There were no interruptions. The other two men stood expressionless, their eyes cast down, while Ata represented them.
‘There is no doubt,’ he went on, ‘that Marlford was where we wanted to be. But, over time, Miss Barton, we’ve found we’ve had to work with increasing determination to preserve our place here. And now, with the van in the stable yard and unknown young men invited to dine – well, we’re concerned. You might say we’re anxious.’
Ellie wished she could think more clearly, but there was still the rhythmic gallop of her knight’s steed clacking in her head and beneath it, like the rumble of distant thunder, voices, glances, the unanchored words of the boys’ arrival.
‘Look, I know how you like it, of course I do. But I don’t really see that anything has changed. Marlford is fine. It’s just a van.’
Ata began again. ‘If Lady Wilshere had remained, we would have been confident of—’
‘Please don’t! My mother has nothing to do with this.’
He put up a hand in apology and smiled. ‘We don’t wish to cause hurt, Miss Barton, of course. But it’s clear to us that if Lady Wilshere had remained at Marlford, then this conversation would never have been necessary. She was such a young woman when she came, hardly older than you are now, I suppose—’
‘The same age.’
He inclined his head very slightly in acknowledgement. ‘But her influence was immense.’ He glanced for the first time at his friends, for validation of his assessment. They both nodded. ‘We grew to trust her extraordinarily quickly. And she grew to trust us. To rely on us, I would say.’
‘I don’t quite see what you want,’ Ellie said. ‘I’ve heard these stories before.’
‘We’re simply making known our concern, Miss Barton.’ Ata paused. ‘We’re beginning to find your father – well, unreliable.’ He wiped his hand across his mouth. ‘He’s very much the youngest son, I’m afraid, and ever since we first had the pleasure of his acquaintance, well… of course, he was thrown after the war – coming back a hero, and finding there was no one to come back to.’
‘We’ve advised him as best we can, given the circumstances,’ Hindy muttered.
They looked at her, expecting something she did not understand. She glared back in return; they had never before called him a hero, she was sure of that, and she found the idea irritated her.
‘I have a great deal to do.’ She took a step towards the door but it was clear they would not let her pass; they shimmied very slightly sideways, blocking her exit.
‘We simply want to speak to you, Miss Barton,’ Hindy said.
‘But what about? Not about the van again, surely? I really don’t see what I can do.’
‘You’re the future of Marlford, Miss Barton.’ Hindy made it a simple fact. ‘We have to speak to you. We’re old men. When we’re gone—’
‘Oh, wait – no.’ Ellie felt a stab of fear. ‘I don’t see how I’m the future of Marlford. Not at all. With all the debts and Papa and… you’re mistaken.’ She tried again to escape, pushing forwards towards the door.
Luden hooked his arm through Hindy’s to brace their line. ‘We hoped for sons, of course – everyone did,’ he said. ‘We spoke to your mother a great deal about it. But, in the end, circumstances being as they are, there’s just you. It’s an outcome we all have to accept, however painful.’
Ellie felt her cheeks burn. ‘How dare you? How dare you say things like that?’ It was not as angry as she had intended. She heard her own distress too clearly.
‘Miss Barton, we just want to help,’ said Ata. ‘We regard it as our duty…’
But she could not listen to any more. She threw the sack down and pushed past them, flinging her arm hard against Luden’s bony shoulder. She might have called out, she was not sure; all she knew was that she was running from them, ripping through the long, damp grass, her tears choking her.
Turning into the woods, following a line of old trees, Ellie pulled through the brambles and trailing ivy, the hawthorn that snatched at her arms. She ignored the pricks and grazes; she went on too fast, her dress tearing, pushing on, deeper into the wood. She did not know where she was; she had no sense of Marlford, only of the clasp of foliage around her and the men somewhere behind, tilting space, so that no matter how fast or how far she ran, she was always tumbling back towards them.
Bursting out at the far limit of the woods, she was brought up sharply by the sudden cleanness of the sky, and the boundary fence at the edge of the estate, with a crop of barley sparkling beyond. A figure was sitting on the metal railings, precariously balanced, his back to her approach. He was so out of place, such a breach in the confusion of her thoughts, that she did not recognize him, but there was something in the curve of his silhouette that drew her, and she went on watching him.
She stood quietly, knowing only gradually that it was Gadiel. Even then, it was several minutes before she spoke. ‘Did you find a garage, to fix the van?’
He continued to be still; she thought he had not heard her. When he finally turned to her, he seemed grave. ‘No. Not yet.’
She went up to the fence and followed his gaze across the field. ‘It’s a nice day.’
He resisted her pleasantries and slid down from the railing. ‘I felt we might be out of line,’ he said. ‘Last night. Turning up like that.’
‘Oh, no – not at all. Hardly anyone comes. No one comes. But that doesn’t mean…’ She pulled at the fabric of her dress in an attempt to conceal the rips, then worked with quick fingers, gathering up her disordered hair and pinning it tightly. ‘It was a pleasure to meet you. I’m just sorry that supper wasn’t more elegant.’
‘I enjoyed it.’
‘Did you? Good. That’s good.’ She dabbed at a graze on her arm and, for a while, nothing more was said. She wondered at his silence but she liked the way it settled between them, and did not disturb it.
When he finally spoke, it was with reverence. ‘This is such a beautiful place.’
‘Oh, I don’t know…’ She was taken aback by his solemnity. ‘It’s not what it was.’
‘That’s what makes it beautiful, don’t you think?’
This seemed a remarkable statement.
‘I could show you around one day, if you have time. There are some lovely corners left, even now. And you might be here for a few days if you’re waiting for the van to be mended.’
‘I’d like that.’ Gadiel smiled at her. ‘But I’ve explored a fair amount already.’
‘Oh, no, not just around the village—’
‘I wasn’t at the village.’
‘Weren’t you? But you found somewhere to sleep?’
He brushed something from his arm. ‘Yeah, fine, and well… I came back and had a look round. That was all right, wasn’t it?’ He spoke quickly, not allowing her time to answer. ‘And so I’ve seen quite a lot. I was up all night. You can see quite a lot in a night.’
She could not believe this was true. ‘I was up early, too.’
He shook his head. ‘No – all night. I never went to bed.’ He laughed at the look of dismay on her face. ‘Don’t worry. It’s not a crime. We tried to get the radio going so we could listen but there was hardly any reception, so I thought I’d come out and watch the moon instead. But there wasn’t much to see.’ Patchy clouds had quilted the dark; there had been few stars, the sky flat and homely. ‘It was a shame, though, about the radio. Did you hear it?’
Ellie fiddled with a crusted spot of rust on the fence. She had no idea how to reply. So she shook her head.
‘You missed it, too?’ he went on. ‘It’s miserable, isn’t it? It feels like we’ve missed out on something massive.’
He offered her a sad smile; she did not understand the sympathy in it.
‘But I hung around outside, anyway. I needed the air.’ He reached out and took her by the hand, peeling her fingers gently from the fence. ‘And I found something. Something amazing. Come on, I’ll show you.’
He ducked under th
e lower railing and led her over the uneven ground that skirted the field. After a while, they turned back towards the manor, looping right with the mere at their backs, dipping down into a kind of dell, shaded by overhanging trees; huge slabs of coloured quartz, stabbed through with grass, rose in tortured walls high above their heads, closing them in, so that Marlford was out of sight, leaving just a rough sky and an uneasy sense of isolation.
‘It’s the rockery,’ Ellie said.
‘Just wait.’
‘It’s not natural. It was a fashion. They wanted to create a kind of magic landscape. It was a romantic construction – it’s not real.’
Gadiel did not seem to be listening. He pulled her on, sinking slightly into the moss which banked up under an old silver birch but when a fern grazed softly against his leg he stopped, glancing down, and was suddenly aware of her hand in his. ‘Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean…’ He let go and stepped to one side. ‘Look.’
She knew what it would be. In an almost perfect circle of flat ground, enclosed by the largest of the rocks, there was a fantastical stone zoo: a host of small dogs with wings; angelic cats sprawled side by side; horses almost in flight; a petrified piglet with a slumping belly; a rabbit; two owls and a peacock; a mongoose; a kangaroo and some kind of monkey, all draped with stone veils and shrouds, wings stretched, magnificent. The muddle of growth was trimmed here, the statues brushed free of lichen and grime. The animals sat proud of the grass, glaring at the intrusion.
‘It’s the pet cemetery.’ Ellie hardly moved.
Gadiel walked forward into the circle and bent to caress one of the dogs. ‘Really? That’s what it is? All this?’
‘It was my mother’s. She was very fond of animals. She kept all kinds at the house – a sort of menagerie, really. When they died, she had these memorials commissioned. They’re all buried here, around and about.’
‘But they’re fab. A bit weird, obviously – but really fine workmanship.’
‘I believe one or two of them cost a great deal. They were the work of quite well-known sculptors.’ Ellie paused. ‘But most of the originals have been sold to museums – these are just concrete, just replicas.’
Gadiel came back towards her. ‘Your mother must have loved her pets a lot. To do all this for them.’
‘She did. She doted on them. That’s what I’ve been told. The dogs especially – she was never without a little dog. I suppose they were company for her. She was sad, I think. She came here when she was very young. It must have been very hard for her.’
‘You never knew her, then?’
‘No. She died when I was born. There were complications at the birth and she just… faded. But I’ve been told all about her. And I think about her all the time. So it’s as if I knew her, I suppose.’
There was only the slightest of pauses, and when Gadiel spoke again his tone was bright.
‘Last night, when I found all this – well, it was dark and I was lost – I’d been walking for ages, thinking about things – and I thought I’d slipped into some kind of enchanted wood.’ He laughed uneasily. He did not tell her how long he had stared at the animals, paler then in the half-light of dawn, more distant, more celestial. ‘It was scary.’
Ellie laughed, too. ‘I’m sure you could have fought them off if they’d turned savage.’
‘What, a herd of magical stone animals? How strong do you think I am?’
It made her glance at him, his broadness. She frowned and looked away, fixing her gaze on the false angels. ‘It’s nice that you’ve shown me.’
‘But you knew it was here, anyway.’
‘Yes, of course. But, even so. I don’t come here on my own.’
‘I thought I’d discovered something amazing.’ He walked a few steps away.
Ellie felt fixed to the spot. ‘Oh, but you have. It’s quite rare, these days, this kind of thing. My mother was old-fashioned; not many people of her age… well, it is quite amazing, in its way.’
He looked at her. ‘But you don’t like it, do you?’
She was quiet for a moment. ‘I’ve never liked it. I think it’s grotesque.’ She seemed forlorn. ‘But I’ve never told anybody that.’
He wanted to hold her. Even if he could take her hand again, that would be something. But he did not dare.
‘It gave me a shock, in the night, I can tell you,’ he said, too brightly again, making it too much a joke.
‘Yes, I imagine it would,’ she replied.
*
They walked on, emerging from the dip of the rockery, awkward together. The morning felt oddly indefinite. Ellie did not know what to make of this boy alongside her; she found she was puzzled by the sway of his T-shirt, and his scent, like fresh vegetables.
Gadiel spoke again as they made their way across open ground. ‘Look, Ellie – about us coming to the house, and the van, and Dan—’
‘Oh, it doesn’t matter.’ She was quick to answer.
‘You see, when we left you last night—’
‘There’s no harm in the van staying at the stables for a day or two; no harm at all.’
‘No – it’s not that.’ He fell silent again.
‘Really,’ she said. ‘If you want to leave it…’
He stopped and turned to her. His hair was shaggy from the long night outside, his face pale and stubbly, his lips dry. Even the colour of his T-shirt seemed to have been drained by the demands of the morning. Framed by the tree trunks of the old woods, he seemed part of the land, his physical strength offering some kind of protection; Ellie could not help but think of fairytales.
‘Look, I’m not making much sense, I know.’ He tried to settle his voice. ‘But, you see, I can’t tell you everything, not yet, even if I wanted to, but… but, Ellie, listen…’ He paused, closing his eyes momentarily before beginning again in a new tone. ‘Anyway, me and Dan’ll be around for a few days. You might see us. And if you need anything – well, we can talk again.’
‘I rarely spend much time in the village,’ she replied. ‘There’s no need.’
‘No, no. I suppose not. But, well, you never know.’
Just then, the stable clock struck, the tinny notes seeming to shimmer on the mere, a faltering memory of many days.
‘Oh.’ Ellie was flustered. ‘I’d no idea it was so late. I have to go.’
He shrugged. ‘Fair enough.’
‘The clock runs late anyway, and I have to go to the library.’
‘Really – it’s fine. It was nice.’
‘Thank you,’ she said, as if he were releasing her, and she hurried away.
Eight
A thin mist hovered low, a breath of damp air creeping across from the mere, silvering the grass, but above it the day was becoming bright and clear, solidifying. Ellie slipped quickly through the haze, the dew soaking her legs, chilling her.
Oscar called to her from a distance. ‘What’s that, Ellie, at the stables?’
She stopped, not quite sure what she might have heard.
‘Ellie!’
He swiped his stick ahead of him in the long grass, sending water spraying into the air; there was, just for a moment, a fluorescence around him, sparkling bands of colour. She reached for the stone balustrade that marked the edge of the old lawns and attempted to anchor herself there; if she went towards him, she knew, her perspective would shift and the rainbow would vanish.
‘Ellie? There’s a van – in the stable yard.’
He was ordinary by the time he reached her, his coat sagging and wet.
‘Yes, I know,’ she said. ‘It’s broken. They’re sending someone to repair it.’
‘Who? Who’s sending for someone? Whose vehicle is it? The men came first thing this morning to tell me… and I had no idea – I could not imagine… there’s a vehicle there, Ellie.’
The impact of such an alarming idea slapped him to a halt.
‘Didn’t they tell you about the visitors?’ she asked.
‘No. They simply directed me towards the stable ya
rd, at which point I discovered the vehicle.’ He looked over her head in the direction of the manor as though the van might at any moment come hurtling towards them through the neglected gardens.
‘Well, never mind… it’s all right, Mr Quersley. I know. I know about the van.’
‘I supposed you must. I supposed somebody must. But I wasn’t prepared for such a thing.’
‘It’s just being parked there until they come to mend it. I agreed it would be all right. It’s not in the way. Some people came to the house with it. I tried to tell you.’
He hardly seemed to have heard her, and she did not know where to begin or what she might say. It was like remembering a windy day: there was only an impression of billowing voices, insubstantial colour, a buffeting sense of something extraordinary. But she could not have said exactly how it had been, nor could she have adequately described it.
‘It’s rather an eyesore, Ellie. It should be removed.’
She held quite still. ‘I like it.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. How on earth can you like such a thing? It doesn’t belong here.’ He looked about him, reassuring himself that everything else was as it should be: the line of oaks that marked the furthest extent of the old gardens; the thickening trees towards the mere; the balance of earth and sky in this particular horizon, so perfectly known. ‘It was a shock to see it there, and I’d prefer it was removed. It’s not my place, of course, to take charge of things beyond the farm, but if you need my assistance with it – I can make arrangements, Ellie.’
She shook her head. ‘I think it’s all right. I’m sorry – I should have said something sooner, I suppose.’
‘Yes, well – now that we’re clear. We are clear, aren’t we, Ellie? It cannot remain.’
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