The Secret of Summerhayes
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‘They’re one of the reasons we’re fighting,’ Eddie said mildly. ‘Anyway, you needn’t worry about Beth Merston. We hardly see her. C’mon, we go this way.’
For someone Eddie hardly saw, he appeared remarkably friendly with Beth Merston, but Jos kept this reflection to himself. Eddie’s success with women was legendary and it was unlikely Miss Merston would remain immune. Few women did.
‘No,’ his friend continued, as they started along the gravel path that wound its way to the left of the truck park. ‘She’s nearly always up there.’ He jerked a shoulder towards the house. ‘The old lady keeps her busy; she needs a lot of looking after by all accounts.’
He was glad to hear it. Whatever he’d said to Eddie, meeting Bethany Merston had given him a jolt. Something about her had reached down and tugged at his soul, and he needed to stamp on the feeling instantly. Sylvie had led him a merry dance, lying and cheating her way into his life, lying and cheating her way out of her husband’s. The husband of whom Jos had had no idea. He was over that, well and truly over it, and Eddie was wrong that Sylvie had soured him. In the end she’d not been so important, a rare stumble in an abiding reluctance to get involved. But this girl was different. Every instinct was warning him that she was a far greater danger to staying heartwhole than any number of Sylvies. He’d known it the minute he’d looked into her eyes.
His companion stopped outside a line of small buildings. ‘This is it. The one in the middle is ours. It’s about the only habitable part of the whole caboodle. Next door there’s a tool shed and the building at the far end, God knows what that was – it looks like it might have been a john, but primitive isn’t the word.’
Jos followed him over the threshold, bending his six-foot frame to get through the doorway. He reached up and tapped the lintel. ‘Something to remember.’
‘Don’t tell me. I must have knocked out half my brains by now.’
‘You mean there are some left?’
Eddie punched him good naturedly. ‘You’re over there.’
There were four camp beds crammed into the small space, two along one wall and two against the wall opposite. The third side of the room boasted a narrow window, whose panes were so small and so badly streaked with dirt that only the dimmest light made its way through. Once the sun disappeared, Jos thought, you’d hardly see a hand in front of you. Several pairs of trousers, one or two serge battledress jackets and the odd shirt were hanging from nails that had been knocked into the supporting beams.
Eddie saw him looking. ‘Our wardrobe,’ he quipped.
‘And these?’ Jos pointed to his bulging backpack. ‘Do we hang these, too?’
‘Stow it under the bed, if you can.’
He did as instructed and sat down heavily on the knobbly mattress. It didn’t give an inch. ‘Straw,’ he guessed. ‘Ah well, no doubt we’ll be so tired we won’t even notice the lumps. But what about a shower? I could do with one before I report to McMasters.’
‘When you do, he’ll get you to check the camouflage again. I’ve done it twice since I got here. The tents are pretty exposed and he’s obsessive. Ever since he found out about the Messerschmitts. Did you hear about that? They attacked our guys last week at Cuckmere Haven. That’s a few miles down the road and he doesn’t want a repeat. The bastards came skimming over the water at sunrise and up the valley.’
‘I’m fine with the camouflage, I just need to get a wash first.’
‘They’re fixing a washroom for us right now. The men have already got theirs, a couple of shower blocks built in the fields.’
‘And I guess the colonel’s got his. He’ll be up at the house washing in luxury.’
‘He’s billeted there, natch, along with the rest of the senior officers, but I’m not too sure about the luxury. The house is pretty beat up.’
‘Who owns it anyway? It looked a sizeable place on my way up here.’
‘It’s large enough but at one time, I guess, it must have been a good deal larger. Seems there were farms attached. We’re camped on one, though I’m not sure who owns it now. The house and gardens belong to a little old lady called Alice Summers.’
‘And your friend, Bethany, is her companion?’ He didn’t want to talk about the girl and he couldn’t understand why he was.
‘That’s it. Beth looks after her. It was Alice’s husband who built the place. Some time around the turn of the century. Since then, it’s been more or less abandoned – you’re looking at thirty years of decay. No one’s worked the land or maintained the house. And after all the money the guy must have spent on it! By all accounts, he was real wealthy – made his fortune in buttons, would you believe?’
‘So one of the nouveau riche,’ Jos joked. ‘We should feel at home, the nouveau bit at least.’
‘The old man certainly was nouveau, a business man made good, but not Alice. She’s the real deal. Comes from a local aristo family who own next door. That’s where Ralph lives.’
Jos stretched out on the mattress, trying to work his body into the lumps and mould them to his shape. ‘He told me. Some place called Amberley.’
‘That’s the one. His father is the grand seigneur of the village. He’s Alice’s nephew, by the way. I’ve never met the guy myself, but Ralph seems fond of him. His ma is in the States.’
‘So he said, though not why.’
‘I have a theory.’ Eddie flopped down on the far bunk, a grin on his face. ‘I reckon she’s done a runner. She left when war was declared and never came back.’
‘Could be she doesn’t like being bombed night and day.’
‘I don’t think that’s it. The raids here are tip and run. Nothing like London. The bombers only let fly on their way back from the city. There’s been a direct hit on a cinema or two, but otherwise it’s been a breeze. Maybe it’s Ralph’s pa – he’s not to her fancy any more.’
‘Whatever the reason, it’s a shame for the boy. He’s too young to be motherless.’
Jos knew what it felt like to live without a mother. People could be kind, could be caring, but it wasn’t the same. It was like having a spare blanket thrown over you in winter, as you slept; there was always a piece the blanket didn’t cover, a piece that stayed cold.
Eddie yawned. ‘Ralph doesn’t seem too worried. He’s got his father and there’s a mountain of servants to look after him. A different world, my friend. But he’s a great kid. He likes a bit of fun. Yesterday, we made some pretend footprints in the mud right down in the badlands. Where you came in. They were huge, animal paw prints and he persuaded one of those toffee-nosed footmen at Amberley that there was a jaguar prowling Summerhayes. When the guy came over – he’d been instructed to find out what was going on by the butler – they actually have a butler – it was a gas watching him creep around that stinking lake and then find our clay moulds hidden under a bush. The moulds were Master Ralph’s doing. He’s clever with his hands.’
Jos remembered other practical jokes Eddie had played, not all of them well received. He was a great friend and a staunch comrade, but sometimes he crossed the line without ever being aware he had.
‘I’m surprised the boy is here at all,’ was all he said. ‘And I think you’re wrong about it being a breeze. This far south must be a prime target for the bombers. The coast is vulnerable – I imagine we’re close to the sea?’
‘Two miles away. Beautiful beaches, some of them, but off limits for sightseeing. Barbed wire fences and every pebble sown with mines. Well, hopefully not every pebble. I reckon that’s where we’ll be exercising.’
Jos gave a slow nod. ‘It’s going to be a seaborne invasion all right, but where from? Several battalions have been moved east along the Kent coast, but we’ve come west.’
‘A cunning plan by the great and the good?’
‘Most likely. If there’s a large force in Dover, the Krauts will be expecting an assault on the Pas de Calais. But I learnt from a guy at Aldershot that there’s been a big deployment to Scotland, too. That would mean invading through Norway.’
Eddie rustled through an untidy heap on his mattress, looking for a cigarette. ‘It’s so damned hush hush, we won’t be told until the last minute. Are we the deception or the real thing, do you think?’
Jos gave a low whistle. ‘If we’re the real thing, it means we’ll be on our way to Normandy. And that’s ambitious, to put it mildly. The Germans are thoroughly dug in there. They look impregnable. It’ll take a huge amount of planning to get it right, if it’s even possible.’
‘We’ll be the ones to find out. Aren’t we lucky? And pretty soon. To have any chance, it’s gotta be this summer. But hey, no worries. The planning’s done and now it’s just a simple matter of practice.’ He lit his cigarette and puffed contentedly.
‘Or not so simple.’ Jos rolled off the bed and stretched his tall frame as well as he could beneath the low ceiling. ‘Can you imagine the assault – for the infantry, for the crews of the landing craft? How to beach and unbeach. Then the tank crews on how to manoeuvre ashore. You know they’ve converted the tanks to be amphibious? If we’re in the wrong place, or in the wrong order, or if we don’t liaise sufficiently with each other or don’t liaise with the air force or the navy… we could be in for a disaster that’ll make Dieppe seem like a school outing.’
Eddie looked glumly at him. ‘You sure know how to bring a man down.’
The words hung in the air and both fell silent until Jos remembered his unwashed state. ‘I must track down that shower. Coffee would be good when I get back. Then I’ll be up to the house to see McMasters and across the fields to find the men. If your guess is right, we’re on our way to the beach tomorrow.’
‘Looks like it,’ Eddie said. ‘Tomorrow and the next few tomorrows as well.’
Chapter Six
Bethany found the next few hours difficult. Ralph was even less willing than usual to buckle down to his studies and she couldn’t blame him: synonyms and antonyms had none of the appeal of the military. All the boy wanted was to talk about the tanks and trucks and guns he’d watched trundle into Summerhayes that day and, above all, talk of the new friend he’d made. Eddie Rich had been a splendid addition to his world but evidently Jos Kerrigan was as splendid, and Ralph couldn’t stop mentioning him. Jos had made a striking figure, she conceded, but it was a figure she’d no wish to know better. When Eddie had introduced them, the man’s face had changed. Quite distinctly. It had become a mask, stonily indifferent. Perhaps he was one of those men who thought women foolish, fripperies with whom to have fun, but an unwanted nuisance in serious matters.
Ralph had taken at least sixty minutes to labour through the two columns of words she’d prepared, and now he was tapping his pencil against his head and looking longingly towards the kitchen window. A slight stirring from the next room broke the silence. Alice was awake and Beth must attend to her before she took Ralph through his spidery list. The old lady was always a trifle grumpy when she woke, and this afternoon she had been jerked from a deep sleep by the crash of equipment being unloaded just below her window. As Beth had anticipated, she was fractious and it took a while to settle her into a comfortable chair, bring her a glass of water and switch on the wireless to warm. It was almost two o’clock, time for Alice’s favourite – Afternoon Cabaret on the Home Service – though she doubted the old lady understood one in four of Bob Hope’s jokes.
When she went back to the kitchen, Ralph had left his seat and was pressing his forehead against the window, looking wistfully down at the garden. It was a hopeless situation; there was no chance she would get more work out of him today.
‘You can pack up your books,’ she said, admitting defeat, ‘but on one condition.’
Ralph whirled around, an overjoyed expression on his face, and started flinging school books into the leather satchel he carried.
‘I said on one condition,’ she reminded him.
Surprised, he stopped buckling the satchel’s straps. ‘You’re to go straight home. No wandering around the gardens, no talking to the soldiers. Is that understood?’
He looked crestfallen but then nodded his head in agreement.
‘And you learn the final column of synonyms when you get back to Amberley. I’ll test you the next time you come.’
‘That’s a second condition.’
‘Or we can do it right now.’
‘No,’ he said hastily. ‘I’ll learn them tonight.’
‘Good. I won’t see you tomorrow but come the next day, in the morning. Mrs Summer will have a visitor with her and we can work in here while they talk. Come around ten o’clock.’
The boy nodded agreement. ‘You’re okay, you know, Miss Merston.’
She smiled wryly. ‘Thank you for your approval, Master Fitzroy. Now go on, hurry home.’
When he’d gone, she checked on Alice and found her smiling quietly at the wireless. All was well. She would have time to begin supper, such as it was. There was no meat again, but plenty of vegetables. Every garden in the village had its own plot and there was still an abundance of winter stock from which to choose. This morning on her way back from the grocer’s, she’d helped herself to a whole bagful from the heap left outside someone’s garden gate. She started to peel the bunch of carrots. The soldiers would almost certainly be eating a great deal better than this. Their kitchens had gone up several days ago, part of the advance guard that included Eddie Rich. No doubt he and his friend were enjoying a ration-free meal right now.
Thinking about it annoyed her. Not the rationing, civilians had known for years the sacrifices they must make. It was thinking about Kerrigan that annoyed her. Ralph, it seemed, wasn’t the only one who had him on their mind. When she’d first seen the man, she’d thought him attractive. He had an open face and she’d liked the way that even with a military cut, a shock of hair had fallen across his forehead. His eyes, too, had charmed – they’d been the blue of a deep ocean, a mystical blue in which you could easily lose yourself. But then she’d seen their expression. That had been decidedly unmystical. Decidedly unfriendly. His frosty manner had sent out warning signals. She should forget the attraction she’d felt. Here was a man who could hurt her, and she had no intention of allowing that to happen. She lacked the confidence, the self-belief, to cope with heartache. Her stepfather had seen to that.
Eddie was different. She had known him only a few days but he was as friendly as he was good looking, and though she was unlikely to succumb to his charm, she enjoyed talking with him. He’d made her a friend, but that didn’t mean his friends had to be hers. True friendship was rare and true love even rarer. What began as hearts and roses soon became an exercise of power. She’d seen that for herself. And men were not essential for a loving life; if you looked hard enough, love was everywhere. She’d found it in the job she did and the children she’d taught and they had repaid her love a hundred fold. Once this interminable war was over, she would be on her way back to London, to begin again to build a life for herself. The last of the carrots splashed into the saucepan and she searched around for matches. Jos Kerrigan would take up not a second more of her time than was necessary. She struck the match with force, then waved it towards the gas ring and promptly burnt her fingers.
Two days later, she was clearing Alice’s breakfast tray when May Prendergast arrived in the kitchen just after nine o’clock. Her friend was short of breath from climbing the two flights of stairs and made her apologies between gasps.
‘Sorry, if I’m putting you out, Beth, but I had to come early. I can’t stay as long as I’d hoped either. I’ve to call on the evacuees as soon as I leave here. We’ve found places for the children but there have been a couple of problems settling them in. And guess who’s sorting that out?’
She took off her coat and hung it on the back of one of the only two chairs the kitchen possessed, then unpinned her hat. ‘How are you anyways?’
‘Fine. It’s been a trifle noisy with the soldiers arriving en masse, but it seems to have calmed now. I imagine they’ve dug themselves in.’
‘Mass is the right word,’ May agreed. ‘There’s certainly plenty of ’em. I walked up from the lodge and there are vehicles and men both sides of the drive, and goodness knows how many in the rest of the gardens and on the farm. But it’s the same in the village, mind. Men, tanks, jeeps. You can’t move without falling over them.’
Beth once more filled the kettle while her friend walked across to the window and glanced down. ‘Another army camp,’ she murmured, looking out across what had once been rolling grassland. ‘Old man Summer will be turning in his grave. This place was his pride and glory.’
‘Needs must, I suppose.’ She tipped a small measure of tea into the pot. ‘He was a button maker, wasn’t he?’
‘That he was – from Birmingham, I heard my mother once say – but buttons or no buttons, he had an eye for beauty, that one.’
‘You must have seen the gardens in their heyday. Were they so very beautiful?’ She poured the weak liquid into two cups and passed one to May, then sat down opposite.
‘They were wonderful, flowers covering the terrace, peacocks on the lawn, and enough fruit and vegetables to feed a town. I was often at Summerhayes in those days, waiting for my mother or doing odd jobs for pocket money. We had a small cottage close by, on the lane leading to the village – so as Ma could look after us, you see, but still be on call at the house twelve hours a day. She was one of the best housekeepers ever.’ The words were said with pride. ‘It was a hard life, but the cottage came rent free and we ate off the estate. That was important for the family – with no father to provide.’
May had never before talked of family; she must have siblings, possibly in the village. ‘You have brothers and sisters then? Where are they?’ And then she wished she hadn’t asked.
‘Just one brother. Joe.’ Her friend’s eyes filled with tears. ‘He was the nicest brother a young girl could have. He was a gardener here, but then he signed up with the rest of them. The First War,’ she said in explanation. ‘I remember that day. A black day if ever there was. Every gardener on the estate downed tools together and then, two by two, they walked to Worthing to enlist.’ She paused and looked down at her cup. ‘He didn’t come back. None of them did.’
Beth cast around for something to soften the difficult moment. ‘If the gardens were as marvellous as you say, the house too, I can understand why Mrs Summer gets distressed at times.’
‘It’s a mournful state the place is in,’ May agreed. ‘Everything crumbled and ruined, and worse now with the army. But then no one wants their house taken over by the military. And no doubt it feels worse for her, knowing that Amberley isn’t suffering likewise. The old lady didn’t have the money or the connections to keep Summerhayes safe, that’s what it was. She didn’t go to Eton or Oxford or belong to a gentleman’s club. Not like Mr Fitzroy – he could make sure his home stayed untouched.’
As if on cue, they heard footsteps on the uncarpeted staircase and seconds later, Gilbert Fitzroy appeared at the open door, trailing a somewhat sulky son. Both women jumped to their feet, May’s knees bobbing the smallest of curtsies. Old habits die hard, Beth thought.
‘I understood you were in London, Mr Fitzroy.’ She was surprised and none too pleased to be entertaining him so early in the morning.
‘I got back late last night and thought I’d make myself useful by bringing young Ralph over.’
She wasn’t sure exactly why he considered this useful, but then she remembered the flowers he’d sent to Alice. She pinned a smile firmly to her lips and managed to stumble out a proxy thank you.
‘I’m glad she liked them.’
He was looking particularly smart, she noticed. He must have bought the clothes in London. New clothing was largely unobtainable now, but if you had money you could probably run to ground anything you wanted.
‘I’m sorry to intrude on you both,’ he went on, ‘but I felt I should make sure Ralph got to his lesson.’ His voice was smooth as cream, but he looked genuinely concerned. ‘At the moment, I’m not certain he’s using your time wisely, Miss Merston. Or would you mind if I called you Bethany? We are working together now – in a manner of speaking – and it seems right not to be so formal.’
She sensed rather than saw May pull a face beside her, but without appearing to notice, Gilbert continued in the same unruffled tone. ‘I was hoping I might see my aunt, too.’ He must long ago have detected Alice’s antipathy, Beth was sure, yet he seemed willing to remain the dutiful nephew.
‘I’ve brought her a new book. Hatchards had it in their window and as soon as I saw it, I thought it was just the thing for her. More flowers, you see, plenty of them.’ He flicked through the pages of the brightly coloured volume he carried. Given the rationing of paper, that too would have been expensive. And she would be the one to read it, since Alice’s eyesight was failing badly and a daily newspaper was often the most she could manage.
‘How kind of you,’ she murmured. It was a good job that she liked flowers as much as her employer.
‘Do you think I might see her? Just a brief chat, I promise. I like to keep in touch with the old dear.’
His smile was friendly enough, though there seemed a lurking shadow of satisfaction that for some reason made her think of a basking seal. ‘I’ll see how she is, Mr Fitzroy. She didn’t have a good night and may not be up to visitors.’ That would be Alice’s get-out.
‘Gilbert, please call me Gilbert.’ He smiled again, this time without guile.
She wasn’t sure she wanted to be on first name terms with him. She had been happy with the professional relationship they’d established, but she found herself returning his smile.
‘I’ll be back in a moment. And Ralph, find your homework, and make sure you’re ready for the test we spoke of.’
‘Ah yes,’ his father said. ‘The test. An excellent idea.’
Alice lowered her magnifying glass when Beth appeared in the doorway. The old lady had begun her painfully slow read through the newspaper and was unhappy with this intrusion into her morning routine, but presented with the fact that her nephew was in the kitchen and had brought her yet another gift, she allowed herself to be persuaded.
‘Only a few minutes though,’ she grumbled. ‘You must come and get him.’
Left alone with May and her pupil, Beth was curious. ‘Why did your father bring you today? He’s never done that before and you’ve been coming for several weeks.’
Ralph kicked the table leg with one foot. ‘He says I play too much,’ he announced moodily. ‘And maybe I should be in school – but I don’t want to go away. It’s much more exciting here.’
‘Then you’d better work hard and prove him wrong. I’m taking Mrs Prendergast into my bedroom to finish our tea, but make sure you know those synonyms inside out by the time I get back. And write me some sentences using the first five words on the list.’
Ralph gave a theatrical sigh but obediently picked up his pencil.
Chapter Seven
‘I won’t stay more than a few minutes,’ May said, when they’d decamped to Beth’s bedroom. ‘I can see you’ve got your hands full.’ She jerked her head towards the sitting room. ‘When he’s done, I’ll pop in to see Mrs Summer and then I’ll be off.’
‘He won’t be long,’ Beth said. She found a nook on the window seat while May took the narrow bed. ‘I have strict instructions to rescue her. She seems to have little affection for him.’
‘She can be a difficult woman. Not so much nowadays mebbe, but I remember my mother often coming home in a fury about something the mistress had said or done. It wasn’t that Mrs Summer was harsh or aggressive – no shouting orders, that kind of thing. She was vague and sort of floaty. You couldn’t put your finger on it really, I think that’s what got to my mother. Ma never knew what was wrong, just that something was wrong, and the mistress wouldn’t be happy until it was put right. Just plain irritating, if you ask me.’