‘So what? We come here almost every day.’ She smiled dazzlingly at him. ‘You use our barn for target practice.’
He laughed then, a pleasant-faced young man of about her own age, and shouted greetings to the rest of the Fothergills, scattered along the path ahead of her, then called over his shoulder, ‘Jake, come and meet our neighbours!’
The second rider had been waiting quietly, screened by the overgrowth, and Annis hadn’t seen him. He was astride a strawberry roan, a big man with powerful shoulders and a handsome arrogant face; it was dusk now and she couldn’t be sure of the colour of his eyes or his hair, but of one thing she was instantly sure—she didn’t like him, and she didn’t like the smile on his face as Matthew introduced him, nor the unhurried study of her person and the still more leisurely survey of the rest of the Fothergills who, seeing that Matthew had someone with him, had come closer to see who it was. Jake Royle, Matthew had called him, a friend of the family who had been in New Zealand on business. ‘You must come up and have a drink one evening,’ said Matthew, and sidled his horse over to Mary. ‘You too, Mary—and Edward, of course.’
‘Well, it’ll have to be soon,’ said Annis briskly. ‘Mary is going back at the end of the week, and so is Edward.’
‘And you?’ queried Jake Royle softly.
She gave him a quick glance. ‘Me? I live at home.’ He didn’t answer, only smiled again, and her dislike deepened. How had Matt got to know him? she wondered; he was much older for a start, at least in his early thirties, and as unlike Matt’s usual friends as chalk from cheese. She caught Edward’s eye. ‘We’d better be on our way; tea’s early—it’s the Mothers’ Union whist drive this evening.’
‘Good lord, you don’t all play whist, do you?’
‘Is there any reason why we shouldn’t? Don’t be an ass, Matt, you know quite well that only Edward and Mary and I go.’ Annis turned to go and then stopped. ‘Could you come over when you’ve got a minute and take a look at Nancy?’
‘Yes, of course—we’ll come now…’
She said hastily: ‘Oh, there’s no need for that—besides, you have Mr Royle with you. Tomorrow morning would be better.’
‘Well, all right, if you say so.’
She said rather pointedly: ‘I’ll expect you about ten o’clock if that’s OK for you?’ She gave him a wide smile, nodded distantly to Jake Royle, and hurried to join the others, already on their way.
‘Lifelong friends?’ queried Jake Royle as the Fothergills disappeared round a bend in the track.
‘Grew up with them,’ said Matthew. ‘Annis and I are the same age; knew each other in our prams.’
‘A striking-looking girl,’ observed Mr Royle, ‘and interesting…’
An opinion not shared by Annis; on the way back they all discussed Matt’s companion. ‘He’s very good-looking,’ said Mary, ‘didn’t you think so, Annis?’
Annis had been brought up to be honest. ‘Yes, if you like that kind of face,’ she conceded, ‘but I daresay he’s the dullest creature, and conceited too.’ She added rather unnecessarily: ‘I didn’t like him.’
‘Do you suppose he’s married?’ asked Emma.
Annis gave the question her considered thought. ‘Very likely, I should think. He’s not a young man, not like Matt. Whose turn is it to see to Nancy?’
Nancy was an elderly donkey, rescued some years ago from a party of tinkers who were ill-using her. No one knew quite how old she was, but now she lived in retirement, a well fed, well cared for and dearly loved friend to all the family. It was Audrey’s turn, and by common consent James went with her to the small paddock behind the house; she was only eight after all, and a small nervous child, and although no one mentioned this fact, her brothers and sisters took good care of her. The rest of them went into the house through the back door, kicking off boots and hanging up coats in the roomy lobby which gave on to the wide stone-flagged passage which ran from front to back of the Rectory. They piled the wood here too, ready for James or Edward to carry out to one of the numerous outbuildings which bordered the yard behind the house. They went next to a cold cupboard of a room used once, long ago, as a pantry, washed their hands at the old stone sink there and tidied their hair at the Woolworth’s looking-glass on the wall, only then did they troop along to the front of the house to the sitting room.
Their parents were already there, their father sitting by the fire, his nose buried in a book, their mother at the round table under the window where tea had been laid out. She was still a pretty woman who had never lost her sense of humour or her optimistic belief that one day something wonderful would happen, by which she meant having enough money to do all the things she wanted to do for them all. She looked up as they went in and smiled at them impartially; she loved them all equally, although perhaps little Audrey had the edge of her brothers and sisters, but then she was still only a little girl.
She addressed herself to her eldest child: ‘You enjoyed your walk, Annis?’
‘Yes, Mother.’
Before she could say anything more Mary chimed in: ‘We met Matt—he had someone with him, Jake Royle, he’s staying with the Avery’s. He’s quite old but rather super…’
‘Old?’ queried her mother.
‘About thirty-five,’ observed Annis, slicing cake. ‘I thought he looked a bit cocky, myself.’
Her father lowered his book. ‘And he has every reason to be,’ he told her with mild reproof. ‘He’s a very clever young man—well, I consider him young—he’s chairman of several highly successful companies and commercial undertakings, owns a factory in New Zealand, and is much sought after as a financial adviser.’
Annis carried tea to her father. ‘Do you know him, Father?’
‘Oh, yes, I’ve met him on several occasions at Colonel Avery’s.’
‘You never told us,’ said Mary.
‘You said yourself that he was quite old, my dear.’ His voice was dry. ‘Far too old for you—perhaps he and Annis might have more in common.’
‘Me?’ Annis paused with her cup half way to her mouth. ‘I don’t know a thing about factories or finances—besides, I didn’t like him.’
‘Well, we’re not likely to see him here, dear,’ said Mrs Fothergill calmly, hoping that they would. ‘Here’s Audrey and James, perhaps you’d fill the teapot, dear…’
It was later that evening, after the younger ones had gone to bed and the rest of them were sitting round the comfortably shabby room, that Mrs Fothergill said apropos nothing at all: ‘I wonder if Mr Royle is married?’
Neither Edward or James was interested enough to answer and Mary had gone to the kitchen for something. Annis said thoughtfully: ‘I should think so; you say he’s successful and clever and probably comfortably off. Besides, he’s getting on for forty…’
‘You said thirty-five, dear,’ observed her mother. ‘I should imagine that a man who has achieved so much has had little time to look for a suitable wife.’ She didn’t say any more, and Annis, glancing up from her embroidery, saw that her mother was daydreaming—marrying off her daughters, or one daughter at least to Jake Royle. He would have given her loads of money, a huge house, several cars and a generous nature not above helping out with the younger children’s education. Well, harmless enough, thought Annis fondly, just as long as Mary was to be the bride. Mr Royle, married or unmarried, held no attraction for her at all.
So it was a pity that he rode over with Matt the next morning, blandly ignoring her cold reception, contriving with all the ease in the world to get introduced to her mother, and her father as well, before going off with Matt