stop us. That water is flowing neat and pretty. Your lake’ll be full in no time, gaffer.’
‘What!’ Henry was now the one who looked as though he would erupt into uncontrollable fury, while the smile on Joshua’s face spread slowly from ear to ear.
‘Good man, Dumbrell,’ he said. ‘We’ll get the doctor to you immediately.’
‘Good man?’ screamed Henry. ‘You’ll not hear the last of this, Summer. But you have heard the last of any help you might think to extract from me.’
‘You need not concern yourself, my dear chap. We find we don’t require your aid after all. My money will do the work. It saved your neck years ago and now it will buy Elizabeth a far better husband than any you might propose. Your sister may still have a weakness for her old home and think Amberley important, but in truth the place no longer matters. The Fitzroys no longer matter.’
Henry was gobbling with rage but her husband, Alice could see, was enjoying his triumph to the full. He went on remorselessly: ‘And while we’re speaking of county matters, Reverend –’ he turned to the vicar who was looking distressed and perplexed in equal measure, ‘– I feel it may be time for you to consider a change. You will be aware that mine is the premier estate in our beautiful part of Sussex. It seems only right, therefore, that I offer Summerhayes as a setting for the village fête.’
‘But—’ the vicar began.
‘I know, I know. It has always been at Amberley, but, as I say, times change. The fête has surely outgrown its origins, and though I grant you Amberley may have a faded appeal, I think such an important event in our local calendar, should be allowed a more modern stage. It is Summerhayes, after all, that has the money to make it the very best.’
The vicar tried again to speak, but was steamrollered into silence. ‘Consider for a moment!’ Joshua boomed. ‘The Summerhayes lawn is so much more spacious than Amberley’s and the gardens are in full flower. I am more than happy for the villagers to wander the entire estate if they so wish. I am certain that your parishioners would be most eager for the opportunity. What do you say?’
‘Well, yes,’ the vicar stammered. ‘It’s a most generous offer. But Mr Fitzroy—’ He broke off. Henry had turned his back on the group, and was marching down the path towards the churchyard gate, his wife stumbling to keep up with him.
‘Well?’ Joshua raised an enquiring eyebrow.
‘Thank you, Mr Summer,’ the vicar said weakly. ‘I’m happy to accept on behalf of the fête committee.’
June, 1914
They had spent all morning building a ramshackle shelter deep in the Wilderness and now they were unsure of what to do with it. William stood back and considered it from a distance. He had to admit it looked a little odd, a boy-made structure dropped out of nowhere into this wild place, besieged on all sides with lush plantings of every kind of foreign shrub. Behind them, drifts of bamboo masked from view the pathway that wound its way through the Wilderness. And behind the massed bamboo, row after row of tree ferns and palms, an ever-changing profusion of shades and textures. As a small boy, he’d had a particular love for the tree ferns. He would fold himself into a ball and hide beneath their long wavering fronds, then wait for Elizabeth to track him down. She would be forced to search long and hard and, when she found him, he would most often be asleep, curled into the fern’s green heart.
Oliver swished at the towering vegetation with a broken tree branch, one of the few left over from their labours. ‘Are we going to camp here or not?’ he asked moodily.
William looked uncertainly at his friend. Oliver was a boy who liked action but he wasn’t himself at all sure how wise camping would be. ‘There are all kinds of animals prowling through the Wilderness at night, you know.’
‘Don’t tell me you’ve got cold feet.’
‘How would we manage it anyway?’ he defended himself. ‘We’d have to sneak bedding from the linen cupboard. And apart from lumping it all the way down here, can you imagine how we’d get it from the house unseen?’
It was midday and the sun was directly overhead. Oliver wiped a sweaty hand over his forehead. ‘Well, we need to use it in some way. I haven’t spent the last three hours killing myself for nothing.’
He was right, William thought, it was stupid to build the shelter and then not use it, but he wished Olly would sometimes be a little less forceful. ‘Sorry,’ he mumbled.
Olly shrugged his shoulders, but when he saw William’s downcast face, his mood changed and he walked over to his friend and gave him a hug. ‘What we need first is something to drink. Then we’ll be able to think straight.’
‘I’ll run back to the kitchen and grab some lemonade,’ William said eagerly. ‘Cook won’t mind.’
‘Take care that your mother doesn’t see you then, or she’ll send you on some tedious errand.’
He thought it more than likely. He knew his mother would be looking for him. ‘I’ll have to go up to the house and see Mama, in any case. I can bring the lemonade back with me.’
‘Why? What’s happening?’
‘The doctor is there.’
‘So? What’s that to do with you?’
‘He has to listen to my heart and he’s coming this morning.’
Oliver frowned. ‘What’s wrong with your heart? You never said you were ill.’
‘I’m not. Not any more, at least. But Mama insists that Dr Daniels comes every month.’
His friend pulled a face. ‘What’s the matter with parents? Wouldn’t life be perfect without them?’
‘Pretty much,’ William agreed. ‘But I’ll get it over with – it’s only a five minute check – then I’ll sneak into the kitchen and bring some grub as well as the lemonade. We can have a proper picnic.’
‘Great idea, Wills. That’s what we’ll do with the shelter – it will be our daytime retreat. Somewhere we go when we don’t want to be found.’
William began to wade through the shoulder-high grasses, walking in the direction of the invisible path, but then stopped. He put his hand up to shield his eyes and tried to focus through the shimmer of heat. ‘Look there,’ he called back to Olly, ‘through the bamboo. It’s my sister, isn’t it? What’s she doing down here?’
Olly pushed his way forward and the boys stood shoulder to shoulder, peering intently through the jungle of greenery. ‘I don’t think she wants to be found either,’ William said thoughtfully.
Oliver stood on tiptoe. ‘I can just make her out. She’s in deep blue. But who’s that she’s with?’
‘I think it’s one of the architects. He works for Mr Simmonds. He was in church on Sunday.’
They stood, silently watching the distant tableau. Olly gave a low whistle. ‘She certainly
