The Flyer (16 page)

That evening, before dinner, William met Lady Horsham again. She was pleased that he had come to stay with them. He was to her, apart from anything else, the young man who had saved her son’s life. She was an intelligent woman, who managed to give the impression of being utterly informal and down to earth without really being either.

‘Anyway, I trust you’ll be quite at home here, William, and if there’s anything you need you must ask Morton and he will see to it for you, won’t you Morton?’

The butler to whom she was referring brought her a glass of sherry on a silver tray. ‘Yes, Lady Horsham,’ he said.

‘Everything that takes place in this house does so under Morton’s watchful eye,’ she said. ‘Without him there would be chaos. Incidentally, Morton, did you see the painting I brought home today?’

‘I did indeed, My Lady.’

‘What did you think of it? I wondered if it might go quite well in the library.’

‘I believe it would look very well there.’

‘Good. I wanted to be sure you approve. Perhaps tomorrow you could arrange for somebody to hang it?’

‘Of course.’

When Henry appeared, Lady Horsham asked what he’d been doing.

‘I took my bike for a spin out to Sywell to see about flying lessons.’

His mother was distressed to hear this, and would have forbidden it if Henry hadn’t told her that there was nobody there giving lessons anyway. It had evidently put him in a bad mood.

‘By the way, where the devil is that fool, Hedges? My bike packed in today, but I couldn’t find him anywhere.’

Lady Horsham behaved as if she hadn’t heard him and turned instead to Morton. ‘I meant to ask you, I wonder if there is a bottle of something special in the cellar to mark Mister Reynolds’ first evening as our guest?’

‘I’m sure I can find something, My Lady.’

‘Thank you, Morton. I knew I could rely on you.’ When he’d left the room she gave her youngest son a withering look. ‘Please do not speak like that about the servants in front of Morton, Henry. If you have a complaint you must speak to me first in private, and if necessary I will take the matter up with Morton and he will deal with it.’

‘Yes, mother, I’m sorry,’ Henry said, but added sulkily, ‘though I really don’t know why you tolerate that fellow, Hedges.’

There was a rigid hierarchy in the house, William discovered, both above and below stairs, and everybody was expected to know their place and keep to it, though it was maintained on an understanding of mutual respect that Henry evidently hadn’t mastered.

At first William found it unsettling to live in a house where everything was done for him, and where the servants outnumbered the Horshams and himself many times over. Wherever he went he seemed to encounter maids or footmen busily dusting and polishing and cleaning. They served him breakfast and dinner, laid out his clothes and laundered them, polished his shoes and even turned down his bed in the evening. Outside the house, there were gardeners and stable hands and Hedges the chauffeur, and throughout the day a constant parade of tradesman delivered supplies of all kinds. William was amazed that it took so much effort by so many to keep a handful of people in comfort, and yet as time went on he got used to it.

During the day, he and Christopher would work on their plane. They had decided to start by building the frame for the fuselage and wings while they waited to hear from the French engine manufacturers. In the evenings after dinner they would sit and talk and listen to music, just as they had before the airshow, though now they dressed for dinner and afterwards drank brandy from French crystal. Sometimes William missed the mixed smells of sawdust and the dope they used to stiffen the canvas, and also the quiet fields in the purple twilight. The thing he missed most of all though, was Elizabeth. He half expected her to turn up at the end of each day, but for two weeks he hadn’t see her.

One evening after dinner they played a game of snooker, even though it was a game Christopher didn’t like very much, and when Henry invited himself along Christopher told him plainly he wasn’t wanted.

‘I was thinking we ought to go for a picnic at the weekend,’ Christopher remarked casually as he set up the balls. ‘I’m sure Liz would be keen if you wanted to ask her.’

There was something speculative in his tone, William thought, as if he was curious to see how William responded. ‘You mean the three of us?’

‘Actually I was thinking of asking somebody else to join us.’

William took his shot. There had been several occasions when Christopher had disappeared in the evenings lately on some pretext or other. William hadn’t thought much of it. He’d been happy to use the time to read or work on his design plans, but now he thought about it, he wondered if Christopher was seeing somebody.

‘You like Liz, don’t you?’ Christopher asked.

‘Yes, of course I do.’

‘No, I don’t mean that. I mean you’ve fallen for her. I could see it in your face when I mentioned her just now.’ Christopher shook his head and smiled. ‘I don’t know why I haven’t noticed before. Have you said anything to her?’

‘No.’

‘Perhaps you should. Anyway, I’m glad, because now I know you’ll understand how I feel.’

‘How you feel about what?’ William asked, completely lost.

‘About Sophie.’

For a moment William had no idea who he meant, and then he realised. ‘Do you mean Sophie Yates?’

‘Yes. We’ve seen one another a few times lately. I would’ve said something to you earlier, but I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about it.’

‘I don’t know what you mean.’

‘Because of that Hawkins chap, I mean. You know he rather likes Sophie, don’t you?’

‘Yes, but I wasn’t sure his feelings were reciprocated.’

‘Apparently they weren’t. Not in that sense. Sophie says she only thought of him as a friend. I gather he had other ideas, but I’m afraid they were all very one-sided.’

‘I see,’ William said. ‘To be honest I’m not surprised.’

‘You don’t mind then? After all, you’re quite friendly with Hawkins aren’t you?’

‘Yes, I suppose I am, but it’s none of my business if Sophie doesn’t return his feelings.’

Christopher looked relieved. ‘Good, I’m glad to hear you say that, because the truth is I think she’s a wonderful girl. I thought so the moment I saw her, but as I’ve got to know her better I’m even more convinced. Of course she’s a stunning looker, and I don’t deny that’s what attracted me at first, but she’s very sweet too and damn plucky. She’s done marvellously well to achieve what she has, given her background.’

‘Does Elizabeth know?’ William asked.

‘Not yet. That’s why I thought it would be good if we all went for a picnic somewhere. It would be a chance for them to get to know one another.’

‘Yes, I see. Alright then,’ William agreed, though he wasn’t certain how Elizabeth would feel about it. He recalled her expression at the airshow when she had seen Christopher and Sophie together. Whatever Elizabeth claimed about her relationship with Christopher, sometimes William wondered if Elizabeth truly understood her own feelings.

On Sunday morning the household attended services at the church in Pitsford, where the Horsham family had their own pew. The vicar read a passage from Corinthians, his sonorous tones filling the space to the high, arched roof. It was cool in the church, though outside it was already hot. Elizabeth had driven over early that morning and she and William shared a hymn book as the congregation stood to sing Come All Ye Faithful, to the wheezing breath of the organ. Now and then their eyes met, and she smiled.

When the service ended they waited outside while Christopher and his mother chatted with the vicar and one or two other prominent local landowners.

‘Are you enjoying your stay at Pitsford?’ Elizabeth asked.

‘Yes. Though to be honest I miss the evenings we all used to spend together.’

‘They were rather fun, weren’t they,’ she agreed neutrally.

He thought of the time they’d gone for a walk together, when he’d almost kissed her. He’d felt that she wanted him to, but since then they had hardly ever been alone together, and he wondered if that was by design or merely chance.

‘I thought you might have come over to see us,’ William said.

‘I would have. It’s just that things have been rather hectic lately. How are you getting on with Henry?’ she said, changing the subject. ‘He’s quite different from Christopher don’t you think?’

‘Yes he is.’

She looked at him questioningly. ‘You say that as if you don’t like him.’

In fact, Henry reminded William too much of some of the boys at Oundle. Perhaps it was Henry’s age, but he had an air of supercilious arrogance that William disliked. ‘As you said, he’s not like Christopher.’

‘I think it must be difficult for him having an elder brother like Christopher. It doesn’t seem fair really. Christopher will inherit everything of course, but not only that, he got more than his fair share of good looks. Henry thinks very well of you anyway. I was talking to him earlier.’

‘Does he?’

‘You sound surprised.’

‘I am,’ William admitted. He’d assumed Henry looked down on him a little, though there was no real reason for him to think so. Another hangover from Oundle.

‘You saved Christopher’s life,’ Elizabeth said. ‘I imagine Henry and his mother wouldn’t mind if you wanted to stay at Pitsford for ever.’

She meant it as a joke, William knew, and yet somehow it made him uncomfortable. ‘I’m not a charity case,’ he said lightly, though it came out more sharply than he’d intended.

Elizabeth was taken aback. ‘Of course you’re not. That isn’t what I meant at all.’

A few moments later Christopher joined them. He’d suggested earlier that they should go to the reservoir at Ravensthorpe as it was such a nice day, but when they set off in his car he turned onto the main Northampton road.

‘Where are we going?’ Elizabeth asked.

‘Didn’t William tell you? We’re picking Sophie up first,’ he replied casually.

‘Sophie?’ She looked at William questioningly.

‘Sophie Yates,’ Christopher said. ‘You remember her, she was at the airshow with that chap who bought William’s garage.’

‘Oh, yes of course. I didn’t know that you knew each other so well, William.’

‘I don’t,’ he said. ‘It was Christopher who invited her.’

Elizabeth looked surprised, though she didn’t say anything.

Sophie was waiting for them by the side of the road near the last tram stop on the edge of town. She seemed nervous until Christopher jumped out of the car and kissed her.

‘Hello, Sophie, you look absolutely wonderful. We’re not late are we? You’ve met Liz haven’t you? And of course you know William.’

They all said hello, and then Sophie sat in the back next to Elizabeth as they set off. William had wondered if they would get on together, but they were soon chatting easily and complimenting one another on their outfits. A few minutes along the road they passed the garage that was now owned by Arthur. His name was on the sign at the front, but otherwise nothing much appeared to have changed. It was closed and there appeared to be nobody about.

When they arrived at the reservoir, Christopher turned down a narrow road that led to a wooden building that housed the sailing club.

‘Have you done any sailing, old man?’ he asked William.

‘I’m afraid not.’     

‘Never mind, Liz has. I’ve arranged for us to borrow a couple of dinghies.’

The door of the boatshed was open but there was nobody around. The surface of the reservoir rippled in the breeze and glittered in the sun like shards of glass. At the far end there was a public area and a kind of beach where people came to swim and picnic. They could hear the shouts of children playing. Half a dozen boats could be seen out on the water, their white sails dipping as they tacked to and fro.

‘We ought go across to those trees I think,’ Christopher said pointing to a line of willows on the distant shore. William helped drag a pair of wooden dinghies down to the jetty on trolleys, and then Elizabeth set about rigging one of them with a single mainsail while Christopher did the other.

‘We ought to have a race,’ he said. ‘Sophie and I against you two.’

When the boats were ready Elizabeth showed William where to sit, and then she tightened the sheet so that the sail caught the wind, and with a smooth motion they began to move away from the shore. A few moments later Christopher followed, and Elizabeth allowed the sail to flap so that he could catch up.

‘Are you ready?’ he called out.

‘Whenever you are.’

At once they tightened their sails and both boats caught the wind and quickly gathered pace. William was content to sit where he was told and watch Elizabeth work the tiller with one hand and the sheet controlling the sail with the other. She had taken off her hat and the sun was on her face, her eyes constantly going from the sail to the water as she judged the breeze. Occasionally they had to tack to change course, which meant that they had to duck under the swinging boom and move from one side of the boat to the other. Each time, Elizabeth managed it smoothly and quickly so that the dinghy barely lost any speed, and they began to edge ahead of the other two.

‘When did you learn to sail?’ William asked.

‘We used to race like this when we were young.’ She glanced back at the other boat and William caught a sudden wistful look in her expression, and wondered what she was thinking. He pictured her as a girl of twelve or thirteen, sailing here with Christopher, her arms and face brown from the sun, free of the emotional eddies and currents of adulthood.

They heard Sophie shriek, and looking back saw that as Christopher tacked, their dinghy had tipped violently as if it might capsize.

‘He’s doing that on purpose,’ Elizabeth said. ‘He isn’t trying to win.’

It was true, William thought. Christopher was far more intent on playing the clown and he and Sophie slipped further and further behind, their laughter carried away on the breeze.

For a little while Elizabeth concentrated on sailing the boat, until it was clear that the others couldn’t catch up even if they wanted to. Neither of them spoke and William was happy to watch her. She caught his eye. ‘How long have they been seeing each other?’