Secrets and Lies (2 page)

They took the road that crossed the swampy area at the edge of the harbour, where the mist curled upwards to dew the windscreen. It was often misty there, but Denton knew the road like the back of his hand and he drove slowly, his eyes on the gravel at either side of the tarmac so they didn’t end up in the mud.

‘I should have stuck with dancing. I wanted to be Anna Pavlova when I was small.’

‘Who knew such dreams of fame gathered cobwebs in Esmé Carr’s sensible brain? In this day and age you’re better off working in a safe profession with long-term prospects.’

‘Do you think I’m too old to have dreams, Dr Denton?’ She had called him that when she was a child so she didn’t get him mixed up with his father, who was also a doctor . . . and she still did on occasion.

‘None of us are too old. I once yearned to be a train driver.’

He picked up speed when they were through the mist, smiling at what must seem like a ridiculous notion to him now. Then he surprised her with, ‘Sometimes I still get an urge to drive a steam engine. They make such a nice clacking sound on the rails. And I love it when I’m lying in bed and the whistle blows in the distance.’

‘I’ll buy you a clockwork train for Christmas, and a whistle to go with it. How’s Livia been keeping?’

‘When I rang her earlier to say we might be late, your sister was in a panic trying to decide between orange satin with coffee lace inserts, or burgundy lace with a handkerchief hem.’

‘I hope she wears the burgundy lace. It’s pretty, and it will match my outfit, so we’ll look good together.’

He laughed. ‘The mysterious logic of the female mind never fails to astound me, poppet. I just hope the caterers provide a decent dinner. I’m starving.’

Laughter bubbled from her. ‘Well, I can safely say your mind might work in mysterious ways but your stomach is predictable. I think it will be a cold buffet supper.’

He groaned. ‘I haven’t eaten since breakfast.’

‘While you’re changing I’ll dash into the kitchen and find something to keep you going. There’s bound to be some broth to heat up. And I’ll make you a ham and cheese sandwich.’

‘You’re a sweetheart, Esmé.’

She rummaged around in her bag. ‘I’ve got some humbugs if that’s any help. I know you can’t resist them.’

‘It will certainly give the blood sugar a boost. May I enquire how long they’ve been in there?’

‘No, you may not, but they’re not quite antiques. They’re still in the original bag, though they’ve melted into sticky blobs and the paper is stuck to them.’

‘A bit of paper bag won’t kill me. I’ve eaten worse.’

‘Really . . . what was worse than paper bag?’

‘I ate a fly once. It was during a riding lesson and I was out of breath. The fly flew into my open mouth.

‘Ugh!’ Shuddering she found the humbugs, popped one in his mouth and another in her own. The car was filled with the sound of sucking and slurping as they tried to outdo each other.

Esmé laughed first. ‘If only your juniors could see you now.’

‘If you don’t tell them, I won’t tell Matron about you.’

‘There’s nothing to tell; I’m totally boring.’

Denton chuckled. ‘Yes, well . . . you can’t help that, I suppose.’

They settled into a comfortable silence as they went through the crossroads at Upton and followed the headlights into the tunnel of light they made. Hedges grew tall on either side of them, reaching out with clutching hooked fingers.

Esmé was looking forward to the comfort of the Elliot home. ‘It seems forever since I last saw everyone.’

‘I’m pleased to say they’re growing like a crop of spring weeds, including you and Chad. I’m expecting great things from your brother . . . and from you too, young lady. You’re a good nurse, the cream of the graduates, I’m told, so try and forget all that dancing nonsense. Look on it as exercise rather than a career.’

There was a flicker of annoyance in her, squashed when she remembered that Denton had given herself and Chad a home. ‘I think I’m a little too old to train for ballet now, don’t you?’ She kissed his cheek, and laughed. ‘Never fear, you darling fuddy-duddy, I’ll do what’s expected of me. I’ll become the ghost of Florence Nightingale herself, if that will help.’

‘Mmmm . . . just don’t hover around the patients with your lamp. We want to keep them alive, not frighten them into the next life.’

She gazed at his profile. Denton had been the nearest thing to a father that she and Chad could remember, and she loved him dearly. ‘Denton . . . did you ever regret taking the three of us on?’

He gave her a quick look. ‘Good gracious! What an odd thing to ask me. You do like putting a chap on the spot. What would you do if I said yes?’

‘Curl up and die.’

‘We can’t have that, can we, with you looking so pretty. If you want the truth, your sister became the love of my life from the very first moment I set eyes on her. It was on a train.’

‘Is that why you like trains?’

‘Could be. Livia was wearing an awful grey suit and a hat with drooping pheasant feathers. She was on her way to London to visit you and Chad. One of the feathers snapped, and I kept it with me all through the war to remember her by. You and Chad were part of the package.’

‘You’ve forgotten Meggie.’

He laughed. ‘No I haven’t. Who can overlook Meggie when she’s Livia’s daughter? And now we have the boys, as well. I was an only child, so I always wanted a big family to make up for it.’

‘Did you mind that Livia married Richard Sangster?’

He nodded. ‘I pretended not to, but it hurt like hell when she married Richard, even though he was my best friend. But I knew he was dying, and under the circumstances it felt mean to deny him some happiness by being churlish about it, and punching him on the nose. He did love Livia, and it was for the best.’

‘I liked Richard. He was so brave and jolly. Livia told me she loved both of you at the same time.’

‘Yes . . . she probably did. Livia has a soft heart.’

‘She loved you the most, Denton. She said Richard was a will-o’-the-wisp type of love that would probably have burnt out, but you were always her soulmate, and she knew you’d always be there for her.’

‘You make me sound awfully dull.’

‘Nonsense. Chad and I adored you. You spent time with us and played lots of games. We wished you were our real father.’

He flicked a glance her way. ‘Thank you for that nice compliment, your late parents would be proud of you all, you know.’

‘Why don’t we have anything to do with Major Sangster any more? After all, he is Meggie’s grandfather.’

He sighed. ‘You asked your sister the same question, I understand. What was her answer?’

‘She said she didn’t want to talk about it.’

‘Then it’s not fair of you to expect me to break a confidence, and I advise you to let sleeping dogs lie, as Livia wants. That’s my last word on the subject.’

And judging from the impatient tone of Denton’s voice, Esmé knew it was. ‘Sorry,’ she murmured. All the same, he’d made it clear that there was some underlying problem they avoided. It was jolly curious, and she thought about it often.

He changed the subject, his handsome, rugged face softening. ‘Can I book a dance before your card gets filled.’

‘Which dance . . . tango or Charleston?’

Denton laughed at the thought. ‘Good Lord; I’m not quite that ambitious. If you value your feet a slow foxtrot will do me nicely . . . the slower the better.’

He honked the horn as they rounded the bend.

Home was a slightly shabby red brick building called Evesham House, and named after the village. Evesham House had half-panelled wooden walls and large fireplaces. Bits had been added to it from time to time, so it fell together in a comfortable heap of mismatched bricks and windows. Sometimes the house rattled if the wind was strong enough.

The Elliot house was situated not far from Blandford, along with a clutch of other houses. It included the shuttered Foxglove House, and Nutting Cottage, where Major Henry Sangster lived. A mile away on the other side of the village was the home of Andrew Elliot, who was Denton’s father, and also a doctor.

Esmé’s sister, Livia, had a chintzy, country taste in furniture, though nothing really matched, and although the house never looked completely tidy, everything seemed designed for an active family to relax in – a house that didn’t mind displaying its dusty corners.

Dressed in their pyjamas, the three younger children of the family came rushing down the staircase except for thirteen-year-old Meggie, who rode down the banister rail with a wide grin on her face.

‘One of these days you’re going to hurt yourself,’ Livia told her for the umpteenth time since Meggie had discovered how to ride down the rail safely. But when Esmé’s eyes sought out those of Denton they were filled with amusement, and he winked at her, because she and Chad used to do the same.

They exchanged hugs and kisses, and Adam said, ‘Come up and tell us a story, Aunt Es.’

Swinging Meggie on to his back and tucking Luke and Adam under each arm, Denton gave Livia a smacking kiss on the mouth. ‘Hello, my darling . . . I’m home.’

‘As though I hadn’t noticed. As usual, pandemonium reigns the moment you walk through the door.’

‘Who’s Pan D. Moanium? Have I met him?’

Esmé giggled and Livia laughed, as Denton headed back up the stairs weighed down by the trio clinging to him. He dropped them in a heap on the landing, and fussed with a big black dog that had come out of the kitchen to follow them up, and now greeted his master’s acknowledgement with a slurp of its long, pink tongue.

‘I’ll be up to tell you all a story in a minute,’ Esmé shouted after them, and headed for the kitchen to see to the promised sandwich.

Dressed in the burgundy gown, Livia followed after her and watched as Esmé grabbed an apron. ‘Don’t tell them a ghost story else they won’t settle. What are you doing in the kitchen?’

‘I promised to make Denton some soup and a sandwich. He had an emergency and that put his schedule out. He hasn’t eaten since breakfast, but he’s had a bath.’

‘Yes . . . I can smell the soap.’

‘I told him it whiffed but he just laughed.’

Livia’s smile brought a shine to the surface of her brown eyes. ‘I’ll never turn my man into a dandy and I’m used to the smell. I’ve already made a sandwich for him. It’s on the tray, and the soup is on the stove. I heard the car coming. Denton always honks at the corner, to let me know he’s nearly home.’

‘I’ll take his supper up and settle the kids down while you welcome your guests, if you like, Livia. Is Chad coming?’

‘He said he is. Did you see the caterer’s van on your way? They’re very late.’

‘No . . . they’re probably a bit behind seeing as it’s New Year, and anyway, they’ll be coming from the other direction.’

She left the supper tray on the table outside the master bedroom, rapped on the door to let Denton know it was there and then headed for the children’s rooms.

Meggie had her own room. It was a bright shade of sunshine yellow, and had a flaming red quilt on the bed with an orange sunflower. Meggie was not a child who suited pink.

She tucked the boys into bed and kissed their cheeks and then sat on Adam’s bed with Meggie snuggled against her. ‘Now . . . what will it be?’

‘A ghost story, you make up such corkers,’ Luke said.

‘Not tonight, your mother doesn’t want me to give you the willies.’

Luke made a moaning sound and Adam put his head under the blanket, shouting, ‘Shut up, Luke, else I’ll tell.’

‘The owl and the pussy cat,’ Esmé said firmly, hoping she could remember the words to the Edward Lear nonsense rhyme.

‘The owl and the pussy cat went to sea in a beautiful pea green boat.’

Adam piped up, ‘They took some honey and . . . and . . .’

‘Plenty of frogs legs and bats wings to eat and they turned green and got seasick all over the boat,’ Luke said, hanging his tongue out and making heaving noises.

‘They did not.’ Adam scowled at his older brother. ‘Besides, I did that last time Aunt Es read it. You’re a copycat.’

‘No I’m not.’

‘Yes, you are. Besides, it’s a nursery rhyme.’

‘And you’re both acting like babies.’ Meggie sighed. ‘Stop arguing at once.
Boys
. . .
honestly!
’ was huffed out in an exasperated sigh
.
‘Allow Aunt Es to recite it otherwise we’ll be here all night. Go on Auntie, and don’t let them interrupt. I’ll sit on them if they do.’

Issued with her instructions, Esmé started at the beginning again, and by the time she got to, ‘they danced by the light of the moon’, the boys were nearly asleep.

Kissing them both, she tucked the covers under their chins and walked Meggie through to her bedroom. She looked around for the cat, and found Whiskers in his usual place, asleep in the doll’s pram. He was getting old, she thought when he gave a sleepy but irritated ‘meow’ as Meggie tucked him in.

Both pram and cat had been a gift from Livia’s first husband to Esmé. Richard Sangster had bought Chad a dog at the same time. Bertie had died the previous year and they’d buried him in the garden. His place in the family had been taken by the tall, but gentle, black curly-coated retriever called Shadow.

Meggie looked like Livia with her dark hair and eyes, though there was more than a touch of Sangster in her. ‘Will you teach me to dance the Charleston tomorrow?’

‘I thought I’d taught you that one.’

‘You did. But my hands keep getting mixed up with my knees when I do that crossover bit, and I bang them together.’

She laughed and gave her niece a hug and a kiss. ‘It is a bit tricky. We’ll go through it again tomorrow. Goodnight, Meggie Moo. I love you.’

‘I love you too.’ Meggie yawned unconvincingly. ‘Leave the door open a bit so I can listen to the music on the gramophone. I wanted to attend, but Mummy said I wasn’t old enough, and would have to wait until I was sixteen, but that’s years away. I am old enough, aren’t I?’

‘Not if your mother says you’re not. Stop being such a drama queen.’

‘That’s what Daddy said.’

‘Then everybody else must be right, except you.’

Meggie gave an offended snort. ‘Honestly! Everyone always sides with Mummy. Just wait until I’m old, like you, I shan’t invite
anyone
to my parties.’