Wild Lily (14 page)

She said, ‘This whole thing is a most terrible stain on the family name. I cannot believe it of Claude. I always suspected he was into some shady deals – I’m not stupid – but the fact that he is a traitor to his country is beyond belief. A traitor and a murderer, my own brother, it has been the most terrible shock, and for you too, dear boy, it must be very hard to bear.’

(But it was quite fun, Antony was thinking – not the murder, but the bit afterwards was great, and his father coming to life in a way that revealed another character completely, one that Antony thought he would have got on with much better … if only he had known … he might have gone with his father into a new life, a hunted fugitive … what larks … God, how she did go on!)

‘As long as you are not sullied by his ghastly behaviour, I think we can expunge his memory from our minds by keeping you away from that dreadful place and finding you a good position here in London. I have many professional friends and
am sure I can place you in a law firm or a bank in the city. With your education, even though I know you are wilful and idle, you are mannerly and literate and you might be able to start at the bottom in a worthy profession and make yourself into a passable human being. It’s called work, Antony, and in this age of massive unemployment you should feel yourself very lucky that you have a stronghold here in London with me …’

Et cetera, et cetera, blah blah blah, on and on.

Antony tried to sit looking mannerly and literate rather than wilful and idle, and realized slowly the full horror of what the old bat was planning. His life, no less! Compulsorily marched to London, to her house in Hampstead, he had had no say in anything, hardly able to get a word in edgeways … ‘I’ve got to get my plane …’ ‘We’ll send a message to the aerodrome and get a man to fly it back to Lockwood.’ ‘But we don’t own Lockwood any more.’ ‘Rubbish!’

My plane, my plane! he kept thinking. And my treasure under Lily’s bed … It had only been a temporary solution.

He slumped back in his armchair while her voice ran over him. Her sitting room was even worse than the one in Lockwood, charmless, cluttered with the accumulation of generations of bad taste, of useless little tables covered in bric-a-brac, fusty velvet curtains draped against a view of brick walls, unread books in stacks behind grimy glass doors, firmly locked. It smelled of Ludo, the dog of indeterminate breeding who occupied most of the floor space, his four paws splayed out for visitors to trip over. The bedroom she had shown him
was worse than his room at school. Having none of his stuff to clutter it with, it was a stark monk’s abode with a brown lino floor, an empty cupboard or two and a washstand with bowl and ewer.

‘You will be comfortable here,’ she said wrongly.

He had brought nothing of his own with him. He had none of his stuff, no clothes, no gear: she had not allowed him time to sort anything – not that he could have salvaged anything from his bedroom without Cedric’s crowbars again, and no doubt the old girl would never have stood for that. She had countenanced no argument. Lockwood was boarded up.

‘We shall have to get permission to access your belongings later.’

‘But I’m staying with Simon’s parents. They’ve invited me.’

‘I’ve spoken to them. They agreed that you should come to live with me. When I called they told me I would probably find you down at that girl’s cottage. Such an unsuitable friendship, Antony, to be on such intimate terms with your servants – I always saw that you were slipping into careless ways. I discussed it with Claude, but he seemed to take no interest. And that tragedy with Helena – well, I said to myself, it was only to be expected, the way you were allowed to run riot all over the place, to do what you liked. The poor girl … but in retrospect one can only be thankful …’

Antony wanted to scream. He wasn’t thankful that Helena had died! She had deserved more; she had deserved to be educated and helped and given a life; he would have done it for
her if he had ever had a chance. (Wouldn’t he? He stifled the small doubt that his conscience raised.)

So now he was a prisoner of this terrible termagant.

‘I’ll take you to see a friend of mine in the City, whom I am sure will start you in his office. A firm of solicitors, very respectable. I am sure you will make your way there. You realize that a young man like yourself is in competition with all these thousands of men displaced by the war: it is very hard to find a job today. You need the help such as I can give you. You are very lucky in that respect. I have many influential friends …’ And on and on.

The small over-full sitting room was stifling him. He was used to the acres of Lockwood Hall’s interiors. He wanted to scream.

‘Can I go for a walk before supper? See the heath?’

‘Yes, you can take the dog with you. He needs a run. Just turn right outside and the heath is at the end of the road. Don’t go far, you’ll get lost. Make sure you notice where our road is when you cross over to the heath.’

She was much higher on the bossy scale than Mrs Goldbeater, and Antony wasn’t used to it. Had she suspected he would scarper off to the nearest railway station to make for home? He was inclined to do just that, but knew she would come after him, and certainly he didn’t want to be lumbered with the dog. Is that why she had demanded he take the dog with him? He suspected so. Large and clumsy as Ludo was, he leaped up with agility when the lead was rattled, and bounded to the front door.

‘Supper will be at seven. Mrs Walker is cooking it now so don’t be late.’ Mrs Walker was the live-in factotum, a woman much in the same mould as her employer.

Getting out of the house was like coming up for air after a long underwater swim – oh for the lake outside Lily’s house on this sweet autumn evening! He could not believe how he had been so neatly captured. Lolling about with Lily one minute, then into a taxi and away the next. At least he still had most of the packet of money his father had passed him safely in his back trouser pocket.

As he walked towards the heath with Ludo trotting beside him, he realized slowly that he had little option other than to stay with the old bat for the time being. He couldn’t safely go back to living in the old house: the Goldbeaters would stop him, and he couldn’t stay with them either for more than a few days. Besides which they were intending to take him to the police station, and at least Aunt Maud hadn’t suggested that. His treasure was safe (or fairly safe) with Lily – the only worry was his aeroplane.

He needed to get that to Brooklands. He decided to write to Tom and get him to arrange it somehow. He would send him a wodge of money to pay for its collection and housing at Brooklands until he could get back to it. Which he would, he vowed. Brooklands was his idea of paradise, and as he crossed the road onto the heath he decided that Brooklands was where he wanted to be, even if it was only bumming around and sleeping rough in the back of a shed. When he had sorted himself out and the hue and cry over his father
had died down he determined to go back there.

Now on the heath and with Ludo running away off the lead he felt his optimism return. Staying with Aunt Maud was just a blip in his ambition, useful for a week or so of being well-fed at least. The heath was extraordinary, like being back in the country: he couldn’t believe it, the grass and trees stretching away ahead of him as if London, right on its heels, didn’t exist. For ever, it seemed. Lakes as well, with ducks and swans, just like home. He walked for a long way, kicking the first autumn leaves, throwing sticks for Ludo, feeling his overstretched emotions beginning to subside. What had happened was amazing, but now he was his own man. He would do what he wanted, humour Aunt Maud for a few days and then do what he wanted.

When he noticed that dusk was falling he turned back for home but discovered he was completely lost. He could tell his direction by the setting sun, which had been on his right when he set out, so now, what was left of it needed to be on his left. Fortunately he soon realized that Ludo knew the way, so he attached him to the lead again and let him trot ahead. Ludo was by miles the best thing about being with Aunt Maud. The dog came to life when let out and turned from a great slob on the carpet into a prancing bearlike animal. Antony thought he was Alsatian crossed with what could only be bear, what else? But unlikely. He would be better off with Squashy, Antony thought, and decided to take him with him when he went.

He got into deep trouble for being late for supper, upbraided for his lack of consideration, his selfishness, his stupidity, etc.
but Ludo was thumping his tail and obviously showing that he thought Antony was good news – Antony didn’t think he got much of a walk most days with his over-stuffed owner. But his supper, though having languished for an hour in the oven, was very good, and fuelled his optimism in spite of everything.

‘Tomorrow we’ll go to Savile Row and get you measured up for some decent clothes,’ Aunt Maud decided. ‘And you can get a haircut and some new shoes. And then we’ll see about a job.’

‘Yes, Aunt,’ said Antony politely.

Mannerly and literate. The best of him. He dredged it up.

‘Yes, I think he will suit. The vacancy is coming up in October, with poor Mr Derbyshire coming to the end of his working days, I’m afraid. The boy will have to start at the bottom, of course, but if he shows aptitude and the right attitude he will be able to make his way with us.’

The thought of working with this man in this office made Antony feel faint.
Never!
his whole being cried out, even as he was smiling in his best sycophantic manner. It was a solicitor’s office in Clerkenwell, housed in a hideous brick building pretending to be a Gothic vicarage, hemmed around by equally hideous offices, their walls very close. Out of all the windows the view was only of high brick walls with a mere sliver of sky at the top, not a leaf in sight. The windows were grey with
grime. The office was divided into several glassed-around cubicles where clerks worked at desks on typewriters surrounded by piles of papers. Antony forbore to admit he could not type. It had never been on Eton’s timetable. He had played about on his father’s machine, the limit of his expertise.

No way would he ever set foot in this place.

‘Yes, sir,’ he agreed, smiling. ‘Yes, of course.’

The old boy was the male equivalent of Aunt Maud, overbearing and ugly. Maybe he was a very good solicitor. The office seemed busy. All the workers were male, some fairly ancient, others not much older than himself, all intent on their papers, not a smile to be seen. No joking, no joshing, not a coffee cup to be seen. He would wither and die on day one. He would not come.

‘Well, I’ll be in touch, Miss Sylvester, when the date comes up for the young man’s initiation. I’m sure it will be a very fruitful collaboration.’

‘Thank you so much, Mr Hargreaves. I am very grateful to you, as I know the circumstances are a little difficult. I am sure the boy will prove a credit to your judgement.’

Antony presumed that this was a reference to the fact that his father was a wanted traitor and murderer. The name Sylvester was still in the news – not a pretty connection – and Aunt Maud had already told him that not many employers would take him on, not without her outstanding influence amongst her hand-picked circle of upper-class friends.

A couple of weeks had passed in which he had been reshaped in her image: smart, immaculately dressed, severely
coiffed, sycophantic in address, obedient and polite. But every day saw him closer to escape. Tom had written to say that the aeroplane was safely at Brooklands; no police or officials seemed to be interested any longer in Lockwood Hall and it was rumoured that it was to be put up for sale. Antony intended to avail himself of some of the fortune held at Lily’s house and then go and try and make a bit of a living by giving aeroplane rides or offering a taxi service with his aeroplane – according as to what he might be allowed to do, or forbidden to do, from Brooklands. He knew the place was cluttered with flying-crazy young men like himself, all looking for a job, all getting in the way of the professionals who were already working there. One more like himself would make no difference.

He needed to go fairly soon now to rescue his valuables. Tom said Squashy had discovered the pictures and hung them downstairs in their kitchen: the Botticelli over the range, the Rubens over the sink and Van Gogh’s sunflowers in a space beside the dresser. Gabriel had not remarked on the decorations, but Tom thought it was only a matter of time before someone stole them. None of them ever locked the front door, rarely even shut it.

Seeing his fate in the solicitor’s office and reading Tom’s letter, Antony decided then that it was time to leave. He would take Ludo with him, a present for Squashy in exchange for his pictures back. Ludo deserved better than Aunt Maud. She scarcely took him a yard on the heath, only far enough to do his business, as she described it. Antony took him miles every
day, the only pleasant hours of his life with Aunt Maud. Taking the bus home with Aunt Maud after his interview with the solicitor, Antony decided to depart the following morning.

In the evening, after Aunt Maud had gone to bed, he stuffed his few possessions, including a selection of his new clothes, into a bag and hid it under some laurel bushes in the garden of a house a little way down the road. He confirmed that there was still a considerable amount of money in the wodge his father had given him, secured it safely in the pocket of his outdoor jacket and hung it on the bedpost. He was all ready to go. He would first eat a large breakfast, then, as usual, take Ludo for a walk – all the way to the station and then on a train for his old home.

It was so easy. Ludo loved the train, suspecting that he might be going back to that place by the lake where another dog lived, and spent the journey looking eagerly out of the window, Antony allowing him to sit on a corner seat, oblivious to the disapproving looks of his fellow passengers.

At the nearest station to his old home he alighted and set off to walk the last five miles or so, taking footpaths and byways that he had roamed from childhood. Ludo went mad with all the new wild smells of the countryside, and lumbered eagerly in all directions until his tongue was hanging out and his eyes popping. Antony found him a stream for a drink and rested a bit. It was now well into autumn and the day sharp and, sitting there on a log, it came home for the first time to Antony what a step he had suddenly taken. The visit to the solicitor had accelerated what had been a rather vague
intention to leave his aunt, but, now that he was hungry, he realized his plans were not exactly well-considered; in fact he hadn’t thought out anything at all beyond a wish to hang out at Brooklands where he suspected he would get scant welcome.