A Summer Promise (7 page)

Maddy was beginning to agree when another thought struck her. ‘Alice doesn’t know I’m not still dancing attendance on my gran,’ she said slowly. ‘So she’s expecting to see you, not me. Do you always meet by the beck?’

Tom had been leafing through the book, exclaiming softly as he reached each illustration, but now he shook his head. ‘Always? You sound as if I’ve spent all my life here, whereas in fact I’ve only been here for five weeks, and Alice and her aunt and uncle were away for the first week of the hols because Mr Thwaite had promised her a seaside holiday if she passed the exam Miss Spender entered her for, which she did. Satisfied?’

‘Oh,
yes
, and I’m sorry if you think me nosy,’ Maddy said. ‘Only Alice and I spend a lot of time together – we’re best friends – so I couldn’t help wondering . . .’

She left the sentence unfinished, because Tom had been staring towards the Hall and now he gestured to Maddy to follow his example. ‘Here she comes. Aha, and she’s wheeling my bicycle!’

When Alice had awoken that morning her first thought had been of the chauffeur’s son. Though she had not yet had a chance to admit it to Maddy, for the first time in her life an interest in boys had suddenly made itself felt. He was not a handsome boy and she had never liked ginger hair, and at first he had just been someone to spend time with because Maddy was not available. As they grew to know one another, however, she found there were advantages in having a boy to do her bidding. He had a bicycle, and when he discovered that she did not have transport he had insisted upon giving her what he called ‘a seater’ so that they reached the village in minutes.

There were other benefits too. When Alice brought a picnic so that they might go further afield, he took it for granted that it should be he who carried not only the sandwiches and fruit but also the stone bottles of ginger beer. Most appealing of all, though, was the fact that he thought her pretty and clever, for he did not know that her reading was a recent accomplishment, and she did not mean to tell him. He might have wondered a little when her uncle and aunt took her to the seaside as a reward for passing the examination, but it was easy enough to brush this aside, saying vaguely that she didn’t want to think about school work during the holidays.

The sun was coming through a crack in the curtains and it looked like being a nice day, so Alice slid out of bed and padded over to the wardrobe. She had enjoyed herself very much at the seaside, though she had missed Maddy more than she imagined she would. Every time she had begun to explore a rock pool she had thought of her friend, but it had never occurred to her to suggest to her uncle and aunt that they might invite a child from the village school to accompany them.

Her uncle could swim but refused to do so because he said Yorkshire water was too cold for a man of his years. ‘One of these days, when you’re older, we’ll go to the south of France, where it’s warm,’ he had told her. ‘You’ll meet the sort of young men your father would want you to meet and no doubt one of them will teach you.’

‘But I want to learn to swim now,’ Alice had said obstinately. ‘I often play by the beck near the bottomless pool, the one where the blacksmith’s daughter drowned. Suppose I were to slip and fall into the water?’

Her uncle had taken her seriously, and an hour after they had returned to Windhover Hall he had called his niece into his study. ‘My new chauffeur has a son a little older than you,’ he had said. ‘I want you to promise me, my dear, that you won’t go near the beck unless you are in his company. I know you’ve befriended young Madeleine, but should the worst happen she would be of little assistance, I imagine.’

Alice had agreed, and now, having selected her plainest cotton smock and a pair of well-worn sandals, she hurried down to the breakfast parlour, anxious to get the meal over so that she could go down to the beck to meet Tom. The swimming lessons had never materialised but he was teaching her to ride his bicycle, though she had not proved an apt pupil, being so anxious not to fall that she clung to her teacher, only letting go when he insisted that she would never learn whilst hanging on to him. Naturally they never bicycled down by the beck, but they usually met there since Tom was a keen fisherman and normally spent the hour or so before she joined him casting a fly over the waters of the bottomless pool, where they both knew the grandfather of all trouts lurked.

‘You’re in a hurry this morning, my dear. I hope you and your friend are not up to mischief.’

Miss Spender’s mild voice cut across Alice’s thoughts. Alice smiled at her governess. Miss Spender was tall and slim with light brown hair which she wore in a bun from which strands were perpetually escaping. She had a thin, aristocratic face, a high-ridged nose and gold-rimmed spectacles perched over light brown eyes, and she wore long, limp dresses in a variety of dark shades and dark court shoes on her narrow feet. Alice had once asked her why all her dresses were so similar, to which she had replied: ‘I suppose it’s because I feel it marks me out as a governess, my dear.’

But now Alice did not answer her companion but merely asked politely if her teacher would care for another piece of toast or a hot cup of coffee to replace the one she had poured herself earlier and not yet touched.

‘No thank you, dear. I mean to go up to the schoolroom and write a letter to my sister. Are you going into the village this morning? If so, I’ve some other letters I would like you to post.’

It was on the tip of Alice’s tongue to say she was not, but then her conscience stabbed her. She had been forgetful of both Miss Spender and Maddy, had not even sent them a postcard from the seaside, and she could easily persuade Tom to give her a seater into the village. She smiled. ‘Yes, of course I’ll take your letters for posting. Tom is teaching me to ride his bicycle and Uncle John has said that when I can do so safely he will buy me a machine of my own, so riding into the village will be good practice. Can you ride a bicycle, Miss Spender?’

The governess looked alarmed. ‘Well, I can ride a lady’s cycle,’ she said cautiously. ‘But young Tom has a man’s model, I presume?’

Alice looked as perplexed as she felt. ‘Man’s model?’ she repeated. ‘What’s the difference, Miss Spender? It’s a nice bicycle, green with gold writing. I think it’s called a Raleigh . . .’

‘And you’ve been learning to ride on it?’ Miss Spender squeaked. ‘What on earth was Mr Thwaite thinking of to let you do something so unladylike?’ She lowered her voice to a hissing whisper. ‘You must have been showing your – your petticoat . . . oh, Alice my dear, possibly even your knickers! You see, the crossbar, as they call it, means you have to elevate one leg and swing it over the saddle.’

Alice gave a squawk of amusement, hastily muffled. ‘I’m so sorry for laughing, Miss Spender,’ she said. ‘I have seen bicycles with crossbars, but Tom’s bike doesn’t have one. I must ask him why not when I see him next.’

Miss Spender gave a sigh of relief. ‘I thought Mr Thwaite wouldn’t countenance such behaviour,’ she said. ‘So you’re going into the village, are you? Have you any of your allowance left?’

Alice plunged a hand into her pinafore pocket and withdrew a beautiful little drawstring purse embroidered with violets. It was Miss Spender’s most recent Christmas gift and Alice loved it. She held out her palm and tipped the purse so that the money clinked into her hand. ‘I’ve two and tenpence,’ she said after a quick count. ‘I shan’t need more. Unless . . . do any of your letters need stamps, Miss Spender?’

‘No, they’re all ready to post,’ the governess assured her.

As Alice crossed the courtyard half an hour later she saw Mr Browning energetically polishing the already gleaming car. He looked up and smiled at her as she approached.

‘Morning, young lady! Are you looking for Tom?’ he asked cheerfully. ‘He’s gone down to the beck to meet you.’ He looked at the batch of letters Alice was clutching. ‘Going into the village? If so, you’ll want the bike, and he’s left it in its stall.’

‘Good morning, Mr Browning. I’m not sure about the bike, but did Tom take his fishing rod?’

The chauffeur shook his head. ‘Not as I noticed, but if I were under the car which I was earlier I dare say a brigade of guards could have marched past without me seeing them.’ He chuckled. ‘Does it matter?’

‘Not really,’ Alice admitted. She hesitated, looking enquiringly at the chauffeur. ‘I do want to go into the village to post these letters for Miss Spender. Do you think Tom would mind if I took his bicycle down to the beck to meet him?’

The chauffeur had been bending to examine what might have been a scratch on the passenger door, but now he straightened and pushed a hand up through his hair. Alice reflected that this was the first time she had seen Tom’s father without his peaked chauffeur’s cap and she now saw that his hair was similar to Tom’s in colour, though a very much darker shade. ‘I said you can take the bike, but don’t you go trying to ride it. I know Tom’s teaching you, but he says you’ve a way to go yet, and the bicycle’s rather special to us both. It was Tom’s mum’s many years ago, and we’d hate it to be damaged.’

‘I’ll be ever so careful, honestly I will, and I wouldn’t dream of riding it,’ Alice said. ‘Thanks very much, Mr Browning . . . oh, is there anything you want from the village?’

Mr Browning shook his head and tapped the car’s long and gleaming bonnet. ‘No thanks, duck. I’ll be busy here for a while yet, but later on I’ll likely go down myself and pick up a few things.’

‘Righty-ho,’ said Alice, wheeling the bicycle out of the stable and heading across the yard. ‘I’ll tell Tom you said it would be all right about the bicycle.’

‘Well well well, look who’s here! Alice, my love, you’re as welcome as the flowers in May.’ Tom grinned. ‘Have you two met? If not, may I perform the introductions? Miss Thwaite, this is Miss Hebditch. Miss Hebditch, meet Miss Thwaite. Oh, and I’m Tom Browning, son of the best chauffeur in the dales!’

‘Don’t be so stupid,’ Maddy said stiffly. ‘You know perfectly well that Alice and I are best friends, only we’ve not met for a while because I’ve been looking after my gran.’

‘Sorry, my mistake. You two were glaring at each other like a couple of dogs disputing over a bone so I leapt to the conclusion . . .’

‘Well don’t,’ Maddy said crossly. She turned awkwardly to Alice, not quite sure what to say. ‘We ought to put the book back before we do anything else,’ she managed. ‘I’ve told Tom all about it. But I didn’t tell him where we kept it when we weren’t using it.’ Her eyes fell to the letters in Alice’s hand. ‘Are you going to the village? Shall I come with you, or would you rather go with this – this person?’

‘Hey, what have I done to deserve being given the cold shoulder?’ Tom asked plaintively. ‘Why can’t we all go into the village? I wouldn’t say I was flush for cash, but I’ve got about one and seven left over from last week’s pocket money, so I’m quite happy to buy sweets for the three of us.’

Alice was looking at Maddy. ‘You’re angry with me, though I can’t think why,’ she said crossly. ‘I
am
on my way to the village, but if you’re going to get nasty then you can jolly well stay here and I’ll go with Tom.’

Tom seized the bicycle by its handlebars and began to laugh. ‘I don’t know what all this is about but I think it’s time I put a stop to it,’ he said. ‘Shake hands and make friends, you two, or I shall get on to my bicycle, ride into the village and leave the pair of you to walk. Otherwise we could ride and tie. Maddy, hurry up and take the book back to wherever you keep it, because you were the one who had it out last.’ He turned to Alice. ‘Look, get on the carrier, and whilst Maddy puts the book away I’ll give you a ride down to the village and then come back for Maddy. Is that all right?’ Maddy began to say that she could walk, but he brushed this aside. ‘You could walk, but you’re not going to because I have offered you a ride on my prancing steed and it would be very rude to turn me down flat,’ he said, and this time his tone was serious.

Maddy felt her cheeks redden. ‘Sorry; of course it would be lovely to have a lift down. I’m sorry if I was rude, Tom. But what did you mean by “ride and tie”?’

‘Oh, it only means take it in turns,’ Tom explained. ‘Hop on the carrier, Alice, and we’ll coast down the hill in no time. Then I’ll leave you to have a good wander whilst I come back for your little friend.’

Tom was a tall young fellow, but Maddy objected to the term ‘little friend’ and said so, but the other two were already heading off along the stony track towards the village, and paid no heed.

MISS VERITY PARROTT
was in her classroom, trying to concentrate on her preparation for the new intake of children in September. She had checked the supplies and had a neatly written list of names of those who would start their school careers on the ninth of the month, and until ten minutes ago had been quite pleased with the way things were going. In other years the school had simply been divided into juniors and seniors but this year, with numbers increasing, she had asked for, and been granted, a pupil teacher to help her with the little ones, children aged between four and six. The Education Department had appointed someone to the post, but most unfortunately the girl had changed her mind. She had explained that she had an older sister who lived in York and that she could get a higher wage if she went there.

The headmaster of the village school, Mr Grice, had just called Miss Parrott into his office to break the news, and when she had said, comfortingly, that she supposed the pair of them could manage he had shaken his head. ‘I’m not saying there is going to be a war, or that it will affect us here in Yorkshire,’ he had explained, ‘but I do think that such a thing is not unlikely. Germany is behaving as they behaved just before the outbreak of the last war and then, as no doubt you know, conscription speedily followed.’ He had looked over the top of his steel-rimmed spectacles at the other teacher. ‘I expect that to you, Miss Parrott, I seem infinitely old, but in fact I am not yet forty. If I am to join one of his majesty’s forces I would prefer to volunteer, possibly for the Royal Air Force. I’ve a younger brother, a career aircraftman, who advises me that it’s a good life. So you see, we don’t want a situation in which you alone are trying to teach fifty children, and since no one will grant us another fully qualified member of staff a pupil teacher is a necessity. I spoke to the Director of Education yesterday and he suggests that we could look amongst our own pupils and see if any of them would be interested in the post.’ He had looked keenly at Miss Parrott. ‘Do you have anyone who might be suitable in your class? Ideally, they need to be at least thirteen years old, for obvious reasons.’