Broken Music (8 page)

1914

Out of all that time, one blisteringly hot July day at the beginning of the holidays stood out as the forerunner to everything that followed.

They had taken a picnic down to the lake: the three older girls and young Amy, who had pestered until she was allowed to go with them. Grev had been there, too, home from Paris, where he was studying musical composition at the Conservatoire; William, of course, and Rupert, who was working in London now but had come down with him to stay at the rectory for the long vac after a climbing holiday they had spent together in the Tyrolean Alps. Steven Rafferty had also been persuaded to leave his books and come along.

At first, when they reached the lake, they took turns in messing about for a while in the old punt in defiance of admonitions to the contrary, but the idea turned out to be better than the reality: the punt was so old it leaked excessively, and perhaps it
was
dangerous, and Steven especially was a very inept punter, so the idea was soon abandoned.

After a while, young Amy wandered off with a small basket to look for the wild raspberries that grew in the shade where the scorching sun did not reach, and all the boys except Grev donned bathing costumes and plunged into the water. Grev raised a languid eyebrow and professed himself quite happy to watch, thank you very much. He was home for the summer, bowling the girls over with his suddenly acquired self-possession and startling good looks, his dark hair falling romantically over his brow and a glint in his amused eyes. He was slim, even slight, but he had muscular forearms and the strong, sinewy wrists of the dedicated pianist. It was as if he had emerged from a chrysalis, from being a not very prepossessing schoolboy to becoming an assured and handsome young man of the world. He languidly professed to abhor all forms of physical exercise, especially the kind which had been forced on him at school, although he enjoyed tennis and riding, at which he was nearly as expert as his mother. He watched the others, as they climbed on to the rocks that surrounded the lake and began to dive off the ledge cut into the steep sandstone cliff above the dark water, with an amused indifference that seemed to the girls the epitome of sophistication. All the same, they themselves envied the young men their freedom to swim while they, young ladies now, were forced to be content with dangling their feet in the water. The idea of mixed bathing might have been taken up on the decadent beaches of southern England but it had not yet percolated to Broughton Underhill.

It wasn't long, however, before Steven, very conscious of his skinny white body and the borrowed one-piece bathing costume which didn't properly fit, came out to join them, wrapping his long, thin frame in a towel and rescuing his spectacles from the pocket of the shirt he'd left on the grass. He soon grew restless with being a mere spectator and, producing one of the books he always carried, he propped himself up on his elbow and began to read, a much more congenial occupation.

Nella twisted a stem of grass and chewed it, her eyes on Rupert and William, racing each other to the far end of the lake. William got there first and turned to continue the race back, but Rupert climbed out on to the warm rocks, from where he made some tricky somersault dives before beginning to climb higher. Nella watched the tanned, athletic body for a while until her attention was drawn away by Steven's reply to some question of Marianne's about his mother going up to London to meet some of her political women friends. ‘Who, the suffragettes?' she asked.

‘They don't like being called that.'

‘Why not? It doesn't matter what they're called, I think they're admirable. I wish I could join them.'

‘What, smashing windows and being force-fed in prison? Come off it, Nella, you wouldn't like that.' This came from William, now hauling himself out of the water just in time to hear this last, shaking drops all over the girls, expecting them to shriek, which they disappointingly did not. ‘You'd be much better off listening to Grandy and looking for a husband who'd take all that nonsense out of your head.'

Nella pulled a face. ‘Well, at least they're doing something.' She knew he was only trying to provoke her – he knew very well, and sympathised with, the restiveness in her which had been growing over the last few months. She was aware that she must do something about her future, but unable to make up her mind what it should be – though it would certainly have nothing to do with wasting her time on social fripperies and looking for a husband, in the way that both her grandmother and Lady Sybil thought appropriate. When she found a man she could marry, it would not matter a fig to her who he was: her partner in life would be someone who could share her dreams, and her hopes, and who would not object to her finding some form of worthwhile and fulfilling work – though what this might be had not yet manifested itself.

‘Anyway,' said William, suddenly serious, ‘those women will soon have more to worry about than getting the vote, if the news is anything to go by.'

‘If you're going to be tiresome and talk about that archduke business again, I for one don't want to hear,' put in Marianne drowsily. ‘Don't let's spoil the afternoon.'

She lay on her stomach, in the shade of a tree, half dozing in the heat, with only her still-bare feet and legs in the sun, for fear of burning her fair skin. The sun had already brought out the faint band of freckles across her nose. What did the assassination of an Austrian archduke in Sarajevo by a hot-headed group of Serbian patriots, shocking as it was, have to do with Britain? There was said to be big trouble brewing in Europe and the Balkans because of it, but then, when was there not? They were always fighting over there, those people with unpronounceable names in countries no one had ever heard of.

‘Marianne,' said Steven, looking up, ‘it's serious this time.' He removed his glasses and polished them with his shirt tail, prepared for a good discussion. ‘Austro-Hungary has declared war against Serbia over that – and make no mistake, we could all be drawn in. Germany will support Austria, and then Russia and France – and Britain – won't be able to stand aside.'

Grev said lazily, ‘Oh, come on, Marianne's right – let it alone, Steven, for now.'

‘We can't be like ostriches, hide our heads in the sand—'

‘Let it alone, before our fearless foreign friend decides to join us again.'

Steven opened his mouth, and then shut it. It was a delicate subject where Rupert was concerned. They were all uneasily aware that if ever it
should
come to war, unlikely as that seemed to most people, Rupert would be on one side while they were on the other.

Eunice said suddenly, ‘Oh goodness, look!' A bluff in the rock had hidden Rupert momentarily as he climbed, and it wasn't until he called out to make sure they had all seen him that they realised he had been heading for a ledge to one side, much higher than the one they'd previously used.

‘The idiot.' His veneer of sophistication slipping, Grev stood up, shouted and waved his arms. His voice carried clear across the lake and Rupert must have heard what he shouted but he stood there poised, until, like a wasp in his black-and-yellow striped bathing suit, he executed a perfect swallow dive.

Grev watched until he surfaced and began to swim towards them. He let out his breath. ‘He should be careful, the fool, there are dangerous rocks down there.'

‘No use telling Kess to be careful,' William grinned. ‘He wouldn't listen. He leads a life of unutterable recklessness, trying to outshine his arrogant soldier brother with his bravery.'

Grev laughed shortly. ‘Well, of course, they're all arrogant, these Teutonic types. Obsessed with the unshakable sense of their own superiority.'

‘A sweeping statement, that, isn't it?' commented Steven, peering over his glasses.

‘True, though. Why otherwise would they be arming themselves to the teeth,' Grev went on, ignoring the interruption, forgetting his previous wish to have the subject dropped, ‘spoiling for war?'

‘Well, you wouldn't be in it,' Marianne said, smiling at him. ‘Grev's a pacifist,' she announced to the others. ‘Aren't you, Grev?'

‘I won't fight, if that's what you mean.'

‘Not even for your country?' asked William, colour touching his cheeks. Issues were rarely complicated with William. Choices were between what you saw as right, and what you knew to be wrong. If it came to fighting for the honour of his country, William would be there with no questions asked. Perhaps because of this, Nella had sensed something not quite right growing between her brother and his friend Kess this summer: a dissension that sprang partly from the uneasy political situation, but also, now that William was up at Oxford and Rupert working with his father's business interests in the City, both spreading their wings, meeting new people and imbibing new ideas, it seemed to her questionable whether their undemanding schoolboy friendship would survive. They were two very different personalities and their camaraderie had developed mainly through the close quarters of school for so many years, and through participation in the same, mainly sporting, activities. They had lived closer together than many brothers and now, if things came to ahead, they were likely to find themselves on different sides. She believed this was not a thought either had brought out into the open.

Grev was saying shortly, ‘Not for anything would I kill another human being, William. It's my belief that is totally wrong. Ask your father. He agrees with me.'

They all fell silent, knowing that was the last thing William would do. He said stiffly, ‘No sane man wants to kill another human being, but don't the ends sometimes justify the means? What do
you
think, Steven?'

Steven said nothing for a while. Then he said mildly, looking from one to the other, ‘Oh, I'm not qualified to give opinions on that subject. I wouldn't be allowed to fight anyway, with my eyesight.'

‘Lucky you.' Grev shrugged to indicate the matter was over and dropped down next to Marianne. Her mass of red curls was loosely gathered into a knot as a gesture to it being officially ‘up', and he teasingly extracted one of the long pins that held it, twisting the strand of hair which was released, letting it curl around his finger.

She turned her head sideways and gently took his hand and released the curl, looking at him under her lashes, her mouth curving in a slow smile.

‘Here he comes!' Grev murmured as Rupert swam towards them with a powerful crawl. Reaching the shallow edges of the lake, he waded out and sat on the grass, dripping and raking water out of his hair.

Grev said stiffly, ‘I don't suppose you know this, but I should warn you the cliff at the bottom end of the lake goes right down beneath the water, and there are some pretty dangerous rocks not too far beneath the surface.'

Rupert shrugged. ‘Yes, you can see them when the sun is out. The water's very clear.'

‘Well, as long as you're aware.'

Rupert only smiled, then he said suddenly, ‘That Gypsy boy's there again.' And sure enough, there he was, further along the bank, under the trees, whittling a stick. ‘Does it not make you uneasy, being watched all the time?' he demanded when nobody seemed to find his remark worthy of comment. He looked round at them all, his eyes coming to rest on Marianne, and on Grev, who had pulled out a second hairpin so that another long curl fell against her neck.

‘Give it back, you tiresome boy,' Marianne demanded with a laugh. She held out her hand for the hairpin, but he held it teasingly out of reach. Rupert's eyes rested for a moment on her glorious hair, glittering in the sun, then he stood up abruptly.

William said suddenly, ‘Pin your hair up, Marianne. You might as well be a Gypsy yourself.' He was sometimes very strait-laced, William, and took his responsibilities as elder brother seriously, but he was rarely sharp. There was a silence. Marianne's eyes widened in hurt surprise, then dropped, and she twisted her head until Grev let go, and she could pin her hair more securely.

Rupert wasn't looking at her anymore, but was busily making signs to the Gypsy. If the boy saw him, he took no notice and went on sitting where he was. In the end, Rupert cupped his hands and shouted to him to be off.

‘Leave him alone, Kess,' William said, more easily. ‘He's doing no harm.' Grev shrugged and turned the other way, staring impassively out across the lake.

‘He's trespassing,' Rupert said. ‘Spying on us. And I suppose, of course, you're going to let him get away with it? How very English!' He added with a smile and a raised eyebrow, ‘My father would have these Gypsies, these
Zigeuner,
driven off his lands.'

‘What is there to spy on? Besides, I know him,' Grev said. ‘He's Daniel Boswell, his family has travelled to these parts for years.' He stood up, and deliberately strolled the hundred yards or so towards the boy, and when he reached him, stopped to speak. Far from ordering him away, his gestures implied he was inviting the Gypsy to join them. Rupert flushed under his tan. But the boy shook his head, stood up in one graceful movement, whistled to his dogs and disappeared into the trees. Grev came back and flung himself down on the grass again.

‘What did you say to him?' Steven asked.

‘I asked him to join us,' he said blandly, as if it were not the last thing any Gypsy would have done, ‘but he says he has better things to do.'

‘Poaching, no doubt.'

‘Only for the pot, Rupert, I hope, and he's welcome to that.' He selected one of the wild raspberries which Amy had set out so enthusiastically to gather, though after half an hour, hot, scratched and insect-bitten, she had given up; the fruits were so tiny, however hard she picked, the small basket never seemed to get any fuller. All the same, the results of her labours were delicious, sharp-sweet, ripe and juicy. Holding the berry delicately between his long musician's fingers, Grev dipped it into sugar and held it out for Marianne. Obediently, she opened her mouth and her small white teeth closed round it. Their eyes met and held. A slight tinge of colour touched her cheeks. Then she laughed and, looking at Rupert, he deliberately picked up another of the fruits and fed it to her. Rupert jumped up and dived into the water, swam showily to the other side, and when he reached it, Nella saw him begin to climb to the same high ledge again.