The Last Days of Summer
“What you doing?” I asked, plonking myself down on the bench beside her.
“Ghost watching,” Caroline said, in a surprisingly matter-of-fact voice. “I was thinking that, since it’s summer, it doesn’t get dark until much later. But she died in winter, so maybe she doesn’t realise that. And in winter it gets dark by the time I’m finishing school, so maybe she’ll show up earlier.”
I thought about it. There was a logic, of a sort, in there somewhere. “Could work.”
“It was early morning when I saw her last time. If it was winter, it would have still been dark.” Caro had obviously put a lot of thought into this. I blinked as her words registered fully.
“Caro, have you seen things here before?” I tried to picture the figure I thought I’d seen when I arrived. Had I seen her before? Somewhere in the back of my mind was a half forgotten memory that I couldn’t quite grasp. Was I remembering something I’d seen as a child, or just the storybook that Nathaniel gave me?
Caro shrugged. “Just the ghost, yesterday morning. I never thought to look here before, until Granddad told us that story.”
“But other places?”
“Of course. There’s the fairy ring in the woods, that you can only see when the dew’s still wet, and the tree with the man’s face – that’s only there at dusk, I think, although I’ve never checked at dawn.” She twisted on the bench to look at me. “Haven’t you?”
And suddenly it occurred to me; I had. All through my childhood. I nodded. “There was a tree with golden acorns, somewhere west of the fairy ring. And the gravestone of a giant on the path towards the village.” And a man who loved me, even though he was marrying my sister.
Caro wasn’t crazy; she was a child. And in fact, she was just the same sort of child I was – over imaginative and creative. We’d both inherited it from the same place: Nathaniel, who, for all that his books were full of human weakness, betrayals and lies – at least, according to the media – had also created wonderful tales of forest maidens and elf kings for me as a child.
Maybe Ellie had shown glimpses of it, too, when she was very young, playing with me in the woods. Maybe it was just one of those things you weren’t allowed as an adult – like playing in ball pits, or choosing from the children’s menu, or believing in Father Christmas.
Beside me, Caro sighed, as if hearing my thoughts. “It doesn’t look like she’s coming,” she said, as Dad’s voice called down to us, gathering us in for dinner.
“We’ll try again tomorrow,” I promised.
Chapter Four
The trees shimmered with tiny lights, and music floated up from the terrace on the summer breeze. In the Walled Garden, the flowers were in bloom – peaches and cream to match her complexion. Just beyond the walls, our friends and acquaintances chatted of inconsequentialities, and drank themselves stupid on the champagne I’d had delivered from France.
But inside the walls of the garden, the world was ours entirely. We were alone in Eden, and the world was new.
“Bella.” I felt in my pocket for the ring. “Beloved. I have something I need to ask you.”
Biding Time, by Nathaniel Drury (1967)
“Have you seen your grandmother?” Mum asked me, sidling close as I reached the top of the terrace steps. Ellie, I noticed, was hovering in the doorway, dressed in the same cotton skirt she’d had on that morning, although she’d changed her T-shirt for a beige-coloured camisole that almost disappeared against her skin. She looked washed out and miserable, making me feel guilty for forcing our confrontation in the Orangery.
“I haven’t seen her since this morning,” I told Mum, and she sighed.
“Neither has anyone else.” She leaned in closer, the green glass beads around her neck clinking. “And I think your sister’s about to lose it,” she added in a whisper.
Since I thought pretty much the same thing, it appeared it was time to make myself useful. “I’ll go see if I can find her.”
I didn’t realise that Edward had followed me into the house until he spoke. “Is everything okay?”
“If you mean, is it my fault that Ellie looks like she’s about to scream, I assure you that I have been on my best behaviour all afternoon,” I told him, not turning round.
“I didn’t, particularly.” He drew level with me as I headed up the stairs. “I was just wondering what all the whispering was about.”
“Curious fellow, aren’t you.” I turned left at the top of the stairs, rather than right towards my own room, and Edward said, “Are you looking for Isabelle?”
I stopped just short of knocking on my grandmother’s door. “Do you know where she is?”
Edward shrugged. “I dropped her off at that swanky hotel down the road this afternoon. She had some treatments booked, apparently. Something about sea salt and scrubbing.”
“Leaving Ellie to panic over all the last-minute details.” I sighed. Looked like I wasn’t the only one being selfish today. “Did she say when she was coming back?”
Edward looked awkward. “I take it she didn’t tell Ellie she was going?”
“Apparently not. Come on, you’d better tell her.”
Back downstairs, the evening’s drinking was continuing apace at the dining table, as Dad dished up the food. I shook my head as Mum looked up questioningly at me, then I slipped into my seat beside Nathaniel. Edward, I saw, was already whispering to Ellie at the other end of the table, presumably explaining the situation.
He sat down opposite me, as Dad handed round plates of curry, which Isabelle would have hated anyway.
“Is there anything Ellie needs us to do?” I asked, reaching across for a naan bread.
Edward shook his head. “Not until tomorrow, anyway. She found a note from Isabelle in the kitchen, while we were upstairs, by the way. Apparently your grandmother felt it would be bad luck to see the groom before the wedding.” He passed me a plate of vegetable pakora. “She does realise this isn’t an actual wedding, doesn’t she?”
“At this point, who knows?” I sighed. “Perhaps she just wanted to get out of here for a while. I suppose I can sympathise with that.” Except I’d already been away too long. I didn’t need to escape, any more. I needed to find a way home.
When we were down to just the poppadom crumbs, Nathaniel clanged his wine glass with his dessert spoon and we all duly stopped talking. “In the absence of my lovely wife, I would like to say a few words.”
Almost instinctively, my shoulders tensed.
“Isabelle has ap
parently taken herself off to become even more beautiful, before we go through this rigmarole of a party tomorrow. I have no doubt that she will return, fresh and relaxed, just in time to meet her guests.
“The speeches, of course, are for tomorrow – and believe me, I have quite the announcement planned for you all.” The smile on my grandfather’s face was downright frightening and, across the table, Edward was looking very nervous. There was definitely something going on there, something I probably didn’t want to know about until I had to, I reasoned. Plausible deniability, and all that.
“It occurs to me that, if we are to treat tomorrow as my second wedding day, then tonight, by all accounts, must surely be my stag night!”
Down the table, Ellie squeaked in alarm, doubtless seeing her plans for helping hands in the morning drowning in a pool of whisky. Nathaniel ignored her. “And as none of you were able to join me for the last one, by virtue of not having been born yet, I insist that you all celebrate with me this evening!”
Downing the rest of his red wine, Nathaniel led the charge to the drawing room and the drinks cabinet.
Things really only went downhill from there.
Three glasses of wine and a hefty dose of Nathaniel’s best brandy later, I noticed that Ellie had disappeared. That wasn’t fair, I thought. It wasn’t fair that she should feel so uncomfortable in my presence that she miss her own grandfather’s pseudo stag night. And, my fuzzy head insisted, it was time that I told her so, no matter what everyone else thought.
I drifted towards the doorway and slipped casually into the hallway, the others too busy watching Nathaniel juggle shot glasses to notice. Ellie wasn’t in the kitchen, which had been my first guess – she had a tendency to seek out tea in times of stress. Neither was she getting fresh air on the terrace, or hiding out in the back drawing room watching telly.
She’d probably gone to bed, I realised, to get an early night before the party. I headed back into the hallway, only to be stopped at the bottom of the stairs.
“You’re looking for Ellie,” Edward said, a statement rather than a question. “Again.”