The Chandelier Ballroom (34 page)

On impulse she hurried into the kitchen. Evelyn was sitting on a stool looking down at her hands. Her mother standing over her, she might easily have been some ten-year-old, but looking incongruous even for one her age, in blue jeans, jumper with Dolman sleeves and padded shoulders, the front and back different colours, bolero, a heavy necklace and wedge platform shoes.

‘Your daughter does a really lovely job of the bedrooms,’ Eileen said. ‘I’m very pleased with her.’

Edna Calder looked at her employer, her frown vanishing. ‘Well, that’s all right then,’ she said, ‘so long as she isn’t cheeky.’

‘Oh she isn’t, not in the least,’ Eileen said readily.

She heard Edna Calder give a small ‘humph’ as she turned back to heaping pieces of sliced onion on top of the chopped steak, adding seasoned gravy and laying the suet crust on top.

A quiet smile passed between Eileen and Evelyn. Despite wishing the girl wouldn’t go in for such unusually mature clothes, she couldn’t help being on her side for once.

Winter not far off, they’d been in this house some eighteen months and well settled in. She and David had become part of the local social activities, he a well-entrenched member of both cricket and golf club. She now chaired one of her women’s groups and last June had been asked to step in to take a class of seven-year-olds for a while when their teacher had gone down with ’flu.

With so much taking up her time, Eileen was relying on Edna Calder and her daughter more and more, so long as she didn’t allow the woman’s incessant chat to interfere with her work. Evelyn seemed happy getting on with hers, at the same time her writing and arithmetic improving immensely under Eileen’s tutoring.

David had been sceptical of her at first, but had soon changed his mind, and if he happened to be home when she was working about the house he would chat away to her as if they were old friends or she a daughter. He was a lot more relaxed these days, though he seemed to come home tired. Work was stepping up. 1950 now over, the country was at last putting the austerity of the war years behind it. Petrol rationing like most other commodities had finally ended after ten years, and this summer people had begun driving to the seaside for holidays.

Until last summer David had only been able to take the car as far as the station each day, taking the train the rest of the way into London. Now he could go all the way into London by car, and in August they’d driven down to Devon for a holiday, wonderful being in the car instead of on a train.

This evening they’d stayed up until quite late, talking over next year’s holidays, abroad this time, and now she lay wide awake thinking about them. David too seemed restless. Finally he sat up.

‘It’s no good, I can’t sleep.’

‘Neither can I,’ she said. ‘But if I don’t I’ll be fit for nothing in the morning.’

Even so, she turned over and closed her eyes in the need to find sleep. Some ten minutes later she heard him slide out of bed, listened to him going to the bedroom door. Sleepily she asked where he was going.

‘I left my book downstairs. Reading might help me sleep. I don’t want to disturb you so I might go into the library for a little read.’

For a while after he’d gone, she lay, eyes closed, willing sleep to come, making herself visualise rolling hills and gentle sea lapping on a sandy beach, a cloudless sky, cornflower blue. She could even see the colour behind her tightly closed eyelids. Then without warning the sky began to darken as thunderclouds as black as night crept towards her. She opened her eyes with a start, became wide awake.

David hadn’t come back to bed. How long had she been asleep? It did seem that she had, as flicking on the bedside lamp the little clock beside it read 11.30. She had been asleep some twenty minutes. It was time he should have tired of reading. Getting up, she slipped her arms into her robe and, quietly opening the bedroom door, made her way to the stairs, making no sound.

Halfway down she glanced over the banister. The hall was dark but there was just enough light to see that the door to the big room was wide open, allowing moonlight to filter through into the hall. She always made sure of keeping it closed against the draught that tended to come from that room. So why was it now open, unless David had gone in there, but why would he? As she stood there she felt rather than saw a movement, her eyes flicking immediately towards it to see what looked like the dim figure of a woman or girl hurrying from the direction of the library to disappear through the open door of the big room.

Springing into action with a cry of surprise, Eileen sped down the rest of the stairs and across the hall to the place she had last seen the figure. She reached the door in time to see the person about to hurry through the now open French windows.

Eileen’s voice came loud and piercing. ‘Stop!’

The figure turned towards her, standing very still.

‘Who are you?’ Her mouth had gone dry but she managed to calm herself enough to demand, ‘What’re you after? What are you doing here at this time of night?’

There was no reply. The woman remained standing quite still. Eileen knew she should go forward, apprehend the interloper whoever she was, but she couldn’t move. A strange chill had begun to creep over her. Momentarily she looked down to draw her robe closer around her. It could have taken less than a second but when she looked up the person was gone.

A voice behind her made her jump almost out of her skin. ‘What’s going on? Who are you talking to?’

For a moment she stared at David, he having come from the library, book still in hand. Quickly she gathered her wits, now with anger rising – anger and a sick feeling of disbelief at what was going through her mind.

‘Who’s that woman I saw?’ she demanded. ‘What’s she doing here?’

‘What woman?’

‘I saw her coming out of the library.’

‘I don’t understand, love. I’ve been in there reading.’

‘I saw her!’

Eileen’s heart was pounding. She fought to still the shock, the words ‘another woman’ pounding inside her head. How long? And who? Someone in his company, a secretary perhaps, the pair of them enjoying their illicit love? Perhaps she was married too. Maybe her husband had no idea, like herself until now. But to bring her here …

‘Who is she?’ Eileen said, her voice so faint she could hardly hear it herself.

His bewilderment had begun to turn to annoyance. ‘For God’s sake, Eileen, what are you talking about?’

‘You know very well what I’m talking about.’ Her voice came stronger now. ‘How long has it been going on?’

‘How long has what been going on?’ He sounded confused.

‘You and her, whoever she is. Who is she?’

He was frowning at her now. ‘You’ve been dreaming, love.’

‘I’ve not been dreaming!’ Suddenly incensed, her voice had risen even higher. ‘I’ve been lying awake waiting for you to come up to bed!’ She was babbling now. ‘I came down to see if you were ready to come back upstairs and I saw that woman cross the hall and go in here.’ Standing in the doorway she pointed into the room. ‘I saw her as clear as I see you. She seemed in a blessed great hurry. Who is she? And what’ve you both been up to? And how long have you known her? I want to know. How long has it been going on?’ Words tumbled from her lips while he stood as though petrified by her outburst.

He had now become annoyed, his voice rising. ‘I don’t know for the life of me what you’re talking about, Eileen! I’ve been in the library reading. I’ve not seen any woman. Maybe you saw a ghost? Have a look!’ With that he reached past her for the panel of light switches, flooding the room with instant brightness. ‘Have a good look! And tell me, can you see anyone now?’

They both stared into the huge room, half dazzled by the power of the chandelier and wall lights together, seldom if ever turned on all at once.

‘She’d have been gone by the time we …’ Eileen began, but she broke off mid-sentence. At the far end the French windows lay wide open.

David turned to her. ‘They were locked when we went to bed. So who unlocked them?’

‘I don’t know,’ she said weakly.

She looked at him, a shudder running through her. Neither of them spoke. Then he put an arm around her.

‘Don’t worry. I’ll close and lock them, then take a quick look around the house, see if anything is missing. Too late now to contact the police. We’ll do that in the morning.’

She stood mute as he dealt with the windows, returning to put an arm about her shoulders as he turned off the lights, leading her out into the hall and closing the door behind them. Meekly she let him guide her upstairs, her flesh feeling ice cold even beneath her dressing gown, despite his holding her close as they went back to their bedroom.

There she waited, her mind full of thoughts as he made a brief round of the house, returning to say all seemed in order.

‘I’m sorry, the things I said,’ she told him as she lay in her bed.

‘Don’t be,’ he said simply, bending to kiss her on the forehead before slipping into his own bed.

Soon he was snoring, but she remained wide awake, still thinking. He wasn’t the sort of man to seek out sex. It was ridiculous to think he would bring some woman here to the house, to carry on a clandestine romance. Yet she had definitely seen
something
, had spoken to it, though it hadn’t replied … It? No,
her,
it had to be flesh and blood, an interloper caught in the act of breaking and entering. She told herself this again and again, but next morning, a bright, sunny, early June morning, her mind was no easier.

The police came that following morning but finding nothing missing, more or less dismissed the incident, David was now convinced he’d overlooked locking the French windows, allowing someone easy entrance in the hope of stealing something. Eileen must have disturbed them.

‘A
woman
burglar?’ Eileen challenged sceptically.

‘There could be some,’ he said easily, too easily it felt. ‘You gave her a fright. She certainly won’t be coming back, and nothing was taken.’

Unconvinced, Eileen didn’t reply. He seemed far too eager to write the whole thing off as an attempted burglary, or was he covering up for himself?

Several days later that latter suspicion seemed to be founded. In the last glimmer of twilight, David ensconced in the library busy with some office work, something made her come out from the lounge where she’d been reading, in time to see the figure again crossing the hall, again strangely dressed. This time the twilight was just enough for her to recognise the figure. Evelyn Calder!

She and her mother had gone home long before, so what was she doing back here? Even as she called out for her to stop right where she was, Eileen’s mind was racing.

David and Evelyn! The husband she had thought so fine and upright, cheating on her, no better than any other man, prey to temptation, and with a girl hardly more than a schoolgirl. She felt suddenly sick even as she yelled out a challenge to her.

The girl turned at her cry and for a split second seemed to pause. The eyes were narrowed, the painted mouth fixed in a derisive smile. Even as Eileen blinked, she disappeared through the open door to the big room.

Shocked and furious, Eileen bounded after her, her voice rising to a shriek. ‘Come back here! You, come back!’

This time she would catch her, demand to know what she was doing here. It took less than a second to reach the room. But there was no sign of her. Even in the dim twilight she’d have seen her, caught her before ever she reached the French windows, this time definitely closed and locked. Yet there was no trace of her.

Running across to the French windows, Eileen fumbled with the key, managing to turn it and fling open the doors to the conservatory. They were also locked. Turning that key with one swift movement, she leapt out to the garden. There was no one to be seen, no movement, no sound. In sudden alarm, she backed away, through the conservatory and back into the room. It was deadly cold, despite having been a warm day. Elsewhere the house still retained the lingering warmth of a fine day, but not here. She could feel it penetrating her skin.

A voice behind her made her swing round to see David standing there. ‘What on earth are you doing?’ he asked. ‘Why are you shouting?’

She made towards him in a fury at his feigned innocence. ‘I saw her this time – as clear as I see you. Don’t lie to me, David. I know what you’ve been up to. But a child! How could you – a mere kid!’

‘What
are
you talking about?’ he began, his tone that of someone who was feeling his patience being tried, but seconds later stepped back as the palm of her hand caught him a stinging smack across his cheek.

‘You know what I’m talking about,’ she continued to yell. ‘Living across the road makes it so easy for the two of you! Take advantage of stupid tales of ghosts and spirits so you can fool me. You disgust me!’

She broke off as he caught her by the shoulders in a grip that hurt. ‘What are you implying?’ he burst out, his tone grating sharply.

‘You and that Calder girl, you and her …’

He shook her almost savagely. ‘What do you think I am? How can you think I’d be interested in anyone but you, much less a child of that age? Is that what you’ve been imagining, Eileen? Have you such little trust in me to even dream I’d look at anyone else? But if that’s so, that you feel you cannot trust me, our marriage might as well be over. Is that what you want?’

‘No …’ The word tore itself from her. She felt near to collapse had he not been holding her. She wanted to cry, ‘Swear you’ve not been unfaithful,’ but all she could say was, ‘Then who was that girl I saw? What was she doing here?’ her voice weak and faint.

He was holding her tightly against him, his voice gentle now. ‘There was no girl. You must have been having a dream.’

‘I wasn’t,’ she said feebly. ‘I was awake. I was in the lounge, reading. I just felt … something made me go out into the hall. I don’t know why.’ Tears began to fill her eyes. She looked up into his face. ‘What was it, David? What’s happening here?’

‘I don’t know,’ he said quietly. ‘Something’s going on, but it’s not a ghost, there are no such things. If you start to believe that there are, you’ll end up going off your head.’