Lynda Plante - The Talisman

Edward replaced the tin soldier. He smoothed the back of his neck with his palm, and when he looked at it he could still see the imprint from the toy, like a red stain. The strange mark disappeared as he stared, and he jumped, startled, as Charlie burst in and bellowed that the bathroom on this floor was dodgy. Edward could use his on the floor below. ‘Want a drive around the country before dinner? A few folks coming over, just old family friends, no doubt Father will keep them amused with his repartee, quite a jolly fellow, isn’t he, what?’

Edward was nonplussed, he didn’t know how to take Charlie’s jokes about his father, and he simply smiled. He asked tentatively if they would be dressing for dinner. Charlie mimicked Edward’s cockney accent, and with a grin said that of course they would be ‘dressin’ fer dinnah’. He saw Edward’s mouth tighten and knew he shouldn’t poke fun at him, but sometimes he was such a big oaf.

‘I’m not hungry, you go for a drive, I’ll just stay here, have a lie-down.’

Charlie shrugged and went out whistling. Edward could hear him banging down the corridor, then he heard the footsteps coming back. Charlie burst in again, walked over to the wardrobe and swung the door open, then slammed it shut and turned to Edward. ‘You liar, you just haven’t got your kit with you, won’t get out of it that way, old man. I’ll have a word with Ma, get you kitted out.’

Lady Primrose tapped on the door and entered. She was so like Charlie that Edward found it unnerving. She crooked her finger at Edward to follow her. They walked along the corridor and down to the next landing, and she opened a door, putting her finger to her lips for Edward to keep silent. She tiptoed into the room and closed the door after Edward. ‘This was Clarence’s room, I don’t want David to hear us in here, he may get confused and think it’s ghosts. Come along, follow me, but quietly does it.’

They tiptoed over to the adjoining dressing room, where there were rows of wardrobe doors, each mirrored, and she opened each one, searching, then in the end she turned to Edward. ‘He was a little shorter than you, but I’m sure everything will fit, much too big for Charlie. Please just take what you need, but do it quietly.’

She walked back into the bedroom and left Edward gazing into the immaculate wardrobe. There were rows of suits, racks of shirts, ties, shoes... he had never seen so many clothes outside a shop in his life. He didn’t know where to begin, and he went back to the bedroom. She was still there, standing with her back to him by the side of the bed, holding a photograph in her hand. She was crying softly. ‘I can’t take these things, really, it’s ever so kind of you.’

She put the photograph down and turned to him, her face, even with the tears on it, set and hard. She kept her voice low, but it was fierce. ‘I am sure it is “ever so kind”, but if you don’t they’ll only be eaten by moths, please just take whatever, take them and leave the room.’

She went out, and Edward returned to the closet. He began to sort through the clothes, feeling each piece of fabric, his heart thudding with excitement. He could get his whole year’s wardrobe out of this. Never mind just a dinner jacket, there were coats and cord trousers, the very ones he’d been saving for. He carried the things back up the stairs to the nursery, laid them on the bed and then carefully dressed, inspecting each item with care. The sleeves were slightly short, as were the trousers, but if he pulled the waist down on to his hips they looked perfect. He had sweaters and shirts, and after a while he made another trip, wondering if he and Clarence had had the same shoe size.

They pinched like hell, but they would stretch, he kept on telling himself they would, and even if they didn’t he’d still wear them.

Dressed from head to toe in Clarence’s clothes, Edward returned to his own room. He opened the child-size wardrobe, bent low to see himself in the mirror, and studied his reflection. For a moment he felt it again, the strange sensation that made his body tingle. He gasped — he was sure he had seen his father in the mirror, wearing an immaculate dinner jacket. He shook his head, smiling to himself. He had never seen his father dressed in anything but worn working clothes. Again he peered into the mirror, struggling unsuccessfully with his bow tie.

Charlie appeared flushed and wearing a dinner jacket. He laughed at Edward because he was purple in the face from trying to do up the bow tie. In the end Charlie made him practise it so many times he could do it blindfolded. Then Charlie held him at arm’s length and nodded his approval, grinned and said that he looked like a million dollars. If he didn’t drop too many ‘aitches’, anyone would take him for a gent. Then he backed off, his hands up. ‘Just a joke, it’s a joke — when you get that frosty look on your face it sends shivers up me. Right then, you set for a cocktail?’

They walked down the broad stone stairs covered in the threadbare carpet and entered the drawing room together. A fire had been lit, even though it was summer, because the castle walls were damp and cold, but the fire brightened up the room. Charlie began mixing Pimm’s for them. ‘Better fill you in on the guests, Lord and Lady Carlton, Ma’s oldest friends. She’s a dreadful, hatchet-faced woman and he’s a spellbinding chap, real bore of the first order, then there’s the “Hons”, their daughters, take after their mother and are frightfully ugly, but they are sooooo rich... Here you go, get this down you.’

Edward sipped his drink and liked it. He asked if Charlie was rich, judging by the looks of the place he thought they must be pretty well off. Charlie sniggered and said they were all broke, but there was a trust set up by his uncle, his mother’s cousin, he was the chap who had left them the castle. From what Edward could gather it was his money they were living on. ‘My father, as you may be able to tell by his amazing, zestful, energetic, athletic appearance, never earned a penny in his life. Mother believes she married beneath herself. Must be obvious he’s round the bend, got well and truly lumbered with the old boy. Well, here’s to us, chin chin.’

Lady Primrose entered, wearing a long, dark rose-coloured evening dress with padded shoulders that accentuated her slimness. She looked very elegant. ‘My, Charlie, your friend does look smart. Turn around, Edward, yes, frightfully good, sleeves a trifle on the short side, but... oh, let me see... cufflinks, Charlie, go and get a pair of... there must be lots of cufflinks upstairs.’

Charlie moaned but departed, and as Lady Primrose helped herself to a cocktail she turned to Edward and gestured with her hand, a small fluttering motion.

‘I like a gin and it before dinner, just so you know, this much gin and this much... it... and no ice, but I do like a cherry.’

She giggled, and Edward stood like a sentry as she moved closer. Her perfume swamped him, ‘Tea Rose’, a bitter-sweet tea rose. She had to look up into his face, he was so tall. ‘Where do you come from? Foreign blood in you, I can see it. You are very dark, and my goodness, what long eyelashes you have, well, where are you from?’

Edward looked down at her, she was standing too close for comfort, but he didn’t like to back off in case it was rude. But she was very close, so close he could see the fine wrinkles around her eyes, and tiny, tell-tale lines around her mouth.

‘I’m from London, the East End.’

‘Ho, the East End? Well, well! Oi, Charlie, yer should ‘ave told me he is from da East End, lord love yer! Now then, Charlie Collins, don’t you splash the drinks around, it is rationed, yer know! Oi, is dat their car?’

She enjoyed herself with her appalling impression of an East End accent. Charlie gave her a stern look and winked at Edward, then poured himself a very large gin. He inched the blackout curtains up a fraction. ‘Yep, they’ve arrived... all four of them. Can’t you hear the gravel crunching under their delicate feet?’ He slipped over to Edward’s side and nudged him. ‘Come on, she was only joking. Lighten up, old man. Here’s Clarry’s best cufflinks — all yours. Oh, God, here they come.’