his father. Lily wanted to hug him and say sweet things, but she could see he was hardly aware of her presence.
‘They’ve found her, Ant, that’s the best news,’ Simon said. ‘Come on, let’s get going.’
Simon’s mother saw them to the door. ‘And bring him back here, Simon. He doesn’t want to stay in that awful place all alone.’
With a body, Lily thought. She wondered suddenly as they walked through the village towards the gates of Lockwood Hall whether anyone had thought to free Rose and Violet. Had they even heard the news? The thought gave her the shivers. She must remember, in case. Surely the rugger boys had let them out before they drove off home?
There were several police cars parked on the drive overlooking the lake. The farmworkers had all gone. Only Cedric was sitting on the grass, gazing out over the water. There was no breeze, still a cloudless sky, just as beautiful as the day before. But quite different.
Cedric got up. ‘They’ve brought her into the house, Antony. Rose and Violet have taken over and made them carry her up to her room. But the police are looking for you. They’re going through all your father’s things, in his study, say they’re trying to find out where he is, because you’re still a minor. Seems a bit of a cheek to me. You’d better go and talk to them.’
They all went into the house. The kitchen was in a shambles and the house was as cold as always, in spite of the sun outside. Whoever built a great house facing north? Lily wondered. It was a horrible place, and she hated it. They walked down to Mr Sylvester’s study and went in, all of them.
There were four policemen there. One of them was sitting at the desk with all the drawers open, rifling through the contents. There were piles of files and papers that he had pulled out stacked on the desk top and some tumbled on the floor. The other three were nosing into the shelves and cupboards, pulling things out, more like burglars than policemen.
‘What on earth are you doing?’ Simon said sharply.
The man at the desk stood up and faced them. Ignoring Simon, he said, ‘Which of you is Antony Sylvester?’
‘I am.’
‘You others can go.’
‘We’re not going,’ Simon said. ‘What authority have you got to go through Mr Sylvester’s study? You were called here because a girl drowned. You’ve no right in here.’
Lily was stunned by Simon’s attack.
‘We are searching for Mr Claude Sylvester’s present whereabouts. He needs to be informed. Perhaps Mr Antony Sylvester can help us in this matter?’
‘I’ve no idea where he is.’
‘Isn’t that very strange, that he didn’t inform you?’
‘No. He doesn’t tell me anything. I don’t know where he is and I don’t know when he’s coming back.’
‘If,’ said one of the policemen.
Simon shot him a daggers look. He said, ‘All you are here for is to enquire into Helena’s death. We can tell you exactly what happened.’
‘We need the body to be identified. The young man can do that now – he is her brother, I presume?’ He told one of the other policemen to take Antony upstairs.
‘I’ll come with you,’ Lily said, and as no one demurre
d she followed Antony and his escort out of the study. She reached out and caught Antony’s cold hand. ‘We’ll look after you, Antony,’ she whispered. ‘And don’t be afraid. Helena looks lovely, just as she always did, very peaceful.’
Antony had to lead the way to Helena’s room as the policeman in charge quickly got lost. As he opened the door and Rose and Violet saw who it was they sprung round from the bed where Helena lay and launched into a tirade of abuse. Two little sharks, Lily thought, snapping white teeth; she could not believe the venom.
‘Ladies, ladies, please! Not in front of the dead.’
The policeman’s authority silenced them. Lily dragged Antony to the bedside and he stared down at Helena’s sweet face with tears running down his face and nodded speechlessly to the policeman’s questions to confirm her identity. Lily cried too, and the policeman had to blow his nose, not trained to cope with the emotion. He hurried away, leaving them, but Antony had no wish to stay with a further tirade from Rose and Violet, having no strength, it appeared, to silence them. Lily supposed he accepted the dreadful things they were saying. She wanted to scream back at them but retreat was the best option.
‘You must sack them, Antony, pay them off and they will never come here again. They are terrible people.’
She slammed the door behind her. Antony went on down the stairs, and never said another word.
14
They all went back to Simon’s house and his parents made them welcome. Even me, Lily thought, the servant … what nice people they were! If only Antony had had such nice parents! Boring old John joined them and said he had fixed everything with the undertakers, and his father had made a date for the funeral and everything was underway. He would say a few words. They should ask me, Lily thought. I could say far better words than John would ever dream up. But he was a good old stick and had done all the donkey work, which was really Antony’s province, Antony having fallen to pieces. But as the day drew on, plied with good food and Mrs Goldbeater’s maternal hospitality, he started to come to. They sat out on the lawn over a picnic lunch and Simon’s parents came out too, curious to hear what the police had been up to.