So Long At the Fair (43 page)

Afterwards she and Louis went for supper at a nearby restaurant, following which they made their way onto the street again where he called a cab.

‘Please,’ Abbie said as the vehicle came to a halt beside them, ‘don’t come all the way to Balham with me.’

‘Don’t worry about me,’ Louis said.

The cab driver appeared not exactly overjoyed to be asked to drive all the way out to Balham. However, when Louis promised him an extra large gratuity it was a different matter.

‘But, Louis,’ Abbie protested as he helped her into the cab, ‘it’ll take you ages to get back to your hotel and you’ll be so tired. I shall be quite safe, truly.’

‘I’m sure you will be.’ Louis climbed in behind her and closed the door, and the cab started off. ‘But it so happens that I have to go your way myself.’

‘What d’you mean?’

‘I changed my hotel. I moved from Paddington. Tonight and tomorrow night I shall be a close neighbour of yours in Balham.’

‘You’ve moved to a hotel in Balham?’

‘Well, in Streatham, actually. The Regent.’ He smiled, pleased with himself. ‘When I leave you tonight I shall have only a short walk to my own bed.’

It had been past midnight when they left the restaurant and it was one o’clock before they reached the Haywards’ house in Balham. It had been a pleasant ride, with little other traffic on the road, and Abbie had relaxed into the gentle rocking of the carriage. As the miles had passed beneath the horse’s hooves she realized that she was feeling calmer and more at ease than for some time.

After paying the driver Louis walked with her to the front door. She was tired now. ‘I shall sleep well tonight,’ she said as she took out her latchkey.

He nodded. ‘I too. And I must say it’s so good not to have to make that long journey back to Paddington.’

They looked at one another in the dim light. ‘Thank you again for a lovely evening, Louis,’ she said.

‘The pleasure was mine.’ He waited as she unlocked the door. ‘I’ll see you in the morning. Can you be ready at, say, half past eight? Or is that too early?’

‘I’ll be ready.

‘Goodnight, then.’

‘Goodnight.’

He turned and started back towards the street. From the open doorway Abbie watched as he reached the gate and turned to face her again. She waved and he raised his own hand in return.

After silently closing the door she located the candlestick and matches on the hall table, lit the wick and moved towards the stairs. As she did so she heard a sound, that of a smothered cough, coming from her left. She hesitated, then stepped quietly towards the partly opened door of the library. Pushing wider, she heard the rustle of clothing. She looked into the room and in the pale light from the candle saw Mrs Hayward sitting in a chair by the window. She heard the sound of steady breathing. Was the woman asleep? Silently Abbie backed out of the room and crept upstairs.

Minutes later she stood at the closed door of her own room, hearing the creak of the treads as Mrs Hayward came up the stairs. The woman had not been asleep. She had just been sitting there in the dark, waiting for Abbie’s return.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

The following day, Saturday, dawned bright and clear, and at eight fifteen Abbie was ready and waiting when Louis called at the house. A few minutes later they were sitting in the cab and heading for Lewisham Station. A further half-hour and they were boarding a train for the first part of the journey to Gravesend, the small Kentish town set on the south bank of the Thames.

They arrived in Gravesend some little time after eleven thirty and set off to walk the short distance from the station to the home of Louis’s father. The day was warm, but there was a refreshing breeze. Abbie enjoyed the walk. She had never been to such a place before, and she found it attractive and picturesque. After a while they turned into a narrow street and then Louis was leading her up a short garden path to the front door of a spacious house fronted by a green lawn with herbaceous beds and borders.

Bearing out the truth of Louis’s prediction, the senior Mr Randolph appeared delighted to meet Abbie. He had received Louis’s letter and had been eagerly awaiting their arrival. He was a handsome, grey-haired man in his late sixties, sensitive and intelligent. Still upright, he was only a fraction shorter than Louis. They were alike too in their facial features, Abbie observed, having the same broad-shaped face, the same blue-grey eyes.

While Mrs Willett, the cook-housekeeper, was preparing luncheon the three sat chatting of this and that, during which conversation it became clear to Abbie that Louis’s family had been close-knit and loving. After lunch the three rested for a time and then left the house to take a leisurely stroll. At Louis’s suggestion they went first to St George’s church inside which Louis’s father pointed out to Abbie a particular tomb. On moving closer she saw that it was the tomb of the Indian princess Pocahontas who had died in 1617, shortly after setting out on a voyage to Virginia, USA.

Following this excursion they made their way towards the river where they sat on a grassy bank looking out over the water, watching as the ships and boats crossed in their passage to and from London.

Paddles churning, a large steamboat glided by not far from the bank, just having left the Rosherville pier and now bound for the capital. Abbie could see that her decks were thronged with people, while over the water came the sounds of a band playing, of voices singing.

‘They sound as if they’re having a good time,’ she said.

‘They do, don’t they?’ said Mr Randolph. ‘The boat will have come from Sheerness. Most of the pleasure boats go there on their day trips.’

Louis said to Abbie, ‘Shall we take a steamer back to London? Or would you rather go by train?’

‘Oh, let’s go by steamer,’ she said. ‘It looks such fun.’

He nodded. ‘Fun, yes – and very crowded too, if you don’t mind that.’

‘I shan’t mind at all.’

Some time later, after they had returned to the house, Mrs Willett served tea along with delicious little scones and strawberry jam. Afterwards Abbie murmured to Louis that she would like to go and sit out in the garden for a while. ‘It’ll give you and your father a chance to talk,’ she added.

She wandered outside and, in the shade of an apple tree, sat on a wooden bench on the edge of a small, neat lawn. Forty-five minutes later Mr Randolph emerged from the house and came towards her. It was almost six, he said, and Louis was anxious to start back. As she got up she thanked him, adding that she had had a lovely day.

‘Thank
you
,’ he replied. ‘It’s been my pleasure.’ Turning, he glanced back towards the house. ‘It’s good to see my son looking happy and relaxed again.’

She followed him into the house then, where she and Louis gathered their things together and said their goodbyes.

‘You must come again, Abbie,’ said the elder Mr Randolph.

‘Thank you,’ she replied. ‘I’d like to.’

He smiled. ‘I don’t get enough visitors – of the kind I like, anyway.’

A few minutes later Abbie and Louis had left the house and were setting off back in the direction of the river. Arriving at the Rosherville pier they found a saloon steamer, the
Duke of Teck
, lying alongside and in the act of taking the Gravesend passengers on board. Joining the short queue, Louis bought tickets and, taking Abbie’s arm, led her up the gangplank onto the boat.

There were already hundreds of other travellers on board. The sound of music was in the air, coming from a brass band that played on the saloon deck. There was a bright, happy atmosphere, and added to the noise of the churning paddles and the music of the band came the sound of some of the passengers singing.

Abbie realized that for many there the trip would hold no real novelty, for a journey down the river probably formed a regular part of their leisure pastime. For herself it was something quite new. She had never before been on a boat of any kind, and to be a passenger on such a large paddle steamer was quite a thrilling experience. With Louis beside her she stood at the rail as the vessel cast off her lines and swung out into the river, moving slowly and majestically against the powerful force of the ebbing tide.

‘Ah,’ Louis sighed, ‘now there’s a little breeze getting up.’ As he spoke he put his arm around her waist. It was the first time he had made any attempt to touch her beyond the most casual instances of contact that had come in the course of their being together over the past days. She froze very slightly in the first moment of his touch, but then forced herself to relax.

‘So,’ Louis said, ‘how are you enjoying your first riverboat trip?’

‘I love it,’ she replied. ‘In fact, I think I might apply to the steamship company to see if they require any stewardesses.’

‘Oh, dear, no,’ he said. ‘I’m afraid you wouldn’t do at all. If you look at the stewardesses on board you’ll see that they’re all past the age where they might prove attractive to the rest of the crew. You’d be far too much of a distraction.’

He smiled down into her eyes. He had taken off his hat, and the river wind was ruffling his dark hair. His face was slightly flushed from the sun, making his teeth appear even whiter. Now as his smile faded she became aware that his blue-grey eyes remained fixed on her own, a little intense, and at odds with the lightness of his expression. She lowered her glance, turned her head and looked out over the swiftly flowing water again.

Later they went into the saloon bar for lemonade. It was a little too crowded, however, and after a while they made their way back onto the deck, where they found seats, and remained there for the rest of the journey.

Close on eight o’clock the boat called at Woolwich where many of the passengers disembarked. From there it sailed on to London Bridge, the last port of call.

It was just after nine thirty when Louis and Abbie eventually arrived back at Balham.

‘Are you tired?’ Louis asked her as they emerged from the station.

‘Not really.’

‘No?’ He sounded surprised. ‘It’s been a long day.’ He stood casting his eyes about for a cab.

‘Are
you
tired?’ she asked.

‘A little – but in a pleasant kind of way.’

‘Well, now you can go to your hotel and rest.’

‘I’m not
that
tired. Besides, if I’m going back to Wiltshire tomorrow I have to make the most of the little time I’ve got left to me here.’

A cab came into view and Louis hailed it. When it stopped he gave Abbie’s address, then helped her inside and climbed in after her. As they set off he turned to her and said, ‘Do you want to go back now? To Mrs Hayward’s? We have to eat at some time. Shall we find somewhere . . . ?’

When she hesitated he said, ‘I’ll be leaving in the morning. I don’t know when I might see you again . . .’

She looked at him but was unable to make out his expression in the dim light. ‘All right,’ she said, and then: ‘Yes, it would be nice to have supper together.’

He nodded. ‘Good. We can eat at my hotel.’

The supper at the Regent was simple but good and their hunger made it taste even better. On their entering the dining room there had been four tables occupied, but by the time they finished eating they were alone. In the silence Louis took a sip from his coffee cup, lighted a small cigar and leaned back in his chair. ‘Have you missed your charges?’ he asked. ‘Your little girls?’

‘I don’t think I’ve given them a thought.’ She sighed. ‘This has been such a wonderful day. And I loved meeting your father. He’s such a fine old gentleman. In some ways he reminds me of my own father. You would have liked him, I know you would.’

‘I’m sure I should.’ Louis drew on his cigar. ‘It was a good day for me, too.’ He paused. ‘I don’t want to go back tomorrow.’

‘What time are you leaving?’

‘I must be gone from here about eight. Nine at the latest.’

‘And so back to Frome and back to work.’

‘And back to work.’ He looked at his watch and sighed. ‘It’s almost midnight. I must take you home.’

‘Yes – I suppose so.’

A little later they emerged into the air once more. It was a fine, balmy night. From Streatham High Road they walked down to Tooting Bec Common and started across it by one of the many footpaths. At one point Abbie stumbled slightly and Louis said, ‘Careful now,’ and put his hand under her elbow. She was very conscious of his touch.

In silence they moved across the common. There was no one else about. The wide expanse of grass was silver-grey in the moonlight. Halfway across, Louis gestured to the trunk of a fallen tree a few yards from the path. ‘Let’s sit down a minute, shall we?’ he said. For the briefest moment Abbie had a flashing vision of the two of them sitting side by side on the willow beside the stream, and saw the lights and heard again the music of the fairground. She thrust the images away, moved to the tree trunk and sat down. From somewhere over to the right came the sound of a nightbird’s singing. ‘I mustn’t be too late,’ she said.

‘You’re already very late. I’m afraid where Mrs Hayward is concerned your reputation will already have suffered a mortal blow.’

She shrugged. ‘I’m really not that bothered by what Mrs Hayward thinks of me.’ Tilting back her head she looked up at the cloudless vastness above, where all the stars were out in the milky way. ‘Oh, Louis,’ she said, ‘what a magnificent sky. It makes you feel almost – insignificant. As if in the great scheme of things you can’t be any more than – than like a little grain of sand.’

‘Yes,’ Louis said, gazing up. Then, turning to her, he asked, ‘Are you very tired now?’

‘A little. What about you?’

‘Not any more.’

‘Well, at least you won’t have far to go tonight in order to get to your bed. Though come the morning when you’ve got to make that trip across London for your train you’ll wish you’d stayed in Paddington.’

‘No, I shan’t wish that.’