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  Sofia had a think for a few moments and when she rested her eyes on Dora, the latter threw her hands in the air with a grin. “Don’t look at me, I’ve never seen the guy.”

  “Well,” said Sofia in the end, “I guess the best match is the blond from Johnny Hates Jazz.”

  “The lead singer? Oh, he’s yummy!” said Dora.

  Nana clapped her hands with delight. “Oh, he’s nice! Wonder if he likes younger girls,” she piped up, causing the other two to laugh uncontrollably. Gran came out to check what the fuss was all about. Granddad and Uncle Lilis had gone off to the square to wait for the bread van, and aunt Rini was around the back hanging clothes on the line.

  “What’s all this noise, more vromousses?” Gran teased them, choosing to name them after those stinky little insects nobody liked to touch, just to make a point about their naughtiness.

  “Vromousses? But I don’t stink!” replied Nana cheekily.

  By then, Gran had approached to find them browsing at teenage magazines. Sofia’s was an English one. Aunt Marika had visited the previous day to bring her a dozen new ones that her guests at the rooms had left behind. Sofia had devoured two already on the first day.

  Before Gran made about face to return to the kitchen, she made sure to pull on Nana’s bra strap.

  “Auntie!” complained Nana.

  “Ah, my darling girl,” said Gran with a lopsided grin, standing in the middle of the yard with a hand on her hip. “Becoming a woman means you’ll soon have a life ahead of you to deal with physical pain and emotional distress. Better get used to it, little one!” It was a joke, but it carried so much truth.

  Sofia, inevitably, thought of Danny again then. Of Danny, wherever he was in those faraway foreign shores, and of Steve, barely two hundred yards away from where she was standing.

  Chapter 10

  1938

  “Mother, could I have a word please? Excuse me, ladies,” said Charles as soon as he approached. Susan Fenshaw was lounging on a sofa at the time, chatting with two elderly women that seemed about to nod off.

  “Of course, dear.” Lady Fenshaw excused herself to her old friends and followed Charles to a corner of the room where they could talk privately.

  “I would like to speak to you about Laura, Mother.”

  “Oh, isn't she heaven? Thank you so much for bringing her here tonight. What a treat for us all she’s been with her marvellous singing!”

  “Yes indeed, quite right! Anyway, I was wondering if you could ask her to stay overnight. I thought it would be lovely to have her here tomorrow for the picnic.”

  “Oh, what a splendid idea! Of course you should ask her!” she said patting his hand.

  “Mother, I would like you to ask her please!” Charles huffed and ran a hand through his hair with exasperation. Whenever she drank a few glasses, it became impossible to communicate with her. “It’s quite important, that you ask her,” he repeated. This time, he managed a feeble smile.

  His mother tilted her head. “Why is that, dear?”

  “I think she has plans for tomorrow to see friends.” Charles was certain Laura was seeing Christian. The very thought made him nauseous with annoyance, but he tried to clear it from his mind so that he could focus. Laura was a clever girl; he needed to set a perfect trap. She should enter it totally unaware of any danger, and who would be better to set it for her but his innocent-looking mother?

  “Well if she has plans . . .” said Lady Fenshaw with a shrug from her shoulders, breaking his reverie.

  “You don’t understand, Mother!”

  “What is it, dear? What is troubling you?” Unsettled, she reached out to caress his cheek with a tender hand, as if he were a child.

  Charles didn’t resist it but rather accepted it with gladness. It often perturbed him, the thought that although he had all the luxuries he ever wanted, it all became tiresome sooner or later. Yet, tenderness was always the one thing he never got enough of.

  “It’s important to me, Mother. It’s important that she stays. Can you please do me a favour and go ask her for me? She won't have the heart to say no to you. Please convince her to stay. It will make me very happy, Mother. Do you understand?”

  “Good heavens, Charles . . . you have feelings for her?” His mother’s eyes opened wide when it dawned on her that her son had finally fallen in love.

  “Yes Mother,” he said, taking her hand from his cheek to kiss it. “Will you please do me this favour?”

  “Leave it with me, darling.” She patted his hand and gave him a sweet smile, then followed his eyes and spotted Laura across the room. When she turned to go to her, Charles watched, but before Laura could catch his eye, he turned around and left the room.

  There was an evil gleam in his eye when he stood outside in the courtyard lighting his cigarette. Mother is bound to do the trick. He was so close to the prize now that his fingers had started to itch. At last, it’s time to reap the benefits after all this waiting! I’ll teach a lesson to that stinking peasant, who thought he could ever win one over me!

  ***

  When he returned to the drawing room ten minutes later, Charles found his mother and Laura sitting together. Laura wore a distinct expression of discomfort, and he smiled to himself. She looked downhearted and apprehensive, like a cornered animal looking in vain for a way out. And so, the trap had been set.

  “Hello Laura! James is ready to go when you are,” he said breezily.

  “Oh, that won't be necessary, dear,” replied his mother, winking at him secretly from Laura. The young girl was gazing at Charles with a forlorn look on her face at the time. She wouldn’t have caught his mother’s playful wink, not in a million years.

  “Oh? Why not?” he asked, feigning ignorance.

  “Your mother has kindly asked me to stay for the picnic tomorrow,” Laura finally said, trying all she could to sound excited about it, but he could tell it wasn’t so.

  “I thought you had plans! Are you sure?” he asked, tilting his head with mock concern.

  “No, it’ll be fine. Can I just make a telephone call please? I’ll get a neighbour to notify Maggie I won’t be home tonight.”

  “Yes, of course Laura. Please, follow me,” he said eagerly, beckoning with a fluid movement of his hand.

  He led her to the library where he pulled a face of dismay. “I’m so sorry, Laura. I tried to tell Mother you had plans for tomorrow, but she wanted to ask you anyway. In the end, she looked so excited about the prospect, that I just didn’t find the heart to insist and put her off asking you.”

  “It’s quite all right,” replied Laura, with a little wave. She felt too obliged to Lady Fenshaw to allow herself to show even a hint of her frustration. Besides, it was only a day. “I’m looking forward to the picnic. It’s awfully nice of her ladyship to invite me.”

  Charles issued her with a tight-lipped smile and shut the door to give her privacy. Then, he returned to his mother with long, triumphant strides to bow before her, grinning.

  “You’re a cunning woman, and I love you for that,” he said, kissing her on the cheek.

  “Anything for my boy,” she replied, relishing his affections. Such gestures didn’t come often, neither did his happy spirits, and it was wonderful to see him cheerful for a change. She was hoping Laura had feelings for her son too, somehow. It would be wonderful if they were to be married, and it didn’t matter she wasn’t of noble descent. Neither was she, after all.

  Times had changed. Nowadays, love often transcended social classes, and that was widely acceptable. Besides, she was in her late sixties now. She no longer had the luxury of time to wait for her son to find the right girl. This is why, by the time Charles left her to check on Laura back in the library, she was already fantasising about cots, tiny clothes, and baby skin that smelled of talcum powder.

  ***

  An hour later, all the guests that were expected to leave had done so and the ones scheduled to stay, had all but one retreated to their rooms for the night. Sus
an Fenshaw had made last minute changes to the arrangements with the maids to make sure Laura got appointed the best guest room in the castle.

  Laura wore an aquamarine blue dress that night and had said it was her favourite colour when Lady Fenshaw complimented her for it. Charles’s mother was already trying to find new ways to please her and to make her feel as welcome as possible. Thus, she had arranged for Laura to sleep in the Blue Room. It had a spectacular view to the lake and a William Morris wallpaper that depicted delicate flowers in the colour of her dress. Susan Fenshaw felt pleased for this little touch, hoping Laura’s favourite colour on the walls would delight her.

  While Lady Fenshaw stood in the hallway giving instructions to the maids, telling them to pay particular attention to Laura’s every need, Laura waited with Charles in the library. It was getting rather late. Around one a.m., Susan Fenshaw returned to them to say goodnight. Her husband had retired an hour earlier.

  “Laura, I am so delighted you’ve accepted to stay! I look forward to chatting again with you tomorrow,” she said, as they walked together to the front hall. “If you would like to take the stairs to the second floor, our maid Jenny is waiting for you at the landing to take you to your room. I think you will like it,” she added with a warm smile as she patted her hand.

  “Thank you very much, my lady. I look forward to tomorrow,” replied Laura. When Lady Fenshaw walked away, Laura turned to Charles to bid him goodnight, but before she could speak, he gestured to the staircase.

  “I’ll escort you upstairs,” he said and she followed.

  Jenny, a young girl with freckles and long ginger hair pulled up in a bun, was waiting on the landing as expected. In her hands, she held a set of folded towels. “Welcome, miss,” she said with a curtsey. “If you follow me please—”

  “That won't be necessary,” interrupted Charles. “You can go about your business. I will take Miss Mayfield to her room.” He reached out to take the towels from the maid.

  “It’s the Blue Room, sir,” she said, relieved to have one less thing to do before retiring to bed. She had been on her feet for hours, running up and down the stairs, and they ached and burned as if on fire.

  “I know; her ladyship has informed me,” he said rather impatiently and then motioned Laura to walk with him down the long corridor. He stopped in front of a door and opened it slowly, as if not wanting to disturb someone already inside. Of course it was vacant.

  The bed was made with beautiful, lace-trimmed white linen and plush pillows. The curtains were drawn back from the large window. Laura gasped at the sight of the fabulous blue porcelain figurines and vases on the antique furniture, not to mention the exquisite wallpaper, the colour of which she didn’t fail to notice. She walked in, as if hypnotised, and stood before the window. She could make out nothing in the darkness outside. Only in the far distance, a cluster of twinkling lights emerged through the mist, perhaps passing cars in the distant country roads, breaking the disorienting sheet of darkness.

  “I was hoping to see Brighton from here,” she said and turned around to face Charles again. They were alone in the room and that made her feel uneasy. Not only did it strike her as improper but for some reason, also as threatening. She’d noticed in the past hour how the look in his eyes had changed. She’d thought it was the drink. Everyone had drunk too much. Still, there was something in his eyes that was dark and new, and it had started to scare her.

  She dared look at him straight in the eyes then without the pretence of smiling, and there it was again. But it was only a glimmer. As soon as she registered it, he gave a little laugh, and it dissolved without a trace.

  “Brighton? You can't see it from here. It’s on the other side, silly!” he said pointing behind his shoulder. “I say, you would make a bad sailor!” He laughed, and she mirrored the gaiety of his expression, relieved that the ominous shadow in his eyes had vanished once more. He was the good old Charles again, who had made her laugh during those evenings out in London.

  “It’s such a lovely night.” He went to stand beside her.

  “Not that you can see much,” she said peering out to see nothing in particular.

  He chuckled. “I can turn off the lights if you think it’ll help.”

  “That won't be necessary, thank you.” She gave a nervous little laugh, feeling conscious of his loitering. Why isn’t he making sounds about leaving yet? She turned around and threw a surreptitious glance at the door. It was wide open, but still, she felt uneasy.

  “Well anyway, here are your towels,” he said placing them on the edge of the bed. He noticed the nightdress by the pillows but didn’t comment.

  “Thank you.” She felt relieved. Soon he would go and she could finally lie down. She was simply exhausted.

  “I’m sure my mother has made sure everything is in order. You’ll probably want for nothing overnight,” he said, an intense look in his eyes before he looked away, to gaze at the bed again.

  “Thank you,” she repeated, unable to think of something else to say. That shadow in his eyes had just returned, and the fact he was now approaching her by the window again, had started to make her feel like the air in the room was thinning. All at once, she had a dizzy spell and wavered on her feet, her arms reaching out to keep balance.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked when he saw her run a hand across her forehead.

  “Nothing . . .” She bent her head to glance at the thick carpet. To her horror, she realised then that the back of her neck was feeling heavy. Why can't I lift my head? Have I drunk that much wine? I don’t think so!

  “Are you sure you’re all right, Laura?” he asked, but although she wasn’t looking at him now, she panicked at the strange quality of his voice when he said that. It sounded almost like he was mocking rather than asking with sincerity.

  “I feel strange . . . what is happening to me?” she whispered, and with a lunge forward, he held her in his arms just as she lost her balance. Quickly, for there was no time to lose, he helped her lie on the bed and then rushed to the door to close it.

  To her horror, dizzy but with her senses still acute, Laura heard the distinct sound of a door locking. Two clicks to lock it twice. But why? Why was he locking the door instead of calling for help? She heard him pacing in a hurry back to the bed. His breathing was heavy now when he loomed over her, and it reached her ears like an excited pant. He sounded like a predator about to devour an eagerly hunted meal. To her horror, she realised right then, this was exactly the case. She was the prey he was after.

  “Charles?” she mumbled, and in response, he caressed her hair but said nothing.

  Charles thought she looked so beautiful in her blue dress, lying on the bed before him, in the privacy of the room; finally his, surrendered.

  “No, don’t . . . What are you doing?” she whispered feebly when his hand travelled lower to cup her breast over her silk dress. Then, it moved back up to grasp her naked shoulder. She tried to lift her head and break away from his hold, but it was impossible.

  Her body felt numb, and her mind was a cloud of confusion now, yearning for nothing but the heavy blanket of sleep. She tried to yell but his hand was there, covering her mouth, and all that came out were pitiful sobs as tears coursed down her face.

  She had fallen into the trap foolishly and now she knew it. There was no point in resisting so she just gave up. Motionless and hardly able to open her eyes, she accepted with horror, yet with absolute certainty, what was going to follow.

  “So beautiful . . .” he whispered in her ear. A long tuft from his hair brushed the side of her face when he positioned himself on top of her, making her nauseous with repulsion.

  “Why?” she mumbled with a feeble shake from her head, when his hand freed her mouth for a few seconds, only to give her a demanding, penetrating kiss.

  “Because you resisted dear . . . because you turned me down . . . and we can't have that now, can we?” he toyed with her as soon as their lips parted, whispering the words in her ear as if
they were sweet nothings, words of love he was saying. Breathing hard, he put his hand over her mouth again, although it was clear she had no strength left in her to speak, let alone to scream.

  With fierce movements, he pulled down the straps of her dress, then tugged it down with force. Her naked breasts were revealed in his lustful eyes, and he bent over to kiss them tenderly, as if she wanted him to, as if he had her consent. He wasn’t rushing now and strangely enough, he was gentle. This was the prize he had dreamt of for far too long. The time he had spent desiring it had given it a sheen of reverence. Now that it was his, he was going to take his time and enjoy it. Who could stop him anyway?

  He had planned it well enough to know for sure no one could stand in his way. Laura was motionless, no resistance was left in her, and everyone else around the castle were, no doubt, already fast asleep in an intoxicated stupor.

  “What have you done to me?” she managed with difficulty when he freed her lips in order to kiss her again. She could hardly open her eyes, but behind her closed eyelids, absolute terror had taken up her senses, her entire world.

  “Just some powder in your drink, my darling . . . down at the library, as we waited for Mother to say goodnight. Poor thing, she often has trouble sleeping! The powder is very effective and makes her sleep like a baby . . . and so will you now,’ he promised gleefully, heartlessly, as she closed her eyes and surrendered to sleep, handing over herself to his lustful desires.

  Chapter 11

  Laura awoke the next morning in a state of panic. As soon as she opened her eyes she brought her hands to her body and realised in horror she was totally naked under the covers. Charles was not there any more, but she couldn’t help thinking how insane it was that he had thrown the bed covers over her before leaving, considering what he’d done, as if that caring gesture would have made everything else all right.

  She sat up and looked around her. Her head was fuzzy and heavy with a thumping headache. She brought a hand to her forehead and tried to remember. What was the very last thing he had said or done before she fell asleep? Instinctively, she brought a hand between her thighs and retched at the sickening realisation. The remnants of his lustful pursuit were unmistakable. She jumped out of bed, took the bath towel from the chair and threw it around her. She couldn’t bear the sight of her own nakedness. It heightened the sense of disgust that brewed in her stomach.