She went in the direction she thought he’d gone, adjusting her eyes to the darkness of the garden which was prettily illuminated with fairy lights. But there was no sign of him.
Reluctant to go back inside the marquee, she decided to go for a stroll. She had just rounded the far side of the marquee and was moving in the direction of the orchard, the music fading into the background, when she heard voices.
Peering in the darkness to see who was there, she realised it was Evelyn standing on the verandah of the summerhouse. With her was the guest who had arrived well after the party had started. An arrestingly handsome man with a smattering of grey at the temples and a cream silk scarf tired artfully around his neck, he had stuck out for Annelise because he had the same polished manner as Harry. He had carried himself with an easy assurance, as though he knew everybody would be observing him. Another showman, she had thought as she’d watched him greet Evelyn, kissing her flamboyantly on both cheeks.
‘I had no idea that Kit had invited you,’ Annelise heard Evelyn say now. ‘Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?’
‘Your husband said it was meant to be a surprise. You know the kind of thing, a gang of your old chums crawling out of the woodwork to help celebrate your many years of wedded bliss.’
‘Surprise doesn’t cover the half of it; I had the shock of my life when I saw you.’
‘You make it sound like it’s an unwelcome surprise.’
‘It is, Max. You shouldn’t have come.’
‘But why, Evelyn? After all this time I thought you’d be pleased. Certainly Kit thought so. I say hats off to him turning detective and finding me.’
‘You’re being deliberately obtuse; something I recall you found contemptible in others. And in the circumstances—’ her voice broke off.
‘What circumstances?’ the man called Max demanded.
There was a pause. Then Evelyn said: ‘I don’t like coincidences.’
‘Back at the Park, that’s what we counted on.’
‘That was different; that was our job, to look for patterns.’
‘So what are you getting at? What coincidence has my presence here tonight created?’
‘I’ve received a letter.’
‘What letter?’
‘A vile poison pen letter insinuating that Kit isn’t Pip and Em’s father.’
‘Good God! Do you know who wrote it?’
‘No I don’t. It wasn’t you, was it, Max, wanting to stir up trouble? Because I’d happily kill you if that’s the case.’ Evelyn’s voice was fierce. Annelise had never heard her sound so severe.
‘Evelyn darling, how could you say such a thing after what we meant to each other?’
‘Don’t say that. Not ever. And don’t call me darling! Swear to me, Max, that you didn’t send that letter. Swear on whatever you hold sacred.’
‘Evelyn, I swear I wouldn’t do anything of the kind. For what purpose would I behave so dishonourably?’
Annelise didn’t want to hear any more. She should have walked away the moment she heard the voices, knowing that it was a private conversation, but shameful curiosity had rooted her to the spot. Now she forced herself to move, to retrace her steps back to the marquee. But such was her shock at what she’d heard, she blundered into the low branch of a tree and let out a small cry.
‘Who’s there?’ Evelyn called out.
Annelise didn’t know what to do. Whether to show herself and pretend she hadn’t known anyone else was nearby, or slip away into the darkness.
She chose the latter, but instead of going the way she had come, she went in the opposite direction, hoping that she wouldn’t miss her footing in the dark.
No good ever came of eavesdropping, everyone knew that, and she wished with all her heart she could erase the conversation she’d overheard from her memory. Kit not Pip and Em’s father? It couldn’t be true. And just who was this Max character? A wartime lover?
Annelise knew that Evelyn’s war work had been what was commonly referred to as ‘hush-hush’. In Oxford she frequently came across dons and fellows who had been similarly employed in the fight against Germany. They never spoke directly to her of what they had done, but there were always hints and rumours. College life was like that, an endless cycle of gossip, some of it quite malicious. Annelise’s biggest fear was that there might be rumours circulating about her and Harry. Harry maintained that if he caught anyone gossiping about him, he’d fight back. ‘I’d make it known,’ he once said, ‘that, just as there was in Cambridge, a KGB spy ring is at work in Oxford recruiting ideological students with Communist inclinations. That would really put the cat amongst the pigeons!’
Here in Melstead St Mary, the Cold War could not feel less of a threat, even with the Cuban missile crisis hanging over them. But in Oxford, where debates raged constantly, it seemed much more of a reality.
In April of this year Annelise had gone with Rebecca to Hyde Park with thousands of ban-the-bomb protesters. She had never done anything like that before. She had wanted Harry to go with her, to march together arm in arm, but of course something like that was out of the question. They couldn’t be seen in public together. Not until he was a single man.
Not really knowing where she was going, just that she had been intent on putting as much distance between herself and the summerhouse, Annelise realised she was now on the path that lead to the vegetable garden. And just as the bank of clouds that had been hiding the moon parted, she saw Stanley sitting on a bench.
‘Stanley, are you all right?’ she asked.
‘Please don’t come any nearer,’ he murmured.
‘Why ever not?’
‘I’m not fit to be in decent company.’
Ignoring his answer, she went and sat on the bench with him. He immediately made as if to get to his feet. She put her hand out to stop him. ‘Don’t go,’ she said. ‘Tell me what’s wrong.’
‘I stink,’ he said bluntly. ‘I’ve been sick.’
She could smell that he had. ‘Would you like a glass of water?’
‘No.’
‘Shall I fetch Edmund?’
‘I don’t need a doctor.’
‘Then what do you need?’
‘To be left alone.’
‘That’s the saddest thing you’ve ever said to me. Have I done something wrong? Or said something to offend you?’
He shook his head.
‘Then what happened back there in the marquee? One minute we were chatting, and the next you rushed off as though you couldn’t get away from me fast enough.’