Kate Morton - The Distant Hours

‘Neither notice nor care,’ Percy finished. ‘Come on now. Forget about my dress. You look good enough for both of us. Sit down, won’t you? I’ll make us a drink while we wait.’

Given that neither Juniper nor her gentleman friend had arrived, what Saffy really wanted to do was scurry back downstairs, put the pieces of torn letter back together, and learn Percy’s secret. To find her twin in such placatory spirits, though, was an unexpected boon and one she couldn’t afford to squander. Not tonight, not with Juniper and the special guest expected any minute. On that note, it was as well to remain as close as possible to the front door, all the better to catch Juniper alone when she finally arrived. ‘Thank you,’ she said, accepting the proffered glass, taking a healthy sip to signal goodwill.

‘So,’ said Percy, returning to perch on the edge of the gramophone table, ‘how was your day?’

Curiouser and curiouser, as Alice might have said. Percy, as a rule, did not peddle in small talk. Saffy hid behind another sip of her drink and decided it was wise to proceed with extreme caution. She fluttered her hand and said, ‘Oh, fine. Although I did fall over putting on my underwear.’

‘You didn’t,’ said Percy, with a genuine crack of laughter.

‘I most certainly did; I’ve got the bruise to prove it. I’ll see every colour of the rainbow before it’s gone.’ Saffy prodded her bottom delicately, shifting her weight as she sat on the end of the chaise longue. ‘I suppose that means I’m getting old.’

‘Impossible.’

‘Oh?’ Saffy perked up slightly, despite herself. ‘Do tell?’

‘Simple. I was born first; technically I’ll always be older than you are.’

‘Yes, I know, but I don’t see-’

‘And I can assure you I’ve never so much as teetered when getting dressed. Even during a raid.’

‘Hmm…’ Saffy frowned, considering. ‘I see your point. Shall we ascribe my misadventure to a momentary lapse then, unrelated to age?’

‘I expect we must; to do otherwise would be to script our own demise.’ It had been one of Daddy’s favourite expressions, uttered in the face of many and varied obstacles, and they both smiled. ‘I’m sorry,’ Percy continued. ‘About before, on the stairs.’ She struck a match and lit her cigarette. ‘I didn’t mean to quarrel.’

‘Let’s blame the war, shall we?’ Saffy said, twisting to avoid the oncoming smoke. ‘Everybody else does. Tell me, what’s new in the big, wide world?’

‘Not a lot. Lord Beaverbrook’s talking about tanks for the Russians; there’s no fish to be had in the village; and it appears that Mrs Caraway’s daughter is expecting.’

Saffy inhaled greedily. ‘No!’

‘Yes.’

‘But she’d be what, fifteen?’

‘Fourteen.’

Saffy leaned closer. ‘A soldier was it?’

‘Pilot.’

‘Well, well.’ She shook her head dazedly. ‘And Mrs Caraway such a pillar. How terrible.’ It didn’t pass beneath Saffy’s notice that Percy was smirking around her cigarette, almost as if she suspected her twin of enjoying Mrs Caraway’s misfortune. Which she was, a little, but only because the woman was an eternal bossy-breeches who picked fault with everybody and everything including, word had made its way to the castle, Saffy’s very own stitching. ‘What?’ she said, flushing. ‘It is terrible.’

‘But not surprising though,’ said Percy, tapping away ash. ‘Girls these days and their missing morals.’

‘Things are different since the war,’ Saffy agreed. ‘I’ve seen it in the letters to the editor. Girls playing up while their husbands are away, having babies out of wedlock. It seems they barely have to know a fellow and they’re walking down the aisle.’

‘Not our Juniper though.’

Saffy’s skin cooled. There it was, the snag she’d been waiting for: Percy knew. Somehow she knew about Juniper’s love affair. That explained the sudden lightening of mood; this was a fishing expedition, a sneaky one, and Saffy had been caught on a hook threaded with tasty village gossip. Mortifying. ‘Of course not,’ she said as smoothly as she could manage. ‘Juniper’s not like that.’

‘Of course not.’ They sat for a moment, each regarding the other, matching smiles applied to matching faces, sipping their drinks. Saffy’s heart was ticking louder than Daddy’s favourite clock and she wondered that Percy couldn’t hear it; she knew now what it was to be an insect in a web, awaiting the great spider’s approach.

‘Although,’ Percy said, dropping ash into the crystal tray, ‘I did hear something funny today. In the village.’

‘Oh?’

‘Yes.’

Silence stretched uneasily between them as Percy smoked and Saffy concentrated on biting her tongue. How maddening it was, not to mention underhanded: her own twin, using her predilection for local chatter in hopes of tempting her to give away her secrets. Well, she refused to fall into line: what did Saffy need with Percy’s village gossip anyway? She already knew the truth: it was she, after all, who had read Juniper’s journal, and she wasn’t about to be tricked into sharing its contents with Percy.

With as much poise as she could muster, Saffy stood, straightened her dress, and began an inspection of the table’s setting, aligning knives and forks with assiduous care. She even managed to hum mindlessly beneath her breath and affect a small, blameless smile. Which was a comfort of sorts when the doubts came creeping from the shadows.

That Juniper had a lover was surprising, certainly, and it had been hurtful to Saffy not to have been told, but the fact itself didn’t change things. Did it? Not things that Percy cared about; not things that mattered. Surely nothing ill could come from Saffy keeping the news to herself? Juniper had a lover, that was all. She was a young woman, it was natural; a small matter and one that was bound to be temporary. Like all of Juniper’s various fascinations, this fellow would fade and thin and be blown away on the same breeze that brought the next attraction.

Outside, the wind had picked up and the claws of the cherry tree scratched against the loose shutter. Saffy shivered, though she was not cold; her own small movement was caught by the mirror above the hearth and she glanced to meet herself. It was a grand mirror, gilt framed, and hung on a chain from a hook at great height. It leaned, therefore, away from the wall, angling towards the ground, and the effect as Saffy looked up, was of the glass glaring down, foreshortening her like a stumpy green dwarf beneath its thumb. She sighed, short and unintentional, alone suddenly and tired of obfuscating. She was about to look away, to return her attention to the table, when she noticed Percy, hunched on the mirror’s glass rim, smoking as she watched the green dwarf at its centre. Not merely watched, scrutinized. Searching for evidence, for confirmation of something she already suspected.

The realization that she was being observed made Saffy’s pulse quicken and she had the sudden urge to speak, to fill the room with conversation, with noise. She drew a short, cool breath and began. ‘Juniper’s late, of course, and I suppose we shouldn’t be surprised; no doubt it’s the weather keeping her, some sort of holdup on the line; she was due off the five forty-five, and even allowing for the bus from the village I’d have expected her home by now… I do hope she packed an umbrella, only you know what she’s like when it comes to-’

‘Juniper’s engaged,’ Percy interrupted sharply. ‘That’s what they’re saying. That she’s engaged.’

The entrée knife clinked high and metallic against its mate. Saffy’s lips parted, she blinked: ‘Pardon, dearest?’