Innocent on Her Wedding Night (6 page)

The housekeeper, Mrs Evershott always sounded the gong for meals five minutes early, so she gauged she’d have plenty of time to wash her hands and comb her hair before tea.

But that day her mother had arranged for it to be served on the lawn, as a tribute to the good weather, and there was no way she could reach the house unobserved.

‘Elaine!’ Angela exclaimed from the shelter of her parasol. ‘What have you been doing? Rolling in mud? And where’s your hair ribbon?’ She turned to the others at the table, shrugging helplessly. ‘What a ragamuffin. A cupboard full of pretty dresses, and she insists on those old shorts.’

She sighed. ‘I don’t think her poor father would recognise his Lily Maid these days.’

‘Lily Maid?’ Daniel queried politely, while Laine stared down at the grass, shuffling her feet in their blue flip-flops, knowing what was coming next, and dreading it.

Angela sighed again. ‘My mother-in-law was a big Tennyson fan, and when she saw the baby for the first time she was folded in a white shawl—looking like a lily, apparently. So Mama persuaded Graham to christen her Elaine, after the girl in the poem—The Lily Maid of Astolat.’

There was a pause, then Dan said politely, ‘That’s a charming story.’

‘No, it isn’t,’ Laine said with sudden fierceness. ‘Elaine’s a silly name, and Jamie says she was a wuss for dying just because Sir Lancelot wasn’t in love with her—and he says I’ll grow up to be a wuss, too, because I’m called after her.’

There was an odd silence, then Simon put down his plate and began to laugh, to be joined by Dan and eventually Angela.

‘It’s a bad day for literature in this house,’ Simon managed at last, wiping his eyes. ‘And we’re laughing with you, scruff, not at you. Now, come and have some tea, and I’ll have a word with Master Jamie when he shows up.’

Everyone had laughed that summer, Laine thought. It was one of the happiest she’d ever spent, and the start of many more.

And she’d had Simon and Daniel to thank for that.

Up to then, she’d been left pretty much to her own devices in the school holidays. Unlike Jamie, who’d attended a local preparatory school as a day boy prior to following Simon to their father’s old school in the autumn, Laine had made few friends locally. The other children at the village school, finding that she wasn’t interested in the latest junior fashions, and that she preferred reading to the television programmes they all seemed to watch, had tended to ignore her.

And even with her beloved books she’d found herself lonely at times.

But that holiday had been altogether different. The weather had been good, so they’d all been able to spend as much time outside as possible. And Laine had been included in all their activities. It had all been casual—no big deal. She’d just been expected to accompany them.

Until then she’d always been faintly nervous of the river that bordered the end of the Abbotsbrook grounds. She’d been learning to swim at school, but Angela had said firmly that the river was a very different proposition from the swimming baths in the nearby market town, and that Laine must keep well away from it at all times.

But Simon and Daniel had changed all that. Under their eagle-eyed supervision, her technique and confidence had surged ahead, until, as Simon had told their

mother, she could swim like a fish.

‘Or an eel,’ Jamie had put in. ‘Eel-Laine.’ And he’d continued to torment her with the nickname, roaring with laughter at his own wit, until Daniel had taken him quietly to one side and stopped it.

But none of Jamie’s teasing had had the power to upset her. She’d been far too happy.

Some of the best days had been spent out on the water in the old dinghy. When the boys had fished, she’d been provided with a small rod and line to hunt for tiddlers.

If they’d played cricket she had cheerfully fielded for them, and had zealously located balls that had been hit into the shrubbery from the tennis court.

Most of all, they’d both talked to her as if they were genuinely interested in what she had to say.

But the holiday had ended far too soon for Laine. Simon had joined his school’s climbing club the year before, and had become swiftly and seriously addicted to the sport, so he’d been taking the last two weeks of his vacation in the Lake District, while Daniel had been summoned to join his father for a rare break in the South of France.

As goodbyes had been said, Laine had launched herself at Daniel, arms and legs wrapped round him, clinging like a monkey. Hugging him strenuously, she’d whispered, ‘I wish you were my brother, too.’

‘Elaine!’ Angela reproved. ‘Kindly stop making a spectacle of yourself. Daniel, do put the wretched child down. I must apologise to you for this ridiculous behaviour.’

‘It’s not a problem, Mrs Sinclair.’ He lowered Laine gently to the ground, ruffling her hair. ‘Please believe I’m very flattered.’

‘Also very tolerant.’ She offered him a limpid smile. ‘But you’re not a babysitter, you know. Perhaps on your visit at Christmas we can all do some rather more grown-up things.’

There was a brief, odd silence, then he said quietly, ‘Of course.’

Christmas, Laine thought ecstatically. He would be back at Christmas. He and Simon. And that would be the best present she could have.

Hero-worship, she told herself wearily, as she got up from the sofa to take the bag of melting ice cubes back to the kitchen. That was what it had been. The world’s most gigantic crush. A childish phase that she should have outgrown quite easily.

However, for the next five years, her entire life had seemed to take its focus from school and university vacations, and she’d waited for them with almost painful eagerness, knowing that Daniel would join them for a week or two at least.

Not that the holidays had been unalloyed delight any more. As she’d got older Laine had become aware that were undercurrents beneath Abbotsbrook’s seemingly tranquil surface. And that Mr Latimer’s all too regular visits were invariably a cause of friction.

She’d been curled up on the window-seat in her room one spring evening, when her mother’s voice, raised in complaint, had reached her from the terrace below.

‘I thought everything would change when you were eighteen,’ Angela was saying.

‘That you could persuade the wretched little man to keep his distance.’

He said tiredly, ‘Ma, the trust will stay in force until Jamie and Laine are both eighteen. You have to accept that.’ He paused. ‘And you’d see less of Latimer if you curbed your spending a little. Fewer weekend parties, maybe?’

‘Your father started them. And it’s the only way I can keep in touch with our friends when I’m buried down here all year round. I wish to heaven I could sell the place and move back to London.’

‘You know the terms of Dad’s will,’ he said. ‘I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until Laine comes of age for that—if you still want to.’

‘I’ll want to,’ she said. ‘If the house is still standing, that is. The damned place is falling apart, and Latimer won’t release enough money to do what’s necessary. Then I have to put up with people treating the place as a shrine—turning up in droves so they can see the room—the desk—where he created “all those amazing fantasy novels, Mrs Sinclair”,’ she added, in a savage mimicry of a Transatlantic accent.

‘And I’m sick of them telling me what a tragedy it was he was taken so soon. Do they think I don’t know that? I’m his widow, for God’s sake. And he wasn’t “taken”. It was a heart attack, not abduction by aliens.’

‘Well, don’t knock the faithful fans,’ Simon advised crisply. ‘After all, it’s Dad’s royalties that have been paying the bills, and frankly they’re not as good as they were a few years ago. In fact, I wonder…’

They moved away, and Laine heard no more. She sat, arms clasping her knees, feeling suddenly very cold. Surely nothing could happen to Abbotsbrook? Surely? It might be big and old, and need repairs, but it was their home.

The subject of money was raised again the following night after supper, this time by Simon, as he settled down to a game of chess with Dan.

He said casually, ‘I suppose Lainie will be finishing at the village school at the end of the summer. Have you decided where she’ll be going next? Sent for some prospectuses?’

Angela poured herself some more coffee. ‘No, I haven’t. Her recent reports haven’t been exactly thrilling, so I thought she might as well go to Hollingbury Comprehensive with the rest of her class. As I still have Jamie’s fees to cope with, it seems an ideal way to economise a little.’

Simon sat up abruptly. ‘Ma, you can’t be serious. Hollingbury Comp is a dump.

Everyone knows that it barely scraped through its Ofsted inspection, and it has a drugs problem. Lainie wouldn’t have a prayer.’

‘I gather the staff are working very hard to improve things,’ Angela said repressively. ‘Besides, Laine’s hardly a high-flier, you know. If she’d tried a little harder, things might be different.’

Laine felt heat invade her face, and her mouth trembled as everyone looked at her.

After a pause, Daniel said quietly, ‘I realise I have no right to interfere in a family matter, Mrs Sinclair, but I’ve always considered Laine a very bright girl. I wonder if she could simply be bored at her present school, and in need of more of a challenge.’

His smile held apology as well as charm. ‘My godfather’s daughters both went to a place called Randalls, which has an excellent reputation.’ He added levelly, ‘And it offers full bursaries to pupils with genuine potential. I think Laine could be one of them, so fees wouldn’t be a problem.’

He paused. ‘There’s a written test as well as an interview, I believe, but I could easily get hold of some details—if that isn’t too presumptuous?’

‘Not at all.’ Angela smiled at him. ‘I’m just not sure that Laine’s up to it.’

‘Well, I think, along with Dan, that she should be given the benefit of the doubt,’ Simon said firmly.

The next time Laine saw Daniel, at the beginning of the summer holidays, she danced across the hall to him in excitement. ‘I did it—I did it. I’m going to Randalls in September.’

His brows lifted quizzically. ‘So you survived the exam?’

She considered. ‘Well, it wasn’t a real one, with sums and things. I just had to write about a favourite character from a book.’

His face relaxed into a teasing grin. ‘Now, let me guess. How about—Ben Gunn?’

She gasped. ‘How did you know that?’

‘I have a good memory,’ He said. ‘Besides, I knew it wouldn’t be the Lily Maid.

Why write about a wuss?’ He paused. ‘Is your mother pleased?’

‘Yes,’ she said a little doubtfully. Angela had been more astonished than pleased, she thought, and had drawn a sharp breath when the school uniform list arrived. ‘Oh, yes.’ She gave him an uncertain look. ‘Are you pleased, too?’

‘Over the moon.’ He picked her up and swung her round. ‘It’s a good school, and you’ll have a great time.’

From the doorway, a girl’s voice said coolly, ‘Is this a private party, or can anyone join in?’

Laine saw the newcomer over Daniel’s shoulder—a tall, leggy blonde, in tiny shorts and a cut-off top that barely covered her breasts.

She looked, Laine thought with disfavour, like one of the Barbie dolls her former classmates had used to bring to school.

Daniel set Laine down without haste, and turned as the girl came wandering over, tossing back her hair, and allowing a condescending smile to play about her full lips as she studied the slight, childish figure standing in front of her.

‘You’re full of surprises, darling.’ She slid an arm through Daniel’s, pressing herself against him with possessive intimacy. ‘I’d never have figured you as the paternal type. So, who’s the baby?’

A protest rose to Laine’s lips, but she swallowed it back, concealing it behind the poker-face she’d learned to assume when trouble loomed.

Daniel said evenly, ‘She’s Simon’s little sister—as you probably knew already.

So don’t waste your ammunition, Candida, my sweet, because you may well need it later. Now, why don’t you give Si a hand to get his stuff together for the vacation?’

‘Because I’m not anyone’s slave.’ She kissed him lingeringly on the cheek. ‘Even yours. And he sent me to say that, unless you help him repack the boot, there may not be room for it.’

His sideways glance was faintly caustic. ‘On the other hand, you could unload some of your own cases. That would make more space.’

‘Darling.’ Her voice grew throaty. ‘You’d hardly want me to walk round the villa naked for the next three weeks.’ She giggled. ‘Or would you?’

‘My father’s other guests might well object.’ He detached himself gently. ‘Now, behave yourself and wait in the drawing room while Laine tells her mother that we’re here.’

Her task accomplished, Laine went upstairs and found Simon in his room, hurriedly stowing clothes in a travel bag.

‘Come to help, scrap? Pass me those T-shirts, will you?’

She handed them to him. ‘Aren’t you going to be here for the holidays?’

He heard the wistful note in her voice, and his tone was kind. ‘Not this time, honey. Daniel’s father’s bought a place in Tuscany, and we’re driving down there for our last few weeks of freedom before we get trapped in the workplace.’

She was silent for a moment. ‘Is that lady with Daniel?’

‘Candy? Yes, she is. Why?’

‘I don’t think she’s very nice.’ Laine concentrated on refolding some swimming shorts.

His lips twitched. ‘Now, that,’ He said solemnly, ‘might depend on your point of view. And I’m sure Dan has no complaints.’

There was a stone lodged in her chest. ‘Is he going to marry her?’

He burst out laughing. ‘Good God, no. Our Daniel is definitely not the marrying kind. I can’t see him ever allowing a wife to cramp his style. And this holiday is all strictly casual.’

He studied her for a moment. ‘One day you’ll have boyfriends of your own, Lainie, and then you’ll understand that not all relationships need to be serious.’

He walked over to her and hugged her. ‘Congratulations on getting into Randalls, by the way. It’s just what you need, and you’ll do well there. Things are looking up for you, scrap.’

Were they? Laine wondered as she trailed along the landing. Then why did she feel that the sunlit day had suddenly become dull and full of clouds?