Act of Will (11 page)

She was suddenly feeling mean and uncharitable for having had such unkind thoughts about Charlie, who was harmless really, and meant well.
All
of the Thorntons meant well, and they had
all
been very good to her. Mrs Thornton was forever telling her to consider The Meadow her home, and she had even turned the little box room at the end of the second-floor landing into a bedroom for her. Mrs Thornton had insisted she keep a few clothes there, and when she had visited Gwen in November she had left behind some toilet articles and a nightgown, which she would be able to use tonight.

Next week she was coming back to Horsforth to spend Christmas with Gwen, and she was well aware that the Thorntons would make her feel like a part of the family, truly one of them, as they always did. They had such a wealth of generosity and kindness in them. And I’m very ungrateful, Audra chastised herself. She knew how much it would please Gwen if she were nice to Charlie, and so she resolved to be pleasant to him, but without leading him on, giving him the wrong impression.
He must not misunderstand
. That would be disastrous. And after the holidays she was going to explain to Gwen, in the gentlest and kindest possible way, that she was not looking for a husband.

It was a very cold morning.
Icy
.

Perhaps it
would
turn out to be the coldest day of the winter after all, Audra thought, just as the gardener had warned yesterday when she had been returning from her walk. He had put down his wheelbarrow and looked up at the sky, narrowing his eyes and sniffing, as if he had a way of divining such things in this arcane manner.

And then he had made his prediction. ‘Yer’ll be nithered ter death termorra, Miss Audra. T’weather’s coming in bad from t’North Sea. Arctic weather, mark my words, lass.’

She had never been to the Arctic Circle, but she did not imagine it could be any colder than her bedroom at this moment. It was freezing, and it seemed to Audra that her nose, peeping over the bedcovers, had turned into an icicle. An Arctic icicle.

She slithered further down in the bed, hunching the covers up over her shoulders, almost obscuring her face entirely, revelling in the warmth of the quilt. It was filled with the down of the eider duck; Mr and Mrs Bell had purchased a baker’s dozen of these quilts when they had been on holiday in Munich several years before.

Mrs Bell had told Audra this when she had come to work at Calpher House, had gone on to explain that the sheet under the quilt was the only other piece of bed linen
required. Irène Bell had also cautioned Audra not to wear her thick flannel nightgown, but to discard it in favour of a cotton garment. Although she had nodded her understanding, she had not been absolutely certain that she really understood at all. But later that night, at bed time, she had done as she had been bidden earlier in the day, and within ten minutes of being in bed she had begun to feel a lovely sensation of warmth permeating her whole body. The heat generated by the quilt was extraordinary, something quite amazing to Audra, and she realized that Mrs Bell had been correct about the cotton nightie. Anything else would have been far too hot.

She smiled to herself now, remembering her first night here, and then swivelled her eyes to the clock on the mahogany chest as it began to chime. It was only six but this did not surprise her in the least. She was accustomed to awakening at this hour. It was an old habit left over from her years at the hospital in Ripon. Fortunately the routine was not so rigorous here at Calpher House, and she could stay in bed until seven, even a bit later if she wished.

Audra had truly come to cherish this dawn hour when all the family were asleep and no one was about except for the servants downstairs. She thought of it as her own special and private time, enjoyed the luxury of lingering in her downy cocoon, without having the need to rush, idly drifting with her diverse thoughts… and sometimes day-dreaming about the future.

And the future seemed decidedly rosy to Audra on this December morning of 1927.

Certainly the years stretching ahead could not be any worse than the five years which had preceded her arrival at Calpher House, she frequently told herself these days. Naturally optimistic, she always looked at things in the most positive way, anticipating the best. She also expected
the best from people, despite her distressing experiences with her Aunt Alicia Drummond. Burying the dreadful hurt she had suffered at the hands of that inhuman woman, she would remind herself that not everyone was cruel, selfish or dishonest, that the world
did
have its ample share of kindly folk. And the Bells and their staff at Calpher House had helped to reinforce this belief in Audra. She had been made to feel welcome from the very first day, and she never once forgot how fortunate she had been to find such a congenial place to work.

It was exactly one year ago today that she had started here as the nanny.

From the first moment she had stepped into this house Audra had felt as if she belonged here. It was as if she had returned after a long journey to a place she had always known. In a way it had been like coming home… home to High Cleugh. It was not that Calpher House resembled her beloved former home; as houses they were entirely different in architecture and furnishings. What she had found so familiar, had recognized with such clarity, was the presence of love within these walls.

For the most part, it was the happiest year that Audra had spent since her mother had died and tragedy had struck their little family.

She fitted in well at Calpher House.

Because of her upbringing, her disposition and personality, everyone found her a pleasure to be around, and she was popular upstairs and downstairs. The Bells were kind and considerate; the servants treated her with a deference and respect that was marked by friendliness.

After years of frugality and spartan living at the hospital, she was now surrounded by enormous luxury and comfort, the likes of which she had never known even at High Cleugh, where money for anything other than the real essentials
had been fairly scarce most of the time. All of their pleasant little extras had come from Uncle Peter.

The Bells were successful, affluent people and they could afford the very best. And because of Mrs Bell’s generous nature there was an overabundance of everything.

Wonderfully delicious meals emerged from Mrs Jackson’s amazing kitchen. She was a gourmet cook, and Audra also got a chance to taste such delicacies as
pâté de foie gras
, caviar and smoked salmon. Crystal dishes of bon-bons and nuts and Turkish Delight were scattered across small occasional tables in the elegant blue living room, for anyone to nibble on who wished, and even the everyday nursery meals could hardly be called
everyday
because of the way they tasted. Such things as steak-and-kidney pudding, apple dumplings, bacon-and-egg pie, Irish stew, and pork, beef and lamb roasts all had the most distinctive, mouth-watering flavours. As far as Audra was concerned, Cook was the first person to rival her mother in a kitchen; Mrs Jackson was forever coming up with something extra-special to tempt their palates. Audra’s favourites were Little Pigs of Heaven, a warm chocolate dessert that literally melted in the mouth, and Bandit’s Joy, a hot potato dish flavoured with honey and nutmeg that made a perfect accompaniment to saddle of mutton, and she had asked Mrs Jackson for the recipes for these dishes. On very special occasions, Mr Agiter, the butler, had been instructed by Mr Bell to serve her a glass of sparkling, ice-cold champagne. But she was already familiar with this wine, since it had not been out of the ordinary for her Uncle Peter to bring a bottle to celebrate her mother’s birthday, or for Christmas Day at High Cleugh. She and Frederick and William had always been allowed one small glass by their mother.

Apart from the wonderful food and vintage wines which
seemed to flow without cease at Calpher House, there was a plethora of other things which added their distinctive touches to the sense of opulence that prevailed throughout.

Innumerable bowls and vases of flowers and exotic plants punctuated every room downstairs; the latest magazines and newspapers, current novels and other books spilled over large circular tables in the library, in Mrs Bell’s study and most especially in the family parlour where everyone seemed to congregate at night. Sofas and chairs were plump and inviting with piles of soft cushions, or they had their arms draped with fluffy mohair throws from Scotland, to be used on colder evenings wrapped around legs and shoulders.

Startled at first though she had been, and even a bit overwhelmed by all this luxury in one house, Audra had grown accustomed to it. Whilst it would be true to say that she enjoyed the comfort and the cosseting, she nonetheless did not consider it of any great importance in her life. The real reason she was happy at Calpher House was because her employers and the staff were all so nice, really good people who cared about others and their well-being.

These aspects of her job aside, it had been a fine year for Audra Kenton in other respects.

The letters which came from her brothers were much more positive these days, and were written in the same optimistic vein that had enhanced their earliest epistles to her. Frederick was growing stronger in health every week, and things had improved immeasurably for them. They both had good jobs in Sydney at long last. William was working in the circulation department of the Sydney
Morning Herald
; Frederick had become private secretary to an industrialist, a Mr Roland Matheson, and Audra was happy for them, and proud of the way they had coped
with their initial bad luck and daunting set-backs. And knowing they were no longer in difficult straits made her own continuing sense of loss and yearning for them that much easier to bear.

Then again, she and Gwen had been able to spend a great deal of their free time together. Mrs Bell had kindly given her permission to invite Gwen to stay overnight at Calpher House on numerous occasions; she herself frequently travelled across to Horsforth to spend her day off with Gwen. Sometimes they took the tramcar into Leeds to browse in the stores and window shop, and she was beginning to know the city well. Quite often they went to the picture house, and recently they had seen their first talking picture,
The Jazz Singer
, starring Al Jolson.

June had been a particularly happy month for Audra, mostly because of the attention everyone paid to her twentieth birthday. How different it had been from the previous year, when she had spent that very special day in her life entirely alone. Her brothers’ cards had arrived from Australia not only in time but two days early; on the third, a small celebration was held in the nursery, with presents from the Bells and the staff at Calpher House.

And later that week, on Saturday, Mrs Thornton and Gwen had given a party for her at The Meadow. There had been a splendid summer tea on the lawn. The table, covered in a white cloth, had groaned under the weight of all manner of lovely things—cucumber-and-tomato sandwiches, a Yorkshire pork pie, trifle, strawberries and cream, big pots of hot tea, plus an iced cake with the message
Happy Birthday, Audra
written on it in pink icing sugar and twenty pink candles encircling the edge. And each member of her friend’s family had given her a small
but significant gift. After tea they had trooped inside for dancing to the latest records, which they had played on Gwen’s new gramophone. They had done the Charleston to the strains of ‘Black Bottom’, ‘Ain’t She Sweet’, and ‘Yes, Sir, That’s My Baby’, fox-trotted slowly to ‘Blue Skies’ and ‘Among My Souvenirs’, and everyone had thoroughly enjoyed themselves that night.

Charlie had been present, along with his brothers, Jem and Harry, Mike Lesley, his best friend, and a couple of his chums from medical school. He was still attentive to her whenever he got the opportunity, even though she did her level best to discourage him.

Once she had moved to Leeds the previous December and settled in with the Bells, Audra had spoken to Gwen about her brother. She had explained to her friend in the sweetest way that, as nice as Charlie was, he was not for her. She had asked Gwen not to encourage Charlie any more. Gwen had said she understood and agreed at once to stop ‘fanning the flames’, as she so aptly called it. But Audra had seen the hurt in her friend’s eyes and she had quickly added that it had nothing to do with Charlie
per se
, that men in general did not interest her for the time being. She had then announced, and in a very firm voice, that she had no intention of getting married, of settling down, until she was thirty at least.

Gwen had looked at her askance on hearing this, had eyed Audra with a degree of scepticism, but she had refrained from making any sort of comment. At least until last month—November the fifth to be exact—when she had come to Upper Armley to join in their celebrations on Bonfire Night.

Mrs Bell had told Audra she could invite Gwen to spend the night at Calpher House, since they were both off duty the following day. After one of Cook’s extra-special
nursery teas, and as soon as it grew dark, they had gone outside for the lighting of the bonfire that Fipps, the gardener, had made in the grounds. They had shared the family’s fun, watching the fireworks, waving the sparklers which Mr Bell had produced, and eating piping hot chestnuts and roasted potatoes pulled from the embers of the fire. And then the two of them had gone off to the Guy Fawkes Day party and dance at Christ Church Parish Hall in Ridge Road.

Audra first saw the young man when everyone was crowding around the huge bonfire outside the hall, gathered to watch the burning of the effigy of Guy Fawkes.

He was alone, standing near the porch, leaning against the wall, smoking a cigarette. As he nonchalantly tossed it to the ground, then stubbed his toe on it, he glanced across at the commotion around the bonfire, noticed her, smiled.

Audra looked back at him and experienced a queer sensation, one that was unfamiliar to her. She felt suddenly faint and a little breathless, as if she had been punched.