Kit’s only reason for attending church that morning was to snatch another opportunity of seeing Evelyn again. She had said last night that she would be helping with the Sunday school, and he had decided to surprise her at St Mary’s. What he had not bargained on was his wretched brother accompanying him.
They left the bright sunshine behind them and entered the cool, subdued interior of the church, each taking a hymn book from Cynthia Blackwood, Dr Garland’s receptionist, as well as an abashed stare of scrutiny, particularly in Arthur’s direction. Typical Arthur, he met the woman’s eyes with bold insolence. ‘Has no one ever told you it’s rude to stare, Miss Blackwood?’ he remarked.
Her face quivered with outrage and Kit moved his brother swiftly on and pushed him into one of the pews near the back. ‘How you’ve reached this age without somebody murdering you, I’ll never know,’ he muttered with exasperation.
‘The Lord looks after his own,’ responded Arthur, who proceeded to drop to his knees in an ostentatious display of devotion.
Kit rolled his eyes. And then he saw Evelyn entering the church with her brother Edmund pushing a cumbersome wheelchair. Sitting bolt upright in the chair was Mildred Flowerday. To Kit’s inexpert eye, the woman had never looked better, her plump, rosy-cheeked face giving her the appearance of a well-fed cat who had consumed more than its fill of the very best-quality cream. Whatever health problems she suffered, eating was plainly not one of them.
The trio, unaware of Kit or his brother, progressed up the church towards the front. It gave Kit the chance to admire Evelyn. How pretty she looked in her buttercup-yellow floral dress and cream cardigan. Her dark hair was tied back, revealing more of her profile and elegant neck, and perched on her head was a gay little straw hat with a whisper of cream veil. She looked the picture of demure modesty, and a far cry from the vivid memory he had of her late last night.
As the service got under way, with Reverend Tate droning on and on, Kit distracted himself by thinking how much he’d enjoyed being with Evelyn yesterday, particularly when he’d walked her home to Meadow Lodge and risked kissing her. The passionate fervency of her response had taken him aback. But only momentarily. Afterwards, and somewhat breathlessly, they had smiled shyly at each other and in the still of the dark night walked the remaining distance hand in hand. It had been a perfect end to a perfect day, and Kit very much wanted to find a way to experience that pleasure again.
A sharp dig in the ribs made him start, and he turned to his brother.
‘Reverend Tate’s giving a sermon just for our benefit,’ muttered Arthur.
A few seconds later, Kit realised what Arthur meant. The vicar’s theme was the return of the prodigal son.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
It was with mixed emotions that Allegra had reluctantly agreed to look after Annelise. She could have refused; after all, what did she care about Hope’s problems? Would Hope ever do the same for her if the boot was on the other foot?
But therein lay the dilemma for Allegra. Before too long she might very well be in precisely the same situation, and who would turn a hand to help her? There was also the fear that she didn’t want to antagonise Romily, because without Uncle Jack’s money life would be exceedingly grim in the coming year. With that fear constantly in mind, she had no choice but to comply with the terms of Jack Devereux’s will, and that meant helping Hope, and appearing to do so with good grace.
She had to admit, though, there was rather more to it than just that. It had occurred to Allegra that looking after Annelise might give her an idea of what it would be like to be solely responsible for a child, even if only for a couple of hours.
With every conceivable childcare instruction laid out for her by Hope – treating Allegra as she always had, as worse than a simpleton – she had decided the easiest thing to do would be to take the infant for a walk in the pram. The fresh air would do them both good. With her stomach still churning queasily, she had barely eaten any breakfast, and what little she had consumed had not stayed down.
After Kit and Arthur had left for church, she set off with Annelise sitting up attentively in the pram and seeming to enjoy the view of the lane and hedgerow. In no real hurry, Allegra meandered along in the warm sunshine at a leisurely pace, pointing things out to the child – a peacock butterfly sunning itself on a clump of nettles, a pair of swallows wheeling through the sky, a sprawl of rosy-pink campion, and a large bumble bee busily inspecting a patch of thistles and buttercups. When they came to a part of the hedgerow that was smothered in bindweed, Allegra plucked a trumpet-like white flower and gave it to Annelise. The child studied it thoughtfully for a few seconds, then made to put it in her mouth.
‘No, cara!’ Allegra cried in alarm, snatching the flower out of her hands.
Annelise pursed her lips and looked instantly on the verge of tears. To distract her, Allegra plucked a long blade of grass and gave that to her instead – as a child she had often sucked on one, and she hadn’t come to any harm, had she? The little girl looked thoroughly pleased with the exchange and waved it about as though it were a great treasure.
Disaster averted, Allegra pushed on with the pram, pausing to lean against a five-bar gate to show Annelise the tractor that was ploughing the field. Observing its progress, she turned at the sound of an approaching vehicle. As it drew near, she saw that it was a truck; a military truck. The driver, dressed in some kind of uniform, beeped the horn and gave her a cheery wave as it trundled by.
She watched it disappear into the distance and thought of Elijah and his eagerness to enlist in the army. There had been no doubt in his mind that Britain would be forced to honour its pledge to stand by Poland when – not if – Hitler invaded. His certainty had upset and unsettled her.
‘I’m not the naive boy you left behind,’ he’d said when she had questioned his keenness to fight. ‘I know what I’m doing and it’s the right choice.’
But did he really know what he was doing, what the danger would be? For that matter, did anyone ever know what they were doing and why? Allegra had begun to think her whole life had been one series of bad decisions, all made with what she believed had been absolute certainty. Now all she knew was that the life she had thought she would lead was never to be, just as she’d told Elijah last night.
Once she had a complete circuit of the village, with Annelise still happily viewing everything from the vantage point of the pram, she turned for home, back to Island House.
Home …
No more than a turn of phrase, she told herself. Island House was not her home; it never had been and never would be!
Yet for all her defiance – her instinctive readiness to reject the place that to all intents and purposes had been her home for seven years – she could not deny that right now, breathing in the clear warm air and enjoying the quiet serenity of Melstead St Mary was better than being stuck in a stiflingly hot Venice with Luigi’s debtors hounding her, as well as the repulsive Signor Pezzo making lecherous suggestions as to how she could pay her rent.
There was nobody about when she arrived back, and after fetching a blanket from the boathouse, she laid it on the grass in the dappled shade of the weeping beech tree. She lifted Annelise out of the pram and put her on the blanket, in the hope that she might settle there. But the little girl had other ideas, and raising her arms, she leaned appealingly towards Allegra.
‘Oh, all right then,’ conceded Allegra, lifting her onto her lap. At once the child smiled prettily and began to bounce on her dainty bare feet, as if performing a little dance. Allegra couldn’t help but laugh. ‘What a funny thing you are,’ she said.
Seeming to agree with this, Annelise nodded and pressed a finger to Allegra’s lips. Allegra pretended to snap like a crocodile and bite her finger, making the girl laugh and then poke her finger again into her mouth. Allegra duly obliged and pretended again to bite her finger, resulting in yet more laughter. They played the game over and over until Annelise grew bored and showed signs of wanting to explore beyond the blanket.
Bent over her, and holding her by her hands, Allegra walked her slowly down towards the edge of the pond, where she carefully dipped the child’s toes into the water, eliciting a squeal. Whether it was shock or delight that made Annelise cry out, Allegra didn’t know, but she tried it again and provoked another squeal, followed by a deliciously joyous chuckle. After doing this several more times, and with her arms beginning to ache, she carried Annelise back to the blanket in the hope that she might now be ready for a nap.
