‘What do you do?’ I asked.
‘He’s a poet,’ Constance said, slapping Freddie’s hand as he reached for a second piece of bread. ‘Leave some for our guests, darling.’
‘Mr Cook was a bit suspicious of me, moving out some of my old tenants,’ Vaughn said. ‘I think he thought I was clearing the way for a Nazi invasion.’
‘How diligent of you,’ Kay said. ‘Can’t be too careful.’
‘You’re not worried?’ I asked. ‘You’ve moved right into the invasion zone. This could be a battlefield in a few weeks.’
‘I don’t think so,’ Constance said. ‘It won’t be as bad as that. More of an administrative change-over, like after a general election. I don’t think it will need to bother people like us.’
42
The terrace was buzzing. Vaughn was throwing a party and he’d pressed Margaret to agree to stay. Said his sister would have something she could wear. I’d turned down his offer of a dinner suit, and in solidarity with me he’d stayed in his shirtsleeves from the afternoon. Everyone else was dressed formally.
I took a glass of champagne from a footman bearing a silver tray. I looked around for the butler, Washington. I wanted to talk to him, get some intelligence about Vaughn, but I hadn’t seen him since we’d returned from the artists’ cottage.
The champagne was chilled. Important to get the little things right. There must have been an ice-house somewhere on the property, stocked with large blocks of ice cut from wintery lochs in Scotland and rushed south on an express train, packed in straw and newspaper. A working man’s annual wages spent so we could stand on the terrace sipping wine that was chilled a few degrees colder than it would have been without the effort.
There was a murmur from the crowd as Margaret appeared at the patio doors. She looked stunning. Every inch the heiress. Beside her stood a young woman with a cane. They’d dressed almost identically, and done their hair in the same style. They looked almost like twins.
‘Don’t you brush up well, Mags,’ Vaughn said as he appeared from the crowd and slipped his arm around Margaret’s waist. I was getting tired of the Mags and Vaughn act.
Vaughn made a sweeping motion with his arm, introducing me to his sister.
‘Cook, this is Miriam. Miriam, Cook’s Mags’ latest chap. Quite the surly brute.’ He winked at me.
‘Oh my!’ Miriam said, taking me in. I felt like an exhibit at an agricultural show. Miriam held out her free hand and I took it, unsure what to do with it. I was still taken aback at the effect of her standing next to Margaret.
‘Pleased to meet you,’ I said.
‘My dear Miriam,’ the woman from the cottage said as she pushed past me. ‘You’re limping. Don’t say you’re hurt.’
I stepped back, glad to be out of the limelight. I caught Margaret’s eye and she smiled.
‘Tennis,’ Miriam said, to Constance. ‘I travel from one end of the country to the other without incident, then this oaf pushes me out of the way so he can get in a smash.’
‘How was the journey?’ Constance asked. ‘Was it awful?’
‘Hell,’ Miriam replied. ‘I had to wait at Victoria for an absolute age, and of course you can’t get a porter for love nor money.’
‘You were lucky to get a train, with all the troop movements,’ Constance said.
*
The evening dragged. Margaret was in her element. These were her people and I didn’t begrudge her the chance to spend some time with them. From what she’d told me, she’d grown up with events like this, albeit most of them out in India, at the height of the glories of the Raj. Quite a fall,from all of that to traipsing around in the woods with a farmer.
I got caught up in a discussion about the wisdom of investing in war bonds versus silver. The consensus seemed to be to sell the bonds, since they’d be worthless when Hitler invaded and the government fell. I left the conversation before I said something I’d regret.
I took refuge on the edge of the terrace. We were behind the house, looking south, with a view out to where Vaughn had taken us earlier. The gardens were a riot of colour, lit by the late-afternoon sun. Beyond them, the Forest was dull and brown. I had a perfect view of where the parachute had come down. No wonder Vaughn got there so quickly. If he’d been standing here, he’d have been able to rush through the gardens, into the trees, and up to the Forest in a matter of minutes.
And if a plane had been coming out of the south, looking for a marker, Vaughn’s house would have been an obvious reference point, especially if he’d left a light on.
‘I’ll have to show you round.’ It was Miriam, Vaughn’s sister, leaning on her cane and looking up at me with a tilted head. She looked over the gardens.
‘Capability Brown,’ she said. ‘One of his greatest works, so they say. I’ve never been much for plants myself but some people get positively worked up. I’d be happy to give you the tour. Show you the hidden gems and all that.’
‘You grew up here?’ I asked.
