The Darkest Hour (20 page)

He took her hand in his for a moment, then he turned and headed for the door.

‘Speak to her, Ralph.’ Rachel clung onto her son’s arm for a moment. ‘She is so angry with everyone. Your father is furious. Eddie is behaving like a jealous spoilt child. I just can’t cope with them all.’

Ralph smiled. ‘I doubt if she will listen to me, but I’ll have a go. Is she upstairs?’

His mother nodded. ‘She won’t come out.‘

Ralph dropped a kiss on the top of his mother’s head and turned towards the hall. He ran up the two flights of stairs two at a time and knocked on the studio door.

‘Evie? It’s me. Can I come in?’

There was a moment of silence then he heard a movement behind the door. Evie pulled it open and ushered him in, then she bolted it again behind him. ‘I suppose Mummy sent you.’

‘She certainly did. She is frantic. What on earth is going on?’

‘They won’t let me see Tony.’

‘Who won’t? Not Mummy and Daddy surely. They like him.’

‘Eddie has spoken to the CO at the airfield and told him that they are so worried it is making them ill. Eddie has asked him to ban me from going down there. He has arranged for me to go to Shippams meat paste factory in Chichester instead to sketch the women working there. He says that is what the WAAC want and so that is what I have to paint.’ Her eyes were red and swollen with crying. ‘Tony sent me a letter via one of the land girls. Patsy. He was waiting at the end of the lane and she said he was distraught and begged her to give it to me. He didn’t dare come up here, and Daddy had to go down to the airfield to collect my bike and the CO had a word with him. He said he would rather I didn’t go down there any more if it was making the whole family upset, and the CO said anyway my presence was distracting Tony and affecting the other pilots.’

Ralph gave a low whistle. ‘My goodness. What a mess.’

‘Tony wants to marry me, Rafie.’

Ralph smiled doubtfully. ‘That’s a bit fast, isn’t it, even for you, little sister?’

‘It isn’t fast for wartime, you know that.’ She threw him a stormy look.

He sighed. ‘I suppose not. He’s a nice chap. I like him. I take it you want to marry him too?’

She nodded vigorously. ‘Look. They tried to stop me drawing him so I’ve been working on another portrait secretly. We went for a walk last week. Here.’ The canvas, covered by a sheet, was facing the wall behind the cupboard. She pulled it out and swung it round to face him. She had painted herself, sitting on a gate, her hair blowing in the wind with Tony standing behind her, his hand on her shoulder. Ralph studied it for a long time. Her face in the picture reflected her mood today; it was stormy, suspicious, accusing. Tony’s expression was one of pure adoration. ‘After this, I’m not doing any more painting,’ Evie said crossly. ‘I’ve told Eddie he can kiss goodbye to the pictures I’ve been doing for him. And the WAAC, I’m not painting any more for them either.’ She pushed the picture back into its hiding place. ‘Will you take Tony a message from me? Please. I’m practically a prisoner now. Daddy says Eddie is right and I am making Mummy ill with worry and he is so angry I’ve made trouble for everyone at the airfield. He’s forbidden me to go down there and I don’t want Tony to get into trouble with his CO. That would be awful. And I don’t want to embarrass you! It’s all Eddie, stirring things up. Making trouble for us. It’s not fair! But I want Tony to know I still love him. Please, tell him, Rafie. And make Mummy and Daddy understand. I don’t know why they are being like this. I’m not in any danger. Not any more than I am here. And I thought they liked Tony.’

Ralph sighed. He wondered if he would ever pluck up the courage to tell this wayward family of his that he had a girlfriend. That he was in love too. That his Sylvie was a beautiful, gentle, quiet, uncomplicated girl whom he loved to bits. This was all getting too complicated for him. He wasn’t even sure himself why his father had agreed with Evie and put his foot down in the way he had. ‘They do like Tony, Evie,’ he ploughed on. ‘But neither of them likes the trouble that’s going on, you know that. You’ve just been too indiscreet. You’ve upset Eddie a lot. Talk about tactless. Your endless visits and drawings were so obvious, throwing it in his face. You must know how he feels about you! You’ve made him really angry.’

She bit her lip. ‘I hate Eddie!’

‘No, you don’t. He’s not been very fair to you, we know, and I think he’s been exploiting you, but at the same time, if you want to further your career and be accepted by the WAAC people, you need him. You’re a woman, which is hard enough, and you’re very young. And he has put himself on the line for you. Think about it, Evie, for goodness’ sake. It will all work out OK, Sis. You just have to learn to be patient and a bit more tactful.’

She gave him a glimmer of her old smile. ‘I am not a patient tactful person, you know that.’ She was serious again at once. ‘And there is no time to be patient. Any day Tony could be posted somewhere else.’ She paused. ‘Or worse. Please, Rafie, help us.’

‘I’ll do my best.’ He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. ‘Just play the part for a while, Evie, there’s a dear. Think of what Mummy and Daddy are going through. Help them as much as you can. They are truly frightened for you. I can’t help being in the firing line,’ he grimaced, ‘but you can, sweetheart. Forget Eddie if you want to – carefully, but don’t be angry with the parents. They are only doing what they think is best in telling you not to go down there. They are frightened for you and they are frightened you are going to have your heart broken if anything happens to Tony. After all, you’ve only known him for ten minutes. Give it a little bit of time. Let everyone, especially Eddie, get used to the idea of you and Tony together and I’ll have a word with Al, ask him to speak to Tony’s CO. I’m sure I can smooth things out for you so you can go back and do some more sketching, as long as you are sketching the airfield, not just lover boy. All right? And in the meantime go and paint the meat paste factory! Please.’

She nodded. ‘All right.’

‘Good girl. It will all come right in the end, I promise.’

There was too much to think about after the meeting with Huw, too many notes to make to try and make sense of the emerging story of life at Box Wood Farm to face Evie’s studio and the probability of finding yet more material that afternoon. Instead Lucy set off the following morning, let herself into the studio about ten and set about lining up the day’s quota of boxes. At once she realised that the box of handbags was missing. She looked round, puzzled, then she realised. It was Friday. Dolly had already been into the studio doing a bit of sorting of her own. Damn! She had meant to check them before Dolly had the chance to remove them. She hurried out of the studio and across the grass to the kitchen.

Dolly was sitting at the kitchen table polishing silver. She looked up over her spectacles and gave Lucy a quizzical look. ‘Can I help?’

‘Would you mind if I made some coffee?’ It seemed a good excuse to come in. ‘Can I make you some too? I don’t want to interrupt what you’re doing.’ She hesitated for a moment, wondering whether to tell Dolly about her latest discoveries. There seemed no reason not to. ‘Yesterday I went to look at St Margaret’s Church where the memorial to Ralph is.’ Her eyes were darting round the kitchen. There was no sign of the box of bags.

‘Coffee would be nice, thank you.’ Dolly put down the cloth and sat back in her chair. ‘I had a call from Mr Michael last night. He wondered how you were getting on. He said you could come tomorrow if you liked even though it’s a weekend. He’ll be here alone. Charlotte Thingy isn’t coming.’

Lucy felt her spirits lift. ‘That would be nice. Then I can ask him some more questions about Evie. You don’t think he’ll get fed up with talking about her, do you?’

Dolly laughed. ‘I doubt it.’

‘All the stuff you gave me was really useful.’ Lucy looked out of the kitchen window while she waited for the kettle to boil. A wren was sitting flirting its tail on the ivy near the washing line. ‘I’m beginning to work everything into some kind of time-line. I’m hoping to find some addresses in amongst her papers. Where she lived after the war before she came here, for instance. You’ve given me the name of the road but I really need the number as well.’

‘That I can’t help you with. Doesn’t Mr Mike know?’

Lucy shook her head. She reached for the jar of ground coffee and measured some into the coffee pot. ‘Would his cousin Christopher know, do you suppose? I will need to speak to him soon.’

‘No!’ Dolly looked shocked. ‘You don’t want to talk to him.’

‘Why on earth not?’ Lucy’s hand paused as she stirred the coffee.

‘It’s not for me to say. You just need to know that Mr Mike and he don’t get on.’

Lucy put down the spoon. She was not entirely surprised. She had sensed an undertone when Mike had mentioned his cousin before. Hardly surprising if he had made off with all Evie’s paintings. At a guess, put together, they must be worth considerably more than the cottage.

‘I have been to see Box Wood Farm as well,’ she said. ‘Mrs Chappell showed me round.’ She poured out their coffee. ‘It is a lovely house.’ She decided not to mention the ghost. ‘She told me about the memorial they had put up to Ralph in the church. So sad. His mother and father are buried in the churchyard there.’

She had found the graves in a secluded corner under a gnarled oak tree before she walked up to the village to return the key and she had promised herself that she would come back soon with some flowers. Both graves looked untended. From the weathered stone she had garnered the dates of Rachel and Dudley Lucas. Ralph and Evie’s father had died in 1950; their mother in 1959. It was only ten months after that that Evie had sold the farm and moved from London to Rosebank. There was no sign of Ralph’s grave nearby. She wondered where he was buried. ‘It’s a tragic story, isn’t it?’ She brought their coffee cups over to the table and sat down opposite Dolly. ‘What is really worrying me is that there is so much stuff over there in the studio, but it is all impersonal. I haven’t found anything which relates to her private life. Do you think Christopher took things like that as well?’

Dolly’s face soured. ‘He went through the whole cottage. He sent me away and told me not to come back until he had finished here. I expect he took everything. He only left these bits of silver because they were damaged.’ Her fingers gently sought out a dent in one of the candlesticks on the table. She glanced up at Lucy, paused for a moment and suddenly she seemed to make up her mind. ‘I did save a few things.’ She hesitated again and then she went on. ‘When I saw which way the wind was blowing I took the two diaries she kept in her bedroom home with me when I left. I was going to tell Mr Mike and see if he minded, then I realised that there was no love lost between them and I didn’t want him to get into trouble with the will and everything, so I just kept quiet. But I think you should have them. I think that is what Evie would have wanted.’

Lucy felt a flash of excitement.

‘She didn’t leave me anything at all, according to Christopher,’ Dolly went on concentrating on the piece of silver she was polishing. ‘That wasn’t right. Evie told me she had left me two small paintings and a little money which would come to me each year. I had been with her so long. Then I was told that wasn’t true and she had left me nothing. Mr Mike made up for it. He said he couldn’t believe it, and he gave me some money of his own, but I think Christopher lied about it. He is not a nice man.’

Lucy was shocked. How could anyone begrudge a small bequest to a faithful old retainer like Dolly?

‘That all seems very unfair,’ she said quietly. ‘I would very, very much like to see the diaries. I only need to read them, and then I would give them back to you. I would be very careful with them, I promise.’ She couldn’t hide her excitement.

Dolly nodded. She still did not look up. ‘I trust you,’ she said. ‘I’ve been thinking about it and I think it is time Evie got the recognition that is her due. She is a famous person and yet no one knows about her.’

Lucy smiled. ‘I know what you mean, and I agree.’

‘I thought I had better look through her bags and things,’ Dolly went on, ‘in case you didn’t think of it, and I’ve found one or two letters you might want to see, but her large handbag, the one that held all her treasures, the one she used right up to the end, that was empty. You could ask Mr Mike, but I suspect Christopher went through it and took everything, even her powder compact, which was gold.’ Suddenly her eyes flooded with tears. ‘Her key-ring had a St Christopher medal on it, which went with her everywhere. She told me that belonged to her brother. They gave it to her after – after he died. She had wanted me to take it and give it to my grandson. He is in the RAF.’

Even admitting that he had probably been entitled to take whatever he liked from Evie’s belongings, Lucy found herself quietly resolving to make a point of meeting Christopher Marston as soon as possible. He sounded a greedy and unpleasant man. She had been planning to visit him anyway. As Evie’s only other living descendant apart from Mike it would be inconceivable not to have him on her list of interviewees, but it was becoming more and more obvious that the apparent dearth of information about Evie led directly back to this one man.

‘I’ll bring the diaries back next week,’ Dolly said. She looked up at last.

‘Have you read them yourself?’ Lucy asked gently.

Dolly shook her head. ‘I couldn’t. They were private. But you didn’t know her so it is different for you. She was still keeping a diary when she died so one of them contains the last things she ever wrote. The other goes back to the war. I don’t know why she kept it in her bedroom. It must have meant something very special to her. All the others, the ones in between, they have all gone. She kept them in her desk in the sitting room there, so I suppose Christopher took them all.’