Wait For the Dawn (14 page)

Lydia gave a little laugh, that rang slightly too loud in her ears. ‘No, not today. No one got lost today.’ She hesitated briefly, then said, ‘It’s Mr Anderson, isn’t it? Mr Guy Anderson.’

He nodded. ‘It is indeed. I’m flattered that you remembered.’

She felt herself blushing slightly then, gesturing to Thomas, said, ‘This is Mr Thomas Bissett, my sister’s friend. Mr Bissett – Mr Guy Anderson.’

The two men shook hands, and when the introductions were completed, Mr Anderson said, ‘You’re obviously waiting for a coach. Are you going back to Capinfell?’

‘Not today,’ Lydia said. ‘Mr Bissett and my sister are heading for Barford. Unfortunately they just lost the coach. It was full up.’

‘So now,’ Thomas said, ‘we’ve got to wait for the next one.’

‘Oh, dear.’ Mr Anderson looked sympathetic. ‘When is that due?’

‘Not for another half hour.’

‘And is that inconvenient?’

Ryllis spoke up here. ‘Mr Bissett was keen to get back home to meet certain people who were visiting,’ she said.

‘And what about you, Miss Halley?’ Mr Anderson turned back to Lydia. ‘Are you not bound for Barford?’

‘No, I’m staying here in Redbury,’ Lydia said. ‘I just came to see my sister and Mr Bissett off on the coach.’

‘I see.’ A moment of silence went by, then he said, ‘Well, now, listen. I just drove out a short distance to bring an old friend of my mother’s to the train station. My mare likes a jaunt, so what d’you say that I drive you to Barford?’ Here his eyes rested on Lydia again. ‘And you, Miss Halley, can come along for the ride and keep me company on the box.’ Quickly he added: ‘Of course, I’ll bring you back to Redbury and drive you home or wherever you want to go.’

Lydia did not answer, although she was inclined to decline the offer, but at once Thomas spoke up, saying, ‘Well, that’s very decent of you, sir. We’d appreciate that very much, wouldn’t we, Ryllis?’

‘Oh, yes,’ Ryllis replied. ‘That would be splendid. You’ll get home in good time after all, Tom.’

‘Indeed,’ said Mr Anderson, ‘and we might make almost as good progress as the coach.’

Both Ryllis and Thomas turned their eyes to Lydia now, looking for her agreement, and she knew she could not do anything but acquiesce.

‘Very well,’ she said, ‘that would be very nice.’

Sitting in the open carriage, they had to raise their voices over the sounds of the wheels and the horse’s hooves, and against the light breeze that threatened to waft their words away. The large, strong mare between the shafts made light work of pulling the trap and its occupants. ‘So,’ Mr Anderson said, after they had driven a little way, half turning, speaking to Ryllis and Thomas who sat behind him, ‘have you been having a few hours’ relaxation in Redbury?’

‘Yes, something like that,’ Ryllis answered, to which Thomas added:

‘If you can call it that.’

‘Don’t you like Redbury?’ Mr Anderson said to him.

‘There’s not much to like, is there?’ said Thomas. ‘Not in my reckoning, anyway. There’s certainly not much to do there.’

‘I suppose it depends what you’re looking for.’

Ryllis said, ‘Mr Bissett’s been living in London – where the high life is.’

‘London, eh?’ Mr Anderson said. ‘Well, now, there’s a place.’

‘Do you know it?’ Ryllis said. ‘Have you ever been?’

‘Yes, a few times, and it had its moments, there’s no denying.’ He turned to Lydia who sat beside him. ‘What about you, Miss Halley? Do you enjoy travel?’

‘I haven’t had any real opportunity, though I like to read of exotic places.’

‘Oh, Miss Halley,’ Thomas said, raising his voice, ‘wouldn’t you like to go to Paris and see the new tower they’ve just finished, that Eiffel Tower everyone’s talking about?’

‘Perhaps one day,’ Lydia said, ‘but there are so many wonders closer to home that I’ve never set eyes on. For one thing, I have to confess I’d love to see some of the theatres and opera houses that you find in the big cities.’

‘Ah, yes,’ Mr Anderson said. ‘That’s where the big cities come into their own. Though of course there’s the theatre in Redbury – and it sometimes offers touring opera productions. Have you never been to one?’

‘No, I haven’t,’ Lydia said. She could have added that her father would have frowned at the very idea, but said nothing more.

‘Perhaps you’ll go one day.’

‘Who knows. Perhaps I shall.’

‘What about you, Mr Bissett?’ Mr Anderson said. ‘Do you go to the theatre in Redbury?’

‘The theatre?’ Thomas said scornfully. ‘Hah. I’ve no time for that kind of nonsense. Give me something real to deal with. You know in London they’ve just opened a tube railway – and it goes right underneath the River Thames.’

‘Yes, so I read.’

Mr Anderson asked Thomas then about his employment, and the latter replied at length, speaking of his work at his uncle’s factory. Ryllis hung on his words, laughing encouragingly as he related some amusing anecdote about one of the workers. He continued to talk animatedly for most of the remainder of the journey.

At last they saw before them the village of Barford, and as soon as they reached the outskirts Thomas asked to be let down, saying that he would walk the rest of the way. Mr Anderson drew the carriage to a halt and Thomas kissed Ryllis on the cheek and jumped down onto the road. Reaching up, he shook hands with Mr Anderson, then said to Lydia, touching his hat, ‘It’s been a pleasure, Miss Halley, and I hope to see you again before too long.’

‘I hope so too, Mr Bissett,’ Lydia replied, then added, ‘You’ll look after our Ryllis, won’t you?’

He smiled. ‘Oh, indeed. Have no fear of that.’

When Thomas had moved away, Mr Anderson started off the carriage again, and at Ryllis’s directions, drove through the village to the southern side, pulling up at a large redbrick Victorian house that nestled back behind tall elm trees. As the man jumped down, Ryllis said, whispering to her sister: ‘Did you like Tom? Oh, I hope you did. He gets a little fraught at times, but you mustn’t take any notice.’

‘Oh, he was charming,’ Lydia said, then went on, compounding her lie: ‘I enjoyed meeting him.’

Mr Anderson helped Ryllis down, then Lydia watched as Ryllis went in at the gate, turned to give a final wave and disappeared from view. A moment later Mr Anderson had
climbed back into the carriage and was calling out to the horse, ‘Ready to go, then, Tess?’ and they were starting off again.

They drove for a little while, the wheels eating up the distance, then Mr Anderson said to Lydia, ‘So it’s back to Redbury for you now, is it?’

‘Yes, that’s right.’

A few moments, then he asked, ‘Are you in a great hurry to get back?’

‘Well, no – not particularly.’

‘It’s just that I don’t want to push Tess too hard. As I said, she likes a jaunt, and she’s a strong old girl, but she’s not exactly the youngest. She likes to go at her own pace.’

‘No,’ Lydia said, ‘we can take our time. Don’t press her.’

For the most part the road was clear, and they passed only a few other carriages and carts on their way. Up above them, beyond the overhanging green foliage, the sky remained a soft azure blue, broken only here and there by small drifting clouds.

‘How did you enjoy your visit with your sister today?’ Mr Anderson asked after they had travelled a little way in silence.

‘Oh, so much!’ Lydia said. ‘The time went too fast.’

‘I wish I had a sister or brother,’ he said. ‘Unfortunately I haven’t. Have you got other siblings?’

‘No, there’s only Ryllis and me.’

He nodded. ‘Do you know your sister’s friend well? Mr Bissett?’

‘No, I don’t. This was the first time we ever met.’

‘The first time, eh?’ He turned, flicked a glance at her. ‘I trust you approved.’

‘Approved?’

‘Of Mr Bissett.’

‘Ah.’ She nodded.

‘Do I take that as a yes?’ he said, smiling. ‘Do you approve?’

Lydia was silent at the question, and could have wished that it had not been asked. ‘Well,’ she said after a few moments, ‘it’s not always easy to judge, is it? Not when you’re dealing with first impressions, that sort of thing. On the other hand, I’m certain he must be a perfectly nice young man.’ She paused, then raised a hand towards the sky. ‘Look at that sky! What a perfect day this is.’

‘Oh, I see,’ he said, grinning. ‘Well, now that we’ve changed the subject and have decided to dispense with your opinions on the subject of Mr Bissett, tell me a little about your sister. She’s not in the least like you.’

‘What do you want to know? She’s sixteen years old and is working in service.’

‘How does she like it?’

‘Well, she doesn’t like it where she is, her present situation. She talks about changing it, but we’ll have to see what happens. I know she’d like to do something better, move to another place.’

‘Has that sort of work ever had appeal for you? Ladies maid, governess – anything like that?’ He smiled at her. ‘I realise I know nothing at all about you. Only that which I learned when we met in the square, and that was precious little.’ He gave a low chuckle. ‘I learned quite a lot about Mr Bissett on the drive out, but nothing much about anyone else.’

Lydia smiled in spite of herself.

‘But has it?’ he said. ‘Has domestic work ever appealed to you? It does to many girls.’

Lydia gave an ironic laugh. ‘It only appeals because there’s precious little else that’s available. This is a man’s world, Mr Anderson, and make no mistake about it. Women could do so many other jobs, but they just don’t get the chance.’

‘I’ve no doubt you’re right,’ he said, ‘but perhaps things will change in time.’

‘I think they’ll have to.’ She was silent for a moment, then she went on, ‘But as for me, I’m happy enough working in an office. It has a lot to be said for it. For one thing, when six o’clock comes round I no longer have to answer to anyone.’

‘Oh, yes, there’s a lot to be said for that. What about your parents? I suppose they live in Capinfell, do they?’

‘My father does. I’m afraid my mother – died some months ago.’

‘Oh, dear. I’m sorry to hear that. I did notice when we first met that you were in mourning. Your sister too. I am sorry.’

‘Thank you. It was all very sudden and . . .’ She let her words trail away, feeling a tightening in her throat, and did not look at him but into the hedgerows as they passed.

‘It must be a dreadful thing to lose a parent,’ he said. ‘Fortunately both mine are in fairly good health at the moment. Though they’re neither of them young.’

‘Do you get on with them well?’

‘Oh, indeed. Though I see less of my father than my mother. Apart from his work here he has business interests in Italy, and he spends some of his time in Florence.’

‘Does your mother travel with him?’

‘Sometimes, though not as much as she once did. My father’s in his early seventies now, and my mother only a few years younger. He keeps saying he’s going to retire from his work, but it hasn’t happened yet.’

Turning a bend in the road they saw before them a public house, the Rising Sun. As they approached it, Guy said, ‘Would you care to stop for a while, and have a drink and give Tess a rest?’

She hesitated. She had never before in her life been inside any kind of drinking house. ‘I – I have to be in by half past seven,’ she said.

‘Oh, so soon?’

‘I’m afraid so. Mrs Obdermann, my landlady, is serving supper for me at that time. I said I’d be back. I think she’d be angry if I let her down.’

‘Oh, dear. Well, we can stop for a little while, can’t we?’ When she did not reply, he added, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll get you home in time.’

She found herself agreeing, and Guy guided the mare into the yard at the side of the inn, where a young lad appeared around a corner and took the horse’s bridle. As Guy jumped down, he said to the boy, ‘Give her some water as well, will you, lad? She’s bound to be thirsty.’ He helped Lydia down on to the cobbles and together they went into the saloon bar.

It was not crowded and they took a vacant seat beside a wall. ‘What would you like to drink?’ Guy asked as Lydia sat down and uncertainly began to peel off her gloves.

She had no idea what to reply. She wanted nothing alcoholic. ‘Is it – is it possible I could just have a lemonade – or something – please?’

‘Of course. Would you like anything to eat? Oh, no, you’ll be going back soon for your landlady’s boiled mutton, I forgot.’

He left her and moved to the bar, and Lydia watched his tall figure as he stood at the counter, waiting to give the barman the order. She sat there, nervous and unsure in these new surroundings, aware of the clamour of voices coming from the public bar next door. What would her father think to know of her being there – sitting in a public house, waiting for a man who was almost a stranger to bring her a drink?

Forcing her mind to move to other things, she thought of how good it had been to see Ryllis again, and also how interesting had been her meeting with Thomas Bissett, but here, in spite of her wish to be generous, her thoughts were
touched with dismay. She had not been impressed with him at all. But then she thrust the reservations aside. What did it matter what
she
thought? What mattered was Ryllis. If Ryllis was happy with him and he treated her well, that was the important thing.

She thought again of her father – as she had done so many times since her departure from Capinfell. She wondered how he was. How was he faring without her? How was he dealing with Mrs Harbutt coming in the evenings to cook his supper? She would go to see him on the coming Saturday, she decided. She would go on the Saturday after her work, and return on the Sunday afternoon.

Guy came back carrying two glasses – lemonade for Lydia and beer for himself. He set down the drinks, sat down facing her, and smiled at her across the table. ‘There, that was painless,’ he said. He picked up his glass of beer, and waited while Lydia took up her lemonade. Raising his glass, he said, ‘Well, here’s to happy days.’

‘Yes,’ she said uncertainly, not knowing how it was done, but raising her glass none the less: ‘To happy days.’

She took a sip of her lemonade and smiled back at him, but for all the warmth of her smile she felt only uncertainty. Glancing around her she once again took in her surroundings, and wondered at her being there.