The Nine Bright Shiners (2 page)

She reached out a hand to both, and was rewarded by a wan smile from Julie, a more determined one from Ben.

The roar of the car's movement made conversation difficult between front and back, and she had to lean forward to catch what Edward said. Rowena sat stiffly in her seat and hadn't so much as turned her head the entire journey.

But they were almost home. Soon, Edward was driving down dear old Broad Street, with its tree-lined pavements and the towers and turrets of St Benedict's School. Directly opposite it was the turning to Cavendish Road, and Jan leant forward eagerly. How many times she'd walked along this pavement, coming home from school, from shopping trips, from dates with Roger. And here, on the left, stood Rylands, the house about which she still dreamed so often. Yet, from the distance of fifteen years, it differed from her remembrance. She'd pictured it large and remote, standing alone with no near neighbours. In fact, it was a substantial Victorian house in a road of similar houses, neither larger nor smaller than its companions.

The front garden contained little other than a semi-circular drive between the two gates. For an unfocused moment, as Edward drew up, Jan expected her parents to come down the steps. Then he got out of the car, and with the draught of wet air reality returned, and with it a renewed sense of loss.

‘Well, here we are. I hope Lily has coffee waiting.'

Jan gave the children a nudge and they stumbled out on to the gravel. As Edward took their luggage from the boot, Rowena was already pushing open the front door. They followed her inside, into the welcoming warmth of the hall. At the far end, the gracious stairway rose towards the stained-glass window on the half-landing. The last time she'd come down those stairs, she'd been in her wedding dress. Now, Roger's loss was added to that of her parents. Her throat ached with unshed tears.

A small, neatly dressed woman had appeared at the back of the hall. ‘Oh, you're back, Mrs Langley,' she exclaimed unnecessarily. ‘There's a nice fire in the drawing-room.'

‘Thank you, Lily. This is my sister-in-law, Mrs Coverdale, and Ben and Julie.'

The woman smilingly shook hands all round. ‘I'll bring the coffee straight through, shall I?'

‘Yes, please.' Rowena was taking off her coat and hanging it in the large oak wardrobe. Jan had once hidden there, to escape a hated rice pudding. ‘Give me your coats,' Rowena instructed, holding out her hand. ‘Now, I suggest we have coffee and get properly warmed through, then I'll show you your rooms and you can unpack.'

Although the drawing-room had been redecorated, the furniture was still that of Jan's childhood, the deep, high-backed chesterfield and matching armchairs, the desk which had been her father's, the grand piano with the silver-framed photograph on top. Only as she moved towards it did she notice with a jolt that the portrait had been changed. It was no longer her mother's smiling face that looked out at her, but that of a younger woman, whose make-up and hairstyle was that of the 'forties. Lydia Langley, her father's first wife and Edward's mother. Jan wondered what had become of her own mother's picture. She would like to have it.

‘Is that Granny?' asked Julie, who had come up behind her.

‘No,' Jan said quietly, embarrassed to be caught studying the substitution. ‘That's Uncle Edward's mother.'

‘Why didn't you have the same mother, like me and Ben?'

‘Because,' Rowena said lightly from the fireplace, ‘your uncle's mother died. She'd been ill for a long time, and had a nurse living in the house to look after her. And after a decent interval, your grandfather married the nurse.'

Though an accurate enough summary, it lacked sensitivity, implying both that the second marriage was one of convenience, and that William Langley had married beneath him. As Jan knew, both implications were untrue. To disguise her discomfort, she walked to the french windows at the end of the room and stood staring down the long, rain-soaked garden. It must have looked as bleak in other winters, but her memory was obstinately of colour, flowers and sunshine. Without thinking, she rested her hand on the handle and Edward, who had just come into the room, remarked, ‘It won't open. We have a comprehensive alarm system, and that door's sealed for the winter.'

Jan turned with a smile, glad of the change of subject. ‘I wasn't trying to open it – I've had enough of the cold for now. But why a burglar alarm? It sounds very sinister.'

‘A result of one of the less admirable changes since you left. The crime rate has shot up, and burglaries are on the increase. Before we leave, we must instruct you in the intricacies of the system.'

The children had flopped on to the hearth rug, and Jan moved to join them, holding out her hands to the fire. There was a tap on the door, and Lily entered with the coffee tray. That too, ornate and silver, was a familiar friend. Jan said tentatively, ‘I wonder if the children could have milk? They don't really care for coffee.'

‘Of course,' Rowena said. ‘Bring some hot milk, would you, Lily.'

‘Not
hot
milk!' Julie exclaimed, before Jan could speak. ‘Hot milk's
disgusting
!'

Rowena raised an eyebrow. ‘Then by all means have it cold, and freeze your insides still further. But when I was a little girl, I drank what was provided and my opinion on it wasn't either asked or given.'

Jan said quietly, ‘Julie often speaks without thinking, but she didn't mean to be rude, did you, Julie?'

The child, abashed by her sudden disapprobation, shook her head.

‘So what do you say?' Jan prompted.

‘Sorry.' It was a mumble from a hung head, but it was an apology. Not sufficient, however.

‘Sorry, who?' Rowena asked.

Julie looked up in bewilderment, her eyes filling with tears.

‘Sorry, Aunt Rowena,' Jan supplied, furious at this further chastisement.

‘Sorry, Aunt Rowena,' Julie repeated, and buried her face in her mother's lap. Jan stroked the tangled hair with trembling fingers. She would have a private word with her sister-in-law, she promised herself, and explain the children's insecurity and their need for temporary licence.

Ben, whose own views on hot milk were mercifully forestalled by his sister's, sat glowering on the rug, his opinion of the proceedings only too apparent. And she'd
told
them to be good, Jan thought despairingly. Her own control was precarious enough; if Julie had really cried, she'd probably have howled with her.

Fortunately, the best possible distraction appeared with Lily and the milk. A sleek and creamy Siamese, tail erect and gently waving, progressed across the carpet and, ignoring the two children, took up its accustomed place before the fire.

‘Careful!' Jan warned, as two delighted hands reached out towards it. ‘It isn't used to children.'

Edward said, ‘If you don't rush her, she'll be quite willing to make friends.'

‘What's her name?' Julie asked, brushing away the last of her tears.

‘Lotus. Isn't she beautiful?'

The cat turned on him its brilliant blue eyes, placidly accepting the compliment.

‘What do you do with her when you're on your trips?' Jan asked.

‘Board her with her breeder. Your being here will spare her that.'

Coffee over, Rowena led the way upstairs. The fourth stair from the half-landing creaked as it always had, and the worn leather cushion still lined the window-seat below the stained-glass pane. ‘When the sun shines through the glass, it's like sitting in a rainbow,' Jan told her children.

‘I've put you in the front guest-room,' Rowena commented, turning to the left at the top of the stairs and opening the first door. ‘We've had a shower cabinet put in, which is quite useful.' Lily had already brought the luggage upstairs.

‘Thank you, it looks very comfortable.' The room was papered in a Laura Ashley design of sprigged flowers, with matching curtains and bedspread. It was quite in keeping with the heavy mahogany suite.

‘And the children are down the other end,' Rowena continued, shepherding them ahead of her out of the room, ‘Ben in the old nursery and Julie in what was your room. I hope they'll keep them tidy, and not give Lily extra work.'

‘Who sleeps in all the other rooms?' asked Ben, ignoring the stricture.

‘Well, there's our room, of course, and we've made the small one next to it into an
en suite
bathroom. The door to the right of the stairs is your uncle's study, and at the end of the passage are the main bathroom and lavatory.'

Julie, who had run ahead to verify this last piece of information, called back excitedly, ‘Mummy, the lavatory's on a platform, and it's got a shiny wooden seat!'

‘Where do these stairs lead to?' Ben asked, looking up the twisting narrow flight.

‘The attics, of course. In the old days, the servants used to sleep there, but now they're just boxrooms used for storage.'

‘Where does Lily sleep?'

‘At home. She comes at eight o'clock every weekday, and stays until six.'

‘There are a lot of rooms for just two people,' Ben commented, which was what Jan had been thinking. She'd known Rylands as a family home, and couldn't imagine why Edward and Rowena kept it on now; its upkeep must be considerable. Rowena was hesitating in the nursery doorway.

‘I should be grateful, Janis, if both our room and the study could be considered out of bounds. Our carpet is a pale colour, easily soiled, and there are delicate ornaments in there. And, as you might remember, Edward's obsessionally neat, and not even Lily is allowed in his study.'

Jan said stiffly, ‘We wouldn't dream of going in.' Or wouldn't have, she amended mentally. The ban had probably roused the children's interest.

Rowena had the grace to look uncomfortable. ‘I meant during hide-and-seek, or whatever children play. Still, as long as that's understood, we needn't mention it again.'

She left them to unpack, and the rest of the day passed in a disjointed, aimless fashion, aggravated by the malaise of jet-lag. Jan found she was tense, continually on guard for any
faux-pas
the children might make. And although no further awkwardness occurred, it was a relief when, after an early supper before Lily left, they agreed, unusually readily, to go to bed.

The three adults ate a formal meal in the dining-room.

The heating had been switched on only an hour before, and the room was still chill. Jan's jaw ached from holding back yawns and it was also an effort to repress her shivers. She was thankful that Rowena suggested coffee in the drawing-room.

‘Now,' she began, as they settled by the fire, ‘what's all this about Roger?'

Edward moved uncomfortably. ‘Come on, darling, it's hardly our business.'

‘But Janis must need to confide in someone, and we are family, after all.' She looked at her penetratingly as she handed her a coffee-cup.

‘There's not much to tell,' Jan said evasively. The last thing she wanted was to go over it now. Though she'd prepared a synopsis for just such a moment, she was too tired to remember it, and afraid any deep probing might precipitate tears.

‘I presume there's someone else?' persisted Rowena.

‘Would you believe the girl next door?' Jan tried to laugh.

‘They were new neighbours, Ron and Pam Stevens. We invited them in to meet everyone, and became quite friendly.' She paused, hearing the irony in the words. ‘And Roger simply – lost his head. I must have been blind – I'd no idea anything was going on.' She drank the hot coffee, praying it would steady her.

‘And they just went off together?'

‘He did apologize. He said he couldn't live without her.'

Rowena snorted. ‘What about her husband?'

‘He went to pieces. They'd only been married a year or two.' Jan drew a deep breath. ‘That's all, really. Would you mind if we talked of something else? Tell me what you're hoping to do in Peru.'

Edward, seeming relieved at the change of subject, smiled. ‘This trip is sheer self-indulgence. We're going to follow the Inca trail to Machu Picchu. We've always avoided it because it's so popular with tourists, but this time we're going in the rainy season, so it'll be far less crowded. And of course we won't have to worry about fresh water. From there, we'll go on to Cajabamba. We try to go back every two or three years, though it's more complicated now it's in the emergency zone.'

Jan said impulsively, ‘I was wondering on the plane why neither Father nor Laurence Cody ever went back after 'fifty-five.'

Was there a tightening of the atmosphere, or had she imagined it? But something made her look up, and she was in time to catch a warning glance between husband and wife. Then Edward said easily, ‘Well, they'd accomplished what they set out to do, hadn't they?' Which facile explanation, offered to her in the past and accepted until now, no longer satisfied her.

‘But Sir Reginald kept going back. Alone, then with Rowena, and then both of you.'

‘It was in his blood – he couldn't stay away. He even called his house Cajabamba.'

‘I remember going there for tea. And that's another thing; it seemed strange –' She broke off, smothering a yawn. ‘Sorry, I can hardly keep my eyes open!'

‘What seemed strange?' asked Rowena, and there was a note in her voice that jerked Jan awake. However, her chain of thought had been broken.

‘I can't remember!' she confessed ruefully.

Rowena was sitting forward on her chair, her clenched fist on her knee. Edward glanced at her again, and she sat back.

‘I wonder if you'd excuse me?' Jan murmured. ‘What with the meal and the warm fire, I just can't keep awake any longer.'

‘Of course.' Edward stood up. ‘Have you everything you want?'

‘All I want is bed and oblivion!'