Learning to Dance (14 page)

Sybil spoke again, a thread of a voice. ‘The light, that’s lantern light. See how it flickers.’

They waited for Hausmann to state the obvious: that Bart and Irena were ahead of them and were already sorting out the bottles. But Hausmann said nothing.

Nathaniel whispered, ‘Is it one of the cleaning staff?’

They formed themselves into a huddle at the top of the narrow staircase, the better to hear each other. Hausmann said, ‘No voices. So just one person?’

Nathaniel shook his head. ‘Bart wouldn’t send someone off along these corridors, unless he came himself.’

Sybil said, suddenly relaxed, ‘Of course. It must be Bart. He’s come to suss out the gas bottles, just as we are!’ She started down the stairs; her lantern illuminated a half-landing, and she turned to go on down. And then stopped abruptly.

Suddenly Judith knew. She crept past the others, finger to lips, and joined Sybil. There was no need for their lanterns, no need to be silent. The orangery was lit by about thirty candles, none of them flickering in errant draughts: the two doors – one leading to a railed walkway outside, the other to the staircase – were obviously well-sealed. The couple inside the glass bubble could see and hear nothing outside it. They were dancing.

The orangery contained no orange trees; it was furnished like most modern conservatories with cane furniture well-upholstered
with squashy cushions. Bamboo tables and large pot plants were here and there, and on one of the tables was an old-fashioned gramophone, obviously wound and playing a slow waltz. The couple were joined as one; their feet in perfect unison. He was dressed in tails and a white tie, his suit a pale grey, his hair slicked back in imitation of Fred Astaire. And the woman wore a satin dress cut on the cross and wrapping her like a glove. They held their elbows at a perfect level, her head tilted sideways so that they were cheek to cheek. They both wore gloves.

Nathaniel and Hausmann crowded behind on the stairs. They were all silently amazed, gazing fascinated at the scene below them. The record came to an end and the man kissed the woman and then turned and went to the gramophone, removed the playing arm, and lifted a switch. She wandered dreamily to a pile of records on another table, chose one and took it to him. He wound vigorously.

This time it seemed to be a slow foxtrot; they took long steps, her body arched to fit his, he kissing the length of her neck, his lips wandering down to the deep V-neck of the dress. Judith felt her eyes fill with tears. The couple straightened and stood together, still in their dance position, then the man dropped his partner’s hands, and with his gloved hands he slipped her dress from her shoulders and let it slide to the mosaic-tiled floor. She was wearing nothing beneath the dress.

Judith turned and went back up the stairs, picked up her lantern and pushed at the gallery door until it silently opened. She had reached the spiral staircase when the others came through; she thought she might scream at them if anyone so much as tittered, but no one did. They made their way down the stairs to the library, through the door in
the opposite wall, and turned left past the rank of bedroom doors. No one spoke a word.

The foyer was still empty, still cold and unfriendly.

Sybil placed her lantern carefully and said, ‘Oh dear. What are we going to do?’

Hausmann said, ‘I’m going to raid the drinks and go to my room. There will be quite enough hot water in the tanks to provide baths for all the rooms. I suggest we have hot baths, stiff drinks and hope to God the power comes on in time for Irena to rustle up some food. Otherwise it will be sandwiches and long faces. Unless the Markhams decide to join us.’

It was the first time they had mentioned the dancers in the orangery and Sybil drew an audible breath of relief.

‘It was them, wasn’t it?’

Nathaniel nodded and Hausmann said vigorously, ‘Of course it was them – I overheard the Swedish chap saying something cringe-making about them doing something in every room in the castle!’

Sybil said, ‘It was so amazing … so … so … bizarre.’

Judith risked blubbing all over the place; anyway it was too dark for anyone to see. ‘It was wonderful. It was … rather like our expedition. Recreating something very special. Hallowed. In some way actually hallowed.’

Nathaniel said slowly, ‘Yes, you’re right. They had put time and trouble into creating … recreating … something.’

Hausmann barked his laugh. ‘Except that they are not soaking wet and muddy!’

Judith refused to laugh with the others. She said, ‘That was wonderful, too.’

At that moment all the lights came on in the foyer and in the two rooms beyond. The kitchen behind them was
staggeringly bright with its fluorescent strips flickering into life. The radiators began to crackle.

Sybil spread her hands. ‘Resurrection!’ she cried.

They all made for the sitting room. Hausmann switched on the fire and drew the sofa close, Sybil went round checking the radiators and finding sherry glasses. Then she gathered their outdoor things and took them into the downstairs cloakroom. In spite of Hausmann’s disgusted face, Judith poured four sherries and took hers close to the fire. They raised their glasses and then hesitated. It was Sybil who said, ‘To this weekend, which has been pretty amazing. On the whole.’

They all repeated the words obediently, drank and then laughed together.

‘What about that green stuff Nattie hung on to? It gave way almost immediately!’ Sybil remembered through her helpless laughter. ‘That was the first full immersion baptism! Dad would have loved that!’

‘I managed to baptize myself in mud,’ Hausmann reminded her. ‘Look, it’s still under my fingernails!’

‘The green stuff was cress. Don’t you remember how John Ridd loved to pick the watercress?’

‘All that iron. No wonder he was so strong.’

‘Do we know where the farm was, actually was?’

‘Plovers’ Barrow? No. Not far from Porlock; remember John rode there to buy lead shot.’

‘He was a lovely man.’ Judith was curled very small into a corner of the sofa. ‘He loved people; most of them, anyway. His mother and sisters and cousins as well as Lorna Doone.’ She knew that was how Jack was; he always said he had to understand his caricatures before he could draw them. Understanding was surely a way of loving?

There was a rattle from the foyer, and Irena wheeled a trolley into the sitting room. She beamed at them with untypical approval. ‘My goodness, you sorted yourselves out quickly! I’ve brought some hot toddies. Thought you would be perished out on the moor in that fog and then rain.’ She took the sherry glasses and replaced them with glass tankards, steaming, packed with lemon and orange slices. ‘Plenty more in the jug.’ She went to the windows. ‘The rain has at last got rid of the fog. You can see the tide coming in. Look at the phosphorescence; isn’t that wonderful?’

Hausmann joined her and actually gave her a bear hug. ‘Everything is pretty wonderful if you’ve got the right specs on, Sis. How are you going to manage supper tonight? We don’t mind sandwiches. In fact, I’ll help you make them!’

She looked at him, astonished. ‘We’ve got the Calor gas, Robert, have you forgotten? I’ve had an enormous casserole in the oven all afternoon, and there’s bread and butter pudding for the last course.’ She almost smiled at his lip-smacking approval but then said, bewildered, ‘You’ve never called me “Sis” before.’

‘No, I haven’t, have I? I must do so in future. I know you’re a marvellous cook and a marvellous manager, and Jude tells me you’ve got a kind heart. What more do I need in a sister?’

‘Someone to keep you on the straight and narrow!’ she came back. But she was smiling. ‘Dinner in an hour. The Olsens should be back by then. The Markhams are having theirs in their room.’

Sybil said innocently, ‘Are they not well?’

Irena looked at her significantly. ‘Hopefully they are very well.’ She lowered herself over the two women on the sofa and spoke confidentially. ‘It’s her fertile weekend. They want a baby. They came to look at the castle five or six weeks ago.
Thought it would be ideal: make it romantic instead of … well, medical.’ She smiled widely. ‘If it happens, they’re going to call the baby “Dove”.’

Sybil almost choked on her toddy. ‘Oh my God!’

Nathaniel said, ‘What was that? I didn’t hear.’

All three women seized cushions and threw them, not very accurately.

In the cocoon of her bed, Judith heard something and tried to rouse herself sufficiently to identify it. But she had gone too far into sleep. She knew that the promised casserole had been delicious. She knew that she had somehow acquired three rather odd – and definitely flawed – friends. She recalled with great pleasure the sight of Stanley and Jennifer Markham dancing in the orangery by candlelight. And now she knew the reason for that, and it warmed her heart.

A key rattled in the lock, but her own key blocked it from inside. She slept.

Judith woke to a crash of thunder that seemed to start in one of the towers and rush down to the causeway. She lay still, enjoying the contrast between the weather and the sort of languor that often followed a long night’s sleep. Rain was hurling itself at her window, and a draught was moving the heavy velvet curtain. She drew herself up on to the pillows and stretched her arms. A flash of lightning heralded a response of thunder. She turned down her mouth; it seemed as if they were meant to be housebound until the five o’clock departure. What a pity the weekend had to end like that. The castle was big enough, heaven knew, but she had been curious about Hausmann’s plans for her; he had been most insistent that Sybil and Nathaniel should go off by themselves while he took Judith somewhere else. He called her ‘Jude’ regularly now, but he had been a little more formal then, and she had detected a slight hesitation as he spoke the second syllable. It was later that she realized he lisped when he said ‘Esmée’ and ‘Sybil’. He was a man of many contradictions, but she had also noticed that his honesty – sometimes brutal – encouraged her to be just as honest and almost as brutal.

She grinned at the thought, and the lightning flashed again; she drew the duvet to her chin before the thunder
followed. She had always loved thunderstorms. They brought out character traits, just as Hausmann did. She was at ease with the weather, and she was at ease with him. She grinned and eyed the tea-making facilities, then decided she was too happily relaxed to make the effort. She wriggled down a little and closed her eyes and wondered whether she would ever see any of these people again. Perhaps Sybil might get in touch? Judith decided she would make the first move; she could suggest that they have another go at climbing the river of gold. If it was a good spring it could happen next April. Seven months away; winter months, too. She shivered. What on earth was going to happen about Jack? How could she bear to let him go to someone else? It was unimaginable, and she spent a few hectic minutes going over, yet again, exactly what he had said about another woman. Of course those two words were enough. Another woman.

She felt her body begin to bunch, and tried to force it back into that complete relaxation. If only he hadn’t said those two words it would have been so much easier. She need not have seen his departure as desertion; it might have been some kind of breakdown. He had never looked at anyone else, and they still had what he called ‘magic moments’; not so many, true, but they happened. Just like that first time in the lecture room when they had been physically drawn together. She tried to remember the last time that had happened. Was it before or after Naomi’s death? It was after. When Judith was still stunned and disbelieving that life could be so suddenly and easily snuffed out, and Jack had said, ‘It was an accident – the wrong place at the wrong time – there’s no way anyone can avoid such a cruel trick as that.’

She had looked at him and seen his hands reach out, and automatically she had moved to him and put her hands in
his. But there had been no laughter. She had hung on to his hands, put her head on his shoulder and wept uncontrollably.

She realized now that already, at that time, he had been planning to leave her. He stayed until she appeared to have accepted the loss of her friend, and then … at the beginning of July … he had gone to Perth. He had met Robert Hausmann. And then what? Had he gone to someone else?

There was a knock on the door and she scrambled out of bed, clutched her dressing gown and unlocked.

‘Come on in, Mrs Mann.’ She got back into the bed; it was reassuringly warm, like a nest. Like a den.

‘It’s me.’

Sybil came in tentatively; she was wearing an enormous dressing gown and looked rather aristocratic.

‘No electricity again; the lightning is to blame this time.’ She stood at the end of the bed. ‘Irena is using the gas. I met her as I came away from the bathroom. She’s in a bit of a state.’

Judith was surprised. ‘I thought she took it all so well yesterday.’

‘Not about the power failure. About our chaps. They left a note. They’ve gone to Lundy.’

‘Nathaniel and Hausmann – our chaps?’

‘Well, we seem to be pretty divided down the middle. Even Martin Morris is with the famous four!’ Sybil tugged at the tie belt on her dressing gown. ‘This damned thing won’t stay across. I should use my own but … oh God, I’m so sentimental about Moss’s clothes. I wear his sweaters all the time.’

Judith thought she might do the same. Or perhaps not.
Probably Jack would eventually take all his clothes. Was that why he – or someone else – had phoned through on Friday night? Was she going to go home and find the house empty of all Jack’s things?

She swallowed fiercely. ‘Why have they gone to Lundy?’

‘Well, naturally Robert has not
explained
anything!’ Sybil rolled her eyes. ‘But it’s bad enough trying to land there in good weather; they’re going to be dashed to pieces in this storm.’

‘No one will take them if it’s that bad.’

‘Robert’s got his own boat and a mooring at Porlock.’

Judith was finally startled out of her cosiness, which anyway had been fast disappearing since Sybil’s arrival. ‘Surely they won’t even try it in this weather?’