Thirteen
‘What do you want?’
‘The warm welcome I never get from you, Esther,’ Honoria Sanders replied in her throbbing voice. Honoria was not offended; it was Esther’s way to be curt and Esther didn’t mind her walking straight into her house. Honoria was wearing the latest fashion, a full-skirted dress in olive green and a bolero cardigan. ‘So, here we are again, the day before the off. For getting the grounds ready for the great and wonderful Summer Fair.’
Esther used little of the house; it was too big and cumbersome to be kept clean all year round and heat in the winter. She was in her sunny south-facing drawing room, on an ancient threadbare settee, her shoes kicked off and her big feet tucked up under her, drinking tea, gulping down a sandwich, a notepad and pencil on the lap of her tweed skirt. ‘Yes, and I’ve got everything well under way as always so you can hop it. Take your murderous heels, pearls, diamond-heavy fingers, painted lips, bouncing tits and wiggling arse out of here.’
‘Really, Esther,’ Honoria simpered, putting a hand in a manner worthy of a Hollywood screen siren to her ample chest. ‘At least I’ve got breasts. Remember you’re a lady, so get those legs down and sit like one. I’ve come to ask if you’ve got anyone interesting lined up to open the fête? There’s no one mentioned on the posters. If you’re dragging your nets and coming up empty I’ve got a suggestion for you. Any more tea in that pot?’
In a flash Esther had her long wide feet resting down on the worn pink and cream carpet. Threadbare described just about everything in the house where tradition dictated nothing new and modern after the early years of Queen Victoria’s reign. ‘Help yourself, use my cup; fire away.’ The sisters were never really at loggerheads. Insulting one another counted as affection between the two who were so utterly different. Having been left entirely under the care of nannies throughout their childhood they had often found that each other was all they had.
Honoria lowered herself down beside her sister and took tea without milk and sugar. ‘A bit stewed but does the trick. Right, to the point, as I know you like it. An old friend of mine has got in touch, Squadron Leader Tommy Whitley, a spitfire pilot, Battle of Britain hero. He’s staying in Rock for a few weeks as a house guest to the Honourable somebody-or-other. Asked if I was free to see him this weekend. I mentioned the Summer Fair and dived in with a mention that he would be perfect to perform the opening speech. He’s a humble sort, but he said he’d be glad to rake up a few words if you’d like to have him. If you’re already fixed up he’d be happy to be a guest of honour.’
‘A war hero will be just the ticket. Villagers will love it. I’d call on an old professor acquaintance of mine but he agreed only as a last resort. Bit bumbling these days. He’ll be glad to be let off. Good on you, Honny. This pilot was a lover of yours, of course?’
Honoria relinquished the teacup and opened her crocodile skin handbag and produced her lavish cigarette case. She smoked from a silver-tipped holder while Esther smoked between her fingers. ‘Just for a night or two before he was thrown into the thick of it. He’s such a sweetie. His wife left him for a retired MP and they buggered off to Monte Carlo. Jolly rank of her, I thought. Now he only sees his kiddies when he goes over there. He’ll be staying at Sawle over the weekend.’
‘And you’ll be giving him pleasure for old times’ sake,’ Esther said, matter-of-factly. ‘Give me his details. I’ll dash round and add his name to the posters. News will soon get round. Give the locals something to look forward to.’
‘Fine, I’m glad to be of help. Oh, I brought over whacks of stuff for the stalls. Your handyman Ellery has unloaded it on the lawn. Would love to come back later and help with the setting up but must slip home, ring Tommy, and get ready for his stay.’
‘Thanks, old girl,’ Esther said gratefully then added dismissively, ‘you wouldn’t be much damned use here anyway. Don’t want the men distracted. See you on Saturday with our special guest. Don’t dare be late.’
Honoria sashayed to the door. ‘I was about to say cheerio but you look as if you’ve got something to say.’
Breathing in seriously, Esther asked, ‘Do you ever regret not finding someone special, that particular someone, your soul mate? You could have had children, Honny. It was never an option for me.’
‘Not in the least,’ Honoria answered with emphatic cheeriness. ‘I wasn’t made for monogamy. Life is to be lived, in my book. As for children, couldn’t have stood the hideous responsibility. Made sure I could never be knocked up. But I like to help others’ children when and where I can. Events like the Summer Fair are important for the children. You have a different reason but we both love to see their happy little faces. And the village hall will be brilliant for them. Must ensure lots of things go on there for the kiddies.’
‘You’ve had a happier life than me but I am happy really. Marrying Sedgewick, as old and as infirm as he was, was perfect for me. He had children with his first wife but they all sadly died in infancy. I would have enjoyed being a stepmother – if they’d grown up and been agreeable.’
‘But it wouldn’t have been wise, Esther,’ Honoria said, showing sadness for her sister.
‘I know, and adopting would have been too tricky . . . but I have my works, Faith’s Fare and the rest. I like having you close by, Honny. I’d hate it if you moved away.’
‘Well, we’ll both have to one day. You couldn’t possibly stay here forever and wherever you go I’ll come too – to make sure everything goes right for you.’
‘I don’t know what I’d do without you.’ Suddenly trembling, Esther leaned over and hugged herself. ‘That awful thing . . . If everyone knew . . . everything.’
‘Esther dear.’ Honoria spoke and smiled stridently. ‘Don’t worry, old thing. I’ve protected you before and if necessary will do so again, whatever the cost.’