Chapter 2

A brisk breeze was snapping the flag flying from the roof of Dammett Hall, but it could not totally dispel the warmth of a beautiful summer’s day. All morning the south lawn had seen a constant buzz of activity, as a procession of cars disgorged flower arrangements, cages of guinea-pigs, folding wooden chairs, bunches of enormous carrots, wedding cakes, wrought-iron boot-scrapers, and the thousand other things which go to make up a traditional fete in the English countryside. Visibly in charge and glowing with enthusiasm, Laura Biding with clipboard in hand seemed to be everywhere at once, pointing new arrivals towards the correct tent, rounding up toddlers who had escaped from the car while their mothers were unloading the boot, instructing the Scouts on the programme of sports events, and all with an air of calm competence which seemed to indicate that nothing had been left to chance.

Lady Lawdown looked out of the drawing room window at the preparations in hand and smiled fondly. A knock came at the door, and Amelia Cook entered carrying a tray.

“I thought you might like some coffee, Your Ladyship.”

“Oh, Amelia, you’re so thoughtful. Thank you so much. I haven’t had a moment to think about anything, and I expect you’re rushed off your feet in the kitchen. What a shame Mrs. Richards couldn’t stay to help, but I dare say you’ve got it all under control. You wouldn’t mind just popping up to Mr. Cummings’ room and telling him there’s coffee waiting, would you? Lovely.”

A few minutes later, Seymour Cummings entered the room. His fifty-odd years sat easily on him alongside a healthy tan, and he wore his comfortably casual check shirt and cord trousers as if born to the country lifestyle, yet with a touch of sleekness which hinted at a level of city sophistication and the money that went with it. He joined Lady Lawdown at her vantage point at the window and looked out over the preparations taking place on the lawns.

“Morning, Sandra,” he said, greeting her with a peck on the cheek. “Laura seems to be on top of everything. I feel I should offer to help, but I’m feeling awfully lazy this morning. I hope you didn’t mind me not coming down for breakfast.”

“Of course I didn’t, darling,” replied Lady Lawdown, “although Mrs. Richards was rather sniffy. You know she likes to do the whole country-house-breakfast thing when I have someone staying. But I told her that you were probably still quite exhausted from your lecture tour, and you deserved a lie-in on your first Saturday. Just autograph your column in tomorrow’s Sunday Stir for her in the morning – that will brighten her up. Anyway, do have some of this coffee Amelia’s made for us, or you’ll be in her bad books too.”

“Amelia’s far too busy to worry about me,” smiled Seymour, pouring coffee. “The last time I saw her, she was scampering back downstairs to carry on in the kitchen. Something about critical timing on a batch of quiches. Now sit back and drink this. Brandy?”

“Oh lord, no, darling. I’d better not start just yet. I shall be on the alcohol soon enough. You haven’t forgotten that I’ve got people coming for drinks before the fete, have you?”

“Actually, I had,” groaned Seymour. “I thought you invited me down here to rest my weary bones, not to stand in as your social host.”

“Don’t be silly, Seymour,” laughed Lady Lawdown. “It’s just a few friends. Helen’s coming, and Robin Allday, and the vicar has to be here because he’s opening the fete. Then there’s Albert Ross and, of course, Horace.” And as Seymour opened his mouth in protest, she swiftly forestalled him. “Don’t forget what you promised, darling. No unpleasantness.”

“Oh very well,” sighed Seymour. “Anyway, what time are they coming?”

“I said about mid-day.”

“Then we still have three-quarters of an hour. You can sit back and think beautiful thoughts. I think I’ll pop out for a stroll round to offer Laura a bit of moral support. Just as long as she doesn’t rope me into anything strenuous.”

“Hello, Sandra! Only me!” Helen Highwater’s voice echoed up the staircase of Dammett Hall. “I hope I’m not too early.”

Sandra Lawdown appeared framed in the arch at the top of the stairs. The pose was only slightly self-conscious, and the graceful descent would have done credit to a top model.

“Helen, dear, not at all. You know you’re welcome any time. It’s only just coming up to twelve. Do come on through.” And she led the way into the drawing room. “Right, let’s have a little something – we can get a head start on the others. I have a feeling I’m going to need a few drinks to get through today. Sherry as usual, is it?”

“Lovely, thank you. You’re not worried about this afternoon, are you? The fete seems all under control, from what I could see coming up the drive. I’m sure Laura’s on top of everything – well, she always is, every year. That girl’s a marvel. How she does it I don’t know.”

“Oh, it’s not the fete, darling,” replied Lady Lawdown. “That always runs like clockwork. No, it’s the people. You talk about Laura. I know there’s something at the back of her mind that’s bothering her. She seems quite calm and organised, but I’m sure there’s something … a mother always knows.”

“Laura? Oh surely not. Perhaps she’s in love,” smiled Helen. “Hasn’t she been seen around with Robin Allday quite a lot lately? Now there’s a lovely man. And he’s always so helpful.”

“I can’t imagine she’s interested in Robin,” retorted Lady Lawdown dismissively, pouring herself a brandy. “He’s a charming man and we both like him very much, but I can’t see Laura going for a middle-aged man. I should have thought she was far more likely to be involved with somebody from her London set.”

“Any news of any more work in that line?”

“Not that I know of. She goes up to London for auditions and photographic sessions every so often, but nothing ever seems to come of it. I don’t think her agent can be very good. She doesn’t really talk that much about it.”

“Well, perhaps that’s what’s on her mind,” suggested Helen. “She feels she isn’t contributing to the household because she’s short of money.”

“She has her allowance from the trust which Peter left her,” responded Lady Lawdown, “which was very generous, considering he was under no obligation to do so. Oh, for heaven’s sake, let’s talk about something other than money. It only reminds me about the blasted Hall roof! Wouldn’t it be nice if we could have all of today’s cash to have that fixed, instead of half of it going to the church?”

At that moment, the sound of the front door slamming was heard from the hall, and Laura Biding appeared in the drawing room doorway.

“Right, I hope that’s everything,” she sighed, subsiding on to a sofa. “I’m shattered, but I think everybody knows what they’re doing – all the stalls are ready and waiting, there’s already a queue at the gates, and I’ve just seen the vicar coming up the drive. I deserve a drink!”

“Darling, what on earth would I do without you? What would you like?”

“A very large scotch, please, Mummy. Then I can breathe booze all over the vicar and scandalise him!” She laughed.

“Would you like me to pop out and watch for him?” asked Helen. “You know he’ll only dither about on the steps otherwise.”

“Would you, dear?” said Lady Lawdown, and Helen disappeared into the hall as a clock at the foot of the stairs began to strike the hour.

“Where’s Seymour?” enquired Laura. “I thought he would have been first to the whisky. Don’t tell me he’s abandoned you.”

“He’s gone for a walk, darling. I’m surprised you haven’t seen him – he said he was going to come and give you some moral support.”

“Fat chance!” snorted Laura.

Voices were heard from the hall, and Helen ushered Ivor Pugh into the drawing room. The vicar’s round face was a little pinker than usual under his panama hat, and he was perspiring slightly.

“Good morning, your ladyship. Oh no, I tell a lie, it’s good afternoon! Do forgive me, but I’m a bit puffed. Gracious me, that drive of yours never seems to get any shorter, does it? Do you mind if I sit down?” And he subsided on to the sofa next to Laura.

“What you need, Mr. Pugh, is a drink to set you up,” replied Lady Lawdown. “I can’t have you collapsing on the job when we can’t start the fete without you. What’s your poison?”

“Just the tiniest whisky would be very welcome, thank you … well, just a little more, if I may. Oh, thank you so much, your ladyship. Well, haven’t we got a lovely day for it? It looks as if all your hard work has paid off, Laura. And you’re looking as lovely as ever, if I may say so, my dear.”

“You’re very sweet, vicar,” smiled Laura. “But I can’t take all the credit for today. Are you sure you haven’t been putting in a word with your friend upstairs to arrange some good weather for us?”

“Laura!” Lady Lawdown sounded shocked. “What a thing to say!”

“Oh please don’t worry, your ladyship,” twinkled the vicar. “No offence taken, I assure you. It just goes to show that Laura is still the same naughty little girl at heart as when she first came to the Hall … what is it, fifteen years ago? Just when you married his lordship. I really do think Laura was one of the prettiest bridesmaids I’ve ever seen. Another? Well, I suppose the weeniest drop more won’t do any harm, will it?”

The distant tinkling of a bell was heard from the servants’ quarters at that moment, together with the sound of the front door opening.

“Yoo hoo! Anyone there? It’s only us chickens!”

“Horace!” grunted Helen. “I was wondering when he would put in an appearance!” And as Laura made to get up, “No, stay where you are, Laura. I’ll go.” A door was heard to open. “It’s all right, Amelia, I’m on my way,” called Helen towards the kitchen as she entered the hall. “Horace … and you’ve brought Albert with you. How nice! We’re in here.” She led the way into the drawing room.

Horace Cope’s smiling face seemed even shinier than ever, an impression accentuated by a flamboyant scarlet floppy-collared shirt accompanied by a large gold medallion on a chain around his neck. A light-blue linen jacket was draped around his shoulders with artful casualness. Behind him, Albert Ross was a complete contrast, drab in beige trousers and a fawn pullover, and carrying a large suitcase which he dropped with a sigh of relief.

“Good grief, Uncle Horace,” laughed Laura. “Where on earth did you get that shirt? You look like a refugee from the 1970s!”

“I can’t imagine how you would know that, Laura!” replied Horace. “You’re far too young. No, it’s just a little costume to help with my character. You know I like to give a good performance. I have some big red curly-toed slippers, and just you wait until you see my robe – it’s turquoise and gold, and there’s an enormous matching turban. And Albert is going to do some make-up for me and give me lovely big eyebrows.”

“I can hardly wait,” commented Lady Lawdown drily.

“Well, you won’t have to wait for long, Sandra, will you? Just come and have a little chat with me in my tent, and I’ll tell you your future. No charge! Goodness, where are my manners? These are for you.” And Horace handed over the extravagantly-beribboned bouquet of lilies he carried.

“Horace, how sweet,” exclaimed Lady Lawdown. “Aren’t you generous? They’re beautiful.”

“I hope you don’t mind lilies,” remarked Horace. “Some people say they put them in mind of death, but I think that’s just superstitious nonsense. That reminds me, Helen, I hope you’re ready for all those adoring fans of yours. They can’t get enough, can they? Bet they’ll be quizzing you about the new book. Well, isn’t this lovely? It’s quite a party, isn’t it.”

“Then you’d better have a drink, hadn’t you,” replied Lady Lawdown.

“Just a very quick sherry, and then I absolutely must get on. No, don’t move – Albert will do it, if that’s all right with you. I don’t want to break up this lovely picture.” He surveyed the gathering with an approving smile. “It’s too perfect – really, it’s too good to be true. The Lady of the Manor in all her glory – her beautiful daughter, as pretty as a picture – Helen, one of our village’s most celebrated successes with those marvellous surprising books of hers – the Reverend Pugh, the moral guiding light of the community. Thank you so much, Albert.” He took the proffered glass and sipped. “I simply can’t imagine what it would be like if you weren’t around to look after me.” He grinned toothily. “But where’s our resident legal eagle? I thought Robin Allday would be here as well to keep us all on the straight and narrow. Perhaps he’s been detained. Oh, I do hope not. We can’t have the Church without the Law, if you don’t mind my little joke, vicar! And of course, Sandra, you have dear Seymour staying with you. Surely he will be gracing us with his presence. Or has something unforeseen cropped up to keep him away?” He chuckled.

“I’m sure both Robin and Seymour are about somewhere,” said Lady Lawdown. “Well, Horace, we mustn’t keep you. I expect you have lots to do to get ready.”

“I do,” responded Horace, downing the last of his sherry. “Come along, Albert. Bring my things.”

“Oh, surely you can manage without Albert for five minutes,” put in Helen.

“Of course you can,” agreed Laura. “Poor Albert hasn’t even had a drink yet. We’ll send him through in a minute. You know your way to the Secret Garden, don’t you – the flower room door is unlocked, and your booth is all set up ready. Albert drinks G & T, Mummy.”

“Oh … very well,” assented Horace, a touch grumpily. “I shall see you in a moment, then, Albert.” And picking up the case, he left the room.

Lady Lawdown occupied herself pouring Albert Ross a drink.

“He knows,” she thought. “Where does that leave me? Oh, what on earth am I going to do?”

Robin Allday sat at his desk with his head in his hands.

“He knows,” he thought. “I’m finished. Where the hell did he get the information?”

Laura Biding glanced out of the window at the busy villagers of Dammett Worthy putting the final touches to the fete.

“He knows,” she thought. “How can I ever look anybody in the face again?”

Seymour Cummings leaned against a tree, lit a cigarette, and sighed.

“He knows,” he thought. “I don’t know what possessed me to do it. Well, that puts an end to that.”

Helen Highwater realised she was gazing unfocussed into space, and put a bright smile on her face.

“He knows,” she thought. “Why can’t you trust anybody these days? I don’t suppose there’s a thing I can do about it.”

Albert Ross took his glass and tentatively sat in a chair by the fireplace.

“He knows,” he thought. “And I thought I’d been so clever. I just wish I could find a way to change his mind.”

“So, Albert,” said Lady Lawdown, “what have you been up to lately?”

“Oh … um … well, not a great deal, really. I’ve been doing some bits and pieces for Horace around the garden at Crystal Cottage, and of course I look after the house for him whenever he’s away and keep it neat and tidy.”

“So he’s using you as some sort of unpaid housekeeper, is he?” asked Helen. “Isn’t that Horace all over? Mind you, he’d never get anyone to come in and clean for him, with the amount of knick-knacks he’s got cluttering up the place. He must be quite relieved he’s got you.”

“Honestly, Helen, I really think it’s the least I can do, considering. And some of the things in Horace’s collections are quite beautiful and very precious – I feel quite lucky that he trusts me to look after them. I’m just very grateful that he’s let me stay there so long.”

“No sign of anything on the horizon?” enquired Lady Lawdown delicately.

“What …oh, you mean a job. No, not at the moment.” Albert shook his head sadly. “I’m sure something will turn up.”

“Don’t worry, Albert,” said Laura robustly. “You’re no more skint than the rest of us, I expect. Well, except for you, Helen, and you haven’t got a care in the world. Anyway, Albert, do tell … what’s in that great big case you lugged in here?”

“Oh, that’s all Horace’s props – he’s brought the whole lot, you know. Well, he didn’t have to carry them, did he? There’s his crystal ball, which weighs a ton on its own, and then he’s got packs of tarot cards, and a set of runes, and goodness knows what else besides. Joss sticks and incense cones for atmosphere. And there’s the costume he was telling you about – that’s come on hire from London, you know – and his box of make-up. Heavens!” he ejaculated, leaping to his feet. “The make-up! I promised to do it. Horace will be wondering where I am. I’d better go. Thank you for the drink.” He rushed to the door.

“Out through the flower room is quickest,” advised Laura.

“Yes, I know the way. Thank you. I’ll see you later.” His voice died away.

“Poor man,” said Helen. “I do feel Horace puts upon him. Anyway, enough about them. Vicar, do cheer us up. Let’s have some good news.”

“Yes, Mr. Pugh,” smiled Laura. “There must be some village gossip you can tell us. Have another drink and give us the latest from the Women’s Institute.”

“Now you know I don’t approve of gossip, Laura. Although I heard there was a suggestion that the ladies might raise some money by doing a naked calendar,” replied the vicar, turning pinker, “but I don’t really think that’s the sort of thing we want to see in Dammett Worthy, is it? Actually, I’m not absolutely sure that it was a serious proposal. Isn’t that rather passé these days? I do think some of the younger members of my congregation like to tease me sometimes. I suppose it’s my age. I really ought to be grateful that I have any younger congregation members at all, considering the state of some country parishes.”

“Now vicar, you know we all think you’re absolutely sweet. Especially the Brownies … not to mention some of their mothers.” The vicar’s blush grew deeper.

“Laura, stop it!” said Lady Lawdown. “You are a worse tease than anybody!”

“Don’t worry, your ladyship,” responded the vicar. “I’m not such an old fogey that I can’t enjoy Laura’s little joke. But that reminds me. If you don’t mind, your ladyship, I shall just pop outside and have a word with Brown Owl about the Brownies’ painting competition. I certainly don’t want a repetition of last year.”

“Why, what happened last year?” asked Helen.

“There was a most unseemly brawl between two of the mothers when the results were announced. I seem to recall some mention of doping. I really can’t have that again. Some of the language was verging on the profane, and it’s not at all a good example for the little ones, is it? So if you’ll excuse me …”

“Yes, of course, vicar,” replied Lady Lawdown, “but don’t forget to come back, will you? We can’t very well start without you.”

“I shall be two ticks, never fear.”

“Do you want me to come with you to keep order?” enquired Laura.

“No need, my dear,” the vicar reassured her. “Take the chance to put your feet up for a minute. I’m sure you haven’t stopped all morning. Go on, have another little drink. Be a devil!” And with an unexpectedly boyish chuckle, he made for the hall, where a few seconds later the front door closed behind him.

“D’you know, that’s exactly what I’m going to do,” said Laura, getting to her feet and heading for the drinks table.

“I don’t think so, darling,” commented Lady Lawdown. “Between the two of you, you and Mr. Pugh have practically finished the bottle.”

“Well, I shall have to go and get another one, shan’t I?” replied Laura practically. “I assume we have some more in the butler’s pantry, unless Seymour’s been towsing it on the sly. Shan’t be a minute. Oh, do you think I ought to go and change out of jeans for the opening?”

“Of course not, Laura,” put in Helen. “You look lovely as you are. I’ll come with you – I expect you could do with a hand. And you really ought to put those flowers in a vase, Sandra. Would you like one from the flower room?”

“You are thoughtful, Helen dear.” And as the other two left the drawing room, Lady Lawdown crossed to the window again and gazed out over the grounds of Dammett Hall. She had never grown tired of the view across the park dotted with oaks, with the magnificent cedar tree in the foreground and the long slope down to the rush-fringed lake. And now it was all at risk. Her lip quivered, and she surreptitiously wiped away a tear. She felt very alone.

“Seymour, where on earth have you been hiding yourself?” As Laura Biding emerged from the library, she almost collided with Seymour Cummings and Albert Ross at the foot of the stairs. “We’ve all been wondering where you were. I thought I might have to send out a search party!”

“The only thing I’m in search of at the moment is a drink. Which,” he observed, indicating the bottle which Laura carried, “you seem perfectly equipped to provide. So lead the way, my dear. Come along, Albert – let’s go and get a quick one in before all the ghastly jollity begins.”

“Look who I’ve found skulking in the hall, Mummy,” declared Laura, as she opened the drawing room door to reveal Lady Lawdown pacing restlessly in front of the fireplace. “He claims he’s looking for a drink.”

“Oh Seymour, there you are,” said Sandra Lawdown, looking round with what seemed like relief. “I wish you’d been here earlier.”

“Dreadfully sorry, ma’am,” smiled Seymour. “I have to admit to going absent without leave. Why, have I missed something exciting?”

“No, not at all. It’s just that … well, when I have visitors, it’s more pleasant if my house guest is here to help me entertain them.”

“To tell you the honest truth, Sandra, that was my main reason for doing the disappearing act. I didn’t really trust myself to keep my promise to be nice to Horace. Sorry, Albert, no offence, but you know he and I … well, enough said.”

“Ah, Seymour. They’ve found you at last!” Helen Highwater came in from the hall, closing the door behind her.

“Please don’t you give me a hard time as well,” groaned Seymour, “otherwise I really shall go and hide. Anyway, I don’t appear to be the only one missing. I thought you were expecting Robin Allday as well.”

“He’s on his way,” said Laura quickly. “I’ve just phoned him. Now, let me do these drinks. Helen?”

“Not for me, dear. I need to be able to hold a pen, and I’m shaking enough as it is. I don’t know why, but these book signings always make me so nervous. I’ll just have a glass of water – yes, soda water’s fine.”

“Seymour? No need to ask.” She smiled. “One scotch coming up, and I shan’t bother to get you to say when, because I know you won’t. Right, there’s yours. Albert?”

“Albert will have a large gin and tonic as usual,” put in Seymour. “Plenty of gin, not much tonic, and no ice. Isn’t that right, Albert?”

“Well, yes, as a matter of fact it is, Seymour. But how …”

“I ought to know by now. I’ve seen you drink enough of them in the Dammett Well. Paid for most of them too,” he commented in a not-particularly-successful undertone to Laura.

“Mummy?”

“I’ll have just a little something to steady my nerves, darling. I’ll have a brandy.”

“Sandra, I don’t suppose I’m still in time for that drink you invited me for?”

The door had opened, and Robin Allday stood on the threshold.

“Robin, I’m so glad you’ve made it,” exclaimed Lady Lawdown with evident pleasure. “We’d almost given up on you.”

“Never! Sorry I’m so late, but you know how things are in the law – there’s always something unexpected.” replied Robin. “Thank you, Laura. Well, cheers, everybody. Are we all set up for this afternoon?”

“If we aren’t now, we never shall be!” remarked Laura. “Ah, here’s the vicar back. Come on in, Mr. Pugh. We’re just having a final drink before the off. Come along – there’s another wee drop of whisky for you to settle your stomach. Are you all ready with your speech?”

“Hardly a speech, Laura. Just a few I hope well-chosen words. Nobody wants a sermon today.”

“Indeed they don’t,” commented Seymour feelingly.

“Hell and damnation!”

“What is it, darling?” asked Lady Lawdown.

“The gate to the Secret Garden,” answered Laura. “I’ve forgotten to unlock it. Nobody will be able to get in from the Park to have their fortune told. I’d better go and do it now.”

“No, darling. You stay here – I’m sure Mr. Pugh wouldn’t mind doing it. Here, vicar, take my keys.” She took a bunch from her handbag on a small bureau by the fireplace. “It’s that little one there. If you just pop out through the flower room and turn left, the gate is just the other side of Horace’s tent. And if you could just check with him to make sure he’s ready. That’s if you don’t mind …”

“Not at all, your ladyship. I shall be two shakes of a lamb’s tail. And then we shall be … what is it they say … all systems go.” He hurried from the room.

It seemed only moments later that the vicar stood in the drawing room doorway again. His face was no longer pink, and bore an expression of shock.

“What is it?” asked Lady Lawdown. “Is everything all right?”

“No, your ladyship. No, it isn’t. Not at all. Oh dear! Oh my goodness!”

“Come on, man,” said Seymour. “For goodness sake, tell us.”

“It’s Horace Cope. He’s … he’s …” The vicar’s eyes turned upwards, and he crumpled to the floor.