Wild Lily (8 page)

Neither of them said a word, yet Lily was aware of a strange reserve in the people around her, not saying anything, but just looking, or not saying and not even looking, eyes down, suddenly shy of her. She thought it was her imagination. Even her father, who did not ask, was strangely distant; his adage ‘see nowt, say nowt’ seemed to take on an extra tag: ‘know nowt’. He did not even mention being awakened by the plane so early, which he must have been, despite a growing deafness these days, nor curse as he usually did about ‘that idiot boy’. Lily kept out of his way, scared of his reaction should he find out.

But the days passed, and everything settled into normality. A month later Lily was sent up to the Butterworths’ farm with a message from her father and she met Cedric on her way back. He had stopped to water two carthorses at a pond and was waiting for them, chewing on a grass and looking very yokellish.

‘Hey, Cedric.’ Lily stopped, admiring the horses. The Butterworths kept their horses beautifully, turned out for
work as shining and polished as if they were going to a show. ‘Which ones are these?’

‘Hector and Olly.’

‘They’re gorgeous. Do you do them?’

‘No. The men do them.’

Stupid. Of course, he was the farmer’s son, not a stable boy, although he worked as hard. Lily found him a relief from the other boys, easier to understand. She knew he was attracted to them for the same reason as she was: for their larks and the carefree world they represented. Like herself, Cedric was tied to the earth and its drudgery and, like herself, he had a severe father so there was little escape, but he had a patient nature and rarely complained.

‘Are you looking forward to this party of Antony’s?’ It was the only thing she could think of that might engage him. For herself, now the parachute jump was over, it was the only thing she had to look forward to.

‘No, not very much. It’ll get out of hand, if all his friends are like he is.’

‘That’ll be part of the fun, won’t it?’ How stuffy he was.

‘All right, as long as Helena isn’t involved.’

‘But the party’s for her, isn’t it? She will be the star.’

‘You say so. But how will she know what’s happening? She might be terrified.’

‘She loves the lake. We’ve taken her.’

‘Quietly, just you and Ant. But imagine all those idiots, shouting and screaming around her, and she out where she’s never been, doing what she’s never done.’

‘But she’s deaf, she won’t hear a thing. Or see.’

‘But feel and sense, Lily – imagine it. She never goes out. It’s wicked the way they keep her.’

‘But this is to give her an outing, surely? To give her some fun.’

‘Yes, as long as they are gentle.’

‘Gentle’ was not a word Lily thought applied to Antony’s friends.

‘Well, I don’t know …’ She didn’t; she had never thought about it. A bit of fun for Helena, as Antony had said. She was puzzled by what Cedric was saying.

‘Anything might happen.’

‘But—’

‘For example – with Antony and you. Did you agree to do that thing with him, or did he trick you into it?’

‘What thing?’

‘You know what I’m talking about. He borrowed the Rolls to drive to Brooklands, to take the parachute back to be repacked. Tom told me. He said he saw what Antony was doing and Antony swore him to secrecy, but he couldn’t help telling me. And God knows how many other people he told.’

‘I wanted to do it. Antony didn’t make me do it.’

‘I bet it was his idea. He knows you’ll do anything he asks, even kill yourself.’

‘It was perfectly safe. I’m not so stupid. And besides, it was amazing, and wonderful, and the most glorious thing I’ve ever done, and I’ve Antony to thank for it.’

‘He should never have asked you. It was wicked. He knew none of us others would have agreed. He just uses you, to dance to his tune.’

‘Well—’ It was difficult to argue, for she knew what he said was the truth. The agony of thinking about it before it happened, the nightmares and the horrors of what her imagination had thrown up, were easily forgotten in the memory of the jump itself.

‘Don’t waste yourself on Antony. He’s not worth it.’

‘Oh, Cedric!’ She could not begin to tell him what part Antony took in her life. Cedric had no imagination, else why would he question what she had done? If Antony had asked him to do the jump he would have refused. How boring he was! Nice, but boring.

‘You’re brave,’ he said. ‘I’ll give you that. Brave, but stupid.’

She laughed. That was the two of them, brave but stupid, nice but boring. A good pair.

‘You’ll not be a wet blanket about the party though? There’s no danger there. Just a bit of fun. You’ll go along with that?’

‘Yes, as long as I can get away. It’s hay time.’

‘The party’s all night, Antony says.’

‘Yeah, good. But sometimes hay-making is almost all night too.’

Lily went on her way, thinking Cedric was not so bad really. He was a bit like a bale of hay or straw himself, golden brown and slightly gingery, slow-growing and inevitable. He would never take flight, move from the farm. He had never even been to London. (Nor had Lily, but that was different.)

The months passed, spring was burgeoning into midsummer and Mr Sylvester was packing his bags to go to South America. Antony was finalizing his date for the party. He wanted a full moon, and surety that Aunt Maud would not be around, which meant finding out the date when she made her annual trip to the French Riviera. By rashly inviting her for a later date – she had, after all, made noises about visiting while his father was away – he found the crucial dates of her French visit, and by these roundabout means fixed a date that, with Aunt Maud guaranteed to be away, agreed with most of his school mates’ itineraries: soon after they broke up from school at the beginning of July, and before they all went off with their maters and paters to their second homes in Monte Carlo, Lake Como, Montreux, Baden-Baden, etc.

Simon, John and Cedric were certainties and Lily was reassured that there was a place for her. Lily suspected that it was as a servant, but didn’t care, as long as she was there. She doubted if Antony dare ask any of the house servants to help. He said he was going to send them all off on holiday as soon as his father left so that the house would be clear of staff save for Rose and Violet, who were so far away in Helena’s rooms that they might not even notice. Getting Helena away from them, out for the night, promised to be the biggest problem and Antony was not ruling out force.

‘Lock ’em in ’ld be best, give them a bottle of gin each, that should fix ’em.’

Planning this outrageous escapade was obviously giving him a great deal to think about. There was little he could do until his father actually departed, and he was terrified that this departure might be delayed, for his father seemed to be in a nervous state of mind about it, spending much time humming and hawing on the telephone and rushing up to London at odd hours. It was not until his trunk was actually packed and carried out to the Rolls-Royce where Tom was waiting to take him to Southampton that Antony felt his heart lifting.

His father shook his hand formally and said, ‘Be a good man now, I’m trusting you.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Antony contrived to look trustworthy, knowing he was acting out a lie. But with luck his father would never hear about it. It was going to be impossible to keep the party secret from the village, but his father never had much to do with the village fortunately, save through the window of his Rolls-Royce.

‘Goodbye then.’

By the time he returned the party would be old hat. What was he going to do when it was over? Antony wondered. He stood with his hands in his pockets watching the car disappear round the bend in the drive, wishing suddenly that he was going too. To cross the Atlantic was quite something: it had never crossed his mind to ask his father to take him with him. There was little companionship between them, but seeing the world was something that surely a rich man should be offering his son? Pals at Eton were off all over the place. He had been
offered trips with several, but it had never crossed his mind to accept, fixated on the amazing party.

When it was over … Antony felt the familiar abyss open before him. What was a mere party, after all, compared with the great void that lay ahead? He knew he had flunked all his exams, would never go to university, would never be part of whatever nefarious business his father was mixed up in. His father had never suggested that he should follow in his footsteps, learning how to make money, and Antony had a deep suspicion that it was because his father did not want him to know how he made his money, nor did he seem to want anyone else to know. Where were the congenial parties of fellow businessmen that other chaps’ fathers seemed to have, where the father-to-son conversations about his beginning to learn the ropes, why the secrecy, the long telephone conversations into the night, the nervous twitch that had started to operate at the corner of his father’s mouth? It was all very well for his father to say that he was trusting his son, but Antony did not trust his father.

Simon was going to Oxford to study classics; John was going (rather reluctantly) to theological college to see if he was cut out for the religious life, and Cedric was just working on the farm as usual, all perfectly straightforward. Friendly old people in the village who had only just stopped remarking, ‘My, how you’ve grown!’ were now asking him, ‘And what are you going to do now, dear, that you’re leaving school?’ and he had no answer. He made things up. ‘I’m going abroad for a bit’; or, ‘I’ve been invited to join an Everest expedition’; or,
‘I’m going to Newmarket to train racehorses.’ He liked seeing the surprise on their faces. If he’d stated the truth: ‘I’m going to die of boredom; I might kill myself,’ they would probably be more surprised still.

Thank goodness the idiot child Lily still had faith in him. Her adoration always cheered him. She was a real nut, sharp as a needle in spite of having scarcely any education. She read and wrote with difficulty, but could add up the cost of a load of groceries in her head, in a trice, while he was still wondering whether to tender a note or would coins do? If she’d gone to Eton she could have been the first woman prime minister.

She was brilliant at planning the amount of food to order too, remembering all the basics while he was thinking caviar, foie gras, champagne … ‘Fresh bread – you must order it. Glasses – are there enough in the house or can we get some from the church hall? Meat pies from Fortnum and Mason – you’ve got to think ahead, get the order in, and the delivery. You can’t sack all the staff, we’ll need help to get it down to the grotto.’

‘The chaps’ll do that, if everything is delivered to the house. They’ll row it out to the grotto.’

‘It’ll be pandemonium.’

‘I’ll put you in charge, Lily. You can give the orders.’

‘But we have to get the grotto ready first. Tables, candles, all the drink down there. The food out of the kitchen will go last.’

‘We can get it ready before the chaps arrive.’

The date of the party was just a week after Mr Sylvester departed. It was early July, and the weather seemed set fair, but Lily could hardly take time off from her father’s bidding, as Antony required, just to set up the party.

Her father already had a premonition of what was going on. ‘Just keep that idiot lad from making a fool of himself, if you’re involved. Keep your nose clean, Lily. You owe it to Mr Sylvester, he’s your employer.’

‘It’s only a party, nothing out of the way.’

‘Those public school boys – a bit of drink and it will get out of hand, you mark my words. You just keep clear of trouble. And Squashy – I won’t forbid you to go, God knows you don’t get much fun in your life – but those sort, make sure you keep them from Squashy. He’s a prime target for those sort of arrogant bastards. I can’t stop him going, he’s full of it already, but I’m relying on you to keep him away from trouble.’

It was lucky her father didn’t know that Helena was destined to be the star of the party. Lily knew that he would be appalled at the idea. He mustn’t find out. Luckily Squashy didn’t know about Helena, so would not give the game away. But as the days went past Lily felt her father’s forebodings begin to weigh. Antony’s plans were getting wilder and Simon and John and Tom the chauffeur, and Cedric when he could get away, did little to calm him down. The absence of Mr Sylvester’s heavy hand on the estate seemed to have released a common geniality into the atmosphere and even Gabriel himself seemed to have taken to whistling and even laughing with the under-gardeners amongst the vegetables. The house staff,
looking forward to their weekend holiday as the date of the party approached, were mostly partying themselves in the kitchen and could be heard shrieking and giggling at all hours in a most unseemly manner.

Antony had made a plan to get Helena released from her carers. He told Rose and Violet that she was to appear at his party and they must dress her and set off her beauty as well as only they knew how, and that they were to bring her down to the garden when dusk set in. They did not know that the party was being held in the grotto; they knew nothing about the punt that was being painted up and dressed with silken cushions and cloth of gold (out of an old trunk of Antony’s dead mother’s), nor of the journey she would make across the lake to the grotto to the accompaniment of beautiful music that Simon was having great difficulty in trying to pipe amongst the willow trees from the old gramophone in Mr Sylvester’s study: they would not see her board her vessel, because as soon as they had brought her onto the floodlit lawn they would be hijacked by Eton’s rugger team and manhandled back to their quarters and securely locked in.

‘It’s in the bag,’ Antony breathed. ‘Just let the moon shine down upon her! What a party it will be!’

‘Dear God, I wish!’ prayed Lily.

In league with Antony’s desires, the days and nights were hot and still and the moon grew towards its zenith on the night of the party. The air was filled with the scents of the flower gardens and the smell of mown grass from the hay meadows. The hay-making had proceeded at a record pace and Cedric was in the clear for the party, the last load stacked three days before the eventful night. The horses were turned out for a short rest and grazed under the stars, and in the bright light of the full moon Lily, unable to sleep, slipped out of bed and crept outside and walked down beside the lake to calm her nerves, absorbing the silence and the radiance of the park under the moon and thinking how amazing it would be the following night, impossible to imagine.

She felt burdened with responsibilities, knowing how Antony depended on her, for she had taken on nearly all the difficulties of organizing the food, how to keep it fresh and get it to the grotto safely, how to arrange it in the candlelight, how to serve it without the boys turning it into a scrum; and to
keep Squashy safe, and see that Helena was treated with the care she demanded, that was her duty too. She was exhausted before it started.

How beautiful the night was! How strange that she lived in this heavenly place and rarely stopped to appreciate it. A pair of swans drifted on the water down the path of the moonlight, silent, scarcely moving, unaware, serene.

Tomorrow night they would fly away.

She went down the length of Antony’s airstrip and came to the fence that marked the boundary between the park and the farm. The horses grazed with long shadows from the moon following them across the sweet-smelling grass. She leaned over the gate, and two of them came to her, to lip at her fingers, so gentle for such great strong creatures: she was filled with love for them, that they worked so hard and never gave up, however tired and belaboured they were. She put her cheek against the hard muscle of the neck, loving the smell of them, the feel. I am going batty, she thought. Antony’s demands are turning me mad. She wanted to be at peace, for tomorrow to be over, yet she wanted tomorrow with longing: the glamour, the high spirits, the excitement.

How strange and utterly empty life would be without Antony in it, and yet he was hopeless: she saw now as she grew older how competent she was compared with Antony, what a load of hopeless dreams he was, with no stuffing, no ambition, someone only to be loved without return. It was Simon and John and Tom the chauffeur who had done the hard work, besides herself: the mending and painting and preparing
of the boats, the complications of wiring the grotto, the repair of the machinery that turned on the cascades, of clearing the overgrowth so that there would be safe landing, and cleaning the grotto walls with a magic potion ordered from London.

‘But it was my idea,’ Antony said truly.

They all worked willingly for the consummation of the terrific idea: the party to outdo all parties. When it was over the magic would die: Claude Sylvester would return and the staff would all come back to toe the line. They would go back to work; her father would clamp down again, Simon and John would go away, and Antony … who knew? Not even Antony.

She walked slowly back along the lakeside, absorbing the peace and the beauty. It will never be like this again, she thought, not like this moment, on the brink, her heart so filled with hopeless desires, trembling with premonitions. Stop my brain, close down … I will never sleep.

Surprisingly Lily slept, overslept, and awoke with a jolt when her father shouted for her. Her head was perfectly clear, not a shred of the sentimental rubbish she recalled from only a few hours previously cluttering its clear conception of the tasks that lay before her.

‘So this is the great day, eh? You’re worn out before you’re started,’ her father commented, not entirely without sympathy. ‘Perhaps we’ll get some sense out of you all when it’s over. Just remember what I said, that’s all—’

He nodded his head towards Squashy who was getting Barky onto his hind legs and shouting at him, ‘We’re going to a party! We’re going to a party!’

‘Barky might be better left here with me,’ Gabriel added.

‘No! No! No!’ screamed Squashy. ‘Barky loves parties. Barky must come!’ He burst into tears and lay on the floor hugging poor Barky tightly to his chest. The popping eyes of the little dog pleaded deliverance.

‘Of course he’ll come,’ Lily said, prising him free. ‘You can make him a party collar with that bit of red stuff in my bedroom, like a little scarf.’

She had been trying to work out something pretty to wear from the minimal contents of her cupboard. Modern dresses just seemed to hang down straight from what she had seen of them, not very complicated, but most smart girls now had short hair and there was no chance of her getting hers cut, not without incurring her father’s wrath. She had been practising tying it up in some way, but it slithered all over the place; she was not a natural lady’s maid. Anyway, she reminded herself, she was only a servant. Her hair was clean and shining and would hang free as it always did. The worst thing was that she had no shoes, only work boots, and broken slippers for the house. She should have asked Cedric to borrow a pair for her from his sisters: he had two sisters, as well as several younger brothers. It wasn’t too late; she must ask him this morning. The rest she could manage. There were so many things to do!

The weather was perfect, as Antony had commanded. Some of his friends had arrived the night before and were
making breakfast in the kitchen. Lily went there to start seeing to the food, but stopped in the doorway as she saw the strangers who had taken over, some six or seven lanky youths pinging bread pellets at each other. The table was strewn with dirty plates and cups and saucers and the boys sprawled in their chairs, two with their feet on the table. Antony wasn’t there.

Lily froze with embarrassment. Squashy was right behind her with Barky, who lived up to his name, taking immediate exception to the strangers. Lily felt the same. She obviously did not impress them for none of them got to their feet as she knew gentlemen should when a lady entered the room.

‘Sorry, I’ll come back later.’

‘No, stay, sweetheart. Have a cup of tea.’

‘I’m here to work, but obviously the kitchen is still in use. I’ll come back later.’

She turned abruptly and swept Squashy before her. Barky stayed behind yapping, and one of the boys threw an egg at him. Barky fled. Squashy tried to turn back to punch the aggressor but Lily marched him firmly out, down the corridor and out into the yard.

‘Pigs!’

Surely not all Antony’s friends were like this? Of course, having the run of a stately home with no adults on hand was going to prove very attractive: she feared the worst. But that was not her department. Thank goodness Simon and Cedric were down by the lake, testing the electrics in the trees, and she went to them with relief.

‘There’s some beastly boys in the kitchen. I came away.’

Simon said, ‘Those beastly boys are going to get jobs to do, don’t worry. You’ve done your bit, Lily. All the food will get carried out to the grotto – not your responsibility any more. There’ll be plenty of manpower around today. You enjoy it all now, and stop worrying.’

‘I can’t help it. It’s been—’ Everything had led up to this, for so long; when it was over, how strange … ‘I’ve got no shoes to wear. I wondered if one of your sisters could lend me a pair, Cedric?’

‘Yeah, why not? Go and ask. Did you see Ant in the house?’

‘No.’

Simon said, ‘You know he’s promised to take his pals up for joyrides today if they want it? So we’re not going to get much sense out of him. If you see him, tell he’s got to organize getting everything down to the grotto for tonight. That’s not our job. We’re boats and lights and things electric.’

‘And Helena?’

‘He’s doing Helena. He’s the boss there. We just wish that wasn’t happening.’

‘What? Helena coming?’

‘Yes. Anything could happen. She won’t know what on earth is going on.’

‘She’ll have lots of people to look after her.’

‘Hmm.’ Simon obviously wasn’t convinced.

Having seen the crowd in the kitchen, Lily understood his doubts. ‘We can always bring her back if she’s frightened.’

‘Some of us will stay sober, don’t worry,’ Cedric said.

Lily realized how totally ignorant she was of party behaviour. The nearest she had ever come to a party before was the annual harvest gathering up at the farm, which was a jolly and simple affair where she fitted in. Certainly there was a lot of drinking, and even her father fell over on the way home but that was only funny. It didn’t compare with the lavish expectations that she felt were overcoming her now.

She went up to the farm to see about the shoes. She didn’t know Cedric’s sisters very well, but his mother was a homely old thing and always friendly and happy to help.

‘Just an old pair of sandals, nothing special. I’m not really a guest, just helping out.’

‘Make the most of it, my dear. Don’t let that boy put on you, you’re not his servant.’ Mrs Butterworth brought her a selection, mostly quite plain. She tried to make her take the smartest, but Lily chose the oldest and most comfortable.

‘I’ll bring them back tomorrow. It’s very kind of you.’

‘You can keep that pair. Amelia never wears them now.’

‘No. I’ll bring them back.’

‘Well, enjoy yourself, and be careful.’

What did that mean? Lily wondered as she made her way back. The shoes were gloriously light and comfortable. She often went barefoot in the summer, depending where she was working, but these were so lovely that by the time she got back to the grotto she had decided that no, she wouldn’t take them back, not after she had been invited to keep them.

It was getting hot, not a cloud in the sky. Up at the house, across the lake, she could see that more cars were arriving and
figures were idling on the terrace, some putting up tents in the gardens. Squashy was still over by the boats with Simon and John, whom she knew would take care of him, so she decided to have a last look at the grotto while it was still empty. Tonight it would be very different.

They had spent so much time bringing it back to its former glory and this was the first time she had stepped into it alone without a bucket and scrubbing brush in her hand. The usual cold hand reached out as she walked along the narrow entrance towards the inner sanctum, but the walls even in the darkness seemed to sparkle as they never had before, and as the great inner cave opened up over her head she gasped at the sight: thousands of little coloured lights had been threaded through the stalactites and were shining now as if they were the stars themselves in the night sky. And the reflections of the lights doubled and trebled through all the convoluted surfaces of the grotto and in the spray of the cascades that tumbled down into great troughs where the stone mermaids and fabled monsters and fishes gambolled, scrubbed clean of green mould by her own hands over several weeks. She had never seen it with the lights turned on, although she had spent many hours there watching Simon and John at work on high ladders borrowed from the farm. A certain amount of daylight came in through cleverly concealed orifices amongst the leaves and verdancy that grew over the roof, but it had only served to fill the haunting space with a grey twilight. Lily had always found the place austere; she could never have imagined how glorious it might be now the lights seemed to laugh and twinkle like a
million friendly eyes: the place was quite transformed. She knew too that later there would be masses of candles, high up on the walls where the boys had made special sconces; they were in place, ready to be lit. Antony said they would warm the place as well as add scent and more light. The long tables were in place, covered in gold cloths, empty as yet, but soon to be filled with all the delights from Fortnum and Mason and with the ranks of champagne bottles: all the food that they had dreamed up between them, even including Squashy’s favourite lemonade and a bone for Barky.

Simon was obviously testing the electrics, for even as she stood there the lights went out and the cascades fell quiet and the eerie silence of the grotto’s normal demeanour took over, broken only by distant birdsong from outside. Lily stood absorbing the space and the astonishing sight that had quite overwhelmed her. For several moments she felt she was not in the real world at all, and then the usual echoes of cheerful birdsong filtered in along the corridor and she followed the familiar sound until it led her to the bright landing where the water lapped softly against the stones: out in the everyday again.

Then she laughed, enchanted by her visit, amazed by her own surprise, that she had never envisaged the finished product all the while she had worked there with the boys. She sat then on the stones, kicking off her lovely sandals as her feet dipped into the water, and let herself enjoy the moment. Never in her life had something so sweet and lovely appeared to her. In quite a different department from the parachute
jump, it was just as valuable: a memory to be stored for the future, to recall when things got bleak. For her future was not bright, she knew. Like Antony she put off thinking about it.

It was so quiet here now, on the familiar spot where they so often played. Tonight the boats would land here, one by one, bringing the guests from the far shore, and Squashy was going to help Cedric take the empty boats away and park them. He was very at home on the water and with the boats and it would keep him nicely occupied. Helena was going to arrive with an escort, in the best punt, which Lily had seen cushioned and padded and made to look like a royal barge. Antony and Simon were going to punt her, and then change to rowing nearer the grotto where the water became deep. Lily had been told to be ready to receive her and help her disembark. ‘Nothing must go wrong,’ Antony had said several times. ‘It must all be perfect for her.’

While Lily sat there, she saw Antony come roaring down the airfield in his father’s Rolls-Royce with a full complement of friends arranged over the seats and the bonnet. He was going to take them up one by one for what he called a spin, and Lily decided to disappear, to nurse her happy thoughts back home where she needed to spend time working out what she was going to wear. Her wardrobe was so hopeless it wouldn’t take long. If only she had thought ahead and arranged something with the few girls in the village she still called her friends! But too late now, even if she could be bothered. Thank goodness it was going to be very hot, so her mother’s nicest
summer dress would do. And Squashy must have a clean shirt if she could find one.