Unspoken Desire

She was still turning these thoughts over in her mind as she drove in past the gates to Aysgarth. The house had been built by a Victorian Aysgarth who had made his money from the boom in railways and promptly retired to Cumbria with his wife and family.

It was a large, square building, more sturdy than elegant, three storeys high with deep, ample cellars. The sturdy Victorian furniture had been retained by the various generations of Aysgarths to inhabit the house, so that the rooms possessed an air of solid comfort rather than fashionable luxury.

It was a house in which one instantly felt at home, or at least that had always been Rebecca’s impression of it as a child. As she drove past the front door to park her car, she saw that the back door was standing open.

Aysgarth was remote enough for its inhabitants not to need to worry about the intentions of any passing caller, and as Rebecca got out of the car she heard a familiar shrill barking and kneeled down just in time to wad off the ecstatic welcome of a spaniel of rather large size and dubious parentage.

The best thing that could probably be said about Sophy was that she was extremely affectionate, the worst that she was also extremely scatty. As an adult Rebecca had always been rather surprised that Frazer of all people, so meticulous, so hard-edged and determined about everything he did, should actually have given house room to this overexuberant little stray who had wandered into the grounds of Aysgarth House a few weeks before Rebecca’s own eighteenth birthday. She had been the one who had found her and who had taken her into the house, bundling her shivering, soaking form in a towel and rubbing her dry till she stopped shivering.

She had pleaded with Norty to be allowed to keep the dog until Frazer came back from the Institute. In those days he had not headed the impressive and very important scientific institute whose work was always shrouded in so much secrecy, but he had still worked hard with very long hours, and it had been almost nine o’clock that evening before he had put her mind at rest and announced that yes, she could keep the stray, providing no one turned up to claim it.

Within twenty-four hours of being in the household, Sophy had firmly and determinedly attached herself to Frazer, becoming not her dog, but Frazer’s. However, it seemed she had remembered her, Rebecca reflected as she bent down and scratched behind the long floppy ears.

‘Ah, Rebecca! I thought it must be you.’ Silver-haired, pink-and white-skinned, dressed always in lavender, cream or black, Great-Aunt Maud, Rebecca had often thought, would surely look far more at home in some genteel establishment in Bournemouth rather than up here in the granite hills of Cumbria.

Indeed she had for a time after being widowed lived in the south of England, but immediately upon Frazer’s request to her to come and take charge of the house she had given up that life and had remained at Aysgarth ever since.

‘Ten to four—excellent!’ she announced approvingly, waiting for Rebecca to join her, ‘I’ve already warned Mrs Norton that you would be here for afternoon tea. The twins are upstairs washing their hands and faces and changing out of those disgusting jeans all children seem to insist on wearing these days. I can’t think what the world’s coming to. In my day little girls dressed like little girls,’ she added disapprovingly, ‘not in this ridiculous dual-sex uniform of jeans that everyone seems to favour these days.’

Rebecca, remembering her own mother’s gentle remonstrations and explanations when she herself had protested bitterly about the smocked velvet dress Aunt Maud had insisted on buying for her the Christmas she was twelve years old, considering herself far too grown-up for such a childish outfit, repressed a small smile.

‘And while I think about it,’Aunt Maud continued, ‘that’s another thing that will have to be sorted out. Both of them need new clothes. Such a nuisance, that girl Frazer appointed leaving the way she did.’

‘Why did she leave?’ asked Rebecca quietly, curious to hear what her aunt would say, wondering exactly how much Maud knew about the twins’ plans.

The hallway to Aysgarth was large and square with a parquet floor and an impressive carved wooden staircase running up three sides of it. At the rear of the hall was a large stained glass window, depicting various scenes of relevance to the original builder of the house, including one displaying the arms and colours of the railway which had made him his money.

‘Oh, I expect it was the usual thing,’ snorted Maud, startling Rebecca for a moment until she added in explanation, ‘too few young men and not enough to do on her days and evening off.Young girls these days don’t know how fortunate they are,’ she continued severely. ‘In my day, a girl was expected to get married whether she wanted to or not. We didn’t have the freedom you do these days. I’m glad to see you haven’t rushed into marriage, Rebecca,’ she added approvingly, then rather spoilt the effect of this phrase by adding musingly, ‘How old are you now? It must be nearly thirty, surely.’

‘Twenty-six, actually,’Rebecca told her, feeling irritated with herself for her own defensive correction of her aunt’s over-estimation of her age.

‘Twenty-six—mm…A very sensible age for a young woman, I’ve always thought.’

Rebecca wasn’t sure if she actually liked being described as sensible, but she put aside the thought to examine later, following her aunt into what was always described as the small sitting-room, although in fact it was a well-proportioned room that faced south and because of that was a favourite room for the family’s daytime use.

The yellow damask curtains had faded over the years to a soft appealing primrose. Rory and Frazer’s mother had replaced the original covers on the settees and chairs with new ones in a rich blue which had now also faded pleasantly. The walls were hung with straw-coloured silk and a faded blue and gold rug covered the parquet floor.

The familiar sight of her aunt’s embroidery frame standing to one side of the fireplace took Rebecca back to her own childhood. She had never actually seen a piece of embroidery completed by Aunt Maud, and she had a shrewd suspicion that the old lady adopted the embroidery as a skilful means of extricating herself from any duties she didn’t wish to perform.

‘Mrs Norton will bring tea through in a second. In the meantime, tell me, my dear, how are your parents and Robert and his family?’

‘They’re very well,’ Rebecca told her, describing the exploits of her niece and nephew to her as relayed to her through the medium of her sister-in-law’s latest letter.

‘Such a pity you couldn’t have gone to Australia with your parents,’ Aunt Maud commented, then pursed her lips and added thoughtfully, ‘although in the circumstances…’

She broke off as Mrs Norton came in, pushing a tea trolley. The housekeeper beamed when she saw Rebecca, who quickly and fondly embraced her, asking her how she was. It was a good five minutes before she left, confirming that she would go upstairs and find out what was delaying the twins.

‘So why didn’t you go with your parents, my dear?’ Aunt Maud pursued as she poured the tea. ‘Is there perhaps a young man in London?’

Mischievously Rebecca deliberately pretended not to understand, frowning and looking quite as vague as her aunt as she asked innocently.

‘A young man? London is full of young men, Aunt Maud. Which one was it in particular?’

‘You know exactly what I mean, Rebecca,’ Aunt Maud interrupted her sternly. ‘Is there a particular young man in your life whose presence there made you prefer to stay in London rather than to accompany your parents?’

Cautiously Rebecca hesitated, then said lightly, and not altogether untruthfully, ‘There isn’t one particular young man, Aunt Maud, but I do have several men friends whom I date from time to time.’

‘Date?’ snorted Aunt Maud. ‘What kind of word is that, and you an English teacher as well? These young men—are their intentions towards you serious, or…’

Rebecca couldn’t help it—she burst out laughing.

‘They’re friends, Aunt Maud. People whose company I enjoy.’ She broke off as the sitting-room door opene

d and the twins came in. A complete metamorphosis appeared to have taken place, not only in their clothes but also in their attitude. Nothing could have been more friendly or appealing than the way they both welcomed her, Rebecca acknowledged, and perhaps because of that and because of what she knew she deliberately decided to punish them a little, waiting until Maud had performed the necessary introductions and the twins were settled with their milk and biscuits before opening her handbag and removing the handkerchief as though to blow her nose.

When the shards of glass fell on to the floor, she looked at them in feigned surprise, meanwhile watching the twins’ faces. Peter’s showed a sharp stab of fear and guilt; Helen’s on the other hand remained impassive after one brief lightning look into her own face.

‘Rebecca, what on earth…?’Aunt Maud began.

Rebecca quickly apologised, getting down on the floor to remove the glass and saying quickly, ‘Good heavens, I’d forgotten about that! I found it on the road. Luckily I’d stopped the car to look at the view—if I hadn’t I would have been bound to have run over it, doing heaven alone knows what damage to the car.’

‘Glass?’ Aunt Maud was frowning heavily. ‘How on earth could that have got there?’

Peter shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Helen was made of sterner stuff; although her face had gone pale, she remained resolutely still.

‘Oh, I expect some tourists dropped it,’ Rebecca said lightly. ‘You know how careless they are. They wouldn’t have realised the potential danger they were causing—not just to cars, but to animals as well—you know how scatty Sophy is,’ she continued mercilessly. ‘She could quite easily have run down there and cut her paw.’