A Time for Courage (20 page)

‘Be good girls,’ whispered Camilla. ‘I shall be playing bridge with Lady Wilmot in the library.’

They nodded.

‘I gather a diamond mine investor lives next door,’ Esther continued as they waited to be announced. ‘Obviously a great deal of money in that business.’

Hannah looked at her as the butler announced their names to the waiting hosts who were lined up at the entrance to the ballroom. She really is very serious about all this, isn’t she, Hannah thought, and wondered what it would be like to have Esther as a sister-in-law.

Lord Wilmot was elderly with white hair but a grey moustache. His faded blue eyes smiled politely but nothing more. His handshake was limp and bored. Lady Wilmot wore a diamond necklace and Esther squeezed Hannah’s hand fiercely, her eyes wide. Was it Harry or his potential wealth she was after, Hannah mused, but was unaffected by the thought, for Harry no longer concerned her.

Arthur was standing next to his older brother. He shook hands with Camilla and Esther, saying how pleased he was to meet them and that they would find Harry over by the west door, and then turned to Hannah.

He was taller than Joe and his hair was the colour of the oats ripening in the field which lay on the approach to the moor.

‘You are very much more beautiful than Harry,’ he said and the hand which took hers was warm and strong and his voice was confident and sure.

He did not smile as he held her there but his eyes were violet with black flecks and Hannah knew why Harry was his friend. Hannah saw his brother, who was taller and darker nudge his arm and Arthur released her hand then and turned to greet the woman who smelt of eau de cologne and was too close to Hannah.

She walked on into the crowded ballroom, feeling a smile grow on her face.

‘Rather a lovely young man,’ Esther said as she held her arm. ‘Are you impressed?’

Hannah laughed, pausing to allow a man with a monocle to precede them through the crowded ballroom to the west door where she could see Harry waiting, his face strained, his eyes anxious as he looked to either side and then in front but still he had not seen them.

Esther pinched her arm. ‘Well, have you gone deaf? Are you impressed?’

Hannah flicked out her fan, waved it in front of Esther’s face. ‘Calm down, silly child. I can see why Harry likes him. He’s sure of himself, he’s …’ she sought for the word that she wanted. ‘He’s easy somehow.’

‘And very handsome,’ Esther snapped.

‘And very handsome,’ Hannah agreed, though she would have used the word beautiful. She looked across at Harry again, who was moving towards them now, his face eager, but as he reached them and looked only at Esther she saw that he trembled as he took his cousin’s hand and kissed it. He was tall and broad, all signs of boyhood gone. Her father would be proud, she thought, of this son who was an undoubted gentleman.

Hannah looked away, outside the feelings that were gripping her brother, outside the love that poured from him. She saw the brilliant crystal chandeliers, lit by electricity, hanging from the white-and-gold-painted ceiling. She felt the heat from the flickering candles held tight in the branches of the silver candelabras which stood on every side table, alongside displays of flowers which added their scent to the heavy air. And then she looked back again at Esther and her brother and still they stood with their eyes only for each other.

Yes, she thought, Arthur was beautiful, like this room, white and light and easy, and she wished that she had someone who looked at her with eyes suddenly dark, who held her with hands that trembled and stopped her feeling so alone.

The music whirled on, drawing dancers into its rhythm. Dresses shone and jewels glittered and nearby the candles fluttered in the draught from a newly opened window. Now Harry turned to her and smiled and said, ‘How are you, Hannah?’

But although his eyes were looking at her they were not seeing. They were still filled with Esther and so she said, ‘Quite well, thank you, Harry,’ knowing as she spoke that he did not hear her, though he nodded and smiled.

He stopped a waiter and handed punch to Esther and then to her and it was cool on her lips. She watched the swirl of pink liquid as she waved the glass gently, the fruit collecting together against the rim. A grape and an apple segment. Apples for Uncle Simon, she chanted in time to the music. Apple lofts and wrinkled fruit. Joe on the moor, gold-red hair and strength. Arthur with hair the colour of oats. And she saw him coming now, weaving through the jostling guests, nodding and laughing and greeting but keeping his eyes for her, looking at her as Harry had not and she smiled as he came because now she would not be standing alone, on the outside of Harry’s love.

He reached for her hand but his did not tremble; his eyes saw her and there was pleasure but not eagerness. He led her to the floor and they danced. The orchestra was raised on a platform edged with palms and played without a break, and his voice was low as he told her of Lady Banyon and her Pekinese which ran amok and bit the Bishop who screamed, Oh God, but it did no good. He leant back and laughed with her and told her how lovely she looked in white and how beautiful he found the embroidery about the neck. And all the time she thought how strange it was to have a man so close, to have his breath on her hair, her cheek, to have his arm around her and his hand holding hers. She was glad of her gloves lying between their two skins as she dipped and whirled. Supper was laid out in the ante-room off the ballroom and Arthur escorted her, though she saw his brother shake his head and nod towards a girl in a pale blue dress.

Hannah hesitated and said, ‘Please, do go, Arthur, I shall be quite all right. I shall find Harry.’

He shook his head. ‘Good Lord, my dear girl. My best friend’s sister and the belle of the ball is entitled to the most handsome man in the room.’

They sat at one of the small tables, set in formal rows, and his arm lay around the back of the gilt chair that he was saving for Harry. A waiter brought pink champagne and it was cool and the bubbles splashed fine spray on her face. She drank it as Arthur laughed and handed her another. Heavy mirrors hung from white walls catching at men and women, reflecting their smiles, their gloss, before releasing them into the room again. Music still played, but quietly now.

The footman brought a silver bucket and pushed a champagne bottle deep into the crushed ice. The candelabra on their table made her hotter still. The music had swollen to fill the room, the murmur of voices crowded too close. She wanted to dip her hands into the ice, gather up crisp, cold, moist crystals and bury her face in it until the heat was gone. But then she felt the weight of her fan. She had forgotten it, its cream satin, its cool ivory, and now she held it so that its cool draught fanned her face, her shoulders, her body, and became the breeze of the moors and the music, the cry of the gulls.

‘Here they are, at last,’ Arthur said and his voice wrenched her back to Harry, to Esther and the room which seemed quieter now, cooler, and she noticed that all the windows had been opened and the long satin drapes were moving in the wind.

‘The heat of the day is turning to rain,’ Harry said as they sat down. ‘Do you remember the storm last summer?’ he said and looked across at Hannah, who nodded, surprised, and more than that, pleased that he had drawn her across to him.

Then Esther laid her hand on his arm, drawing his attention back to her and Hannah’s reply, ‘Yes, I shall never forget it,’ went unnoticed by her brother.

But Arthur was there to lean forward and ask, ‘Quite some storm then, was it, Hannah?’

She was grateful for the ease with which he caught the awkward moment and led her away from Harry’s dismissal. She smiled at him and nodded.

‘A great deal happened that day,’ she murmured and did not respond to his look of enquiry because it was her memory alone, hers and Joe’s and was clutched deep inside her mind.

Footmen brought lobster on silver trays held high above their shoulders until they swooped low to serve their table. Harry and Arthur cracked the claws with heavy silver crushers, leaning over to do so; brushing close so that Esther giggled and leant in, forward, closer still to Harry, whose colour rose and whose hands trembled again. Hannah sat quite still, watching as Arthur’s pale fine hands neatly exerted just enough pressure to break the red glistening shells, but not enough to crush and spoil the white flecked meat. Jagged red now lay against white and Hannah smiled and lifted a segment to her mouth. It was moist and fresh.

‘Brought up yesterday from the coast,’ Arthur said, taking some himself. A piece fell from his fork but he caught it with his other hand before it could reach the table.

‘Well caught, that man,’ called Harry, lifting his champagne glass to his lips and smiling across.

Arthur bowed and Hannah laughed, the warmth of her gratitude still present, hearing, as though from a distance, the thud of willow on leather, seeing Harry on the school green so many years ago now. Had Arthur been there too, his whites sharp against the grounds, his hands pale against the red of the leather? She looked at him again as he sat back, beckoning the footman, asking for cherries to add to the champagne. There were beads of sweat on his forehead and the starch of his collar was not as stiff as it had been. And she felt a warmth rising in her body at his beauty. They ate strawberries with their cherries and champagne and she saw red against yellow; the yellow of the straw, the red of Joe’s strawberries. Arthur picked one up in his fingers and ate it, and then there was red against white. The music was gentle now but the curtains were billowing in the wind and the candles were flickering and it was too cool for her fan which she now laid down on the table and its cream was the colour of Arthur’s skin.

They danced again when they had poured the last of the champagne and the ice in the bucket was clouding and melting. Round and round they spun under the lights from the chandeliers, under the white and gold of the ceiling, past candelabras which wept white wax in streams against the silver. They passed mirrors and were caught together, white against black and she felt his leg against hers as he turned her and her hands were white against his for her gloves were on the table together with her fan, and her skin was against his, her dampness mingling with his, her laugh full and her body loose because this friend of Harry’s was so beautiful, so kind, so easy. It was as though the sun had found him and never left and Hannah wanted to stay here for ever, whirling round in the light and the music and the laughter which left no room for fear, or struggle, or pain, and which reminded her of something. But what? A white dress and blue bow hovered and was gone.

Harry stood on the steps as the carriage drew away, taking Esther from him and he waved again as her gloved hand disappeared. The storm was high now but he still stood under the portico, watching until he could no longer see the outline of the landau or hear the horses as they clattered out into the main thoroughfare. Arthur stood with him, a cigarette hanging from his mouth, the smoke snatched away by the wind, the tip glowing and burning fast, unaffected by the rain which could not reach them here but had caused the gutters to overrun and the cobbles to be lost under a film of water.

It was gone now, the carriage taking his love away, and he took the cigarette which Arthur offered from his gold case. He drew smoke deep into his lungs, feeling its heat before exhaling.

‘Hannah is …’ Arthur paused, dropping his cigarette and grinding it under his heel, his patent pumps gleaming in the light which still spilled from the wide glass doors. ‘Interesting,’ he continued. ‘You are lucky to have a sister like that. A girl who is quiet but laughs. A girl who thinks before she speaks. One who looks as though she would leave a fellow to live his own life; not interfere in his pleasures.’

Harry looked at him. Yes, his sister seemed to be all those things and had indeed laughed, though not with him, and he was relieved to think that in accepting her true role in life, as his father had written in his monthly letter, Hannah was happier. He wished now that he had spoken to her, listened to her, but with Esther so close nothing else had mattered. He looked in the direction that the carriage had taken and thought of Hannah in her white dress, slim and elegant, and remembered the blue sash of that other one, so long ago. Blue on white remembered so clearly from a time which seemed a thousand years ago. How very strange that the memory still refused to go. His cigarette was finished and he tossed it into the rain, watching as the glow died under the weight of the rain, and then, as he turned, he heard her laugh as she whirled on the rope beneath the horse-chestnut tree and saw her head hang back and her hair fall about her face.

‘Esther’s a beauty, Harry,’ Arthur said and Harry looked at him and nodded.

When he was with her there was warmth and laughter and excitement and he knew he could not bear to think of losing her too.

Arthur took his arm. ‘Let’s move back inside, shall we? We have to be back at school tomorrow, old boy.’

Harry nodded. ‘You’re lucky to be so bloody rich, Arthur, to be someone of consequence.’

They moved through the hall and climbed the sweeping stairs. Arthur punched him lightly on the arm. ‘Gets a bit repressive though, you know. It’s my parents, you see. They expect exemplary behaviour at all times and I’m not like that, as you know. How can a fellow sow wild oats or throw a few dice with them watching and hauling me in all the time? What I need is some sensible girl who’ll leave me to run with the hounds, as it were, but who will be there for the parents to approve of as a steadying influence. Someone who doesn’t care too much about me for I will never be able to put all my affections in just one area. D’you get my drift, old fellow?’ Harry nodded, though he was not really listening. He was still thinking of money and how it made things possible. ‘You’re still lucky,’ he insisted, ‘to have all of this around you and something to come your way in the end.’

At this Arthur laughed. ‘You’ll beat all of us, Harry, once you get out to the Rand. There’ll be diamonds and gold coming out of your ears, old boy, before you know where you are.’