He’d put the phone down then and I wondered whose fingertip had pressed his doorbell and wasn’t surprised to find I didn’t much care.
‘Forget Piers for two days and get some living in,’ I said to the girl in the rear-view mirror. No time like tonight for dipping a toe in the water, I thought, and to hell with the lily-down-the-cleavage bit!
I wound up the window and set out, smiling, on my way again. Above me the sky was blue, with only little puffs of very white cloud. Around me, and as far as I could see, were fields and hedgerows and grass verges that really had wild flowers growing in them. I was going to a party tonight and I would be a lily of the field and have a wicked time. I wasn’t in any hurry to settle down because I’d already decided there would be all the time in the world, after the third novel. And wouldn’t I know when I met the right man; the man I would love and like – afterwards?
Oh, concentrate, Cassandra! The crossroads, then a couple of hundred yards and Jeannie will be there at the front gate of Deer’s Leap, wondering where you’ve got to!
The engine revs changed from their usual sweet-natured purr to an agitated growl so I dropped a gear, put my foot down and concentrated on the lane ahead. I was just beginning to wonder how the house had got its name when I saw a man ahead. He was smiling, his thumb jutted and he was in fancy dress.
All the things Dad dinned into me about never stopping for anyone, much less for a man, went out of my head. He was undoubtedly a fellow guest, who for some reason was standing at the side of the lane and in need of a lift. I slowed and stopped, then leaned over to slip the nearside door catch.
‘Want a lift?’
‘Please. Could you? I’ve got to get to Deer’s Leap.’
‘Hop in!’
He arranged himself in the passenger seat, one long leg at a time. Then he pulled his knees almost up to his chin and balanced his khaki bag on them.
‘You can push the seat back.’ I lifted the catch to my left. ‘Shove with your feet.’
The seat slipped backwards and he stretched his legs, relief on his face. Well, six foot two at least, isn’t Mini size.
‘That’s a World War Two respirator, isn’t it?’ I envied his fancy dress. So real-looking.
‘They’re usually called gas masks,’ he smiled, and that smile was really something across a crowded Mini.
‘You already dressed for tonight, then?’ I turned the key in the ignition.
‘We-e-ll, sort of,’ he shrugged, ‘and anyway, I’m only on standby.’
‘Damn!’ A slow-moving flock of sheep ahead put paid to the question, ‘What’s standby?’
I slowed to keep well back. The lambs were well grown; almost as big as the ewes and obviously not used to being driven. If one of them panicked in the narrow road, we’d all be in trouble.
My passenger stared ahead, intent on the sheep and the black and white sheepdog that watched and nosed and slunk behind and to the side of them, and I was able to get a good look at him.
Fair, rather thin. His hands lay still on his lap though his fingers moved constantly. He’d had his hair cut short, too, just as if he’d been the pilot whose uniform he wore. Three stripes on his sleeve; wings above his top left-hand pocket. His shoes were altogether of another era.
The sheep were behaving. I hoped they would turn left at the crossroads. He was still watching them intently so I read the number stamped in black on the flap of his gas mask and thought my lily of the field would look a bit botched alongside his authentic uniform. He’d obviously gone to a lot of trouble, so with future fancy dress parties in mind I asked where he’d got it.
‘Oh – the usual place. They throw them at you …’
‘Really? I’d have thought that get-up would’ve been difficult to get hold of.’
‘Only the wings,’ he said absently, his eyes still on the sheep.
I realized he wasn’t going to be very forthcoming and hoped for better luck tonight when my lily-gilded cleavage might just get me noticed.
I looked at his gas mask again. On the underside of the webbing strap were the initials S. S. and a tiny heart, and I wondered who had put them there. The original long-ago owner, I supposed, the author in me supplying Sydney Snow, Stefan Stravinsky, Sam Snodgrass.
‘I’m Cassandra,’ I said. ‘Cassie.’
‘John,’ he smiled, ‘but I usually get Jack.’
The flock began to push and surge to the left. The dog nipped the leg of a ewe that wanted to turn right and it got the message.
‘Soon be there. Been here before?’ We’d turned right onto what really was a dirt road.
‘Mm. Quite a bit …’
The lane was rutted and I slowed, driving carefully, eyes fixed ahead for potholes.
‘There it is.’ He pointed to the tiles of a roof above a row of beeches.
‘Seems a nice place …’ Bigger than I’d expected and not so northernly rugged.
‘It’s very nice. Look – mind if I get out here? I usually go in the back way.’ He seemed in a hurry, his hand already on the door handle. ‘Thanks for the lift. See you.’
He swung his legs out first, then gripped the side to heave himself clear. Then he straightened his jacket with a sharp downward pull, slung his gas mask on his left shoulder and straightened his cap.
‘Bye, Jack. See you tonight.’
‘Y-yes. Hope so.’ He crossed his fingers, smiled, then made for a rusted iron kissing gate that squeaked as he pushed through it.
He knew his way around, had obviously been to Deer’s Leap before. I too crossed my fingers for tonight because he really interested me.
I wondered if there would be music at the party. He’d be good to dance with – dance properly with, I mean. None of your standing six feet apart, sending signals with your elbows and hips, but moving closely to smoochy music.
I started the car, drove another hundred yards to a set of open white gates with Jeannie leaning against them, waving frantically. I tooted the horn, then drove in past her.
‘Lovely to see you again. Had a good journey? Lovely day for it,’ she said when I’d got out and stretched my back, then kissed her.
‘Fine!’ I grinned. It had been a very interesting journey. I unlocked the boot and took out my case. ‘I’ll tell you about it later, but right now I’d kill for a cup of tea!’
She took my case and I followed with my grip and the large sheaf of flowers I’d brought for her sister. Coals to Newcastle, I thought, looking at the gorgeous garden. Then I thought again about Jack and smiled smugly because already my psychic bits knew he could dance. Beautifully.
‘Where is your sister?’ I asked when we were seated at the kitchen table, drinking tea. Already I was a little in love with Deer’s Leap and its huge kitchen and pantry, and the narrow little back stairs from it that led to my room above. And what I had seen of the hall and its wide, almost-black oak staircase and the sitting room, glimpsed through an open door, were exactly what I had known they would be.
‘Beth and Danny’ll be back any time now. They’ve taken the kids to the village hall. Brownies and Cubs on a weekend camp. That’s why they’re throwing the party this weekend. Not soft, my sister,’ she grinned. ‘Now do you want to unpack or would you like to have a look round?’
I said I wanted to see the house, if that would be all right with Beth, and the outside too. All of it.
‘It’s