Kate's Progress (17 page)

‘We spend most of the time in here,’ said Camilla, unnecessarily. For such an immaculately-turned out person she didn’t seem to mind or even heed the mess.

Sprawled about the room in various attitudes of relaxation was a number of people who all looked up as they came in, though only one stood up. Jack was sitting on a sofa with Phil Kingdon, drinking Guinness: he smiled at Kate, rather nervously, she thought, while Kingdon gave her a narrow-eyed stare of calculation which she did not at all understand.

Also present were Steph and Gil Holland, and another, older couple who looked vaguely familiar from last night. Camilla introduced them. ‘Don and Annie Culverhouse. And this is Hilary.’ Their daughter was a girl of about Jocasta’s age, rather pale, meek-looking and plain, with dark frizzy hair and glasses. She was perching on the edge of the sofa beside her parents looking awkward and uncomfortable, and showed a flash of steel braces when she managed a shy smile at Kate. ‘Jocasta’s upstairs getting changed,’ Camilla said to her briskly. ‘Why don’t you go up and see her, or she’ll be there all day.’

Hilary ducked her head in assent and hurried gratefully out.

A smart, trousered woman in her early thirties was introduced as ‘Susie Orde. And where’s Eric?’

‘Gone out to the stables with Ed,’ Susie replied, and smiled at Kate. ‘Eric’s my husband, in case you didn’t guess.’

And finally Camilla came to the man who had stood up: a tall, soldierly-looking man, with a firm, brown face, keen blue eyes and neatly-cropped grey hair. He looked to be in his fifties, with the vigour of the prime of life and the sun-lines and wrinkles of experience in his face. ‘And this is Brigadier Mainwaring. Harry.’

He alone shook Kate’s hand, a firm, cordial grip, and looked down from his height with a twinkling sort of smile. ‘You can imagine what I went through when I was a captain,’ he said. ‘It’s a shame there’s no way to skip a rank in the army.’

‘You could always have not joined,’ Don said, overhearing him. ‘You’ve a perfectly good brain – could have done anything with it.’

The brigadier swallowed this near-insult like a man. ‘Given that my father and grandfather were both generals,’ he said genially, ‘it would have taken more courage than I have
not
to go into the army.’

‘Oh, Harry,’ said Annie languidly from her sofa, ‘surely a soldier has to have loads of courage?’

‘Excuse my wife, she’s terribly literal,’ Don said.

‘I’d sooner face the Taliban than my father in a rage any day,’ said Harry, and then, to Kate: ‘Can I get you a drink, since no-one else seems to be stirring. And you, Camilla, my dear?’

‘I’ll get them,’ Jack said, heaving himself out of the sofa, which seemed reluctant to let him go. ‘Anyone else need a top-up while I’m at it?’

There was a period of movement and rearrangement, at the end of which Kate found herself on a sofa with a gin-and-tonic large enough to wash in, Jack beside her, several dogs at her feet, and Sylvester the cat planted in her lap as if he was stuffed with lead. Other conversations had broken out all round the room – everyone seemed to know everyone else very well – which meant he could talk to her without being overheard.

‘It was quite a surprise to see you come through that door,’ he said.

‘I thought you looked disconcerted,’ Kate said.

‘Not disconcerted – just surprised. How did it come about?’

‘I went to church, bumped into Camilla and Jocasta, and was invited back for lunch. Well, not so much invited as ordered,’ she added. She didn’t want him to think she was stalking him and had angled for the invitation.

He looked awkward. ‘I’d have asked you myself, but I didn’t think you’d want to get bogged down with my family.’

‘Don’t worry, I didn’t expect it. It’s early days for you to be inviting me home to meet your mother!’ she teased.

He relaxed a bit. ‘Well, it’s nice to see you. Not tired after last night? No hangover?’

‘I’m not made of glass, you know. Though with drinks this size –’ she gestured with her glass – ‘all that could change.’

‘It’s mostly tonic,’ he reassured her. She had tasted it. She knew it wasn’t.

‘This is a nice room,’ she said. ‘Must be cosy when the fire’s lit.’

‘Oh, the house is a nightmare,’ he said with easy affection. ‘Much too big, cold as the tomb. We have to have a fire in here most nights of the year, even in the middle of a heatwave. And you’d need an army of servants to keep it clean. All we have is Mrs B.’

‘Camilla mentioned her – your housekeeper?’

‘She’s been with us since the year dot. Mrs Bradshaw, but she only ever gets called Mrs B. Her husband helps with the horses and does chauffeuring and odd jobs. They have the cottage by the stables. She shops and cooks for us and does one or two other things – answers the phone and orders the logs and so on – but you couldn’t expect her to clean as well. Every now and then we get a contract firm in to go through the place like a whirlwind, but it’s expensive, so mostly we just do it ourselves.’

‘Or don’t do it?’ Kate suggested, with a look around.

He grinned. ‘I suppose nobody cares very much. We just cover the mess up with dogs.’

‘So who are these people?’ Kate asked next.

‘Neighbours. That’s who we always socialize with. Too much effort to go further afield.’

‘Unlike London, where your friends move away and you all have to travel to the centre to see each other.’ She looked across to where Kingdon was now talking to Camilla, he leaning forward with an air of urgency and she leaning back, her head slightly turned away as though he bored her. ‘And Phil Kingdon? Is he a friend or a neighbour? I thought he was your agent, or manager, or something.’

Jack looked embarrassed. ‘He’s the estate’s agent. Officially, he’s supposed to run the whole thing, with me overseeing the factory and Ed overseeing the land.’

‘And unofficially?’ Kate prompted.

‘Well, it’s not like feudal times, you know,’ he said. ‘You don’t keep people who work for you like that at arm’s length. I suppose he’s more of a family friend. Why do you ask, anyway?’

‘Oh, no reason, really. Except that he keeps looking at me in a strange way.’

‘He’s a strange man,’ Jack said lightly. ‘What sort of way?’

‘I’m not sure. Almost as if he’s inspecting me. And doesn’t approve.’

‘Imagination. He’s not much of a smiler, that’s all.’

Kate accepted it. ‘And who’s the delicious Brigadier?’

‘You think he’s delicious?’ He seemed worried by the idea.

‘Oh yes. Every girl’s dream of a daddy.’

He seemed relieved. ‘Oh, right. A father figure.’ Kate hadn’t meant that, but she let it pass. ‘Well, he’s another neighbour, of course, but he’s sweet on Camilla. Wants to marry her, but he’s twenty years older than her. Still, she keeps stringing him along and not saying yes or no. I suppose she likes the attention.’

‘What girl wouldn’t?’ Kate said lightly, watching him laugh with Susie Orde.

‘Well, he’s not her only suitor,’ Jack said. ‘There’s a pack of them.’

Before Kate could ask more about this intriguing suggestion, they were interrupted by a newcomer, a fair, slightly pudgy man coming in from the hall. ‘The missing Eric,’ Jack murmured to Kate. ‘You wouldn’t think it to look at him, but he’s a demon in the saddle – a hard rider to hounds.’

Behind him came another man, with Jocasta clinging affectionately to one of his arms and bouncing a little as she chattered to him; the monochrome Hilary was trailing in the rear. The dogs all rose from their various positions of recumbency to run to him. Even the cat vacated her lap and stalked towards the obvious master of the house.

‘My brother Ed,’ Jack explained, unnecessarily.

He was much taller than Jack, lean and hard and powerful around the shoulders. His hair was black and springy, his face very tanned, his eyes a contrasting bright blue like a Siamese cat’s. He was very handsome, but grave-looking, as though he didn’t smile very often; a dark, severe, strong, perhaps difficult man.

He was also – and of course, now she thought of it, which was why the greyhound had looked familiar – the Angry Man who had berated her for rubbing down her own window frames.

Jocasta was still chattering, and let him go to fling out an arm in Kate’s direction. ‘Oh, and here’s Kate, who bought Little’s. You haven’t met her yet, but I have. She rescued Chewy, and she’s terrific, she can do
everything
. We’re going to go riding together.’

Jack groaned quietly. ‘Oh no! Why did she have to mention Little’s?’

Kate stood up – she felt she couldn’t help it – and moved a couple of steps towards the man. He took the other couple, and they were standing close enough for her to feel – in her imagination, at least – the heat radiating from his body. She looked up into his unsmiling face.

He held out his hand, and she placed hers in it, aware at the outposts of her body how large and strong it was, warm and dry, a hand to put your trust in. The rest of her was focused on his face. Tense, dry-mouthed, she registered his eyes looking directly into hers like a fork of blue lightning that went all the way to the pit of her stomach. Her stomach and her knees felt warm and weak.
Oh no
, she thought, far away and faintly,
what are you doing? You can’t lust after this man
.

She was, though. He was so solid and real, he made every other man in the room – including Jack – look like a cardboard cut-out. Even the Brigadier was a mirage. He was – stunning!

‘We’ve met,’ he said.

A great deal more was drunk before they were called, by some signal Kate missed, into the dining room, so everyone was extremely relaxed and the conversational volume had risen almost to party level. When everyone stood up and started trekking towards the door, she immediately found Jocasta attached to her arm. ‘Oh
please
can I sit next to you? They’ll make me sit with that boring old Hilary. She’s so wet, I hate her, but they’re always making me hang out with her because we’re the same age. You don’t like someone just because they’re the same age, do you? I mean, she doesn’t like
anything
interesting. She doesn’t even ride.’

‘Perhaps her parents can’t afford to buy her a pony,’ Kate hazarded, feeling sorry for any fellow-sufferer from frizzy hair.

Jocasta looked exasperated. ‘She could ride Chloe if she wanted. I’ve told her a million times. But she won’t. She’s scared of horses.’ This was said with withering contempt, obviously a sin past redemption. Kate was saved from answering by Camilla, coming up behind them, who said severely, ‘Stop bothering Kate, Jocasta. You’re to sit with Hilary in the middle, and help Mrs B with the dishes, and for goodness’ sake don’t spill anything.’ Jocasta gave her a martyred look and mooched away. Camilla closed up with Kate and said, ‘I’m seating you next to Ed.
That
should keep him occupied.’

Kate didn’t know whether to be pleased or dismayed.

The dining room was as large as the drawing room, a vast oak-panelled chamber with another huge fireplace, and was dominated by a massive oak table and high-backed, carved oak chairs with tapestry seats. There were no fewer than three great solid sideboards, laden with tarnished silver accoutrements, and there were many dim old paintings on the wall – as well as two rather obvious clean patches where paintings had once hung and did no more. The only rug was in front of the fireplace, and was immediately colonized by the dogs in a panting, eager jostle. Elsewhere, the bare polished floorboards underfoot, coupled with the height of the ceiling, magnified every scrape of a chair or shift of a foot to a clashing noise like giants clog-dancing in a municipal swimming pool.

But the company only raised their voices to compensate. They were obviously used to it. Camilla was busying herself directing people in a piercing voice to the seats she wanted them to occupy, and they moved with good-natured languor, getting up when they were told they were in the wrong place and changing seats without ever breaking off what they were saying. All geared, Kate calculated, to seat her next to Ed, where she could distract him from Camilla; and also away from Jack, with whom she might otherwise converse too much to do her duty.

As she took her place Ed gave her an unsmiling, though not unfriendly look. ‘I feel that I owe you an apology,’ he said, and the tightness of his lips suggested that he didn’t find those words easy to say. ‘I’m afraid I didn’t make a good impression when I saw you outside the cottage.’

‘It was certainly an interesting first meeting,’ Kate said lightly, to reassure him she held no malice.

But he wasn’t to be deflected. ‘I shouldn’t have called you a squatter, or disbelieved you. It was rude of me. I’m sorry.’

‘Quite understandable, when it was your stepmother who owned the place,’ she said. He seemed to flinch slightly at that. ‘If I’d known who you were, or that you didn’t know she’d sold it—’ She realized belatedly that she was talking voluntarily about the very subject Camilla had put her there to avoid. ‘Anyway,’ she said hastily, ‘let’s forget the whole thing and start again.’ She held out her hand. ‘How do you do, I’m Kate Jennings.’

She thought for a moment he would leave her hanging, but at last he gave a little quirk of the lips that might charitably be construed as a smile, and said, ‘How do you do? I’m Edward Blackmore. But please call me Ed.’

Jocasta appeared between them and leaned over, breathing strenuously in Kate’s ear with concentration, to place a bowl of soup in front of each of them. ‘There,’ she said triumphantly, ‘and I
didn’t
spill.’

‘Smells good,’ Kate said.

‘Mrs B is a great believer in soup. It uses up the leftovers,’ Ed explained. ‘She says she remembers rationing – though I can’t really believe she’s that old. Her actual age is one of the great mysteries of life. I don’t think even Ted – her husband – knows.’

‘She’s been with you a long time?’ Kate said, glad to have found a safe topic.

‘I was about four when she came, so I don’t really remember a time without her. She came as a general maid, but not long after that my mother died, the cook left, and she took over. She’s been cooking for us ever since.’