The Frozen Lake: A gripping novel of family and wartime secrets. Elizabeth Edmondson

if he felt pleasure or misery at seeing it again. The huge front door swung open as the car drew up, and a maid in formal black dress and starched pinny and cap came out to stand at the top of the steps.

      Hal didn’t recognise her either, nor the smart uniform. Hall maids in his day were a comfortable lot, duly clad in morning or afternoon uniform, but never looking as pressed and trim as this young lady. She looked straight through Hal and told the driver to take the car around to the back and unload the gentleman’s luggage straight away.

      ‘Mrs Grindley is upstairs resting before dinner,’ she told Hal as she followed him into the black-and-white chequered hall. ‘Mr Grindley will be home at half past six. Tea has been served in the drawing room, Mr and Mrs Roger Grindley are there, they have just arrived. It is this way.’

      ‘Thank you, I know where it is,’ Hal said. He crossed the hall and opened the fine white panelled door into the drawing room. He stopped inside the doorway, looking around in surprise. There had been something different about the hall, although he hadn’t been able to put his finger on it. Now it came to him, where were all the stuffed animals?

      The drawing room ran from the front to the back of one side of the house, a long, wide room with windows leading on to a terrace. Gone were the heavy damasks, the patterned carpet, the heavy armchairs and sofas; gone most noticeably were the stuffed bear with a tray in its paws, several noble stags’ heads, the pair of stoats glaring at each other from two branches, a bewildered owl, and the fox with his head turned as though politely surprised to find the hounds upon him.

      The parquet floor gleamed at his feet. Fine Persian rugs were placed here and there. Two deep sofas with plain dark pink covers faced each other across the fireplace, other chairs were in lighter shades of raspberry and looked thoroughly uncomfortable.

      ‘Good God,’ he said before he could stop himself. ‘Interior design comes to Grindley Hall? I don’t believe it.’

      His remark was greeted by a peal of laughter and he looked over to the sofa, where a tall, fair woman, still laughing, was standing up and holding out her hands. ‘Hal, my dear! How distinguished you look, I don’t think I would have recognised you.’

      ‘Angela,’ he said, kissing her warmly on both cheeks. He was shocked to see the lines around her eyes. How old was she? Late forties, must be, but it wasn’t merely years that had added a strained look to eyes and mouth. If he were any judge, that was tension, not age. Well, being married to Roger would hardly be a bed of roses.

      ‘Good to see you, Hal,’ said his brother.

      Roger hadn’t changed, Hal thought as they shook hands. He was heavier, but had the height to carry it off, so didn’t yet look portly. The main difference was in his air of success and prosperity; that was what advancement in the law had done for him. He dimly remembered a line in one of Nanny’s letters.

      ‘Aren’t you a KC now, Roger?’

      Roger nodded, a satisfied look on his wide, handsome face. ‘I took silk more than five years ago. I thought Peter would have told you.’

      ‘I travel about so much,’ said Hal apologetically. He should have written, of course he should, only he never did write to his brothers. And of course becoming a KC was a great step for a lawyer, but it had seemed of no great importance in his theatrical world far across the Atlantic.

      A much younger woman than Angela, but with the same fair complexion, had been standing by the window.

      ‘You can’t be Cecy!’

      ‘I am. Hello, Uncle Hal.’

      ‘Good heavens, Cecy. You were all legs and pigtails last time I saw you.’

      There was a silence. Angela broke it with a polite enquiry about his voyage – what a time of year to brave the Bay of Biscay – had it been very rough – had he been staying in London, Peter had said his ship was due two days ago – had anyone shown him to his room?

      ‘I didn’t give the maid a chance to,’ Hal said. ‘What happened to Wilbur, Roger?’

      ‘Wilbur? Oh, the chauffeur. He went into the army, I believe. Eve found this present man, he’s some sort of foreigner, I shouldn’t care to have him in my employ, he looks rather a ruffian. However, Eve says he’s cheap and drives very well. Peter leaves all the staff side to her. You’ll find quite a few changes. Bound to, after so long.’

      Silence again. It occurred to Hal that the stiffness of the atmosphere was not caused by his arrival. The tea tray stood untouched on a low table beside the fireplace. Whatever Roger’s family had been doing, it wasn’t taking a welcome cup of tea after a long drive. He could see that Cecy was eager to leave the room, she was sliding unobtrusively round behind the sofas towards the door.

      ‘Where are you going, Cecy?’ her father asked in a cold voice.

      ‘Upstairs. To dress. My frock needs pressing, I’ll have to ask the maid to do it for me. She won’t know which one I’m wearing tonight.’ With that she made a positive dash for the door and was gone.

      ‘Children,’ Roger said grumpily. ‘You never married, I suppose, Hal.’

      ‘No,’ Hal said.

      ‘They’re the very devil. One minute all dimples and not much of a nuisance to anyone, and the next causing no end of trouble. I’ll see you at dinner, then,’ he added, making for the door.

      ‘What’s Cecy up to?’ Hal asked Angela, who had sat down again. She picked up a glossy magazine and began to flick through the pages. ‘Has my niece taken up with some undesirable man?’

      ‘That would be simple,’ Angela said. ‘Unsuitable boyfriends are child’s play compared to a career as far as Roger is concerned.’

      ‘Career?’

      ‘Don’t ask. Medicine, I’m afraid.’

      ‘Cecy’s doing medical training? Training to be a doctor, not a nurse? Sorry, no need to ask, not with her being your daughter. Good for her.’

      ‘I agree with you, but Roger never liked the idea, and he knows that Peter will have a go at him about it, he thinks it’s rather lax.’

      ‘This is Peter as head of the family, I take it?’

      ‘It’s a role he plays more and more.’ She put the magazine back on the table and stood up. ‘I really do have to go and dress.’

      ‘Tell me one thing,’ said Hal. ‘What happened to the menagerie?’

      ‘The menagerie?’

      ‘The stuffed creatures.’

      ‘Oh, the stoats and those poor, sad-eyed deer. Eve doesn’t care to have dead animals around her. So down they came and out they went. I couldn’t approve more. There was a wicked-looking ferret that had come to roost in the downstairs cloakroom. When I told Peter it was playing havoc with his bowels, he wouldn’t speak to me for a week. I was quite right, however. He used to disappear in there for hours with a pipe and the paper. No longer, and he’s lost that costive look he had.’

      Hal held the door open for her. As they crossed the hall, the front door flew open and a red-faced schoolgirl in a thick navy overcoat stumped in, a satchel hanging off her shoulder, a hockey stick in one hand and a bicycle pump in the other. She was yelling as she came in, shouting out to Simon to jolly well come down right now and apologize for swiping her pump, the one that worked, and replacing it with his duff one, a foul trick to play on her, she finished with a triumphant roar.

      She stopped, drew breath, saw them standing there and bounded towards them. ‘Aunt Angela, you’re here. Has Cecy come with you? I’m so late, all because I had a flat tyre and rotten Simon switched the pumps.’ She stared at Hal with undisguised interest.

      ‘This is your Uncle Hal, Ursula.’

      Hal looked at the girl with more attention. So this was Peter’s youngest. Of course she was, he thought with a sudden