42

The terrace was buzzing. Vaughn was throwing a party and he’d pressed Margaret to agree to stay. Said his sister would have something she could wear. I’d turned down his offer of a dinner suit, and in solidarity with me he’d stayed in his shirtsleeves from the afternoon. Everyone else was dressed formally.

I took a glass of champagne from a footman bearing a silver tray. I looked around for the butler, Washington. I wanted to talk to him, get some intelligence about Vaughn, but I hadn’t seen him since we’d returned from the artists’ cottage.

The champagne was chilled. Important to get the little things right. There must have been an ice-house somewhere on the property, stocked with large blocks of ice cut from wintery lochs in Scotland and rushed south on an express train, packed in straw and newspaper. A working man’s -annual wages spent so we could stand on the terrace sipping wine that was chilled a few degrees colder than it would have been without the effort.

There was a murmur from the crowd as Margaret -appeared at the patio doors. She looked stunning. Every inch the -heiress. Beside her stood a young woman with a cane. They’d dressed almost identically, and done their hair in the same style. They looked almost like twins.

‘Don’t you brush up well, Mags,’ Vaughn said as he appeared from the crowd and slipped his arm around Margaret’s waist. I was getting tired of the Mags and Vaughn act.

Vaughn made a sweeping motion with his arm, introducing me to his sister.

‘Cook, this is Miriam. Miriam, Cook’s Mags’ latest chap. Quite the surly brute.’ He winked at me.

‘Oh my!’ Miriam said, taking me in. I felt like an exhibit at an agricultural show. Miriam held out her free hand and I took it, unsure what to do with it. I was still taken aback at the effect of her standing next to Margaret.

‘Pleased to meet you,’ I said.

‘My dear Miriam,’ the woman from the cottage said as she pushed past me. ‘You’re limping. Don’t say you’re hurt.’

I stepped back, glad to be out of the limelight. I caught Margaret’s eye and she smiled.

‘Tennis,’ Miriam said, to Constance. ‘I travel from one end of the country to the other without incident, then this oaf pushes me out of the way so he can get in a smash.’

‘How was the journey?’ Constance asked. ‘Was it awful?’

‘Hell,’ Miriam replied. ‘I had to wait at Victoria for an absolute age, and of course you can’t get a porter for love nor money.’

‘You were lucky to get a train, with all the troop movements,’ Constance said.

*

The evening dragged. Margaret was in her element. These were her people and I didn’t begrudge her the chance to spend some time with them. From what she’d told me, she’d grown up with events like this, albeit most of them out in India, at the height of the glories of the Raj. Quite a fall, from all of that to traipsing around in the woods with a farmer.

I got caught up in a discussion about the wisdom of -investing in war bonds versus silver. The consensus seemed to be to sell the bonds, since they’d be worthless when Hitler invaded and the government fell. I left the conversation -before I said something I’d regret.

I took refuge on the edge of the terrace. We were behind the house, looking south, with a view out to where Vaughn had taken us earlier. The gardens were a riot of colour, lit by the late-afternoon sun. Beyond them, the Forest was dull and brown. I had a perfect view of where the parachute had come down. No wonder Vaughn got there so quickly. If he’d been standing here, he’d have been able to rush through the gardens, into the trees, and up to the Forest in a matter of minutes.

And if a plane had been coming out of the south, looking for a marker, Vaughn’s house would have been an obvious reference point, especially if he’d left a light on.

‘I’ll have to show you round.’ It was Miriam, Vaughn’s sister, leaning on her cane and looking up at me with a tilted head. She looked over the gardens.

‘Capability Brown,’ she said. ‘One of his greatest works, so they say. I’ve never been much for plants myself but some people get positively worked up. I’d be happy to give you the tour. Show you the hidden gems and all that.’

‘You grew up here?’ I asked.

‘They let us come for holidays, then packed us off to god-awful boarding schools. Vaughn got it worse, of course. When Daddy got posted to India he dragged us both over there. All highly irregular, but what Daddy wanted, Daddy got.’

Margaret’s laugh carried over the general hubbub, and I looked for her across a sea of heads.

‘She’s with Vaughn,’ Miriam said, ‘ quelle surprise .’

‘You knew Margaret in India?’ I asked.

‘Vaguely,’ Miriam said. ‘Mostly it was those two, thick as thieves. I was bundled off to Switzerland, and when I did make it home they made it clear I wasn’t welcome.’

She studied me openly, with no guile. It made me like her.

‘Vaughn said you’re up at Cambridge,’ I said.

‘They let a few of us girls in every now and then,’ Miriam said, ‘keeps the agitators off their backs.’

‘What do you study?’

‘I teach,’ she said. ‘Waves and all that.’

I nodded sagely, as if I knew what she was talking about. The closest I’d got to university was hearing about Doc’s exploits, and most of those had involved drinking.

‘The sea?’ I asked, imagining experiments with floats. There’d be charts involved, and speeches delivered in oak-panelled lecture theatres.

‘Radio,’ she said. ‘Very hush hush.’

Once again, Margaret’s laugh carried over the noise.

‘You should be careful,’ Miriam said, ‘if you’re intending to keep her. Vaughn’s had a lifetime of getting what he wants.’

‘Does he want Margaret?’ I asked.

‘Of course,’ she said. ‘We all do.’