Chapter Seven #2
‘I have to put them somewhere,’ said Kevin as he wrapped his arms around her. ‘Besides, it’s for your protection. If there’s a sudden halt, I will keep you from crashing through the windscreen.’
‘There won’t be any sudden halts,’ said Bruce, whipping around a slow-moving lorry. ‘I am a masterful driver.’
‘How fast are we going, Catey?’ asked Tony.
‘Only seventy,’ said Bruce. ‘And don’t call me that in front of the girls, or I will make it a point of taking Sparks away from you this weekend.’
‘I might be able to squeeze you in for a dance or two,’ said Sparks. ‘It’s too tragic that Gloria came down with the flu. She was so looking forward to seeing the legendary Pickard family manse.’
‘We’ll do our best to make up for her absence, won’t we, Sparks?’ said Sauce, leaning over to plant a kiss on Bruce’s cheek.
She shrieked as the Morris swerved momentarily.
‘See what happens when you distract me?’ he said, grinning at her.
‘She is quite the distraction, isn’t she?’ said Kevin, nuzzling her neck, drawing a delighted giggle in response. ‘Who’s got some booze handy?’
‘Here,’ said Bruce, pulling a flask out of his jacket and handing it to Sauce. ‘Be a dear and give us a taste before Picky guzzles the whole thing.’
She uncapped it, took a healthy swig, then leaned over and planted her mouth on his, letting the liquor pass into it.
‘Jesus, watch the road!’ shouted Kevin.
The left wheels of the Morris caught dirt as the car veered off the pavement. In an instant, they were plunging through a newly sprouted barley field as Bruce frantically shifted gears and spun the wheel until he had regained control. He brought the car to a stop ten feet from a stone wall.
‘Everyone intact?’ he said, glancing around.
‘A bit squashed back here,’ said Sparks who had been thrown into Tony.
‘I don’t mind that at all,’ said Tony, giving her a squeeze. ‘That was fun. Let’s do it again.’
‘Maybe on the return trip,’ said Bruce. ‘We should get back on the road before some idiot farmer shows up demanding damages for his precious plants. But let’s have one more while we are motionless, shall we?’
‘All right,’ said Sauce.
She took another sip, then transferred it to him again by the same method, lingering this time.
‘Hey, now,’ protested Kevin.
‘I’m just being a good guest,’ said Sauce as she pulled away. ‘Here’s some for you, darling.’
This time Kevin was the lucky recipient as she twisted in his lap to reach his lips, some of the whisky dribbling down his chin as she had trouble controlling her laughter by that point.
‘I must say, I’m not missing Gloria much at all right now,’ said Bruce as he put the Morris back in gear. ‘Although if it turns out that you also have the flu—’
‘Don’t worry, alcohol sterilises everything,’ said Kevin. ‘Even Sauce.’
‘Good thing we brought plenty,’ said Sauce, settling back against him as the car pulled back onto the road. ‘And good thing you had your arms around me, darling. You saved my life.’
‘I will expect your gratitude to be expressed throughout this weekend,’ said Kevin.
They passed through the town of Kimbolton, driving by the castle in the centre. Bruce slowed down and thumbed his nose at it as they passed by.
‘You know them?’ asked Sparks.
‘Cousins,’ he said. ‘The Montagu family. A noble lineage fallen into disrepute as their castle falls into disrepair. The recent lords established a new tradition of marrying heiresses, spending their fortunes, then cheating on them with young, marginally talented actresses. Yet they get to keep the title, and are stuck with that historic monstrosity. I spent many wretched holidays there, pretending to be nice to them.’
‘That’s where— which one of the wives was it?’ began Kevin.
‘Catherine of Aragon,’ said Sparks and Tony simultaneously from the back.
‘Right, her,’ said Kevin. ‘That’s where she finally ended up after the divorce. Died there, too. Ridiculous, all the fuss she caused.’
‘She caused?’ sputtered Sparks. ‘How do you figure that?’
‘She should’ve just quietly got on with her life once the king found someone younger and prettier,’ said Kevin. ‘She was lucky he kept her around for as long as he did.’
‘Right, turn the car around,’ said Sparks. ‘I must protest on behalf of all the wronged women in the world. Especially the short ones.’
‘You haven’t been wronged by anyone,’ said Kevin.
‘But the night is young,’ Tony murmured into her ear, and she smiled.
‘How much longer?’ asked Sauce as they reached the open road going west.
‘Another twenty minutes,’ said Kevin. ‘Barring any detours through farmland. Think you can manage to keep on the road the rest of the way, Catey?’
‘This part I can drive with my eyes closed,’ said Bruce. ‘Watch.’
He squeezed them shut. The Morris kept going.
‘Yes, that’s enough now, Bruce,’ said Sauce.
He kept them shut, with the car inching ever closer to the ditch running alongside the road.
‘I said enough!’ she shouted.
‘Come on, old chap,’ Kevin said quietly.
Bruce opened his eyes and made a slight adjustment with the wheel, bringing them away from the brink.
‘I told you,’ he said.
Sparks looked over at Tony. He was grimacing in pain. She realised she had grabbed his hand and was squeezing it tightly. She relinquished it, and he made an exaggerated gesture of wiping his brow in relief.
They drove on in silence, passing farms and forests on both sides. Then an impressive gate came into view on the right.
‘It’s open,’ said Tony. ‘They anticipated our arrival.’
‘It’s been rusted open for years,’ said Kevin. ‘Maintenance is not the Pickard family’s strong suit.’
The tree-lined drive was three-quarters of a mile long, ending in a circular gravelled driveway, beyond which was a mansion which Sparks and Sauce goggled at.
‘So that’s where all the bricks in England ended up,’ said Sauce.
The house was massive, four storeys high and very Gothic, designed by some deranged late-Victorian architect with a fetish for an unnecessary number of towers and spires with spiralling brick patterns that made them look like some giant with access to a kiln had screwed the entire assemblage into the ground from above.
Tall hedges flanked both sides with openings giving glimpses of stables to the left and a poorly pruned maze to the right that Sparks immediately decided she would spend time solving the next morning.
‘We have this whole place to ourselves?’ she asked as Bruce eased the Morris under the porte cochère in front of the main entrance.
‘We do,’ said Kevin. ‘The parents are touring the subcontinent and my sisters are tanning, or more likely reddening, away in the Bermudas, so the place is more or less closed down.’
‘More or less?’
‘They left Mrs Dorter, the housekeeper, behind to keep things swept and dusted,’ said Kevin. ‘Couldn’t be bothered to pay any other staff while they were gone. Someone comes in once a week to cut the grass and tend to the gardens.’
‘Are there horses?’ asked Sauce eagerly. ‘I saw stables.’
‘Imagine the dreary life of a stabled horse when no one is around to ride it,’ said Kevin. ‘The last one was sold off when I was sent away to Eton. Sorry, my dear, there will be no riding this weekend. Speaking of which, I will need you to vacate my lap now that we’ve arrived safely.’
‘Dorty knows we’re coming, doesn’t she?’ asked Bruce as he cut the motor.
‘I called her a few days ago,’ said Kevin. ‘Give her a toot to let her know we’ve arrived.’
He opened the car door and unceremoniously shoved Sauce off his lap onto the driveway, then staggered after her, limping.
Bruce honked the hooter a few times, then got out and came around to open the boot.
Sparks and Tony emerged from the rear, stretching and silently giving thanks for surviving the journey.
‘My leg’s gone to sleep,’ complained Kevin, rubbing his thigh. ‘I think someone’s been sitting on it. Right, everyone grab your valises. I’ll get Dorty to load the grub and bub into the kitchen. And here she is! Hermia, my first love, how dost thou?’
This to a fortyish woman who had appeared at the front door, wearing a plain, dark frock with a wide white lace collar. Her grey-streaked hair was in a simple bun. She did not look pleased to see the party, even less so when Kevin bounded up the front steps to lift her up in a bear hug.
‘Put me down, you rascal,’ she said. ‘Just because you fancy yourself lord of the manor while everyone else is away doesn’t mean you don’t mind your manners with me.’
‘I stand rebuked,’ he said, lowering her gently. ‘Forgive me. Mrs Dorter, allow me to introduce our guests. You are already acquainted with the gentlemen.’
‘Hello, Dorty,’ said Bruce.
‘Mrs Dorter, it is good to see you again,’ said Tony.
‘Mr Cater, Mr Danforth,’ she said, nodding to each. ‘Welcome.’
‘And these lovely ladies are Miss Nancy Spurlock and Miss Iris Sparks. They’re at Newnham College.’
‘How do you do, Mrs Dorter?’ Sauce greeted her.
‘Hello, Mrs Dorter,’ said Sparks. ‘Thank you for having us.’
‘Well, they’re polite enough, aren’t they?’ said Mrs Dorter with a sniff. ‘Shall I show you to your rooms?’
‘I’ll take them up,’ said Kevin. ‘You can fetch the provisions. Put a couple of bottles of champers on ice right away, would you? I’m parched.’
They followed him into the entry hall. Sauce whistled as she slowly spun around, taking in the massive oak stairs that curved up three storeys along the walls, banister-lined landings surrounding each level, a glass skylight surmounting it all.
The floor was a tessellated pattern of black, white and green tiles, and the marble coving at the meeting of walls and ceiling was ornately carved with scenes of pastoral life alternating with hunting tableaux.
Bronze statues of dubious taste but definite antiquity pointed various weapons at them from alabaster alcoves.