Wishing Water (17 page)

Elvira Fraser was perfectly enchanted. No one had paid her this much attention since her own darling Charles who had departed this life believing her to be very well provided for, though that had been a full twenty years ago, before this last war. It was a different world today and one’s children never turned out quite as one hoped.

Philip Brandon’s dark good looks set her old heart racing, and for a moment Elvira quite feared for her health. ‘So charming,’ she said, showing her yellowed teeth as she simpered at him. ‘And so dependable.’
 

‘Certainly you may depend upon my services,’ he beamed, leaning back in his chair, glancing at his watch as he did so. The air in here was growing stifling. ‘I’ve enjoyed our little chat but unfortunately, Elvira, I have other clients demanding of my time.’ He stood up.

Hastily, she set down her cup and saucer with a clatter and did the same. ‘You will call again? I must see you regularly, mustn’t I? Now that we are doing business together.’
 

‘But of course. What a pleasure that will be,’ he murmured solicitously. At the door he turned and regarded her with all due seriousness. ‘Now if you have any worries, any little thing bothering you, you have only to call.’
 

‘Oh, yes, I do know that, Mr Brandon,’ she sighed.

‘Philip, please, if we are to be friends as well as business colleagues. You may rest assured that your affairs will be in safe hands. You need never worry again.’ Taking her wrinkled hand, he kissed it. It was the final accolade. Sometimes he made himself sick with such sycophancy.

‘`Oh,’ Elvira breathed. ‘Oh, dear me.’
 

‘Good day to you.’ Bowing himself out of the room while she shooed away the little maid, declaring that she would show
dear
Mr Brandon to the door herself.

‘You must call at twelve o’clock next Thursday,’ she informed him. ‘We’ll enjoy a small sherry and partake of a light luncheon.’ It was a summons not to be ignored. Far better than sandwiches on a bench. But then a picture of black curly hair and a scarlet duffel coat lit like a beacon in his head and he wondered. The memory prompted a question. ‘Are you by any chance acquainted with a family by the name of Ellis?’
 

‘Ellis? Dear me, now let me think.’ Elvira Fraser and her family had lived in the Lake District for almost a century. If the Ellis family held any status locally, then she would know of it.

‘Of Keswick?’ she brooded, struggling to bring her recalcitrant memory to heel. It was not so biddable these days.

‘The south eastern part of the county, I believe. High on the fells?’
 

‘Ah, that would be the medical chap, Jeffrey Ellis. Charming man, charming. Played golf sometimes with my darling Charles. Married some jumped up daughter of a quarry owner. Pretty little piece, but opinionated I seem to remember.’
 

‘The family owns a fine house, I believe,’ Philip prompted her. ‘Yes, Larkrigg Hall, over Broomdale way. Had some wonderful parties in that house as a girl I do recall.’ Elvira’s eyes glazed, her mind slipping back to pleasanter times and then as quickly sharpened. ‘Why do you ask?’
 

‘Met someone who claims to be related. I was curious.’
 

Elvira Fraser’s own curiosity was well and truly aroused. ‘No family to speak of, so far as I can recall. No, wait a moment. They had one daughter. Left home over some scandal or other.’
 

‘What kind of scandal?’
 

‘An affair, I shouldn’t wonder. Always having affairs, young girls, eh? Particularly during the war.’ She cackled with laughter and offered him a leer that in younger days might have been alluring. Philip shuddered.

‘This person claims to be the grandchild.’
 

‘Indeed? Well, it might well be so. We never saw the Ellis girl again, but then we wouldn’t, would we, if she’d gone off to have this child? What is it?’ she asked, as if speaking of a puppy.

‘A girl. A lovely young girl.’
 

‘How sad. Jeffrey would have enjoyed a granddaughter. A darling man. So kind. Handsome too. Wasted on that creature he married. Dead now, or so I’m told.’
 

‘Mrs Ellis is still very much alive.’
 

‘She would be. Hard-faced madam.’ There was nothing Elvira loved more than a good gossip, and today was proving to be most fruitful, in so many ways.’ This granddaughter will come into a tidy sum one day. Violet, no… Rosemary, that’s the woman’s name. I remember it was something silly and flowery. She’s the one with the real funds of course. Family made a fortune in copper mining and slate quarrying.’
 

Philip’s mind was racing. The only grandchild of a wealthy woman. Better and better. Pity about the illegitimacy, and disturbing that Mrs Ellis still refused to acknowledge her, but they might be persuaded into a reconciliation yet. He smiled at Elvira Fraser. ‘Now if there is any little thing, don’t hesitate to give me a call.’

He had such a delicate touch with old ladies.

The storm finally broke just as the two girls had got the fire blazing and the sausages were only half cooked. A whole group of them had been enjoying a barbecue by the boathouse. It would probably be the last of the season so they were determined to make it a good one.

The reflection of the fire’s flames dancing in the waves was shattered suddenly by a warning shoreward breeze, broken into a million sparkling remnants of light. Lightning tore open the sky, thunder rolled and the lake seemed to heave like a live thing. The roar of it rumbled endlessly along the valley followed by sheeting rain that put out the fire and drenched everyone in seconds. There were squeals and shouts of laughter as pans and bread rolls were grabbed and people ran for cover into the boathouse.

The girls found towels and dried their hair then got on with frying the sausages in the little kitchen while Derry picked up his guitar and started to strum and sing, trying to outdo the noise of the thunder. ‘Singing the Blues’, ‘Love Letters in the Sand’ and Tab Hunter’s hit, ‘Young Love’. These were his current favourites.

His singing sounded good, making Lissa’s heart do funny acrobatics, that despite her determination to have nothing more to do with him, she was tempted to abandon the sausages. She sat by his feet, looking up into his face as he sang. Would like to stay there for ever.

They drank several bottles of Coca-Cola with supper and there was much speculation about the coming yacht race, a major event at the end of the season.

‘This is going to be my year,’ Derry boasted and they all laughed.

‘To justify your poor old dad spending all his free time building you a fancy boat?’
 

‘This boat is a winner. I’ll come zooming in first, you’ll see.’

Lissa saw everyone hide their smiles behind their hands even as they offered to help him spend the winnings. She guessed this must be an annual resolution.

After supper, since it was still raining, Tony suggested they play some party games, winking at a little brown haired girl called Helen he’d had his eye on all evening. An empty Coca-Cola bottle was found and spun.

Lissa was amazed how often it pointed to Derry whenever it was one of the prettier girls who had spun it. She found herself counting the minutes he was out in the kitchen with them, thinking it grew longer every time.

Once it stopped at her and it took all her courage to walk out of the room with Dave and let him put his cold lips against hers. She quickly returned to her place, complaining about the draughty kitchen, and everyone laughed.

Derry didn’t look quite so amused. He was frowning, probably disappointed in her for not being a good sport. So what? She hated these silly parlour games. Who wanted to be kissed by this lot?

Then it was Derry’s turn to spin the bottle. At that moment Sam offered her another Coke and almost spilled it as he popped off the metal cap. Laughing, Lissa turned back to find the bottle pointing at her. She could feel her cheeks start to bum as she got up and followed a silent Derry out to the kitchen.

They stood face to face in the darkness, saying nothing, not even looking at each other. She could feel her lips tingling with the expectation of his kiss which confused her somewhat since she’d taken fright the last time. But there was no denying that her heart was hammering against her rib cage so loud she was sure he must hear it. Was he never going to speak? Never kiss her?

It occurred to Lissa with sickening disappointment that perhaps he didn’t want to. He was letting this time go by so that everyone would think he was kissing her, imagine he was playing the game when really he was seeking a way out. The very idea obviously repulsed him.

‘You don’t have to,’ she said, her voice sounding weak and unconvincing even to her own ears.

‘I know.’ It was not at all what she had wanted to hear. ‘I don’t suppose you want to.’
 

‘I didn’t say that.’ Did she sound too forward? she worried. Lissa stared at the floor and decided, inconsequentially, that they really should have varnished these floorboards which were all scratched and splintered. Maybe if they put down lino...

After a further long moment she could bear the suspense no longer and of its own volition a tiny agonised cry came from her throat. Lissa half turned to the door, desperate suddenly to escape. ‘Let’s go back,’ she mumbled, wanting to die on the spot, wishing this old wooden floor would open up and swallow her.

‘Wait.’ Then his hands were on her arms. He was pulling her towards him and the next instant he was kissing her. His mouth was soft and compelling, warm and coaxing, not cruel and hurtful, every bit as exciting as that first time. Except this was different. This time she was kissing him back. They wrapped their arms about each other and clung as if neither would ever let go. The kissing went on far too long of course, and they returned to the living room looking flushed and rumpled, anxious to avoid each other’s eyes and the knowing grins of their friends.

It was a long time before Lissa slept that night. She went over and over the kiss in her mind till a thousand pains of sweet agony pierced her, all mingled with uncertainty, confusion and regret. It had shocked her how much, in that moment, she’d wanted him. Why couldn’t she make up her mind about him? He could leave any day.

Well, she could leave too.

It was reported that two thousand people a week were emigrating to the Commonwealth; to Australia, New Zealand and Canada. Maybe if she’d gone out with them, gone to look for her mother, she could solve this stupid sense of insecurity.

Maybe she could still go.

What a fool she was. Lissa thumped her pillow and squeezed her eyes tight, trying to shut out the picture of his tender smile, the memory of his touch searing her skin, the excitement of his mouth against hers.

She enjoyed her work, had found in Jan the friend she’d always wanted. Jan was sweet and funny and kind. Practical and sensible and easy to get along with.

They both loved the boathouse, had money in their pockets to spend on fun things, such as a new lipstick or a hooped petticoat which were all the rage. Each week they considered most seriously which singer’s latest record to bestow their hard earned shillings upon. This week it might be Guy Mitchell, the next Johnnie Ray or Elvis. Then they would carry the prize home with pride and play it on their record player till they knew every word by heart. Life was good.

Now she was risking all of this for a few kisses. Derry only took his music seriously, nothing else. He had every intention of leaving Carreckwater to follow his crazy dream to be famous, and he certainly had no intention of taking her with him when the music world was full of silly screaming girls. She was simply an amusement, to pass the time.

But how could she avoid him? He was Jan’s brother, for goodness’ sake. When he left, she would feel abandoned all over again, no doubt end up an old maid sitting on some shelf or other.

Lissa gave up trying to sleep, and throwing off her sheets lay on her back to stare miserably up at the ceiling. The storm rumbled in the distance, moving away, leaving the air still warm but slightly fresher in its wake.

Did she never learn? But then if you couldn’t trust your own mother what hope was there? Hadn’t that fact sunk in yet? Hadn’t she packed her heart away, where no one could damage it ever again? Not well enough, obviously.

There had been no word from Kath in years, no suggestion that she would ever wish to see her. The rejection still rankled, deep down, so all things considered Lissa felt she’d made the right decision in staying in Lakeland. This was her home, where she belonged. Yet she’d wasted years longing for something she couldn’t have. Her mother hadn’t wanted her, Meg had probably only taken her in out of loyalty and duty and because she had no child of her own. Yet here she was, risking rejection all over again by falling for a swollen-headed young clerk with his heart set on fame and his eyes on any girl who happened his way.

Lissa turned her hot pillow over and curled up, willing sleep to rescue her tortured mind. She told herself firmly that his kisses were part of a game, just a giggle at a party. Nothing more. The fault lay in her own naivety. She’d never been kissed by anyone but Derry. She was an innocent, with no experience at all.