Coming Home (24 page)

Nettlebed, having dealt with drinks, departed.

Judith sipped her Orange Corona. It was delicious, fizzy and strong and very sweet. She hoped that the fizz would not make her burp. Standing a little apart from the others, she endeavoured to swallow slowly and carefully, thus avoiding any possible embarrassment. Concentrating on this problem, she did not notice the last member of the shooting party enter the room.

He came quietly, on rubber-soled shoes, so none of the others heard him either. A much younger man, bespectacled, dressed in corduroys and a hefty ribbed sweater, he paused just inside the open door. Judith felt his eyes upon her and looked up, and saw him watching her, as once she had watched him. For an incredulous instant they stared at each other in some bewilderment, and then he smiled, and after that there could be no doubt at all, because everything about him was totally familiar.

He came across the room to her side. He said, ‘It is you isn't it? The girl on the train?’

Judith was so delighted that she was unable to speak, so she simply nodded.

‘What an extraordinary coincidence. Are you Loveday's schoolfriend?’

Her own face was creeping up into a smile. She could feel it, without any conscious volition on her own part. If she had wanted to, she couldn't have stopped smiling.

She nodded again.

‘What's your name?’

‘Judith Dunbar.’

‘I'm Jeremy Wells.’

She found her voice at last. ‘I know. I guessed.’

‘Jeremy! I didn't realise you'd come.’ From the sofa, Diana had spied him. ‘You must have tiptoed in. Are you introducing yourself to Judith?’

He laughed. ‘I don't need to. We've already met. In the train. Coming down from Plymouth.’

Immediately, they were the centre of attention. Everybody was suitably amazed by the coincidence, and wanted to hear all the details of their meeting. How they had shared the compartment, and gazed from the Saltash Bridge at the naval men-of-war, and finally said goodbye in Truro.

‘How's your little sister? The one with the gollywog?’ Jeremy asked.

‘She's gone. Back to Colombo with my mother.’

‘Oh dear. I didn't know. You'll miss them.’

‘They'll be there by now. And then they're moving on to Singapore. My father's got a new job.’

‘Will you be joining them?’

‘No, not for years.’

It was lovely. It was like being a grown-up, dressed in Athena's expensive clothes, and sipping a drink, and having everybody delighted because she had a friend of her own. She kept taking covert glances at Jeremy Wells's face, just to make sure that he was really here at Nancherrow, part of the Carey-Lewis clan, and yet, himself. She remembered how, in the train, when he opened the window, the end of his long muffler had lain across her knee. She remembered telling Phyllis all about him.
He was really nice,
she had said.
I wouldn't mind meeting someone like him.

And now it had really happened. He was here. Now she knew him properly. It had really happened…

From the hall, the gong for luncheon rang out. Diana finished her drink, handed the empty glass to Tommy Mortimer, rose to her feet, gathered her party around her, and led the way through to the dining-room.

The Colonel said, ‘Now you must explain to me how you and Jeremy came to meet.’

‘It was in the train from Plymouth. Just after Christmas. We were in the same compartment.’

‘And what had you been doing in Plymouth?’

‘Staying with my aunt and uncle. He's an Engineer Captain, at Keyham. We spent Christmas with them.’

‘We, being…?’

‘My mother and my little sister and me. And then he got off at Truro, and we went on to Penmarron.’

‘I see. Did you realise he's now a doctor?’

‘Yes. He told us that. And…Diana told me this morning that his father is
your
doctor.’ She hesitated a little over saying Diana's name to her distinguished and elderly husband in such a familiar way, but the Colonel didn't seem to notice. He was probably very used to his wife's casual attitude to the formalities of life.

‘He's a good lad.’ He glanced down the table to where Jeremy sat. ‘Great cricketer. Captains Cornwall Rugby team. Watched them play last year. Went to Twickenham. Great thrill.’

‘Diana told me about that too.’

He smiled. ‘In that case, I mustn't be a bore. Now, tell me about your family. They're in the East?’

‘Yes, Colombo.’

‘Have you lived there?’

‘I was born there. I didn't come home till I was ten. My mother was having Jess. She's four now.’

‘Is your father with the Civil Service?’

‘No, he's in shipping. With a firm called Wilson-McKinnon. He's being moved to Singapore, and they'll all be going there quite soon.’ She added, ‘My mother didn't really want to go, but I expect she'll like it once she gets there.’

‘Yes, I expect she will.’

She thought that he was being very courteous and hostly, conversing and making her feel at home just as though she were someone really important. He sat at the head of the long dining table, with Loveday and Judith placed on either side. Diana was at the far end, with Tommy on her left and Jeremy on her right. Mary Millyway, who had appeared as they all settled down at the table, had taken her seat between Jeremy and Loveday. She had combed her hair and powdered her nose, and was composed and perfectly at ease, talking to Jeremy, whom she had obviously known forever, imparting the latest gossip of the legendary Athena, and in return being brought up-to-date on his progress and work at St Thomas's Hospital.

The meal, as described in the kitchen by Mrs Nettlebed, had not sounded exciting, but it was, in fact, delicious. The Shooter's stew was dark and rich, enhanced by fresh mushrooms and a winy sauce; the mashed potatoes were creamy and smooth…good for soaking up the thick gravy…and the cabbage, lightly dusted with grated nutmeg, was green and sweet and crisp as nuts. To drink there was water, or beer for the men. Nettlebed, having handed around the vegetables, and seen that all the glasses were filled, had withdrawn, soft-footed, from the room. Judith was relieved to see him go. She found it hard to ignore his chilling presence, and his cold regard was enough to make anybody use the wrong knife or fork, knock over a glass of water, or drop one's linen napkin on the floor.

So far, however, she had committed none of these crimes, and without Nettlebed lurking around the back of her neck, she was beginning to enjoy herself.

‘And how about yourself?’ the Colonel asked. ‘Are you going to manage on your own? Are you enjoying St Ursula's?’

She shrugged. ‘It's all right.’

‘What about school holidays?’

‘I'm going to live with my Aunt Louise.’

‘Where is that?’

‘In Penmarron. Near the golf course.’

It was at this moment that one of those inexplicable silences fell around the table…everybody coming to a pause in the general conversation. So when Judith added, ‘The house is called Windyridge,’ hers was the only voice.

Across the table, Loveday began to giggle.

‘What's the joke?’ her father asked.

‘I wouldn't call it Windyridge. I'd call it Fartyedge,’ whereupon she dissolved into shrieks of laughter, and would probably have choked on her stew, or done the nose-trick, had not the Colonel thumped her on the back, and so, by a whisker, saved the day.

Judith was both embarrassed and apprehensive, expecting a storm of reprimands, or, at the worst, a furious order to leave the room at once. Such language, and at the lunch table too.

But nobody seemed in the least shocked, just marvellously amused, and everyone around the table dissolved into mirth as though Loveday had made some brilliantly funny remark. Mary Millyway did murmur, ‘Oh,
really,
Loveday,’ but nobody, least of all Loveday, took the slightest bit of notice of her.

When she had stopped laughing, and wiped the tears from her cheeks with a tiny lace-edged handkerchief, Diana observed, sotto voce, ‘What a frightfully good thing Nettlebed wasn't in the room. Loveday, you really are naughty, but you're so funny I suppose it doesn't matter.’

The first course was finished, and the bell rung for Nettlebed to return and clear the plates. The pudding was then served. Syrup tart and bottled plums and Cornish cream. The Colonel, having done his duty by his daughter's guest, now turned his attention to Loveday, who had a great deal to tell him about the iniquities of school, the unfairness of Deirdre Ledingham, the impossibility of learning algebra, and the hatefulness of Matron.

He listened to this routine moaning with polite attention, neither arguing nor interrupting, and Judith guessed that he had probably heard it all before. Her respect for him grew, because he clearly knew that none of Loveday's complaints, if analysed, would prove to have the slightest substance. Perhaps as well he had accepted the fact that Loveday, come hell or high water, was a survivor, and if she couldn't get her own way by wheedling and charm, she would resort to the depths of blackmail. Like running away from her first boarding-school, and refusing, on pain of death, to return.

Judith spooned cream over her syrup tart and turned her attention to other conversations. Tommy Mortimer and Diana were laying plans for London; for the coming Season, for the Chelsea Flower Show, and Wimbledon and Henley and Ascot. It made fascinating listening.

‘I've got tickets for the Centre Court and the Royal Enclosure.’

‘Oh, heaven. I shall have to buy some hats.’

‘How about Henley?’

‘Oh, let's go. I always adore Henley. All those dear old codgers in their pink ties.’

‘We'll get a party together. When are you next coming up to town?’

‘I hadn't really thought. Perhaps in a couple of weeks. I'll drive up in the Bentley. I have to order a clothe or two, and have fittings and such. And find a decorator to do something about Cadogan Mews, before Athena gets back from Switzerland.’

‘I know a marvellous man. I'll give you his number.’

‘How kind. I'll let you know when I'm on my way.’

‘We'll do a theatre, and I'll give you dinner at the Savoy.’

‘Heavenly.’ All at once, Diana became aware of Judith. She smiled. ‘I'm sorry, we're being boring, laying plans. And this is your day, and nobody's talking to you. Now, tell me, what do you want to do this afternoon?’ She raised her voice slightly, commanding attention. ‘What does
everybody
want to do this afternoon?’

Loveday said, ‘I want to ride Tinkerbell.’

‘Darling, that sounds a little selfish. What about Judith?’

‘Judith doesn't care for riding. She doesn't like horses.’

‘In that case, perhaps it would be kind to do something that
she
wants to do.’

‘I don't mind,’ Judith said, fearing some sort of argument, but Loveday didn't seem to care about arguments or rows or anything.

‘Oh, Mummy, I
really
want to ride Tinkerbell. And you know it's not good for her not being regularly exercised.’

‘I don't want you going out on your own. Perhaps Pops can come with you.’

‘She won't be on her own,’ the Colonel told her. ‘Young Walter's working down at the stables this afternoon. I'll send word to him to have the horses saddled up and ready.’

‘But, Pops, why can't
you
come with me?’

‘Because, my pet, I must go and do some work. I've letters to write, and calls to make and an appointment with Mudge at four o'clock.’ Down the table he indulgently regarded his wife. ‘And how are you going to spend the rest of the day?’

‘Oh, Tommy and I are all arranged for. I've asked the Parker-Browns over for some bridge. But that still doesn't solve the problem of our guest…’ Judith felt dreadfully embarrassed, as though she had become, all at once, a tiresome nuisance, and it was made even worse by Diana turning to Mary Millyway. ‘Perhaps, Mary…?’

She was, however, interrupted by Jeremy Wells who, up to now, had kept out of the discussion. He said, ‘Why don't I do something for Judith? We'll all go down to the stables together, and she and I will take the dogs and go on down to the cove.’ He smiled at Judith and she was filled with gratitude, because he had seen her predicament and come, so easily, to her rescue. ‘Would you like to do that?’