by Erica James
‘Sì,’ said Allegra, finally speaking, ‘che peccato—’
‘In English!’ Arthur said with a bored shake of his head.
Allegra glared at him. ‘I was going to say, what a shame that whoever hit you did not do a better job and make it impossible for you to open your big offensive mouth.’
A sharp rap on the table brought silence to the room. ‘Enough!’ said Romily. ‘Arthur, if you have nothing constructive or pleasant to say, kindly leave the rest of us to finish our breakfast in peace.’
Wholly satisfied with the outcome of his contribution to the proceedings, and with exaggerated insouciance, Arthur tossed his napkin onto the table, pushed back his chair and slowly stood up. ‘Anything you say, stepmother dearest. Your wish is my command.’
‘If only that were true,’ he heard her say as he left the room at an unhurried pace.
As the bells rang out, calling the village to morning service, Arthur set off for the church, through the gate at the end of the garden. Ahead of him he could see Kit, and it wasn’t long before he’d caught up with him. ‘You couldn’t persuade Hope to join us, then?’ he said to his brother.
‘It was no more than a passing thought to ask her. But I’m surprised a raging atheist like you is so keen to go to church.’
‘I could say the same of you. Or are you suddenly in need of some special spiritual guidance?’
‘I would have thought you’d be the one more in need of that. Honestly, Arthur, why do you have to keep goading us? Can’t you take up fox hunting or some other barbaric blood sport?’
‘A man must take his pleasure where and how he can.’
‘Yes, but if you carry on like this, Romily will report back to Roddy that we haven’t fulfilled the wishes of Dad’s will.’
Arthur laughed. ‘Plenty of time yet to make a good impression on our stepmama.’
‘I wouldn’t count on it.’ Kit came to an abrupt stop. ‘Look, you may have married money with Irene, but the rest of us aren’t so fortunate. Can’t you just for once in your life think about somebody else’s situation rather than your own?’
‘Come off it, Kit, you know as well as I do we’re never going to see a penny of the old man’s money. The four of us being forced to spend a week together is nothing more than a charade, one last attempt by our father to humiliate us. You must surely have figured it out by now. Romily gets the lot no matter how we behave.’
‘I don’t believe you! Dad wouldn’t do that. He was many things, but he never went back on his word.’
‘I wish I had your sunny optimism. And who knows, maybe Romily and Roddy cooked this little enterprise up between them.’
‘For what purpose?’
‘Ah well, that may yet come to light. All I’m saying is that Roddy might not be the confirmed old bachelor he once was.’
Kit’s only reason for attending church that morning was to snatch another opportunity of seeing Evelyn again. She had said last night that she would be helping with the Sunday school, and he had decided to surprise her at St Mary’s. What he had not bargained on was his wretched brother accompanying him.
They left the bright sunshine behind them and entered the cool, subdued interior of the church, each taking a hymn book from Cynthia Blackwood, Dr Garland’s receptionist, as well as an abashed stare of scrutiny, particularly in Arthur’s direction. Typical Arthur, he met the woman’s eyes with bold insolence. ‘Has no one ever told you it’s rude to stare, Miss Blackwood?’ he remarked.
Her face quivered with outrage and Kit moved his brother swiftly on and pushed him into one of the pews near the back. ‘How you’ve reached this age without somebody murdering you, I’ll never know,’ he muttered with exasperation.
‘The Lord looks after his own,’ responded Arthur, who proceeded to drop to his knees in an ostentatious display of devotion.
Kit rolled his eyes. And then he saw Evelyn entering the church with her brother Edmund pushing a cumbersome wheelchair. Sitting bolt upright in the chair was Mildred Flowerday. To Kit’s inexpert eye, the woman had never looked better, her plump, rosy-cheeked face giving her the appearance of a well-fed cat who had consumed more than its fill of the very best-quality cream. Whatever health problems she suffered, eating was plainly not one of them.
The trio, unaware of Kit or his brother, progressed up the church towards the front. It gave Kit the chance to admire Evelyn. How pretty she looked in her buttercup-yellow floral dress and cream cardigan. Her dark hair was tied back, revealing more of her profile and elegant neck, and perched on her head was a gay little straw hat with a whisper of cream veil. She looked the picture of demure modesty, and a far cry from the vivid memory he had of her late last night.
As the service got under way, with Reverend Tate droning on and on, Kit distracted himself by thinking how much he’d enjoyed being with Evelyn yesterday, particularly when he’d walked her home to Meadow Lodge and risked kissing her. The passionate fervency of her response had taken him aback. But only momentarily. Afterwards, and somewhat breathlessly, they had smiled shyly at each other and in the still of the dark night walked the remaining distance hand in hand. It had been a perfect end to a perfect day, and Kit very much wanted to find a way to experience that pleasure again.
A sharp dig in the ribs made him start, and he turned to his brother.
‘Reverend Tate’s giving a sermon just for our benefit,’ muttered Arthur.
A few seconds later, Kit realised what Arthur meant. The vicar’s theme was the return of the prodigal son.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
It was with mixed emotions that Allegra had reluctantly agreed to look after Annelise. She could have refused; after all, what did she care about Hope’s problems? Would Hope ever do the same for her if the boot was on the other foot?
But therein lay the dilemma for Allegra. Before too long she might very well be in precisely the same situation, and who would turn a hand to help her? There was also the fear that she didn’t want to antagonise Romily, because without Uncle Jack’s money life would be exceedingly grim in the coming year. With that fear constantly in mind, she had no choice but to comply with the terms of Jack Devereux’s will, and that meant helping Hope, and appearing to do so with good grace.
She had to admit, though, there was rather more to it than just that. It had occurred to Allegra that looking after Annelise might give her an idea of what it would be like to be solely responsible for a child, even if only for a couple of hours.
With every conceivable childcare instruction laid out for her by Hope – treating Allegra as she always had, as worse than a simpleton – she had decided the easiest thing to do would be to take the infant for a walk in the pram. The fresh air would do them both good. With her stomach still churning queasily, she had barely eaten any breakfast, and what little she had consumed had not stayed down.
After Kit and Arthur had left for church, she set off with Annelise sitting up attentively in the pram and seeming to enjoy the view of the lane and hedgerow. In no real hurry, Allegra meandered along in the warm sunshine at a leisurely pace, pointing things out to the child – a peacock butterfly sunning itself on a clump of nettles, a pair of swallows wheeling through the sky, a sprawl of rosy-pink campion, and a large bumble bee busily inspecting a patch of thistles and buttercups. When they came to a part of the hedgerow that was smothered in bindweed, Allegra plucked a trumpet-like white flower and gave it to Annelise. The child studied it thoughtfully for a few seconds, then made to put it in her mouth.
‘No, cara!’ Allegra cried in alarm, snatching the flower out of her hands.
Annelise pursed her lips and looked instantly on the verge of tears. To distract her, Allegra plucked a long blade of grass and gave that to her instead – as a child she had often sucked on one, and she hadn’t come to any harm, had she? The little girl looked thoroughly pleased with the exchange and waved it about as thou
gh it were a great treasure.
Disaster averted, Allegra pushed on with the pram, pausing to lean against a five-bar gate to show Annelise the tractor that was ploughing the field. Observing its progress, she turned at the sound of an approaching vehicle. As it drew near, she saw that it was a truck; a military truck. The driver, dressed in some kind of uniform, beeped the horn and gave her a cheery wave as it trundled by.
She watched it disappear into the distance and thought of Elijah and his eagerness to enlist in the army. There had been no doubt in his mind that Britain would be forced to honour its pledge to stand by Poland when – not if – Hitler invaded. His certainty had upset and unsettled her.
‘I’m not the naive boy you left behind,’ he’d said when she had questioned his keenness to fight. ‘I know what I’m doing and it’s the right choice.’
But did he really know what he was doing, what the danger would be? For that matter, did anyone ever know what they were doing and why? Allegra had begun to think her whole life had been one series of bad decisions, all made with what she believed had been absolute certainty. Now all she knew was that the life she had thought she would lead was never to be, just as she’d told Elijah last night.
Once she had a complete circuit of the village, with Annelise still happily viewing everything from the vantage point of the pram, she turned for home, back to Island House.
Home …
No more than a turn of phrase, she told herself. Island House was not her home; it never had been and never would be!
Yet for all her defiance – her instinctive readiness to reject the place that to all intents and purposes had been her home for seven years – she could not deny that right now, breathing in the clear warm air and enjoying the quiet serenity of Melstead St Mary was better than being stuck in a stiflingly hot Venice with Luigi’s debtors hounding her, as well as the repulsive Signor Pezzo making lecherous suggestions as to how she could pay her rent.
There was nobody about when she arrived back, and after fetching a blanket from the boathouse, she laid it on the grass in the dappled shade of the weeping beech tree. She lifted Annelise out of the pram and put her on the blanket, in the hope that she might settle there. But the little girl had other ideas, and raising her arms, she leaned appealingly towards Allegra.
‘Oh, all right then,’ conceded Allegra, lifting her onto her lap. At once the child smiled prettily and began to bounce on her dainty bare feet, as if performing a little dance. Allegra couldn’t help but laugh. ‘What a funny thing you are,’ she said.
Seeming to agree with this, Annelise nodded and pressed a finger to Allegra’s lips. Allegra pretended to snap like a crocodile and bite her finger, making the girl laugh and then poke her finger again into her mouth. Allegra duly obliged and pretended again to bite her finger, resulting in yet more laughter. They played the game over and over until Annelise grew bored and showed signs of wanting to explore beyond the blanket.
Bent over her, and holding her by her hands, Allegra walked her slowly down towards the edge of the pond, where she carefully dipped the child’s toes into the water, eliciting a squeal. Whether it was shock or delight that made Annelise cry out, Allegra didn’t know, but she tried it again and provoked another squeal, followed by a deliciously joyous chuckle. After doing this several more times, and with her arms beginning to ache, she carried Annelise back to the blanket in the hope that she might now be ready for a nap.
Initially the child resisted, but when Allegra gently stroked her soft peachy cheek, she almost instantly closed her eyes. Amazingly, it wasn’t long before she was asleep. Feeling tired herself, Allegra lay down beside her and stared up at the blue sky through the fluttering leaves of the beech tree.
She was grateful for the chance to rest; she had hardly slept last night, having spent most of it talking to Elijah. It was his insistence on wanting to know all about her life in Italy that had done it, and once she’d begun to talk, the words had just poured out of her. It had come as a huge relief, an unburdening of herself, but the next thing she had known, daylight was streaming in through the window, the birds were singing and she realised she was covered with a blanket in the chair where she must have fallen asleep. Opposite her Elijah was sleeping soundly, his head tilted to one side, his mouth slightly parted.
Her reaction was not one of gratitude that he had been so kind as to put a blanket around her so she could sleep more comfortably, but one of anger – why had he allowed this to happen, and how on earth was she going to explain why she had stayed the night here? Her only thought was to leave at once in the hope she would get back to Island House before anyone noticed she wasn’t there. She was almost at the door to make her escape when Elijah stirred. ‘Where are you off to?’ he asked, rubbing his eyes, his voice thick with sleep.
‘I have to go.’
‘Let me walk with you.’
‘No! I can’t be seen with you. Not at this time of day.’
He’d frowned. ‘In that case, you’d better go.’
‘I didn’t mean it that way,’ she’d said, regretting her choice of words.
‘Just go,’ he’d muttered. ‘You’re good at that.’
The cold accusation in his voice had followed her back to Island House. She could hear it now as she succumbed to exhaustion and drifted off to sleep.
When she woke, feeling pleasingly refreshed, she stretched her arms above her head and turned to check on Annelise.
But Annelise wasn’t there. She was gone.
Allegra leapt to her feet and looked around her, frantically scanning the garden, but there was no sign of the child anywhere.
With her blood running cold and her heart beating fast, she ran to the edge of the pond where they’d been playing before.
‘Annelise!’ she called desperately. ‘Annelise!’
Chapter Twenty-Eight
‘I was asleep for no more than a few minutes!’ Allegra wailed, the tears streaming down her cheeks. ‘I just don’t know how she could have moved so fast! She can’t even walk!’
‘But how could you fall asleep when you were responsible for looking after her?’ screamed Hope wildly, her face contorted with petrified horror and furious disbelief. ‘I don’t understand, how could you do that?’
‘Shouting at one another is not going to help us find Annelise,’ said Romily firmly, trying hard to hide her own fear. ‘Now please, just calm down, the pair of you.’
‘Calm?’ screeched Hope, ‘You expect me to be calm when Annelise has probably drowned!’
The three of them were up to their waists in water, desperately searching amongst the pondweed and reeds for the little girl, and God help them if they did find her, thought Romily with sickening dread, because by now, if she had fallen in, the poor wretch must surely be dead. Allegra had no idea how long she’d been asleep, so it was anybody’s guess how long the child had been crawling around on her own.
When Allegra had come running up to the house, wild-eyed and soaked to the skin, and screaming like a banshee, Romily had resorted to slapping her face to get some sense out of her. The second she realised what the girl was saying, she’d shouted to Hope and Florence to help with the search, and to Mrs Partridge to call for Dr Garland. Then she’d raced down to the pond with the others chasing after her.
But now she was forced to accept that nothing would come of them thrashing about in the pond. If Annelise had fallen in and been trapped under the water by weeds, she was long since dead. As gruesome as it sounded, and it would be a grisly discovery indeed, they would have to wait for her body to float to the surface.
‘I think we have to hold onto the hope that she didn’t come anywhere near the water,’ Romily said, clutching at the only straw she could. ‘It’s possible Florence and Mrs Partridge may find her playing happily somewhere on her own.’
She started to move towards the edge of the pond, willing the others t
o follow. Allegra did, but Hope remained where she was.
‘We can’t give up,’ she said, her voice tight with shock. ‘We have to keep looking.’ She started to wade out towards the middle of the pond.
‘Come back,’ Romily said. ‘The water’s deep there.’
‘I have to keep looking for her. I can’t let Sabine and Otto down. I have to find …’ Romily didn’t catch the rest of what Hope was saying, as she suddenly ducked beneath the surface of the water and disappeared from sight.
It was then that Dr Garland appeared, calling across the lawn to them. ‘I came as fast as I could,’ he said, breathing heavily, ‘but I was over at Lower End Farm. Have you found her?’
Allegra began sobbing hysterically again, dropping to her knees dramatically, invoking God to have mercy in a stream of English and Italian. And though a part of Romily wanted to scream and shout at the stupid girl for allowing this to happen, she simply shook her head in response to the doctor’s question.
‘We’ve searched the pond as much as we can,’ she said, shivering with cold, ‘but only a miracle would enable us to find Annelise alive now if she is in there.’
Dr Garland had noticed that Hope was still in the water. ‘She should come out,’ he said, above Allegra’s keening.
‘I’ve told her that, but she won’t listen.’ Wringing out the lower part of her dress, Romily added, ‘Perhaps you could persuade her to give up while I deal with Allegra.’
She was about to bend down to Allegra when Florence came running towards them.
‘She’s safe!’ she called. ‘Mr Devereux has her!’
To Romily’s disbelief, and enormous relief, Arthur then appeared through the gate at the end of the garden. He was sauntering along without a care in the world, and with Annelise slung over his shoulder like a kitbag.
Arthur was enjoying himself immensely. He hadn’t had this much fun in ages. And the best part was seeing Allegra squirm with guilt and shame.