Lynda La Plante - The Legacy

‘Evelyne …? Evelyne …? Evelyne?’

She turned and ran a few yards, stopped to look back. He was still there. He cocked his head to one side and kissed the tips of his fingers. He repeated her name, and she tossed her head, glaring, her golden-red hair swirled around her, and then she was gone. Like a monkey, Freedom climbed the tree until he was perched high up in the branches. He watched her running down the courtyard and could see the uniformed figure pacing up and down impatiently.

By the time Evelyne, out of breath, reached David, he was irate. He could not believe the state she had managed to get herself into. Her hair was loose, her clothes, dreadful to start with, were creased and damp. As he inhaled angrily he caught the stench of cow dung. He gestured for her to climb into the passenger seat, not even bothering to open the door for her, then slammed the car into gear with a crashing, grinding noise. The car jolted forward so fast that Evelyne was pressed back against the seat.

Hearing a peal of laughter, Evelyne turned, looked back at the inn to see a blonde girl standing at one of the top windows. She was in her underwear, and even from this distance Evelyne could see her thickly painted red lips.

‘Coooeeee, David … coooeee, lovey … David …’ David looked up at the window, and to Evelyne’s horror the girl blatantly bared her breast, flicked her tongue out at David and shrieked with raucous laughter. Evelyne couldn’t believe her eyes — she looked at David, then back at the inn. An officer in uniform was now standing behind the blonde woman, and he too was roaring with laughter.

‘Who’s that, David? Who is that terrible woman?’

David snapped, his face furious, ‘That is a cheap whore, a paid woman, a prostitute, a tart, a common slag …’

‘But why was she calling you?’

‘How the hell do I know? Shut up, I don’t want to talk about it.’

He ground his teeth, his mouth set in a thin, tight line. He felt dirty, the women had wanted more money, although he knew Ridgely had paid them already, and it annoyed him. They were just like the whores in France, out for every cent they could get. He felt unclean, used, and wanted to get home for a bath as fast as he could. He hadn’t really enjoyed himself, it was all bravado — the Ridgelys of this world, rich as Croesus, loved the tarts, the whores, but David didn’t. He made up his mind he wouldn’t go with another. They were all the same. Worse was the humiliation, because Ridgely had told him he’d been watching his performance, and it would be all round the barracks in no time.

‘I saw a gypsy boy …’

David looked at her, through her, and muttered something inaudible as he swerved the car round the gatepost of the inn.

Freedom remained high up in the tree. He whistled softly, then watched the sports car bouncing across the cobbled courtyard. He screeched like a bird, high-pitched … Evelyne saw him just as he swung down from the tree and raised his arm, waving to her. She turned away quickly, annoyed at herself for wanting to take another look. David swung the car along a track running beside a field, then out into a narrow lane. ‘Do we have to go so fast?’

David said nothing, but he slowed down. The weeds and brambles on either side of the lane scratched against the sides of the open car, and Evelyne held her hands up to protect her face. When she took them down again she saw Freedom on his stallion, galloping through the fields alongside them. He rode bareback, clinging to the horse’s mane, urging it forward and jumping the hedgerows, keeping up with the car, he was going so fast … Evelyne stared, it frightened her, the black horse, the boy so dark, his shoulder-length hair streaming out behind him. She gasped, clung to the windscreen — ahead of the horse and rider was a high, fenced hedge. He would never make it, he couldn’t, it was too high. She screamed.

Freedom urged the gry on, felt the muscles straining beneath him, and then they were flying through the air. He let rip with a shout of sheer exhilaration, pure joy …

‘Stop! David, stop … stop!’

The car screeched to a halt, almost in a ditch.

‘What is it, what?’

But horse and rider had disappeared, there wasn’t even the sound of hooves.

‘Evelyne, for God’s sake what’s the matter? Did we hit something?’

‘No, no, it was nothing, it was no one.’

Freedom stood with his arms wrapped around his stallion’s neck, their lungs heaving as though they were one. The horse tossed his magnificent head, snorting, and Freedom laughed.

‘Did thee see her, Kaulo?’ Isn’t she rinkeney, eh boy?’

Minnie the housemaid had run a steaming bath and was hovering at the bathroom door. She had been given instructions by the doctor himself to clean the girl up because she smelt so much. Minnie felt sorry for her, and even more so when Evelyne had stripped off — she was like a skeleton, and her ribs could be seen clearly. As for her undergarments, they were not even fit to clean the brass with.

Doris still lay in the darkened room with an icepack on her forehead. She had not touched her food, even the slightest noise seemed to pain her. Dr Collins sat with her for a while, taking her temperature. He was not too worried, saying it was just a migraine.

‘But I feel so ill, and sometimes I just go dizzy, like a fainting fit, and the pain moves from one side of my head to the other.’

The Doctor pursed his lips, hissed softly and looked, as always, at his fob watch. ‘Well, you rest up, don’t worry about the young gel, perhaps if you could eat a small meal … I’ll get Minnie to bring you something on a tray.’

Doris murmured that she didn’t feel well enough to eat, and the strain of talking made her head worse as if thousands of tiny hammers were beating against her eyes. Evelyne slipped into the hot, soapy water, her face pink with embarrassment at seeing Minnie pick up her clothes as if she had fleas, and holding them from her at arm’s length.

‘I fell in a cow pat, but I washed them.’ Minnie murmured that judging by the smell, she’d brought the cows home with her. The problem was that Evelyne had no change of clothes and even if Minnie washed them, they’d never be dry before dinner. Minnie soaped Evelyne’s back and bony shoulders, then went to the door, locked it tight, and leant over the bathtub, speaking in a whisper.

‘I’ll bring you some things, but don’t say nothin’ about where I got ‘em from, all right lovey?’

She nipped out of the bathroom and was back within minutes with a neat pile of fresh white underwear. There was a camisole with a small frill round the neck, a pair of satin bloomers with elastic at the knees, and a petticoat.

‘They was the Mistress’s, but he don’t know what’s in the wardrobe. Me an’ cook have delved in there a few times, see, everything’s just left in the drawers, terrible waste.’

Evelyne blushed with shame at Minnie stealing from the Doctor’s dead wife.

Unlike the rest of the house, there was warmth and friendliness in the big basement kitchen. Mrs Darwin, the cook, was a round, fat woman who bellowed with laughter when she saw Evelyne in the huge bloomers, and gave her a wet, motherly kiss. Evelyne’s hand-me-downs were steaming on the fireguard and an iron sat on the burner ready to press them.

The front doorbell chimed and Minnie rushed out. They had visitors and the Doctor asked for tea to be served right away. Evelyne watched the fat Mrs Darwin move like lightning, setting the tea tray, wrapping a gold frill around the cake, cutting tiny cucumber sandwiches, everything done fast and efficiently.

Evelyne, not wanting to get in the way, sat quietly by the fireside, taking it all in.

‘He wants you in for tea, lovely, he’s asking where you are.’