Lynda La Plante - The Legacy

‘Primrose, this is David Collins, David, Lady Primrose Boyd-Carpenter.’

David bowed, kissing the delicate, white-gloved hand, and asked if he would be permitted a dance. Lady Primmy excused herself to Freddy, who was glowering at David, and they moved off to the centre of the floor. She was so fragile, so delicate, and he held her as if she were precious glass, he couldn’t take his eyes off her. She smelt so fresh, her hair shone and her wondrous eyes sparkled, and dancing with her was like twirling a feather. Neither of them spoke, they just looked into one another’s eyes, then smiled as Freddy huffed and puffed past, pushing Heather around as if she were a wheelbarrow.

A butler approached Evelyne with a large silver tray, and bent low towards her. She wasn’t sure what he wanted, and she looked, licked her lips and placed her empty glass on the tray. He still waited, so she took another full one and smiled her thanks.

At the far end of the dance floor sat a group of uniformed soldiers. Two of them wore arm bandages, one had a large pad on one eye. Another sat in a wheelchair. They seemed out of place, holding the fluted glasses with care, afraid to drop them or snap them in their big fists, as they watched the dancers gliding past. Evelyne could tell they were as uncomfortable as she was.

Lady Sybil Warner looked over at Evelyne then searched the ballroom for David. The poor girl was still sitting alone on the sofa. Lady Sybil weaved her way towards Evelyne. More beads and feathers than ever floated around her, she was like a ship in full sail. ‘Now, dear, are you enjoying yourself? Come along, come along, let me introduce you to some young men, can’t have you sitting all alone, now can we? Follow me, come along.’

She introduced Evelyne to the young soldiers. Her feathers tickled their noses and she got everyone’s names wrong, but they were all so nervous they didn’t like to correct her. Evelyne sat and tried to think of something interesting to say, but nothing would break through her headful of pins and bows.

‘Would you like to dance, Miss?’

Evelyne bit her lip, then hedged, and finally admitted it — she actually couldn’t dance. The soldier boy laughed, throwing back his head.

‘We all thought you was a duchess sittin’ over yonder, too good for the likes of us. Yer can’t dance, girl, is that true?’

Evelyne nodded. These lads weren’t the same as the young officers on the dance floor, they were her own kind, like her brothers.

‘Well, I’ve never done this fancy two-and-two-step, but can you polka?’

Evelyne nodded, she could do a polka all right. Lizzie-Ann had taught her that. So they waited for a polka and now they were talking freely to her and asking questions. They came from different parts, but they all had families working the mines.

As the boys talked Evelyne’s eyes kept straying to the dancers. David was dancing yet again with Lady Primrose, they looked perfect together. Heather appeared with small beads of sweat along her upper lip, her dress stained at the armpits.

‘Are you enjoying yourselves? Food will be served in a moment.’

‘Would you like to dance, miss?’ ‘Pardon?’

‘Dance, you want a dance?’

Heather licked her rabbit teeth, nonplussed, and stuck out her arms. The young soldier, wearing heavy boots, guided her on to the floor. All the boys sniggered and whispered about her teeth.

‘Always the way, ain’t it, eh? All this money an’ she

got a face like a buckin’ bronco, she looks like she’s

been eatin’ too many of these toffees her family makes.’

Evelyne knew she shouldn’t but she couldn’t help

laughing with the lads.

One boy, the boy in the wheelchair, didn’t smile, he sat staring into the dancers as if they weren’t there. His eyes were glazed, dead, empty. Evelyne moved to the seat next to him. The boy seemed hardly aware of her. A red-haired soldier with bright red cheeks moved along to sit beside Evelyne.

. ‘He’ll not talk, he’s shell-shocked, he don’t know where he is, been like it for two days since they brought him home.’

Four more soldiers pulled their chairs closer, forming a protective circle with the vacant-eyed boy in the centre. They started to talk as if they needed to, the dancing and the champagne were all very well, but they had seen things, terrible things, and none of them wanted to go back. Their stories gushed out like rivers in flood, and Evelyne listened. She wanted to hold them in her arms, she felt their fear and confusion, and thought of Dicken and her darling brother Mike; they had gone off to a war she knew nothing about. The more the lads talked about what they were up against, the more Evelyne feared for her brothers. War was a long way from this elegant house, the orchestra, the young, dashing men in their cavalry uniforms. Evelyne realized that many of the so-called officers had never been to the Front. They were all show, like peacocks, in their braid and polished boots.

‘Wait ‘til they see what the Germans are like, lot of them won’t be dancin’ then, be lucky if they still got their legs.’

The tight group was suddenly aware that couples were drifting into a large side room where a long trestle table had been laid out, the weight of the food bending the legs. Food! The lads rose in unison, then they remembered they were with a lady and turned back, but she grinned at them. She stood up and moved to the silent one, bent over him, touched his face. The lads moved off towards the food and Evelyne took hold of the silent boy’s hand.

‘Would you like something to eat, lad?’

The vacant eyes stared towards her — so empty they frightened her. Slowly the boy lifted his hand. It was a strange move, his hand wavered, moving to her face. Then she felt his rough hand touch her cheek. She held his hand and kissed his fingers. The sad-eyed boy was so helpless, so cut off from reality, and his mouth moved, he was trying to speak. She moved her head closer.

‘Mama …?’

Evelyne piled up a plate with chicken and ham, sweet rolled things with bacon wrapped around them, and tiny sausages on wooden sticks. The plate was so full, she dared not heap on any more. She was unaware of anyone watching her, of the nudges and the smiles or of David’s eyes, bright and angry. He was ashamed, it looked as though the girl had never eaten in her life. Lady Primrose at his side ate with delicate, bird-like movements. She smiled up at him with her rosebud mouth.

‘Do tell me, David, who on earth is that creature, and where exactly did you find her?’

David was very angry and flushed with embarrassment, he glared at Evelyne and then turned his back on her.

‘My aunt works in a school in one of the mining villages, she’s some sort of orphan, one has to do one’s bit.’

Lady Primrose muttered, ‘Poor thing’, and her sweet voice trilled, agreeing that of course one simply had to do one’s bit.

Several of the guests watched the tall girl in the flowing gown as she walked straight back to the sad, vacant-eyed boy in his wheelchair. They watched her place the napkin across his knee. Then she sat next to him and gently fed the boy with her own hands.

If anyone felt guilty they didn’t admit it, but they remembered then the reason for the dance. It was not for flirting and courting, it was to give the boys who had come from the Front a night to remember. They were aware that the number of boys actually from the Front was exceedingly small, but then they knew mostly young officers anyway. Lady Primrose murmured, and it was hastily passed on, that Evelyne was a poor orphaned soul and all the gels there would react the same way if the officers they danced with came home wounded.

The ballroom had become very hot, the hundreds of candles and the great chandelier in the centre of the room shimmered and cigar smoke hung in a haze from the small smoking room. David seemed to have disappeared. The red-haired soldier pressed his face up against the window and rubbed the condensation clear as he gazed out into the garden.