As I dressed for my date with Mike the next evening, I was determined to be good company. I would not let Derek’s suggestiveness or Sandra’s inanity get under my skin as I had on Saturday. Mike was worth the effort of being pleasant to his friends, whatever my private opinion of them.
I opened my bedroom door to come face to face with Matthew, on his way upstairs. His eyes took in the new lilac dress.
‘Mike again?’
‘Mike again.’
‘Well, enjoy yourself. You make me feel old!’ He nodded and went along the passage to his room.
This time, Mike was alone when he called for me.
‘The others will be along later – they’re calling at the pub for a crate of beer.’ His eyes went over me, warm, personal and admiring – quite different from Matthew’s non-committal gaze. ‘You look good enough to eat!’
We drove down to the main road and turned left, away from the town. The road hugged the coast for a while and I guessed we must have come this way through the fog to the Flamingo. Now, it was a calm September evening, the sky washed with deep blue, pink and gold as though splashed by a careless paint brush. Tiny fragments of cloud trailed like purple chiffon, and the seagulls, soaring into the sunset, became birds of flame. I drew a deep breath. It was all so perfect that it hurt.
After a while the road left the coast to turn inland, passing scattered cottages and farms until we branched off it altogether up a steep, twisting lane with high hedges on either side. A wooden post announced ‘Chapel Farm. Private Road.’
‘Very imposing!’ I said.
‘We have to keep the rabble out!’ He drew up in front of a white, five-barred gate.
‘I’ll open it,’ I said, and slipped out of the car. The gate swung easily and Mike edged the car through. We were in the farmyard, and I gave an involuntary exclamation of delight.
The farm buildings and the long, low house formed three sides of a square, all of them painted white, and glowing in the setting sun. In the centre of the yard was a patch of grass, smooth and emerald green, with a copper beech tree in the middle of it.
‘Oh Mike!’
He got out of the car and came to join me. I could see he was pleased by my delight. ‘Yes, it is rather fine. Those are the byres and stables over there, and opposite us the pig and poultry sheds. This gate leads to the men’s cottages behind the farm house. It’s quite a little colony, as you can see.’
‘It’s lovely, and so spotless!’ True enough, the cobbles underfoot looked as though they’d been scrubbed.
‘“Seven maids with seven mops”!’ Mike laughed, taking my arm. ‘Come inside and meet Mrs Trehearn. Since you’re “company” we’ll use the front door.’
We went through the low entrance into a tiny flagged passage. There was an oak door on either side and one straight ahead. Mike flung this open and I found myself in a real, old-fashioned farm kitchen, complete with an enormous white-scrubbed table and a huge open grate.
A small, thin woman came forward to greet us, nodding her head and watching me with tiny bright eyes. So this was Mrs Johnson’s sister.
‘How do you do, miss, I heard from Patsy as you’m come.’
‘How do you do?’ I turned back to Mike, who was smilingly watching my reactions.
‘Come through to the sitting-room and I’ll get you a drink.’
We went back down the passage and he opened one of the other doors. This opened into a long, low-ceilinged room prettily decorated in blue and white. The chairs and sofa were floral patterned, and there were some Dresden figures on the mantlepiece. Above the fireplace, dominating the room, was a large portrait of a young girl. Mike noticed my eyes on it. ‘That’s my mother,’ he said.
‘She was lovely.’
He stood for a long moment, his eyes on the painting, and I remembered Matthew saying how upset he’d been at her death. To distract him, I went on, And what a lovely room – not quite what you’d expect in a farmhouse!’
He nodded and, as I’d hoped, turned away from the portrait.
‘Yes, I love the place, even if we haven’t been here for generations, like the Haigs at Touchstone. It was actually bought for my uncle, Grandfather’s younger son, but he was killed by a tractor soon afterwards. So when – my father died, Mother moved here with me.’
He laughed. ‘A Grace and Favour residence, as you might say! Fortunately, we have a marvellous bailiff: Simkins. He’s virtually run the farm for over twenty years.’
The sun was off the windows now and an autumn coolness breathed through the room. I walked to the log fire and sniffed appreciatively.
‘Apple wood,’ Mike said,
‘Isn’t it rather lonely out here,’ I asked, ‘with only Mrs Trehearn for company?’
‘She doesn’t live in, either. Her husband’s my head cowman – they live in one of the cottages at the back. No,’ he went on reflectively, ‘I can’t say I’m ever lonely.’ He grinned, sliding an arm round my waist. ‘I can usually find company when I want it!’
‘But seriously, Mike, I should have thought Matthew would have invited you to Touchstone more often. After all –’
He dropped his arm and turned away. ‘I don’t want Matthew’s company any more than he wants mine.’
‘But why? I asked helplessly.
The door-bell rang, and Mrs Trehearn’s footsteps sounded in the passage as she went to answer it.
‘Mike?’ I insisted, laying a hand on his arm. He paused and looked down at me, an odd expression in his eyes. ‘There are some things I can’t forgive Matthew, Emily, but you needn’t concern yourself with them. Drink your sherry, there’s a good girl, and stop asking questions.’ There were voices in the hall, and as Mike opened the door, Derek staggered in with the crate of beer, Sandra behind him.
Mike helped him to lay the crate in a corner. Derek straightened. ‘Phew – it’ll be easier carrying that outside than in!’ He bowed to me. ‘Good evening.’
I wondered if they were as disappointed to see me as I them. They probably feared I would cast a dampener on their evening again.
I made a conscious effort. ‘Come and get warm,’ I said to Sandra, and she moved over to join me at the fire. She was quite beautiful with her silver blonde hair hanging like a pale curtain and her wide, china-blue eyes – not, I thought suddenly, unlike Linda. But there had been animation on the face in Sarah’s album, whereas Sandra’s, perfect and heart-shaped though it was, was almost doll-like in its lack of expression.
‘Time for a quick one before we eat,’ Mike said, handing glasses to the new arrivals. ‘Want yours topping up, Emily?’
I was about to refuse when it occurred to me that an extra mouthful of sherry might help me into the party mood, and I held out my glass.
‘And how’s Emily tonight?’ inquired Derek jovially, standing with his back to the fire and rocking backwards and forwards on his heels.
‘Very well, thank you.’
‘Making the most of the sunshine, I see.’ His eyes rested on my brown neck and shoulders and I felt uncomfortable.
‘I have to keep out of it.’ Sandra said complacently, ‘or I scorch, with my skin being so fair.’
‘Give me the nut-brown maiden,’ murmured Derek in an undertone, as she turned to speak to Mike.
Mrs Trehearn knocked on the door. The meal’s ready when you are, sir.’
‘Right, thank you, we’ll go straight in.’
I moved forward quickly, noticing from the corner of my eye that Derek’s hand was coming up to take my arm. I remembered all too well the unpleasant warmth of his fingers, and wondered how Sandra could bear to let him touch her.
The dining-room was tiny – barely enough space for the table and four spindly-legged chairs. A huge copper plate hung on one wall and a gas fire glowed on another.
The meal was simple, but beautifully cooked. Succulent roast shoulder of lamb followed a clear soup, and we finished with apple pie and thick yellow cream.
‘I pity the girl who marries Mike,’ Derek said, with a sly look at me. ‘She’s a lot to live up to!’
Mike said, ‘Mrs Trehearn’s a wonderful cook, but she has her limitations in other ways!’
Derek laughed loudly and banged his hand down on the table, setting the glasses tinkling.
The meal finished, we returned to the sitting-room. Mike threw another log on the fire, and we settled round it.
After a while Mrs Trehearn knocked on the door. ‘I’m going now, sir, if there’s nothing else you want. Nice to have met you, miss. Goodnight, all.’
We complimented her on the meal and she beamed with pleasure. ‘See you in the morning, sir,’ and she was gone.
Mike put on another record. The meal and the warmth made me sleepy. I leant back and closed my eyes, opening them after a moment to find Derek watching me. The firelight flickered grotesquely on his face, liquefying his eyes to molten gold and glinting redly on his black hair. He looked like a harbinger of hell at some obscene ritual. I stirred uneasily. Across the room, Mike said, ‘Damn, I can’t find the opener.’
‘It’s on the kitchen table,’ I said. ‘I’ll get it.’ Glad to escape from Derek’s gaze, I slipped out of the room and down the short passage into the kitchen. The big room was full of shadows, lit only faintly by the now-dying fire. A memory of the roast lamb hung on the air. I fumbled round the wall for the light switch but couldn’t find it. Then I saw the bottle-opener glinting in the light from the passage. I moved forward, and as I reached for it the light was blotted out by a figure in the doorway. I turned, startled, and two hands gripped my shoulders.
Derek’s voice said breathlessly, ‘Let’s look for it together.’
‘I’ve got it!’ I said shrilly. ‘Please let go, you’re hurting me.’
He laughed excitedly and his mouth, open and searching, fastened on mine. I pummelled frantically against his chest with clenched fists, and his teeth bit into my lip as he pressed himself against me.
With both hands I wrenched his face to one side, opened my mouth to scream, and found despairingly that I had no breath. ‘Mike!’ It was little more than a gasp.
Derek was breathing fast. ‘Playing hard to get, sweetheart?’
‘You’re disgusting!’ I half-sobbed, forgetting my resolution. ‘No!’ This as his head turned and his mouth moved over my face again. Instinctively I jerked away and as I did so, ground my high heel with all my strength into his foot. He let me go then, swearing fluently, and in that moment the room flooded with light and Mike stood in the doorway. I staggered back against the table for support, scrubbing the back of my hand against my mouth.
‘I thought you were going to the bathroom,’ he said tightly to Derek.
‘So I was, but Emily in the dark was more than I could resist. Quite a little spitfire, isn’t she? You’re a lucky fellow.’
‘Leave her alone, Derek, do you hear me?’ Mike’s voice was low and vibrant.
‘But my dear chap, we’re friends, aren’t we? All that I have is yours, and so on. I’m sure Sandra –’
‘Shut up! Are you all right, Emily?’
‘I don’t know.’ I was fighting down the urge to retch.
‘Of course she’s all right, silly little bitch. She hasn’t been raped, for God’s sake. Calm down, Mike. I was under the impression that we shared everything?’
Suddenly the look he shot at Mike was no longer playful, and incredibly, Mike’s own furious gaze faltered. I thought, in bewilderment, he can’t be afraid of Derek? But his unexpected withdrawal from the challenge reflected on me, making me feel cheapened.
When Mike remained silent, Derek laughed softly and straightened his jacket. ‘That’s better,’ he said pleasantly. ‘Well, I think you’d better take Priscilla Prune home, before we offend her modesty any further. I’ll amuse myself with Sandra till you get back. Pity she doesn’t protest occasionally; it would add a touch of piquancy.’
He sauntered past us and out of the room. Mike and I stood looking at each other. I could taste the blood on my lip.
I said shakily, if my brother had been here, he’d have knocked him down.’
‘I’m not your brother.’
‘Mike, he – he –’ I choked to a stop.
‘Yes, I know, but he didn’t mean any harm. Derek considers any girl fair game. Most of them like it.’
‘Well, I don’t,’ I said violently.
‘Emily, I’m sorry, what more can I say? Get your stole and I’ll take you home.’
We drove back once more in silence, and I remembered my optimism on the outward journey. Up, down – up, down, like a yoyo.
How could Mike possibly feel friendship for anyone as objectionable as Derek? Yet he’d made only a token protest on my behalf, and withdrawn even that.
He stopped the car at the gate and came with me up the path. At the door he kissed his fingers and laid them very gently on my swollen lips. ‘Goodnight, love. Try to forget it.’ Miserably, I went into the house.
* * *
When I came down the next morning, Sarah was standing in the hall in her school uniform. She looked rather forlorn under the large hat, reminding me of my own desolation at the beginning of term.
Matthew came down the stairs behind me. Back to school, eh? Well, the summer’s over.’
‘I’d forgotten it was today,’ I said, smiling at her. ‘I’ll miss you!’ The mid-day meal would be bleak without her chatter.
She gave me a tremulous smile and her eyes slid to Matthew for a word of encouragement. But he had already turned away and was leafing through the morning mail. It seemed he could never spare her more than a minute of his time.
On an impulse I bent and kissed her. ‘Tell me all about it this evening.’
Miss Tamworth approached, drawing on her gloves. ‘Ready, Sarah? We must leave now or we’ll miss the bus.’
‘Yes, I’m ready.’ The child gave another hopeless little glance at her father’s back, then walked silently past him following Miss Tamworth out of the front door.
My heart ached for her, but – perhaps fortunately – before I could make any comment, Matthew said brusquely, ‘What happened to your lip?’
The colour washed up my face in an embarrassing flood. Despite my care with my lipstick, the deep cut, I knew, was clearly visible. ‘Nothing,’ I muttered with bent head.
He said drily, ‘You always return from your evenings with my cousin somewhat the worse for wear.’
That brought my head up. ‘It was nothing to do with Mike!’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘Forgive me. I was under the impression that if you went out with a man, you stayed with him all evening.’
I twisted my hands helplessly and his voice hardened.
‘Was it that Derek chap?’
Miserably I nodded.
‘I might have guessed. God knows what Mike sees in him. I hope he got what he deserved.’
I made no comment.
Matthew gave a short laugh. ‘Sorry, I’m not trying to embarrass you. Come on, let’s get to work.’
He gestured me ahead of him. ‘All the same,’ he added, closing the library door behind us, ‘I shouldn’t have too much to do with Derek. He’s an unsavoury piece of work.’
‘It’s not from choice; he just always seems to be there.’
‘Then tell Mike you’d prefer him not to be.’ Matthew’s voice was brisk. He settled himself at his desk.
‘I tried,’ I persisted, wanting, now we had got this far, to put my case. ‘But Mike won’t hear anything against him.’
Matthew looked at me reflectively. ‘Look, you’ve only been here a week. Don’t be in too much of a hurry to fall for Mike.’
I said curiously, ‘What is it you’ve got against him?’
He frowned. ‘Nothing really – nothing concrete. It’s just that he’s changed completely since his mother died. When she was alive they were often round here – after all, we were more or less brought up as brothers. He was always a bit wild but he was good company and we got along fine. When my aunt died, I thought we’d be closer than ever. I’d hoped to help him over the worst of it, as they’d –’ he broke off, then went on, ‘as they’d helped me in the past.’
When Kate left, I thought.
But quite suddenly he wouldn’t have anything to do with me. For months he was a bag of nerves and would see no one but that confounded Derek.’
He lit a cigarette and tossed the still-smoking match into the waste-paper basket. ‘He’s better than he was, but that evening he brought you from the station was the first time I’d seen him in weeks.’ He straightened. ‘Anyway, that’s enough about Mike. Have you got your notebook?’
We worked steadily through the morning and at about twelve he closed the file of notes. ‘By the way, I’d like you to ring up a Mrs Statton and ask if it would be convenient for us to call and see her sometime this week. The number’s here.’
My curiosity must have shown, because he said shortly, ‘She’s the housekeeper.’
‘The housekeeper?’ My voice was blank. Matthew said impatiently, ‘Yes, the murdered man’s.’ My eyes widened and he gave a short laugh. ‘My mistake – didn’t I explain? The book’s loosely based on fact; the murder took place as I was about to start a new novel, and being local it interested me, specially as they still haven’t found the culprit. But I used only the bare outline, and of course none of the characters are based on real people. In fact, all I know of the actual case is what I read in the papers or Mrs Statton told me.’
He pulled open a desk drawer, flicked through a folder and handed me a torn piece of newspaper, dated four months previously.
‘Here.’
‘Well-known artist found dead,’ I read. ‘Cameron Menzies, the Royal Academician, was found murdered in his luxury flat this morning. He is believed to have been struck from behind. His housekeeper, Mrs Amy Statton
‘I was intrigued by the apparent lack of motive,’ Matthew explained, as I looked up. ‘Nothing was stolen from the flat, and there were plenty of valuable things there. And without a motive, it’s extremely difficult to find the murderer. So I selected some of the most common, invented a character that each could apply to, and decided to write the book from several angles and see which was the most convincing.’
I shuddered. ‘It’s a bit gruesome, when you think of it like that.’
‘Murder usually is,’ Matthew said drily. ‘Well, we’ll see if Mrs Statton has anything new to say. In any case, I want to refresh my memory on a couple of points. Let me know at lunch-time what you’ve been able to arrange.’
* * *
I made an appointment with Mrs Statton for Friday afternoon, then hung around the house for a while. I was half-expecting Mike to ring, but he didn’t. Perhaps he preferred not to make a habit of phoning after each date, to apologize for the previous evening. In any event, I had to admit I was disappointed in him after his attitude towards Derek. It was, I felt, carrying friendship a little too far.
Disconsolately I gathered rug and books and made my way down to the cove. But although the sun kept promising to come through it never actually emerged, and a cool little breeze ensured that I kept my jacket round my shoulders. After a while my eyes wandered from the page of my book, and I sat gazing out over the pale water which mirrored the cloud-flecked sky, wondering if Linda had sat here with Matthew the afternoon she died. I was filled with an aching sense of melancholy. I had missed Sarah at lunch. The first phase of my stay at Touchstone had ended. Matthew had said, ‘Summer is over,’ but I passionately wanted to hold on to it.
I’d had enough of my broodings by three-thirty and made my way back up the steps. Half way up, a grass track branched off and meandered away round the cliff face. I paused, wondering whether to follow it, but the freshness of the breeze up here was cool through my thin clothes and I decided not to bother.
As I crossed the grass towards the main road, the hourly bus lumbered up the hill from the town and stopped opposite the road leading to Touchstone. Sarah clambered down, clutching her hat and satchel. She saw me and waved and I went to meet her.
‘You are lucky, spending the afternoon on the beach!’ she greeted me.
I felt better already for seeing her. it wasn’t very pleasant as a matter of fact; it was windy and the sand kept blowing in my face.’
She slipped her hand into mine and my fingers closed round it. ‘How was school?’
‘Oh, stuffy! We’ve got three new girls in our class.’
‘But you do enjoy it, don’t you?’
‘I suppose so. Yes, it’s good fun really, and the summer holidays are rather long, when you’ve no one to play with.’
‘Don’t any of your schoolfriends come over?’
‘Not often. We can’t play in the garden because we disturb Daddy, and we’re not allowed on the beach unless Tammy goes with us, and she hates it.’ She skipped a few steps. ‘Do you like working for Daddy?’
I was taken aback. ‘Well, yes – it’s very interesting.’
‘He laughs more, since you came,’ she said surprisingly.
‘I can’t say I’ve noticed,’ I replied as we turned into the gateway. Miss Tamworth was standing at the door.
‘Hello, dear. Change out of your uniform and you may play for half an hour before tea.’
‘Get a ball and I’ll play with you,’ I said impulsively. ‘We shan’t disturb your father because he won’t be working until five.’
‘Oh, goodie!’ Sarah ran upstairs, unfastening her blouse as she went. Without comment Miss Tamworth followed her. I dropped my rug and book on the hall chair and went outside again.
I really enjoyed the next half hour. Under Sarah’s instructions I recalled the games I had played at her age – French skipping, a primitive hop-scotch with sticks laid on the grass, and a multitude of ball games. We were both laughing and out of breath when Miss Tamworth called Sarah in to tea.
‘That was super, Emily!’ She tucked her warm, dirty little hand in mine. ‘Can we play again tomorrow?’
‘I don’t see why not.’
We went into the hall just as Matthew appeared from the library passage.
‘Daddy, Emily’s been playing with me in the garden!’
‘So I saw.’
‘I hope we didn’t disturb you,’ I faltered, ‘I thought you were out.’
‘Daddy, we’ve three new girls in – ‘
‘Not now, Sarah. Have you no homework to do?’
The light went out of her face and instinctively my arm went round her. ‘Not tonight,’ she replied with bent head.
I glared at Matthew but he turned away. ‘Very well. I believe Miss Tamworth said your tea was ready.’
‘Yes.’ She looked up at me with a little smile. ‘Thanks for the game, Emily.’ And she walked slowly and unchildishly to the cloakroom to wash her hands.
I took a deep breath. The hall clock chimed the quarter short of five. Matthew’s eyes rested on it meditatively. I took the hint. Gathering up my rug and book from the chair where I’d thrown them, I walked up the stairs with as much dignity as my short beach dress would allow.