The Daughters Of Red Hill Hall (6 page)

Rebecca was not sure she understood how the mechanism worked, but she knew she’d seen enough. ‘Thank you, Spencer, that was most informative. I think perhaps you ought to unload the weapon now, and we should put it all away.’

‘No, Rebecca, don’t be a spoilsport. I think we should all go outside and Spencer should fire the gun. It doesn’t look as though it is possible to get the shot and all the gunpowder out unless the pistol is actually fired. Isn’t that right, Spencer?’ Sarah stared at the butler, and Rebecca thought she saw her wink.

‘Well, the shot should come out if you tip the gun upside down, and the flash pan is easy enough to empty. But you are right, not all the gunpowder can be extracted from the combustion chamber. I do not think Mr Winton would be very happy if I fired his gun, however.’

‘Mr Winton isn’t here so won’t ever need to know. Come on, Spencer, look, the rain has eased off so we could go outside and fire it? Please? Dearest Spencer, I would so like to see it fired, just once!’ Sarah was in full persuasion mode again, Rebecca noted, and it was working. ‘And now that it is loaded, you might as well. You can’t put it away like this, for that certainly wouldn’t be safe.’

Spencer sighed, and then smiled indulgently at her. He put the other pieces back in the box, but kept the loaded pistol out. Handing the box to Sarah to carry, he led the way out of the servants’ dining room, along a corridor and out through a side door. This led into the kitchen gardens, which they skirted round and left through a gate, emerging into the wide open parkland. Spencer stopped about twenty yards from a large spreading oak tree. ‘I shall discharge the weapon at the tree,’ he said.

Rebecca gasped. ‘But what if someone gets in the way?’

‘Miss Rebecca, look, there is no one in the way now. You and Miss Sarah shall stand behind me, a good distance back. No one can possibly approach without us seeing.’ He stood sideways on, raised his arm and pointed the pistol at the tree. With his other hand he cocked it and then fired, before either girl had a chance to say anything more. There was a flash, then an enormous bang, and a shower of bark fragments flew from the tree. A crow flapped frantically away cawing loudly and a pair of pigeons followed, from higher in the tree. Rebecca couldn’t stop herself from squealing and clasping her hands over her mouth, while Sarah was jumping up and down clapping her hands. There was a sharp, acrid smell and a puff of smoke rose and dispersed on the breeze.

‘There, my ladies. I have defended your honour and fired my pistol. The tree is injured, though not mortally so, but he will not dare cross me again!’ Spencer’s face was flushed, and Rebecca realised he’d enjoyed the feeling of holding and firing a pistol again. Perhaps it was the first time since Waterloo, almost twenty years earlier.

‘Thank you, dear Spencer! Thank you! What a wonderful loud noise it made. It was simply thrilling!’ Sarah flung her arms about the butler to his astonishment.

‘Miss Sarah, this is no way to behave! I must remind you I am still holding the pistol and it must now be cleaned and returned to its case. Come along now, and watch this part of the proceedings too. And then I really must return to my duties.’ He extricated himself from her embrace and picked up the case that she’d put down on the ground, tutting over the water marks from the wet grass. ‘I hope those don’t show when it’s dry or we shall all be in trouble.’

He set off back to the house, and Rebecca followed him with relief. That was quite enough excitement for one day. She hoped after the pistols were put away Sarah might settle to some quiet reading or embroidery, or some other occupation more suited to young ladies.

Chapter 5

April 2015

Gemma was first to arrive at the coffee shop where she and Nat always met, in town, around the corner from the museum. She picked a table near the window from where she would see Nat approaching, and ordered two lattes as usual. She felt strangely nervous. After Nat’s reaction to her news on the phone that morning, she wasn’t sure how things would be between them. Hopefully it had just been due to her bad timing with the phone call, and Nat’s hangover. Nat would breeze into the coffee shop, embrace her in a huge bear hug and squeal with excitement about the engagement. As she sat staring out of the window and stirring her coffee, she convinced herself that was what would happen.

When Nat arrived, perfectly made up and stylishly dressed in a loose silk shirt over jeans, Gemma’s first thought was that she’d been right. Nat smiled broadly, kissed Gemma on both cheeks and sat down with her latte.

‘Well, Miss Sneaky-Pants, you’re finally going to make an honest man of our lovely Ben, are you? You never told me you were planning on getting hitched. Would have been nice if you had mentioned it.’ Nat winked, giving the lie to her words, and sipped her latte.

‘It was Ben who proposed! It was a surprise – I really wasn’t expecting it. And I did tell you, first thing this morning,’ Gemma protested. She wasn’t a hundred per cent sure whether Nat was upset or not.

‘Ha, yes, when I was in the bath and hung-over.’

‘I thought if I waited till now to tell you you’d have been upset, so I told you first. Haven’t even told Mum and Dad yet. I’ll ring them this evening.’

Nat looked pleased to have been told the news before Gemma’s parents. ‘They’ll be
delighted
their baby girl is getting wed. They’ll offer to pay for half of it, you mum will turn up in a huge hat and your dad will grin from ear to ear as he gives you away. You have no idea how lucky you are, Gem. God, if it was me, my mother wouldn’t care unless it meant free booze for her at the wedding, and my father would say, “That’s nice, sweetheart,” but of course he wouldn’t come, Australia being too far away and a daughter’s wedding being not enough of a reason for him to exist for a moment in the same country as Mum, let alone the same church.’ Nat shook her head as though in despair at her family. Her tone was jokey but Gemma thought she could detect an undercurrent of seriousness. She had a point. Gemma’s family were certainly more conventional than Nat’s. As a rebellious teen she’d envied Nat’s chaotic home life, but as she’d matured she’d come to properly appreciate her close, supportive parents.

‘I’m sure that’s not right. Your dad would fly over if you were getting married, and your parents would surely be able to be in the same room for one day.’ Gemma was about to say something about limiting the supply of drink to Nat’s alcoholic mother, but thought better of it.

‘Yeah well. It’s not me getting married, is it, so no point discussing it. I’ll probably never marry. I’ll end up a bitter and twisted old spinster living in a house that smells of cat wee. You’ll bring your kids on duty visits, and they’ll say, “Oh no, not batty old Aunty Nat,” and you’ll sit there drinking bitter coffee with me and wondering how soon you can leave. Oh, I can see it now. All our years of friendship will come to nothing once you’re all cosily married up.’

Again, although Nat laughed as she made this speech, there was a touch of bitterness underneath her words. Time to change the subject, Gemma thought, though she’d been longing to tell Nat exactly how Ben had proposed and how it’d made her feel, and what her early ideas for a wedding, venue, dress and honeymoon were. But she had the feeling that any more talk of her engagement would just wind Nat up and perhaps it was best left at that. In any case, there was another much more imminent wedding – that of Ben’s sister Anna and her fiancé Jake – and the whole point of today’s shopping trip was to try to find outfits for that.

Gemma drained the rest of her coffee. ‘Well. Shall we get started? It’s midday and we’ve a lot of shops to get round. I’m thinking of a dress and jacket combination. What about you?’

‘Not a dress and jacket, that’s for sure. I’m not old enough for that kind of outfit. It’s what the mother of the bride would pick, along with an oversized hat or a fascinator a foot long. Have you paid the bill?’ Nat stood up, slung her bag onto her shoulder and began leaving the café without waiting for an answer.

‘Yes, all paid, my treat, don’t worry,’ Gemma said, at Nat’s retreating back. She shook her head. Nat was in a very strange mood today.

The shopping trip was a disaster. Nat tried on a hundred outfits but liked nothing. Gemma barely got a chance to try anything on, except for a couple of items Nat picked out for her, which were completely unsuitable and not at all her style. A seventies-print maxi-dress with shoestring shoulder straps, and a pair of wide-leg pink silk trousers with a strapless sparkling silver top. Every time Gemma fingered an item she liked the look of Nat hurried her along to the next shop. If Gemma didn’t know Nat better, she’d think she was sabotaging the shopping trip on purpose. It wasn’t at all like the hundreds of other shopping trips they’d done together in the past, when they would both try on loads of outfits, giving honest opinions, giggling if something looked awful on, encouraging each other to buy what suited them best. She supposed her friend must be still grumpy about the badly timed phone call this morning. Or still hung-over. Whatever it was, Nat was snippy all day. As in the coffee shop, she’d say something snarky but then smile brightly or wink or laugh. Gemma was perplexed.

After a while she gave up trying to find something to wear to the wedding. She’d shop on her own some other time. She spent the afternoon following Nat around, trying to say the right things about the clothes Nat tried on, and trying not to mention Ben and her engagement, although it was all she could really think about.

Eventually they reached the top end of the High Street. Gemma suppressed a sigh of relief. ‘That’s that, then. No more shops. We’ll have to call it a day, I think. Maybe nearer the time there’ll be some new stuff in.’

Nat gazed down a narrow side street. ‘We haven’t tried
La Belle Femme
yet. She pointed at a boutique tucked into one of the historic old buildings along the street.

‘Bit pricey for us, isn’t it?’ Gemma had only looked in the window once or twice before but had seen enough to know it was out of her league. And she was pretty sure Nat earned a lot less than she did.

‘Speak for yourself. I’ll spend what I like on clothing, and I’d have thought you would too, as it’s your future sister-in-law’s wedding. I quite fancy that dress in the window.’ Nat pointed at a skimpy dress, the skirt of which was embroidered with a peacock feather design, the top half encrusted with sequins. It did not look cheap. She pushed open the door, which rang a bell somewhere in the back of the shop, and Gemma had no choice but to follow her in.

There were very few clothes rails in the shop. A shabby-chic leather sofa took up most of the space in the middle of the room, and a few dresses were artfully arranged on hooks on the wall. The lighting was…subtle, if Gemma was being kind. Dim if she was being truthful.

A woman wearing far too much make-up, dressed in a neat black dress and heavy gold jewellery emerged from the back room. Although she quickly put on an expression of polite helpfulness, Gemma had noticed her previous expression when she’d seen who was in the shop. Clearly she and Nat weren’t the right sort of customers. Her instinct was to spend about thirty seconds looking at the items on show and then leave. She glanced at Nat, who apparently had other ideas.

Nat was fingering a black silk dress with an asymmetric hem and feathers around the neckline. Not machine washable then, Gemma thought.

‘I’d like to try this on, please,’ Nat said to the sales assistant. ‘And the peacock dress in the window, while I’m at it.’

‘Certainly. This way, please,’ said the assistant, leading them into a small changing area at the back of the shop. Half the cubicle was taken up with a huge rubber plant. ‘Wait here while I fetch the garments.’

‘Classy place,’ Nat said, when the woman had gone.

‘What price are those frocks?’ Gemma whispered.

‘Dunno. Don’t care, either!’ Nat pulled a leaf off the plant and used it to fan her face.

‘But can you afford them?’

‘Course not. But it’ll be fun trying them on. You try them too. That black one would look great on you, with your blonde hair.’

‘Oh, no. I wouldn’t feel comfortable doing that if I’ve no intention of…’ Gemma broke off speaking as the sales assistant returned, with the two dresses each on padded hangers and covered with plastic. The assistant glared at her, then hung the dresses on a hook beside the rubber plant.

‘I’ll fetch a chair for your friend,’ she said, while Nat began stripping off.

‘Oh, no, please don’t trouble yourself,’ Gemma said, but the sales assistant only glared at her again and brought an uncomfortable-looking gilt-backed chair from behind the sales counter. Gemma perched on it. It was as uncomfortable as it looked.

Nat had the black dress on. ‘What do you think?’ She twirled around, admiring herself in the mirror.

‘Not with those shoes,’ Gemma said. Nat was still wearing her red Converse trainers.

‘Obviously. Well, this one’s nothing special. I’ll try the other.’

The peacock dress looked good on Nat, Gemma had to admit. It fitted her perfectly, showed off her lovely legs and curvy waist, and her long black hair was stunning against the glittery top half. ‘Wow. That’s just amazing on you, Nat. Show me the price tag?’

Nat twisted so that Gemma could peer at the label hanging from the zip at the back. ‘There’s no price on it.’

‘I guess, if you have to ask…’ Nat rolled her eyes dramatically and peeled the dress off. Gemma had a fit of the giggles at Nat’s eye-roll, and Nat soon joined in. This was more like it, Gemma thought. The whole shopping trip should have been a girlie giggle, rather than all the snide comments and snippiness. Perhaps Nat’s hangover had finally worn off. It was good to end the day on a high note.

‘What’s the verdict, ladies?’ asked the sales assistant when they exited the changing room.

‘I don’t like the black one on me. The peacock is nice, but aren’t peacock feathers supposed to be bad luck? I’m not sure I could wear it, for that reason. Something awful might happen to me. I’d be constantly fearing for my safety.’ Nat breezed out of the shop. Gemma hurried after her, one hand clamped over her mouth to hold back the laughter that threatened to erupt. The shopping trip had certainly ended on a high.