Lynda Plante - The Talisman

Edward ran along the dark beach, ran until he flopped exhausted on to the wet sand.

Pierre had to prise Harriet’s hands away from the rail. He guided her to the car and drove her home in silence. When they pulled up outside the barn, she turned to him. In the dim light the tears sparkled on her cheeks.

‘I can’t marry you, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.’

‘We’ll talk about it tomorrow. You’re freezing — come on, I will make you a hot drink.’

‘No... I’ll stay with Daisy — it’s better that way. I’m sorry, please don’t ask me to explain.’

‘I think I deserve some explanation, for God’s sake. It’s him, isn’t it? Edward Barkley?’

He thumped the steering wheel with his fist. She gave him a wobbly smile. ‘At least I saved you forking out the price of a ring.’

‘This is no time to joke, Harry. At least come inside and talk about it.’ But Pierre could not persuade her to leave the car. Eventually he slammed the door and walked into the barn.

It was quite a while before he heard the engine revving, then the car roared off. He downed a large brandy in one gulp and hurled the glass at the wall. The next second he heard the screech of brakes outside. He ran to the door. ‘Harry? Harry?’

Edward Barkley stood in the pitch dark, his Rolls-Royce parked precariously near to the edge of the open well.

‘I want to talk to her, let me talk to her.’

‘She’s not here...’

‘Don’t bloody lie to me...’

Pierre shouted, but Edward charged him like a mad bull... disappearing down the well with a howl. Pierre peered down the deep hole. ‘I tried to warn you — I’ve a good mind to let you stay down there.’

‘Fucking hell, I think I’ve broken my nose.’

Pierre examined Edward’s face. His nose was intact, but he would have a very black eye. His temple was already turning a dark, angry purple. Pierre handed him a damp cloth. ‘You’ll live. You want a drink?’

‘Christ, I feel such a bloody fool.’

‘I guarantee you’ll look even more like one tomorrow, you’ll have a real shiner. Here — it’s brandy, but more than likely not the vintage you’re used to.’

‘Where is she? I have to talk to her.’

‘When you’ve finished your drink I’ll put the storm lights on. You’ll have to back down the track... she’s staying with friends.’

‘Where?’

‘Why don’t you just get the hell out of here before I throw you out?’

Edward downed his brandy and stood up. He towered over Pierre. For one second he even thought about throwing a punch, but instead he walked to the door. Turning, he held out his hand. His suit was sodden, his face bruised, and there was a helpless air to the big man.

‘I love her... I’m sorry to come here like this. If I’d been in your shoes I’d have let me rot in the well... Harry and me, we go back a long time. You take care of her... I won’t bother you again.’

Pierre had never seen such raw and desperate emotion in a man before. It made him feel inadequate. Edward obviously loved her and, given the choice between the two, Pierre was sure he would be the loser. In truth he already knew he was.

Pierre told Edward where he could find Harriet. He even held a torch so Edward could reverse safely down the track. Then he walked back to the barn. Half-painted in bright daffodil yellow, it called out her name... She was everywhere he looked, and he made up his mind to leave for Paris, cut short his holiday.

It wasn’t until Pierre had packed that he felt a strange sensation of relief — a confusing and unexpected emotion. He tried to analyse his feelings, and eventually they were clarified by a moth-eaten teddy bear. The small, worn bear sported a hand-knitted vest with the letter ‘E’ embroidered very badly on the front. The bear travelled everywhere with her, and he knew she would be frantic without him. But this was no longer Pierre’s responsibility — it was Edward Barkley’s.

Edward rang the bell beside the electric gates. There was not a light to be seen. He kept his finger on the button, rattled the gates, but still there was no answer. After prowling around the walls, he got into the Rolls and drove it close to the wall — so close he scraped the wing on the driver’s side. He then climbed out of the passenger door, on to the roof, and scaled the wall.

Once inside the grounds he made his way to the main entrance. As he stepped on to the porch all hell broke loose — two Dobermann pinschers galloped across the lawn, teeth bared. Edward almost pulled the door knocker off its hinges while he shouted at the dogs. Suddenly, lights blazed in the hallway, he heard voices shouting and the frightened face of Daisy Millingford’s father appeared through the frost glass door panel.

Edward just made it into the hall before he lost his trousers to the dogs. A gardener in a dressing gown dragged them back, snarling, to their kennels. Daisy rushed down the stairs, pulling her hair rollers out while trying to explain to her father who Edward was.

In the midst of the confusion, Harriet appeared at the top of the stairs. Edward, in his filthy, mud-splattered suit, sporting a black eye, ran up the stairs two and three at a time. The family looked on aghast, while Daisy shouted that he was Edward Barkley, the Edward Barkley from the chateau.

‘I love you, Harry, I love you...’

Edward showed not the slightest embarrassment at his extraordinary behaviour. Harriet sat on the stairs, her legs shaking. She was wearing a ridiculous, frothy pink nightdress of Daisy’s.

Daisy ushered her family and the housekeeper into the kitchen, leaving the lovers alone, but before she closed the door she took a quiet look...

They were sitting side by side, their arms about each other. If Harriet turned him down now, Daisy would be up those stairs like a hare... She closed the door, and tried to explain to her family what was going on.

Alex woke with a start when his bedroom lights came on. Edward beamed at him from the doorway.

‘Alex, I want you to meet my future wife... Harry, this is my brother, Alex.’

Alex stared from one to the other. Harriet was still wearing the frothy pink creation, with the addition of a blanket around her shoulders. Edward had ruined Alex’s suit, and to cap it all he looked as though he’d been in one hell of a fight. Alex was speechless, but Edward was already on his way out.

‘I’ll leave you two to get to know each other... this calls for a celebration.’

Alex ran his fingers through his hair, then gestured for Harriet to sit on the bed. She curled up like a cat at the far end and scrutinized him. He flushed, and tried to think of something to say.

‘I told him not to wake you, but he insisted. This isn’t my nightie, it’s Daisy’s.’

‘Ahhh, I see — that makes all the difference.’

She giggled, and he looked up shyly. Suddenly she crawled up the bed to sit closer to him. She took his hand, kissed his cheek. ‘You look so uncomfortable — you’re not at all what I expected.’

‘I could say the same for you.’

Again she giggled infectiously, and Alex began to relax. She had certainly taken him by surprise — she was not at all the type he would have expected Edward to be interested in, let alone want to marry. She slipped her arm through his as if she had known him for years, and started to tell him how she had first met Edward. Alex had never met anyone like her; as with everyone else who came in contact with Harriet, he fell instantly under her spell.

Alex went shopping with Harry to help her choose her wedding dress. She cavorted around the designer shops, tripping out of the changing rooms in creations worth thousands, the dreadful veils perched on her bouncing curls. She never seemed to tire, and Alex found her exhausting, and often infuriating. Eventually they chose a simple white silk dress in the new, short length. It was even shorter on Harriet, as she was so tall. She didn’t want a veil, choosing instead to wear a small crown of daisies.