Still Waters (26 page)

‘We love it. Daddy says the village is unpretentious and Mummy says the house runs itself, which means we have a lady from the village – Mrs Brett – who comes in twice each day, mornings to clean, late afternoons to cook dinner. And in the school hols Mum expects what she calls “co-operation” and I call slavery from her only daughter . . . and more practical help from Ashley, when he’s at home, of course.’

Tess laughed. ‘Marianne doesn’t like housework much, either, but she’s got Cherie and me to help her in the hols. She really loves cooking, though, so Mrs Thrower comes in most days for a couple of hours and does all the really hard things, like windows and scrubbing, and Marianne cooks.’

‘Good for Marianne,’ Freddy said. ‘Well, I’ll take you round the village as soon as the tank emptiers have been. We’ll be able to explore properly, especially if your parents say you can stay for a bit. Do try to persuade them, Tess! Why, you might discover a long-lost cousin of about our age living in Brundall, which would be very nice for me. No one else from our school lives really near, so I’ve got no one to do things with.’

‘I’ll do my best to stay for a while,’ Tess promised, meaning it. She would lie, deceive, anything, but she meant to stay with Freddy and find out as much as she could whilst she had the chance. ‘How do you get about? I’ve got a bike and a boat, but then we’re slap-bang on the Broad. What river is Brundall on?’

‘It’s the Yare. And we have a boat, too. Dad and Ashley sail an International Star – I’m going to have a go one of these days I keep telling them. But I’ve got a fat little row-boat. If we have time – that is, if your father will let you stay – we could go out in her. She’s called
Scottie
, after Scott Fitzgerald, of course. I say, Tess, can you sail? Perhaps you could teach me.’

‘I can, a bit,’ Tess said. ‘A boy called Barry Saunders taught me. But I’ve not sailed for ages. He got a much bigger yacht and a girlfriend . . . she crews for him . . . and they don’t sail on Barton any more. Too tame.’

‘Lovely,’ Freddy said vaguely. Ahead of them a woman was reading a paper, the headlines big enough to read even from a distance. ‘Someone’s flown the Atlantic – a woman . . . can you see?’

‘Beryl something,’ Tess said. Her interest in current affairs was minimal. ‘I didn’t know anyone was trying to do that . . . hasn’t someone done it already?’

‘Oh, Tess, of course they have! But isn’t this the other way round or something? There was an announcement on the News this morning, I think . . . or was it last night? Anyway, she’s clearly done it – another blow for women’s rights!’

‘Yes, I suppose so,’ Tess said. She cleared her throat. ‘Umm, you know your mother knew my father, Freddy? I wonder if she ever met my mother?’

‘Why? Was your mother local, too?’ Freddy asked. ‘No reason why not, of course. Ask her, anyway. She’d love to tell you her life story, my mum’s like that.’

‘Right,’ Tess said, and decided not to elaborate. Take it slowly and gently, she advised herself. That way no one will get suspicious. ‘I say, Freddy, why can’t your brother supervise the tank emptiers?’

‘He would, but he’s gone to London for the day. He’ll be home tonight, though, so if you can stay over we might persuade him to take us out for a run tomorrow. He drives the car, lucky blighter.’

‘Lovely,’ Tess said. But a nasty thought had just struck her. ‘Oh gosh, how can I possibly stay over? I don’t have any clothes or peejays or anything . . . toothbrush, flannel, that sort of thing. Oh dear, and I really did think we might get away with it.’

‘Fool!’ Freddy said affectionately. ‘I told you, Ashley can drive, Mum planned to get him to run us over to Barton this evening to pick up your things. Won’t that do?’

‘Well, yes, of course. If only, if
only
they’ll agree!’

‘If they refuse you, I’ll get my mama to have a word with them,’ Freddy said briskly. ‘And now let’s talk about something different. You know Alex Matthias? Well, Biddy Andrews told me . . .’

The burning subject of staying over was put to one side and Tess pushed her excitement over her detecting role to the back of her mind. The two girls made themselves comfortable, paid their fares, and settled down to a good gossip.

Because Peter had given her a lift that morning and intended to pick her up again at the same spot that evening, Tess knew it would be all right to ring him rather than Marianne. And anyway, Peter would always have the last word. Even so, she rang with a degree of trepidation. Suppose he said ‘no’, or told her to okay it with Marianne?

But to her great relief, her father was delighted to hear from her, and relieved, too, since it transpired that there was an emergency on in the Delamere household.

‘We’ve had a telegram from France, love,’ he said. ‘Odd that you rang, I was just wondering how on earth I could get hold of you before this evening. Marianne’s sister and brother-in-law have been injured in a motor accident – we don’t know how badly, just that they’re alive but in hospital – and we have to go to France at once. Marianne’s arranging it through Thomas Cook . . . we’re going to take Cherie, but we rather hoped you might go home and close the house up for us, then follow on a later boat. You’re seventeen, after all – old enough to travel alone. We’d meet you off the ferry, of course,’ he added quickly.

‘Actually, Daddy, I rang to tell you that I’m not in the city at all, I’m at Frederica Knox’s house,’ Tess said. ‘We had to come back because her mother’s been called away for a couple of hours and the men are coming to empty the septic tank. Freddy’s mother asked if I could stay for a few days . . . a week, even, because she’s going to be down at her sister’s quite a bit. Apparently Mrs Knox’s sister has gone into a maternity home to have a baby.’

‘Oh! And you’d like to stay? Rather than coming to France, even?’

‘Much rather,’ Tess said quickly. She had been to France once to visit Marianne’s relatives and had felt bored and out of place. What was more, she found Marianne’s boastfulness hard to take, particularly as it verged on the untruthful. ‘Of course I’ll go home and lock up and so on, but if I could come back here and stay with the Knoxes it would be easier all round.’

She waited for her father to remind her that she could not stay with friends because that would mean a reciprocal visit, but Peter raised no such objection; indeed, he said in a relieved tone of voice that if the Knox family really did not mind it would seem the perfect solution.

‘I’ll handle Marianne,’ he finished. ‘You’re too grown up to be told you can’t have a friend to stay. It’s your home as much as ours, chick. But what about pyjamas and things?’

Tess explained that Freddy had a brother who would run them over to Barton in the car that evening and help her both to lock up the house as well as to pack some clothing and toiletries. Her father was enthusiastic – he had already phoned Mrs Thrower to explain the situation – and Tess began to nurse real hopes of a reciprocal visit. Marianne could do it easily because she occasionally had large dinner parties for a dozen or so friends and acquaintances and sailed through them, presenting her guests with exquisite food and wine and obviously enjoying her role as hostess. But from what her father had said it didn’t really matter whether Daddy talked Marianne round or not. I’ll tell Marianne nicely but firmly that I intend to have my friend to stay since she was kind enough to put up with me for a week, and Marianne will have to put a good face on it, she decided. Daddy’s right, I really can’t let her rule my life the way she did when I was younger – I’m a sixth former, studying for my Higher, not a kid she can push around.

‘So that’s arranged, then, I’ll stay with Freddy,’ she said into the receiver. ‘Come to think of it. Daddy, if you have to stay longer than a week Freddy and I could move back into the Old House – or I could ask Janet to stay. I know you wouldn’t like me to be there alone,’ she added conscientiously, though she wouldn’t have minded it herself.

‘Well, we’ll see,’ Peter said now. ‘Sure the Knoxes won’t mind? It’s awfully good of them, do tell Mrs Knox so when you have a chance.’

‘She’s not here now, but I will, when she gets home,’ Tess said quickly. It had been on the tip of her tongue to remark, brightly, that Mrs Knox had known Peter years ago, but discretion stopped her short. She realised that, since she had not known herself where the Knoxes lived, Peter was unlikely to realise that she was staying in Blofield. Why should he even suspect it? She had said nothing to alert him to the fact and anyway there was no reason for telling him. She could stay where she liked.

‘Fine, darling.’ Peter sounded distracted, Tess guessed that he was already beginning to think about France, the journey, where they would stay and so on. ‘Oh, one thing – we may want to get in touch with you; what’s your address? And telephone number, of course.’

Blast, Tess thought crossly, that’s torn it. She glanced down at the telephone.
Brundall
29 was written upon it. Telephone exchanges, she knew, were often shared between a group of villages.

‘Oh, the telephone number is Brundall 29,’ she said glibly, therefore. ‘And the address is
c/o Knox, The Turrets, The Street
.’

‘Got that. I lived in Brundall once,’ Peter said. ‘You’ve got Marianne’s sister’s address, haven’t you? I don’t believe they’re on the telephone, which is a nuisance, but if you need us you can telegraph.’

‘I don’t have the address here, but it’ll be at home,’ Tess said, so Peter told her to fetch pencil and paper and dictated it to her.

‘Thanks, Daddy,’ Tess said. ‘If I need you I’ll get in touch. Will you telephone when you get back to England?’

‘I’ll telephone tomorrow evening, and each evening after that,’ Peter said. ‘Just to make sure you’re all right, sweetheart. Now is there anything else?’

‘No, we’ve settled everything,’ Tess said, crossing her fingers. Her father hated writing letters, he would telephone if he possibly could. And anyway, the postman, seeing the name Knox and the address, would only assume that someone had confused Brundall with Blofield.

‘Right then, darling. Take care of yourself and have a lovely time. God bless.’

Peter rang off and Tess replaced the receiver and went through the hall and into the small, cosy kitchen where Freddy was sitting with her bottom on one chair and her feet on another, reading the newspaper. She chucked the paper on to the table when her friend appeared, however, and got to her feet.

‘All sereno? Are you staying? Oh marvellous, Tess, I couldn’t be more thrilled, and Mummy will be pleased, too. I say, you’re a bit red about the gills, though. Was there trouble?’

‘No-oo, because it really suited my parents to have me stay here. The fact is, Marianne’s sister and brother-in-law have been in a motor accident, they’re in hospital, and so of course Marianne and Daddy are going to hare off to France. They’re taking Cherie with them, thank goodness, and they would have taken me, but they’re hoping to leave at once so they wanted me to stay behind to close up the house and so on.’

‘Fancy missing a trip to France and not minding! But honestly, Tess, we’ll have a much better time here. We’ll do all sorts of things. Promise.’

‘I know it,’ Tess assured her friend. ‘I’m not particularly keen on my step-relatives. They’re all howling snobs, like Marianne. You can’t do anything unless it’s the “done thing”. Daddy knows how I feel, though we don’t talk about it. He said to thank you very much, incidentally.’

‘It’s a pleasure,’ Freddy said buoyantly. ‘Tomorrow we’ll explore, then. We’re house-sitting today, of course – hope the tank emptiers aren’t too late – but after that we can take a mooch around. As you say, we might set eyes on a relative or two. What was your mother’s maiden name, incidentally? Because she moved away after they married, of course.’

‘I actually don’t know,’ Tess said, rather embarrassed. ‘Still, folk will surely remember Delamere? It isn’t that common.’

‘True. Right then, I’ll show you round.’

The day continued pleasantly. Freddy took Tess all round the house and introduced her to Mr Brett, who did the garden. He was married to Mrs Brett, who cleaned and cooked, and told the girls pleasantly that he’d skin ’em alive if he caught them pickin’ his apples afore they was ripe.

‘Norfolk people do say what they think, don’t they?’ Freddy said, when they got indoors. ‘And now it’s time for luncheon – Mrs Brett’s left us something on a tray. It’s in the pantry – let’s have a snoop.’

The pantry was the large, walk-in kind, and there was a refrigerator, the first one Tess had seen. It nearly stopped her heart though by suddenly starting to make a peculiar whirring noise which, Freddy said, was just the motor cutting in. Tess said yes, of course, and was glad that so far, Marianne had not managed to get Peter to have them put ‘on the electric’ and was thus unable to inflict a refrigerator on them.

‘Let’s take a look,’ Freddy said, having carried a cloth-covered tray out of the pantry, plonking it down in the middle of the kitchen table. The kitchen was square, with a red tiled floor, a huge cream-coloured Aga stove, a dresser which reached the ceiling and a great many pot plants. The kitchen table was, predictably, wood and well-scrubbed, and the chairs were ladder-backed. And when Freddy whipped the cloth off the tray she revealed just the sort of food Tess felt like on a warm, early September day. Cold chicken and ham, lots of salad, a pat of butter and a large cottage loaf.

‘There’s lemonade to drink and peaches or plums for afterwards,’ Freddy said, having fetched out a big bottle and a basket of fruit from the refrigerator. ‘Mum told Mrs Brett to do enough for three but Ash won’t be back – hooray! Tuck in, Tess!’

Tess tucked in, and when they had finished their meal the tank emptiers arrived and did their work. When they left Freddy took Tess on a short tour of the village, including the village shop and the school, mercifully closed for the holidays still. Then they made their way home and shortly after they arrived back at the house, which was large and modern, with a huge garden, Mrs Knox drifted into the kitchen where the girls were podding peas for dinner and sat herself down on the edge of the kitchen table. She was tall and slender with hair even redder, if anything, than Freddy’s and long, scarlet-painted nails of which she seemed rather proud, for she kept eyeing them, polishing them with the other palm and generally cosseting them.