‘What is it, Stanley?’ Annelise asked, her hand on his arm where it had been before, her beautiful face wreathed in concern. The sheer loveliness of her made him recoil.
‘Nothing’s wrong,’ he said roughly.
How could she bear to look at him? How could she even contemplate being in his presence when she was so pure and perfect, and he was so disgusting?
He fought hard to stop the nausea in his stomach from rising up, to quell the shaking that was building. He swallowed hard and stepped away from Annelise.
He needed to get away. Out of this marquee. He needed fresh air.
‘Stanley,’ she said, her eyes wide with alarm, ‘whatever is it? Are you unwell?’
Unable to speak, his palms sweaty, his heart thundering in his chest, he fled.
ChapterTwenty-Nine
Meadow Lodge, Melstead St Mary
October 1962
Annelise
Annelise chased after Stanley, convinced she had said something wrong, but not knowing what. She was appalled that she could have inadvertently upset him. She had just been on the verge of telling him about Harry, when she realised he wasn’t listening to her.
She went in the direction she thought he’d gone, adjusting her eyes to the darkness of the garden which was prettily illuminated with fairy lights. But there was no sign of him.
Reluctant to go back inside the marquee, she decided to go for a stroll. She had just rounded the far side of the marquee and was moving in the direction of the orchard, the music fading into the background, when she heard voices.
Peering in the darkness to see who was there, she realised it was Evelyn standing on the verandah of the summerhouse. With her was the guest who had arrived well after the party had started. An arrestingly handsome man with a smattering of grey at the temples and a cream silk scarf tired artfully around his neck, he had stuck out for Annelise because he had the same polished manner as Harry. He had carried himself with an easy assurance, as though he knew everybody would be observing him. Another showman, she had thought as she’d watched him greet Evelyn, kissing her flamboyantly on both cheeks.
‘I had no idea that Kit had invited you,’ Annelise heard Evelyn say now. ‘Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?’
‘Your husband said it was meant to be a surprise. You know the kind of thing, a gang of your old chums crawling out of the woodwork to help celebrate your many years of wedded bliss.’
‘Surprise doesn’t cover the half of it; I had the shock of my life when I saw you.’
‘You make it sound like it’s an unwelcome surprise.’
‘It is, Max. You shouldn’t have come.’
‘But why, Evelyn? After all this time I thought you’d be pleased. Certainly Kit thought so. I say hats off to him turning detective and finding me.’
‘You’re being deliberately obtuse; something I recall you found contemptible in others. And in the circumstances—’ her voice broke off.
‘What circumstances?’ the man called Max demanded.
There was a pause. Then Evelyn said: ‘I don’t like coincidences.’
‘Back at the Park, that’s what we counted on.’
‘That was different; that was our job, to look for patterns.’
‘So what are you getting at? What coincidence has my presence here tonight created?’
‘I’ve received a letter.’
‘What letter?’
‘A vile poison pen letter insinuating that Kit isn’t Pip and Em’s father.’
