Lynda Plante - The Talisman

Edward had not even said goodbye to Harriet; he just packed his bags and departed in Lady Summercorn’s Rolls-Royce. The only person he paid careful attention to was BB. He wanted to take up the offer of work in South Africa, so he made sure the old boy knew exactly what he was up to.

‘As you said, sir, work your way up from the bottom... all depends which bottom. But right now, I need cash, so I’m on the move.’

BB roared with laughter and pulled Edward towards him. ‘You mean she’s keeping you? Good for you, lad, that’s the ticket. Make ‘em pay for it, strapping young fella like you. Here, this is a little something for when you get back to college.’ BB tucked a fiver into Edward’s pocket. Edward had expected more, but thanked him. He knew BB would be discreet, and he was pleased that he was leaving the Simpsons with his blessing.

‘Good lad! If I were younger I’d come with you... Go on, give her one from me...’

Only once did Edward feel any remorse. He went to a cocktail party where, to his surprise, he saw Harriet. She was sitting alone, looking awkward and out of place in a dreadful yellow dress, a bored expression on her face. He slipped to her side and stood looking down at her thick mop of hair.

‘Mind if I join you?’

Harriet’s grim expression quickly changed to a glowing smile when she saw who it was. Then she kicked him in the shins. ‘You are a rotter, leaving without a word. I’ve been going to these awful bashes just in the hope of seeing you, to give you a black eye.’

Edward sat down, laughing, took her hand and kissed the palm.

‘Oh, stop that, you’re as bad as all these wets. You stink, you know, you missed my birthday. I hate you.’

‘No you don’t, Harry, not really.’ He was teasing, but he saw a hurt expression cross her face. He kept holding her hand. ‘Tell me, where in God’s name did you get that frock?’

‘This “frock”, as you so quaintly put it, happens to be a Balmain number my mother insisted I wear and which Auntie Sylvia bought in the year dot... Makes me look as if I’ve got jaundice, doesn’t it?’

He had to laugh, she was so outrageous, and she elbowed him, leaning closer. ‘Are you screwing any of these old bags? Allard said you were. Are you?’

‘Where did you learn to speak like that? You should be ashamed of yourself, a nicely brought-up young lady... What else did Allard tell you?’

Harriet shrugged and muttered that he was probably jealous. She giggled and nudged Edward in the ribs again.

Edward saw Lady Summercorn raise an eyebrow at him. It annoyed him, but he rose to his feet. She might pay for his services, but that didn’t give her the right to order him around like a skivvy.

‘What’s the matter?’ asked Harriet.

He looked down at her and shook his head. ‘Nothing, it’s nothing... I’d better circulate. Maybe I’ll pop over and say goodbye before I go back to college.’

Harriet glanced up at him, then turned away. ‘I still ride every morning, go to my chapel. Maybe you could walk over one day — it’s not far from...’

Edward was whisked away to be introduced to a plump woman, a very close friend of Her Ladyship’s. When he turned back the sofa was empty, Harriet had gone. It depressed him, just as much as the possessive hand clutching at his arm. The fat, jowled face smirked up at him. ‘I’ve heard so much about you... I’m having a few friends over for a small dinner next week...’

The red-painted mouth dropped open as Edward spun on his heel and walked out. He searched half-heartedly for Harriet, then walked out into the snow and sat on a bench in the garden. He took out his gold cigarette case, tapped a cigarette on the lid and lit it with a gold lighter. He turned the lighter over in his hand.

Later that night, Lady Summercorn came into his bedroom. She fiddled with her bracelet, muttering that the catch had broken, then tossed it on to the dressing table. ‘My husband’s coming home on leave. Perhaps it would be best if you left a few days earlier than we’d arranged. It’s been fun, but it’s over. Maybe I’ll contact you at Cambridge... Would you mind if a few of my girlfriends make your acquaintance?’

Edward picked up her bracelet and fingered the small gold links. ‘I don’t think that will be necessary — I have their numbers, in more ways than one. I’ll leave tonight.’

Edward left Lady Summercorn’s estate before the household was awake. He decided to walk to the station and take the train back to London, perhaps pay a visit to Dora before returning to college. The station was closed, and Edward hesitated a moment until a guard wandered down the lane towards him. When Edward asked the time of the next London train, he shrugged and said he hoped there would be one around ten, but there were always delays. He took Edward’s bags inside and promised to look after them, and Edward walked off. He knew it was madness to go, but he needed company, needed something clean and honest.

‘Hello.’

He rested his arm along the back of the old pew in the chapel and saw her standing in the doorway, her cheeks like rosy apples and her hair wild. She sat beside him.

‘You have a nice Christmas?’ he asked.

‘Yes... it would have been nicer if you had been with us. The tree went up in flames, the fairy lights short-circuited, or something. The Judge was livid because Allard said he had put the wrong fuse in the socket... Anyway, made Christmas finish with a bang.’

‘Did you get some nice presents?’ Edward asked.

‘Oh, yeth, I got a dolly...’ she lisped. ‘Why are you talking to me as if I were ten years old? If you want to know, I got some new stirrups and a silver-topped riding crop from BB. What did you get? Not that I’m interested, I didn’t get anything for you.’

Edward replied, ‘Ah, but I’ve got something for you — it’s a belated Christmas-cum-birthday present.’ He took out the broken bracelet and held it up. Harriet looked at it as he held it aloft, dangling it in front of her. She held out her wrist and he bent his head to fasten the chain around it, although he knew the clasp was broken. He suddenly felt guilty and caught the bracelet in his hand, put it in his pocket. ‘That was a lie, you don’t want it, it’s cheap and nasty.’

He expected her to delve in his pocket and ask what he meant, but instead she said softly, ‘I would still like to have it, may I?’

Edward hesitated, then handed it to her. She gave him a sweet smile as she tucked it into the pocket of her jodhpurs. ‘Thank you.’ She held up her new crop. ‘Here, take this, I want you to have it.’ As he shook his head she said, ‘Please take it, I’ve got another one and this is real silver.’

He stroked her thick, curly hair for a moment, then said, ‘If it’s real silver, then you keep it.’

She turned her cheek and his hand brushed her soft, fresh skin. She kissed his fingers and he pulled his hand back sharply. He got up and kicked at the pew saying he shouldn’t be there, he should be at the station. He wondered what he was doing in the middle of nowhere, in a broken-down chapel with a child.

‘Harry, get on your goddamned horse and get out of here. Go on, be a good girl, just get the hell out of here. You drive me crazy, you know that? Oh, Christ, come here, come here, Harry.’

She went into his arms and he held her, held her tight, so tight she felt the breath squeezing out of her lungs and it was the sweetest feeling she had ever known in her life. He spoke into her hair, his face buried in the red-gold curls that still smelled of Sylvia’s Chanel No. 5. ‘I’m not much good, Harry. There’s a lot of reasons and I can’t tell you but... I have to succeed, I have to make it, and I’ll use anything, anyone, to get wherever it is I am trying to go... You are no use to me, in fact you’re a menace, because you make me feel, you touch some chord right down inside me...’