No Wings to Fly (38 page)

She had never had occasion to go to the village before, though she was familiar with its name. Now, being let down in the centre by the carriage driver, she paid him his fare and stood and looked about her. Not only did she wonder on her best course of action, but she also questioned the very fact of her being there.

Then towards her came an elderly man, walking with the aid of a stick. He caught her eye as he drew alongside, and smiled at her. ‘You looks a bit lost, miss,’ he said. ‘Can I ’elp you in some way?’

‘Well – thank you,’ she smiled in return. ‘I was wondering where I might find Mr Soameson.’

‘Mr Soameson, the Scotsman, eh? Ah, well, that’s no problem. He lives at The Gables.’ He raised a hand and pointed off along the street. ‘Just up to the right there, in Bourne Way. Only take you a minute.’

Lily thanked him and set off. Keeping to the footway, she
came soon to the turning indicated, and halted at the corner. The street to her right curved, so that the far part of it was out of her sight beyond a screen of foliage. She stood there, uncertain as to whether to continue. It was not too late to turn back.

Then, after a long hesitation, she stepped forward.

She followed the road for some yards around the bend before she came to The Gables.

Standing back behind a wide, green lawn, it was a fairly large house of three storeys, with white-painted walls, and the gables that gave it its name. It stood partly hidden from view by two oak trees that cast their rich shadows over the grass. A gravel drive curved across the lawn, connecting with the front porch, while a second drive, bordered by a privet hedge, led up beside the house.

At the foot of the drive she stood and stared. The windows showed nothing beyond their dark opacity. There was no sign of life, but she knew they were there, the people. And her son too. Yes. He was there also, somewhere behind those walls, those windows. She became conscious of the beating of her heart, and conscious also of how conspicuous she would appear to any casual passerby. And what was she doing there? she asked herself. What did she hope to achieve? She was being a fool; her behaviour was that of a madwoman, some lunatic obsessive. Leave, she urged herself. Leave now, and don’t come back.

As the words went through her brain, she caught a glimpse of movement at the side of the house and, looking over, saw the slight figure of a young girl, a maid in apron and cap, approaching from the rear of the building. Lily turned away, hovered there for a moment longer, then started back the way she had come.

On Tuesday, returning to her room in Roseberry Cottage after teaching the Acland girls, she found a letter waiting
for her from the advertiser in Little Wickenham. It thanked her for her application, but said the post had been filled. It did not come as a great surprise; having not heard sooner, she had already resigned herself to being passed over. On a note of comfort, she reminded herself that there were still the advertisers in Seston and Uppinshall to give her their consideration.

By the time Saturday morning came, however, there had been no word from either direction; nor had she found anything suitable on offer in that week’s edition of the
Corster Gazette
. She would find something in time, though, she told herself, besides which, she would place her own classified advertisement in the paper when she went into the town later to collect Miss Elsie’s rents.

That day also, Lily was fully aware, marked a fortnight since Tom had set off from London. He would have been back for well over a week now, she thought, and she would surely be hearing something from him soon.

Meanwhile, at Yew Tree House the twins were restless. They had been told the previous evening that they were to go away to school in Frome in September, and they were full of the news for Lily during the morning’s lessons. To add to their excitement they had also been informed that they would be taking a week’s holiday in Weston-Super-Mare just before going away to school. It was not surprising to Lily that they found it hard to concentrate on their work, but she had her own preoccupations, and in spite of her fondness for the girls she was relieved when at last the time came when she could get away.

After stopping at her lodgings for a cup of tea and a sandwich, she set off for Corster, and the Villas in Brookham Way. There she collected the rents and drank a last cup of tea with Mrs Callinthrop, who would soon be leaving. After wishing the old lady good fortune, Lily left the house to go back into the town centre.

Her way now took her through the market square and to the offices of the
Corster Gazette
, where she gave to a young, bespectacled clerk the paper on which she had written the wording of her classified advertisement. He took down the details and gave her a receipt for the fee. The advertisement would be in the next Friday’s edition, he told her, the eighteenth of August.

Back out in the sun, she moved on along the busy pavement while all around her the air was filled with the town’s noise: the rattle and rumble of the carriages, the clatter of horses’ hooves, the cries of the street traders. Sweepers were still busy in some parts of the square, clearing away the last of the detritus from the previous day’s produce and livestock market. At times she had to pick her way through the debris. On the south side of the square she bought copies of the
Gazette
and the
Echo
, and then stopped outside an ironmonger’s to buy a packet of pins from a ragged, middle-aged woman. She tucked the little packet down into her bag, along with her purse and the papers, and continued on her way towards the station.

As she drew near the entrance to the Victoria Gardens, she felt discomfort under her heel and realised that she had somehow picked up a stone. Moving to a vacant bench on the paved courtyard, she sat down and, as discreetly as she could, slipped off her shoe and shook out the small pebble.

With her shoe back on, she was about to rise from her seat, when she heard a voice at her elbow.

‘Lily . . . hello.’

Turning, looking up, she saw Joel standing there.

He had his back to the square. He wore a brown tweed suit with a black velvet collar, and carried a brown leather case. As she looked at him his hand reached up to touch at his hat’s brim and then adjust his cravat. Lily was so taken
aback at seeing him there that for a moment or two she could not speak, then, conscious of her hard-beating heart, she gathered her wits as best she could, and gave him the trace of a smile and murmured a hello.

‘How are you, Lily?’ he said.

‘I’m well. I’m well, thank you. And you?’

‘Yes, thank you. I’m very well.’

All about them the people of the town went about their affairs, while he stood in silence, as if searching for words. Then he said:

‘May I sit down for a minute?’

‘Yes. Yes, of course.’

She drew her bag a little closer to her, and he sat down on the bench a couple of feet from her side. She could see him clearly now without the glare of the sun at his back, and she could see a change in him. Slight though it was, it was there, wrought by the three and a half years since their last meeting. He was twenty-eight now, and the maturing of his years showed in his face. The softness about his cheeks had gone, and there was a leaner, more angular look about his features, the bones showing more strongly beneath his slightly sunburned skin.

All this she took in during a brief glance, and then looked away past the water trough, trying to assume an air of casualness, though every second aware of his gaze upon her, of his nearness once again.

‘Have you been well, Lily?’ he asked.

‘Yes, thank you.’

On a nearby bench an old woman scattered some crumbs from a paper bag, and at once the sparrows were there, pecking about on the flags.

‘Did you take the governess post that you were offered that day?’ Joel said. ‘In Little Patten?’

‘Oh, yes.’

‘And did it work out all right?’

‘It did indeed. I’m still there, and very happy. Though it’s coming to an end soon, I’m sorry to say.’

‘Ah, that’s a pity.’

‘Yes. Unfortunately for me, my pupils are going off to school. They’re of an age now.’

‘I see. So you’ll be looking out for something else. Or have you already found a post?’

‘Not yet. I’ve written away to a couple of advertisers, and just now I stopped by the
Gazette
and placed an ad.’

He nodded. ‘Well – I’m sure you’ll find something soon.’

‘I hope so – or I shall be in trouble.’

‘Do you enjoy it? – being a governess?’

‘Yes, I do.’ She nodded to endorse her words. ‘I’ve only had the experience of my two pupils in Little Patten, but they’re good girls. Oh, yes, I like my work.’

‘Good. That’s good to hear.’

The conversation, stilted and awkward, and which was going nowhere, tailed off. Moments passed, then Joel said, ‘That was such a surprise – seeing you here.’

‘Yes – for me also.’

‘Are you often in Corster?’

‘I come in regularly every fortnight – on an errand for Miss Balfour.’

‘Ah, yes, your friend in Sherrell.’

‘Yes. I go to Brookham Way.’

‘I know it,’ he said, nodding. ‘Near the river – just over the bridge, on the right.’

‘That’s it. There’s a little saddlery on the corner.’

‘Yes, there is. I’ve been there a few times over the years, mostly on business for my father. It’s quite small, but very highly regarded. You’ve got business there, have you?’

‘Not at the saddlery, no. Miss Balfour owns two small houses nearby. The Villas, as we call them.’ She smiled. ‘They sound grand, don’t they? – but they’re only small. They’re cosy and quite attractive little places, though, and
very well kept up – Miss Balfour sees to that. One of them has the loveliest little laburnum in the front garden. It’s a picture right now, a mass of golden chain.’ She was speaking for the sake of it, she realised, and came to a stop.

‘And what have you to do with them?’

‘I go and collect the rents, every other Saturday.’

‘Oh, so you’re a dreaded rent-collector, are you, in addition to being a governess?’

‘Yes, I am.’ She smiled. ‘I’ve been doing it for a good while now, and I’m into a routine. I come in here to Corster in the afternoon and get to the Villas between four and half-past. Then I sit and have a cup of tea and a chat with the tenants. I’m glad to do it; it helps Miss Balfour out. I don’t think she trusts agents any more, and with her arthritis she’s not as able as she was.’

‘You’re very kind.’

‘No, it’s not kindness,’ she said. ‘I do it because I’m fond of her. She’s been wonderful to me, and if I can do anything to help her in return, then I’m happy to. She’s been the most excellent friend. I don’t know what I would have done without her.’

‘Do you get to see her often?’

‘Every other weekend. I’m going there now. For my work I have lodgings in Little Patten, very close to where I teach.’ She paused. ‘And what about you? Are you still with the law firm in Corster?’

‘Not now. I’m working at the stores – here and in Bath.’

‘Ah, and are you enjoying it?’

‘Most of the time.’ He nodded. ‘I’m taking on more and more responsibilities.’

‘Your father must be pleased with you.’

‘Well – yes, he is – and he depends on me more and more, I find. I never foresaw this for myself – becoming quite so involved with the family business.’ He gave a shrug. ‘But I am, and there’s no going back now.’

‘No,’ she said, ‘life has a way of changing things. You find yourself set on a particular course – and you have no option but to go on. You put one foot in front of the other, and soon it’s impossible to turn back.’

‘Yes,’ he said, ‘that’s right.’ He paused. ‘And I’ve come to realise – that I’ve become my father’s son. All those dreams he and my mother had for Crispin – I guess now they’re well and truly settled on me. Still, I’ve nothing to complain about.’

‘They’re well, are they – your parents?’

‘Yes, thank you. I don’t know where my father finds his energy. After Crispin’s death he put even more of himself into his work. He’d be lost without it. He’s involved in every single part – from the manufacture of the goods we buy to the way they’re sold in the departments. And if he’s not here in Corster, he’s in Bath, and if not in Bath then in Paris.’ He paused. ‘And what about you? Do you get to see your family? Your father and stepmother?’

‘My father died – over two years ago.’

‘Oh – I’m sorry to hear that . . .’

‘Yes – well – anyway . . . I don’t go to see my stepmother these days. I’m afraid we don’t get on.’

‘That’s a pity. Still – these things happen . . . What about your brother? Is he going on all right?’

‘He’s been living in London, but he left a fortnight ago. I’m expecting to hear from him any day.

‘Why did he go to London?’

‘I don’t know. Perhaps someone told him the streets were paved with gold.’ She shook her head. ‘I don’t think he’s cut out for life in a big city, a place like London. I’ve never been there, but I’ve heard about it.’

‘Oh, believe me – it’s everything you’ve ever heard of, and everything you might ever expect. And a lot more too.’

‘I’m sure it is.’

He nodded. They sat in silence for a moment, then he
said, ‘I’ve wondered about you, Lily – how you’ve been getting on.’

She said nothing, but looked down at the flags. Seconds went by. ‘It’s a great pity you’re losing your position,’ he said. ‘I’m so sorry to hear that.’

‘Yes – well – I shall find another one soon.’

‘I’m sure you will.’ A brief pause. ‘What about your – your personal life?’

‘My personal life?’

‘Well . . .’ he shrugged, ‘I mean – have you – friends?’

‘Friends?’ She gave a nod. ‘Ah, I understand. I think you’re asking if there is – someone special in my life.’ She smiled, making light of it. ‘Is that it?’

He shrugged. ‘Well, I – I have wondered – whether you might have met someone.’

‘No,’ she said, ‘there’s no one in my life.’

He attempted a smile. ‘Going by what you read, it seems that a governess can sometimes have an interesting life.’