Виктория Холт - Seven for a Secret

Rachel was delighted to come. She had changed. She was no longer afraid. We often talked far into the night until we fell asleep. We had both had frightening experiences with her uncle and we could not at first bear to talk of it. I remembered the warning I had had not to mention what had happened; but I could not get it out of my mind.

One night Rachel said to me: “Freddie … I think I must be very wicked.”

“Why?” I asked.

“I’m glad he’s dead.”

“Well, he did it himself.”

“I thought he was so sure about everything.”

“I suppose he wasn’t after all. He must have realized he wasn’t as good as he thought he was.”

“Do you think that was it?”

“Yes, I do. But it is not wicked to be glad. I am, too.”

There was a shared awareness that we had escaped a danger which had threatened us both.

In September Rachel, Tamarisk and I went off to school just as had been planned.

It was the best thing that could have happened to us. It was a bridge for Rachel and me between an entirely new way of life and a past of haunted fears and shadows.

We gave each other courage in our new surroundings. Tamarisk was always cool and arrogant: she resembled her brother, I told myself.

Rachel was like a different girl: she had lost that haunted look. I understood her feelings absolutely.

We were the three friends; we shared a dormitory and we were in the same classes; and I, as well as Rachel, I was sure, began to grow away from that nightmare which could so easily have become a reality for us both. , During my first year at school my mother died. I went home for a short while in the middle of term to attend the funeral’s Aunt Sophie said: “It was for the best. She could never have recovered and it was no life for her.”

I asked her if my father would come to the funeral. She shook her head.

“Oh no. He’s far away and the divorce was the end. When people like that part, they part for ever.”

“Have you told him?”

“Yes,” she said, and I saw that look of wistfulness come into her face which I had seen when I had come upon her writing to him.

I shed some tears as the clods fell on the coffin. I thought how sad it was that she had been so unhappy, wasting her life in craving for what she could not have.

A few people came back to the house and we gave them wine and sandwiches. I was glad when we were alone.

“Well,” said Aunt Sophie, ‘now you are all mine. ” And I felt contented about that.

Then I went back to school and life continued as before.

When we came home for the holidays, I went to see the Lanes and sat in the garden with Flora while the doll in the pram was beside her. She was just the same as ever; the cottage with its mulberry bush and the picture of the seven magpies had not altered one bit. I wondered if it ever occurred to Flora that the baby might grow up. But I supposed she had had that same doll for years and it would always be the baby Crispin to her.

There was change, though, at the Bell House. I visited Rachel there and at first I thought the difference was due to the fact that one did not have to watch for Mr. Dorian to come creeping up on one at any moment. But it was more than that. There were new curtains of a light and flowery pattern. There were flowers in the hall.

Mrs. Dorian had changed more than anything else.

She wore her hair piled high on her head with a Spanish comb in it, a brightly coloured dress, cut rather low, and a necklace of pearls about her neck. She was another who was not grieving for the death of Mr. Dorian. For such a good man, he had made a lot of people unhappy.

I was no longer afraid of the house, but I did avoid looking at the stables when I went in and out.

So Harper’s Green was back to normal. I was an orphan now or rather, half an orphan. My mother was dead but in the last years she had become a hazy figure and in losing her I had gained Aunt Sophie.

I went back to the school life, where what mattered was who was in the hockey team and what there was for dinner, and who was friendly with whom schoolgirl triumphs and disasters.

So we were growing up. Two years had passed. I should be sixteen in May of the coming year.

Aunt Sophie said: “I reckon in a year or so you’ll have grown out of school. I’m wondering what we’ll do with you then. You’ll have to get out and about a bit. When I was that age, there was a lot of talk about ” coming out”. There’ll be parties and that sort of thing for Tamarisk, I expect. As for Rachel, I don’t know. Perhaps her aunt has ideas for her. I’ll have a talk with her some time.”

I loved coming home for the holidays. Aunt Sophie was always at the station to meet me. There was no one to meet Tamarisk or Rachel, and Aunt Sophie had to be the universal guardian, as she had been since we started school. This was cheerfully accepted by Tamarisk and Rachel; and I felt very proud and gratified because she was my aunt.

When Tamarisk and Rachel had been delivered to their respective homes, I would go to The Rowans and there would be tea or lunch whatever the time and I would talk about school life, to which Aunt Sophie listened avidly; and Lily used to come in to hear it. It amazed me how funny events seemed to become when told in this way far more than they had been at the time.

Lily said: “I reckon you have a rare old time at that school.”

One day there was a fresh piece of news.

Aunt Sophie said: “By the way, there’s a rumour only a rumour, mind that there might be wedding bells up at St. Aubyn’s.”

“Oh? Tamarisk didn’t say anything about it.”

“Well, you’ve just come home, haven’t you? It’s only blown up in the last month or so. It’s a Lady Fiona Char ring ton an earl’s daughter, no less. So very right to St. Aubyn’s. Even Mrs. St. Aubyn is bestirring herself. Well it’s about time Crispin was settled after that first disaster.

“Do you mean he is going to marry this Lady Fion Charrington? “

“Nothing official. She came down to stay at St. Aubyn’ with her mama, and I believe he has visited the ancestra home. So it looks hopeful. Nothing definite, so far as know, though. Perhaps he’s a little wary after the first. “Because he was married before, you mean?”

That was supposed to be a disaster. Makes a man cautious, I expect. I shouldn’t think he was the easiest per sol in the world to live with either. She left him and before she could enjoy the life she had chosen she was killed ii that railway accident. “

“Have you seen this Lady Fiona?”

“Oh yes, once. She was out riding with him. I wasn't exactly introduced. Just ” Nice morning” and ” Good day’ en passant. She sits her horse well. She’s not a beauty, bu ancient lineage would make up for that. “

“Tamarisk will know all about it,” I said.

“The whole neighbourhood’s agog.”

“How interested they are in other people’s affairs.”

“Bless them. So little happens to them. They have to go a bit of excitement through others.”

After that I kept thinking about Crispin and the way ii which he had carried me away from that horrific scene. had taken a special interest in him after that . welt before that, when he had made the unfortunate remark which had wounded my childish ego so bitterly.

I should have liked to ask Tamarisk about him, but I never did One had to be so careful with Tamarisk.

One of my first visits when I arrived home was to go t( see Flora Lane in the House of the Seven Magpies, as I romantically called the cottage to myself.

I fancied Lucy would rather I did not visit the house, but Flora liked me to, so I chose the times when I guessed Lucy would be out shopping and I could go in to see Flora and slip out without Lucy’s knowing I had been.

On this occasion Flora was sitting in the garden close to the mulberry bush, the pram with the doll beside her. When she saw me her face lit up with pleasure. She always behaved as though I had never been away.

“I was expecting you,” she said.

“Oh, were you? I only came home from school yesterday.”

She looked vague and I went on: Tell me what has been happening while I’ve been away. “

“He’s had the croup. In a real state he was. Pretty bad. I thought at one time I might lose him. It frightens the life out of you when they start that cough.”

“He’s all right now?”

“Right as a trivet. I got him over that. Mind you, it was touch and go. But he’s a little fighter. Nothing’s going to get the better of him!”

“I’m glad he’s all right now.”

She nodded and rambled on, describing the symptoms of the croup.

Suddenly she said: “I’m going to take him up now. There’s a touch of damp in the air.”

She wheeled the pram to the back door of the cottage. I could not resist the temptation to follow her. I wanted to see those magpies again. Had I fancied there was something evil about them? Probably. It would be just like me to do so.

Tenderly she carried the doll up the stairs, with me in her wake. She sat in a chair, holding it, and there was an expression of great tenderness on her face.

I went close to the picture of the magpies.

“One for sorrow …” I began.

“Two for joy,” she said.

“Go on, say it.”

I did. She was before me with the last line.

“Seven for a secret…” She shook her head.

“Never to be told.” She looked very solemn and held the doll more closely to her.

There was an un canniness about the scene. The words meant something very special to her. What secret? I wondered Her mind was wandering, of course. Anyone who thought a doll was a baby could not be expected to have coherent thoughts.