The Secret of Summerhayes. Merryn Allingham

still an abundance of winter stock from which to choose. This morning on her way back from the grocer’s, she’d helped herself to a whole bagful from the heap left outside someone’s garden gate. She started to peel the bunch of carrots. The soldiers would almost certainly be eating a great deal better than this. Their kitchens had gone up several days ago, part of the advance guard that included Eddie Rich. No doubt he and his friend were enjoying a ration-free meal right now.

      Thinking about it annoyed her. Not the rationing, civilians had known for years the sacrifices they must make. It was thinking about Kerrigan that annoyed her. Ralph, it seemed, wasn’t the only one who had him on their mind. When she’d first seen the man, she’d thought him attractive. He had an open face and she’d liked the way that even with a military cut, a shock of hair had fallen across his forehead. His eyes, too, had charmed – they’d been the blue of a deep ocean, a mystical blue in which you could easily lose yourself. But then she’d seen their expression. That had been decidedly unmystical. Decidedly unfriendly. His frosty manner had sent out warning signals. She should forget the attraction she’d felt. Here was a man who could hurt her, and she had no intention of allowing that to happen. She lacked the confidence, the self-belief, to cope with heartache. Her stepfather had seen to that.

      Eddie was different. She had known him only a few days but he was as friendly as he was good looking, and though she was unlikely to succumb to his charm, she enjoyed talking with him. He’d made her a friend, but that didn’t mean his friends had to be hers. True friendship was rare and true love even rarer. What began as hearts and roses soon became an exercise of power. She’d seen that for herself. And men were not essential for a loving life; if you looked hard enough, love was everywhere. She’d found it in the job she did and the children she’d taught and they had repaid her love a hundred fold. Once this interminable war was over, she would be on her way back to London, to begin again to build a life for herself. The last of the carrots splashed into the saucepan and she searched around for matches. Jos Kerrigan would take up not a second more of her time than was necessary. She struck the match with force, then waved it towards the gas ring and promptly burnt her fingers.

      Two days later, she was clearing Alice’s breakfast tray when May Prendergast arrived in the kitchen just after nine o’clock. Her friend was short of breath from climbing the two flights of stairs and made her apologies between gasps.

      ‘Sorry, if I’m putting you out, Beth, but I had to come early. I can’t stay as long as I’d hoped either. I’ve to call on the evacuees as soon as I leave here. We’ve found places for the children but there have been a couple of problems settling them in. And guess who’s sorting that out?’

      She took off her coat and hung it on the back of one of the only two chairs the kitchen possessed, then unpinned her hat. ‘How are you anyways?’

      ‘Fine. It’s been a trifle noisy with the soldiers arriving en masse, but it seems to have calmed now. I imagine they’ve dug themselves in.’

      ‘Mass is the right word,’ May agreed. ‘There’s certainly plenty of ’em. I walked up from the lodge and there are vehicles and men both sides of the drive, and goodness knows how many in the rest of the gardens and on the farm. But it’s the same in the village, mind. Men, tanks, jeeps. You can’t move without falling over them.’

      Beth once more filled the kettle while her friend walked across to the window and glanced down. ‘Another army camp,’ she murmured, looking out across what had once been rolling grassland. ‘Old man Summer will be turning in his grave. This place was his pride and glory.’

      ‘Needs must, I suppose.’ She tipped a small measure of tea into the pot. ‘He was a button maker, wasn’t he?’

      ‘That he was – from Birmingham, I heard my mother once say – but buttons or no buttons, he had an eye for beauty, that one.’

      ‘You must have seen the gardens in their heyday. Were they so very beautiful?’ She poured the weak liquid into two cups and passed one to May, then sat down opposite.

      ‘They were wonderful, flowers covering the terrace, peacocks on the lawn, and enough fruit and vegetables to feed a town. I was often at Summerhayes in those days, waiting for my mother or doing odd jobs for pocket money. We had a small cottage close by, on the lane leading to the village – so as Ma could look after us, you see, but still be on call at the house twelve hours a day. She was one of the best housekeepers ever.’ The words were said with pride. ‘It was a hard life, but the cottage came rent free and we ate off the estate. That was important for the family – with no father to provide.’

      May had never before talked of family; she must have siblings, possibly in the village. ‘You have brothers and sisters then? Where are they?’ And then she wished she hadn’t asked.

      ‘Just one brother. Joe.’ Her friend’s eyes filled with tears. ‘He was the nicest brother a young girl could have. He was a gardener here, but then he signed up with the rest of them. The First War,’ she said in explanation. ‘I remember that day. A black day if ever there was. Every gardener on the estate downed tools together and then, two by two, they walked to Worthing to enlist.’ She paused and looked down at her cup. ‘He didn’t come back. None of them did.’

      Beth cast around for something to soften the difficult moment. ‘If the gardens were as marvellous as you say, the house too, I can understand why Mrs Summer gets distressed at times.’

      ‘It’s a mournful state the place is in,’ May agreed. ‘Everything crumbled and ruined, and worse now with the army. But then no one wants their house taken over by the military. And no doubt it feels worse for her, knowing that Amberley isn’t suffering likewise. The old lady didn’t have the money or the connections to keep Summerhayes safe, that’s what it was. She didn’t go to Eton or Oxford or belong to a gentleman’s club. Not like Mr Fitzroy – he could make sure his home stayed untouched.’

      As if on cue, they heard footsteps on the uncarpeted staircase and seconds later, Gilbert Fitzroy appeared at the open door, trailing a somewhat sulky son. Both women jumped to their feet, May’s knees bobbing the smallest of curtsies. Old habits die hard, Beth thought.

      ‘I understood you were in London, Mr Fitzroy.’ She was surprised and none too pleased to be entertaining him so early in the morning.

      ‘I got back late last night and thought I’d make myself useful by bringing young Ralph over.’

      She wasn’t sure exactly why he considered this useful, but then she remembered the flowers he’d sent to Alice. She pinned a smile firmly to her lips and managed to stumble out a proxy thank you.

      ‘I’m glad she liked them.’

      He was looking particularly smart, she noticed. He must have bought the clothes in London. New clothing was largely unobtainable now, but if you had money you could probably run to ground anything you wanted.

      ‘I’m sorry to intrude on you both,’ he went on, ‘but I felt I should make sure Ralph got to his lesson.’ His voice was smooth as cream, but he looked genuinely concerned. ‘At the moment, I’m not certain he’s using your time wisely, Miss Merston. Or would you mind if I called you Bethany? We are working together now – in a manner of speaking – and it seems right not to be so formal.’

      She sensed rather than saw May pull a face beside her, but without appearing to notice, Gilbert continued in the same unruffled tone. ‘I was hoping I might see my aunt, too.’ He must long ago have detected Alice’s antipathy, Beth was sure, yet he seemed willing to remain the dutiful nephew.

      ‘I’ve brought her a new book. Hatchards had it in their window and as soon as I saw it, I thought it was just the thing for her. More flowers, you see, plenty of them.’ He flicked through the pages of the brightly coloured volume he carried. Given the rationing of paper, that too would have been expensive. And she would be the one to read it, since Alice’s eyesight was failing badly and a daily newspaper was often the most she could manage.

      ‘How kind of you,’ she murmured. It was a good job that she liked flowers as much as her employer.

      ‘Do