‘Hello, Aunt Em.’ Jonny put a holdall down on Emilia’s kitchen floor. She was making up Thermos flasks and packing up the mid-morning crib for Tom and the rest of those out making hay. ‘Got room for a refugee?’
‘Who?’ she smiled. He was always in a jaunty mood nowadays, with the perpetual addition of a camera in hand. Jonny never took many minutes in sizing up a subject. He spent a lot of time in the darkroom and he was planning to submit his steadily growing collection for sale soon. Everyone agreed he showed a highly professional flair. His photographs showed emotion and fluidity, and stolen moments of time which aroused the imagination.
‘Me. The sprogs at Tremore have contracted the measles en masse. Father and Susan suggested I stay here until the worst is over. I offered to help out but they insisted they and the housekeeper could manage. They’ll ring if they need anything and I’ll drop it over.’
‘Are the children very poorly?’
‘No. Just a bit tetchy. The doctor’s not worried about any of them. I promise I won’t get under your feet, Aunt Em.’
‘I know that, Jonny. You’re always welcome here. You can have the room Abbie used.’ She glanced out of the window to check on Paul. He was tearing about on his tricycle, madly honking the horn at a straying hen which ran away squawking in alarm. He’d only been outside ten minutes but was already grimy and his thick black hair unruly. ‘That makes over half the village children are down with measles now, quite an epidemic. Mr Patterson said if that mark was reached he’d close the school and the play would have to be postponed. I hope Paul gets a mild dose and gets it over with. These diseases are so much harder if you get them as an adult. Complications are more likely then.’
Jonny went to the window. ‘Look at him out there. Paul’s as tough as any Harvey. Measles would just glance off him. Once I know I’m not needed as an errand boy at home I shall push off for a few days, perhaps to the Isles of Scilly. Should get some beautiful pics. Fantastic gardens there. I’m hoping to get commissions up and down the country. I’ll make sure I’m back for the play. Any news from Abbie?’
Emilia shook her head. ‘Not a word.’
‘I never thought she’d go off like that.’ Jonny was stern. ‘A bit selfish of her. I know she was gloomy over Mark, but it doesn’t make sense. She didn’t even say goodbye to me and I thought we were friends.’
Emilia paused while pushing the last flask into a second canvas bag. ‘She said she would get in touch with you. She told me she had an urgent meeting with her publisher. After the upset of the day before, I admit I didn’t take a lot of notice, but thinking about it now it does seem rather strange. She asked me to phone Honor and tell her what she was doing. Honor said she had always made a point of speaking to her herself before. And Abbie was very quiet. She thanked me and slipped away without popping in to Jill or Kate. Tilda had told her about Biddy Viant’s visit, and Abbie said she wouldn’t cause any more trouble. You could take that remark as meaning Abbie herself had caused some trouble. Before the commotion, she had gone through to speak to Jill and disappeared immediately afterwards. She didn’t come back until late then refused to eat anything saying she wasn’t hungry, that she was tired, and went straight up to bed. Early the next morning she was packed up and asking if she could ring for a taxi. I hope she’s all right.’
‘Is it possible she could have upset Jill? I thought myself that day Jill had been in a bit of a state beforehand to lose control so badly. Perhaps that was why Abbie shoved off the way she did.’
‘But we don’t know for certain that she’d upset Jill and we mustn’t ask Jill about it. She’s only just coming out of her depression and doesn’t want to remember anything about that day. Kate won’t want it brought up either. Apparently, she’s having nightmares.’
‘Oh, the poor little thing. Well, I’ve heard she’s got a birthday coming up. Anything special happening for her?’
‘Jill’s planning a little tea party. She was going to ask everyone from Tremore to come but they won’t be able to now. It will have to be just us.’
‘I’ll do something nice for her.’
‘Keep it low key, Jonny,’ Emilia warned. ‘Kate will hate too much of a fuss.’
Jonny laughed. ‘You forget I know women, Aunt Em. I’ll do the right thing.’
‘Mind you do. Kate may look more her age now but she’s still just a child.’
‘Good Lord.’ Jonny was amused. ‘You can’t possibly think I’d try my charms on Kate.’
The telephone rang and Perry came through from the den. ‘Em, darling, it’s Honor for you. She’s very anxious. She seems to think Abbie is missing.’
Jonny saddled a horse and took the bags of food and flasks in Emilia’s stead. Going back over the good times and the amazing intimacy he’d shared with Abbie, he hoped she was simply hiding away to think things through. But it wasn’t like her to be inconsiderate to her parents. Honor and Archie must be going through the wringer over this.
In a field adjacent to Long Meadow, Tom and Denny James, one of the farmhands, a happy-go-lucky, constantly whistling youth, had been cutting grass since before sunrise, when it was cooler and the grass was easier to turn. Tom was driving the tractor, pulling the finger beam grass cutter, looking back every so often to see if the half-diamond jagged blades were working efficiently. He was satisfied. The young, sweet grass would make good hay for the cattle, it was tall and perky, unlike last year’s crop when heavy snowfalls and subsequent swirling winds and downpours of rain had left it flattened and almost impossible to cut cleanly. Denny was following on after him with the horse-drawn rake, to turn and separate the grass in order to air it and keep it dry.
Jill and Kate had joined them two hours later, bringing breakfast. Jill liked to stay close to Tom, and now she was up to manual work again he was glad to have her where he could keep a watch over her.
Wearing leather gloves, old trousers and shirts, their hair under turbans, they were using forks to scrape the grass out along the hedges and out of the ruts where the rake couldn’t reach. An important job but a toilsome one, where blisters on the hand were quickly formed if one wasn’t used to hard graft. They stopped at intervals to wipe sweat from their brows and ease their aching backs. Kate wore specially adapted boots. With thick socks they were more comfortable than her shoes. ‘Soon be crib time,’ Jill said, taking a breather, eyes on the gate for a sign of her mother-in-law. ‘Oh, Jonny’s bringing it. We’ll probably get another pair of hands, in between him aiming his camera at us.’
Kate watched as Jonny swung down off the saddle, as agile as the cowboys in a film she had seen with Jill and Tom. He was heaps more handsome than the hero in the film, and the ones of the romances she had attended with Jill. He tied the reins to the gate and waved to them. Jill waved back. Kate continued to stare. Jonny had tried to coax her to pose for him in much the same way as Abbie Rothwell had done. She would feel too uncomfortable for that but she wouldn’t mind if he took a snap of her and Jill together. She had overheard a woman at one of the play rehearsals call him a ‘magnificent animal’ and she had noticed how women followed his every movement and hung on to his words. Even Mrs Patterson and Miss Grigg became giggly and coquettish when he was near them. He was good to watch, but now he was closing in she looked down at the ground.
‘Hello ladies.’ He smiled his earth-shattering smile. ‘Aunt Em had to take a telephone call, so I’m taking her place. Tom and Denny have seen me and are on their way.’ He had brought a small rug with him, always a gallant. He spread it out on the ground. ‘Sit yourselves down. You’ve been working hard so I’ll be mother and pour the tea.’ He uncorked one of the flasks.
Kate waited for Jill to lower herself down on the rug then she sat on the side furthest away from Jonny. She couldn’t get used to his jovial tones, and the way he always seemed to overshadow her. He took too much interest in her. Alan Killigrew had spoken to her at the last two rehearsals, and although she didn’t want to go out with him she had felt it was time to be sociable with him. Each time Jonny had edged Alan out, interrupting the conversation and showing Alan disapproval. Jonny should mind his own business. She didn’t need his protection. She didn’t need mollycoddling in any way. Denny was chatty with her and had hinted about taking her for a walk. Would Jonny behave in the same manner towards him?
Tom dropped down beside Jill and put his arm round her. Denny arrived and sat cross-legged at Kate’s side. There was no more room on the rug but he was happy on the dry ground. Jonny frowned at Denny when he passed him a mug and a rock bun. When Denny started to whistle, Jonny glared at him. ‘Do you mind? Some of us are trying to talk.’
Denny passed Kate a wry look. She smiled at him. ‘How’s your mother?’ Denny had told her his mother had tripped over a stool and hurt her arm.
Denny’s freckled face lit up, as it always did when Kate spoke to him. ‘Arm’s still very sore. The bruises are coming out. She put her hand out to break the fall, was lucky she didn’t break her wrist.’
This brought unwelcome memories of her grandmother with her arm in plaster and a sling. Kate couldn’t suppress a shudder. Last night she had dreamt about the old woman. They had been together in a dark claustrophobic cave, a witch’s den. With a cauldron bubbling out an evil smell and huge spiders’ webs full of tiny dying creatures, and screeching bats and hideous toads. ‘Have you brought everything?’ Granny Moses, in a black raggedy dress and cloak, her features more twisted and sharp and her eyes glowing red, had demanded again and again. Kate had no idea what she meant but felt if she didn’t soon produce whatever it was she would be in the gravest danger. Then Granny Moses had grasped her own throat and started choking. ‘Help me, help me,’ she’d pleaded in more and more terror. To Kate’s horror, large eels had spilled out of her mouth but still she was choking. ‘Help me!’ The screaming had gone on and on and Kate, struggling in her sleep, had finally woken up in a ghastly fright, sweating and burning hot. It was as if her grandmother was tormenting her from the grave and she had been left with a horrid bleakness.
Denny slung an arm round her shoulders. ‘You all right, maid? You’ve gone all pale.’
Jill was on the alert. ‘Is something wrong, Kate?’
‘Are you getting tired, Kate?’ Tom said. ‘Jill’s just told me you didn’t get much sleep last night.’
Kate hated having all their eyes on her, particularly Jonny’s. ‘Was that boy trying anything on with you?’ he demanded, glaring at Denny. Denny snatched his arm away.
Kate was angry Denny should be accused and made to feel guilty over nothing. ‘No, of course not! Don’t say things like that. Denny was just being kind.’ It pleased her to see Jonny suitably chastened. He muttered an apology to the farmhand. ‘I just felt a bit sick for a moment. I’ll be fine when I’ve had my crib.’
‘That’s the spirit,’ Jill said, referring to her being brave enough to take Jonny to task. He did seem to have the habit of crowding Kate. There were already enough people looking out for her.
Jonny dipped his rock bun into his tea to hide his confusion. He had deserved the ticking off but he was bewildered about how much it troubled him to have invoked Kate’s ire. For some reason it was important to him that she liked him.
Tom found his cousin’s red face diverting. This had to be the very first time a female had made him blush, and a slip of a girl too. Wickedly he asked, ‘Are you going to take a photo of the happy band of workers, Jonny?’
‘What? Yes, if you’d all like me to.’
He used up all the film, and later in the darkroom he studied every one of Kate’s likenesses through a microscope. How had she responded to the boy? Was she looking into the camera or at Denny James? Tom had joked and made everyone laugh and in every photo Kate was either smiling at the lens or Jill. No obvious interest in the spotty-faced gawky boy, apparently. Next, Jonny was asking himself why this mattered to him so much.