Summer Afternoon

By Anne Michelsen

The day Ada’s mother bolts, the stillness of her childhood is shattered and Ada tumbles into an unfamiliar world of love and strangers.
The only constant in her life is Goodly Manor, their ancestral home on the Cornish coast.
When her friend Cornelia becomes consumed with the absurd quest to find a suitable husband amongst the glitter of the London Season, Ada decides she’d much rather learn to fly than go hunting for a suitable man. However, her flying instructor is making things rather more challenging than she had anticipated.
War topples Ada’s relatively peaceful existence, when five evacuee children are unceremoniously dropped at her doorstep. A wounded RAF pilot also decides that Goodly Manor - Ada’s now chaotic home, is the only place he can hope to come to terms with the frustration of his blindness.
Together they must learn to hold on to what really matters; their freedom and their friends.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Anne Michelsen
• Release date: Dec 31, 2012
• ISBN: 9780991840601

Anne Michelsen

Growing up in Norway, Anne Michelsen developed a love of sailing and adventure. At the age of 19 she crewed on a sailing vessel crossing the Atlantic from Majorca to the Caribbean. Anne went on to walk the runways of New York and Paris before returning to Norway. While working at the Oslo Airport Anne became interested in flying and traded the runways of the fashion world for the runways to the sky. Her flying career brought her to British Columbia on a stint as a flying instructor. Anne met her husband (a helicopter pilot/engineer) in British Columbia and together they moved to Europe, living in Ireland and Spain over the next 4 years. Years later after returning to Canada, another opportunity to help sail a 47 foot Swan from Newport, RI to Oslo was irresistible, and a second crossing of the Atlantic was made. Over the years, Anne decided to teach herself to touch type and at the same time improve her English vocabulary, it is in the course of this pursuit that the beginnings of a novel took form. After many iterations the final product "Summer Afternoon" was publish on Smashwords.com, just in time to welcome in the New Year of 2013. Anne and her husband is now happily settled in the "River House" in Eastern Canada where spring and summer is greatly taken up with growing heirloom tomatoes and various other vegetables. Cooking is another passion at the River House, Anne enjoys nothing better than to make a fabulous meal, it seems to satisfy both her creative side and her palate. Currently Anne is working on manuscripts for additional novels to be published in the near future.

Book preview

SYNOPSIS

The day Ada’s mother bolts, the stillness of her childhood is shattered and Ada tumbles into an unfamiliar world of love and strangers.

The only constant in her life is Goodly Manor, their ancestral home on the Cornish coast.

When her friend Cornelia becomes consumed with the absurd quest to find a suitable husband amongst the glitter of the London Season, Ada decides she’d much rather learn to fly than go hunting for a suitable man. However, her flying instructor is making things rather more challenging than she had anticipated.

War topples Ada’s relatively peaceful existence, when five evacuee children are unceremoniously dropped at her doorstep. A wounded RAF pilot also decides that Goodly Manor - Ada’s now chaotic home, is the only place he can hope to come to terms with the frustration of his blindness.

Together they must learn to hold on to what really matters; their freedom and their friends.

ACKNOWLEDGMENT

I am enormously grateful to my friend, Jane, for all her invaluable help and perceptive advice.

A huge thank you to my friends, Susan and Marie, for their excellent input.

And most of all, to my terrific husband, for always supporting my endeavours.

***

SUMMER AFTERNOON

A Novel by

Anne Michelsen

Published by Riverhouse Publishing at Smashwords

copyright 2013 Anne Michelsen

ISBN 978-0-9918406-0-1

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each receipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

All characters in this publication are fictitous and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

***

TABLE OF CONTENTS

I - Summer, 1932

II - Christmas at Lawns, 1937

III - Taking to the Air, 1938

IV - Darby Reach

V - Torquay

VI - The Last Hunt

VII - Back in the Air, 1939

VIII - Coole Cottage

IX - Winter, 1939/40

X - A House Full of Children, 1940

XI - Blindness

XII - The Painting

XIII - A Gathering of Friends, 1941

XIV - Lost and Found, 1942

***

Chapter I

SUMMER, 1932

You are trespassing, she called out across the sand.

Gareth Ashton stopped and looked around, it took a moment before he saw her, a dishevelled child, nearly blending with the sand and stone around her. Had she not called out he would have missed her all together.

That’s a bit unfriendly, he said cheerfully, and rather selfish to keep a whole beach to one self, especially one as lovely as this. He let his eyes travel across the summer landscape around him before he once again focused his attention on her. I was in fact recommended this very beach only this morning, he added as a lazy afterthought.

Recommended? she asked slightly mollified. Then, recovered herself and retorted, but that does not give you licence.

True, but I craved the ocean and some solitude - I have had an absolutely rotten day. Do you not think you can share a little bit of your beach with me?

Ada Alexander watched as the man threw himself onto the sand beside her, as if he had every right to be there.

Why are you having such a bad day? she asked.

It was my uncle’s funeral today, I don’t like funerals besides I shall miss him quite dreadfully, he was such a splendid chap. He lived his life well and didn’t care one jot what people thought of him, he answered amiably.

Do you care what people think about you? she asked seriously.

Oh, I think so. Most people do you know, don’t you?

I keep pretty much to myself, she paused, I don’t know, perhaps. What was his name?

Whose name?

Your uncle, she said with a hint of impatience.

Montgomery Ashton but we all called him Mungo. I wonder why - logically he should have been Monty shouldn’t he, how rum and I cannot ask him now he is dead. We always leave things too late, thinking we are immortal. His eyes had taken on a faraway look as he spoke.

Who are you? she asked.

He smiled down at her inquisitive face. Gareth Ashton, he said and held out his hand.

She put her tiny hand in his and met his eyes for a brief moment. Ada Lalage Alexander, she answered then pulled her hand away. What do your friends call you?

Some people call me Ash, he said.

I don’t like it.

All right, you may call me Gareth, he smiled. Tell me why are you sitting here all alone on such a fine day? he asked.

She would eventually have to tell him something, she hated the fact that she would need his help, it would change things - it always did. He had taken his jacket off and carelessly tossed it aside. Loosening his tie, removing his cuff links and rolling up his shirt sleeves, all the while seeming perfectly at ease, he looked at her with the expectation of a good story.

She was caught by his eyes, not unpleasantly for there seemed to be a hint of kindness behind their dark façade. It was odd she thought how the eyes always seemed to give the character away; her father’s eyes were always distant and slightly bored. Her sister Julia’s were calculating and cold, her mother’s eyes were never serious, filled with flirtation and mischief but somehow lacking substance. She could not tell him about mother bolting with that horrid man, that was too scandal making but the rest, yes, she could tell him bits, it would drag out the time if nothing else.

My sister, Jules, is off to be finished in Paris… she stopped herself. It would be lovely if the French finished off my sister instead, perhaps they could resurrect the guillotine for the occasion, " she smiled a little at her own cleverness.

I take it that you don’t get along with your sister then? he asked.

Not much, she shook her head for emphasis. I learned last night that I shall be sent away to school, she paused and looked out at the water. Things have changed, I hate change - I like my life just the way it is. I don’t want to leave Cornwall, this is where I belong. I know I shall be desperately unhappy anywhere else. Were you sent away to school? she asked.

I was.

How did you find it?

Its just school. Where are they sending you, London?

I hope not, I loathe London.

What has poor old London done to offend you? he chuckled.

It is dirty, stuffy and there are by far too many people there, besides my parents and my sister live there most of the time.

Don’t you like anything about London? he asked while lighting a cigarette and wondering why she didn’t live with the rest of her family.

It does have a few good bits; The Tate, the V and A and Kew, of course. Oh, and I rather adore Hatchards.

The booksellers?

She nodded.

So I take it you are fond of books then?

Very much.

Gareth Ashton studied the girl sitting next to him, he could see now that her riding clothes were of good quality and she was well spoken. However, she looked a frightful mess, no wonder he had briefly mistaken her for a gypsy.

I killed a horse today, she suddenly blurted. The sentence hung heavy in the air between them, and in that very moment she was no longer just a belligerent child. He heard the catch in her voice and sad, grey eyes tugged at him.

Why? he asked carefully.

Because I am a dolt. She pursed her lips and looked down at her hands which were lying still in her lap. They sat silently for a time.

I’m not always a dolt, most of the time I’m quite clever but not today.

Tell me what happened?

I shot it. I shot Pasha’s horse, then... Then I came here.

Who is Pasha?

He is our closest neighbour, a retired Colonel. Pasha invited me to go for a ride this morning, then it all went wrong you see. I did something very foolish… I didn’t mean for the horse to get hurt. I botched it all up; I don’t know what I was thinking. Somehow it felt as if I did it on purpose, I wanted to feel something - anything would do. I didn’t mean… Oh God! she squeezed her eyes shut.

Gareth watched the girl curiously, she was visibly upset and frightfully pale.

Pasha was furious with me and without a single word he just left me there. So, I sat on the ground trying to soothe the horse, stroking him, talking to him and all the while, he kept looking at me with his big liquid eyes.

You are shaking, are you all right?

No, but what does it matter, I deserve to be in pain, I deserve to be utterly miserable.

Nobody deserves…

She didn’t hear him, just kept talking. Then Pasha returned, he ordered me to stand up, he put a revolver in my hand and told me to shoot the horse. The revolver was so heavy and I just stood there not able to do it. Not wanting to do it. Then he shouted at me, Pasha has never shouted at me ever, she squeezed her eyes shut but this time it didn’t work and tears started to slide down her cheeks. Pasha shouted at me, she hiccupped with her lips trembling. He yelled that I had to take responsibility for my own actions. ‘You rode that horse without a care, pay the price - put that poor animal down now.’ I knew he was right. I pulled the trigger and ran as fast as I could to get away.

She wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her cardigan trying bravely to pull herself together, but not entirely succeeding. One cannot run away from guilt, it hangs over you like a heavy, black cloud. It pecks away at you like a carrion crow, she was still sniffling a little.

Gareth stared a the girl by his side trying to take in what she had just told him, no wonder she was upset.

I can’t believe he made you shoot his horse. God, how old are you? he said sounding truly horrified.

Old enough.

And how old is that exactly?

Thirteen.

He didn’t think she looked much more than ten. Why are you in such a muddle, it’s not only because you are being sent off to school, is it?

That bit I cannot tell you but it is all very vexing.

Why can’t you tell me everything? What made you so distraught in the first place?

I cannot, that would be snitching and that’s not honourable.

Quite, he said and let the topic drop.

They sat quietly immersed in their own thoughts for a while. No wonder she wanted to come here he thought, the beach was lovely, a secluded stretch of white sand set in a little cove. It was a perfect summer’s day; the sun shone and made it pleasantly warm. The wind gently distributed the salty air as the sound of the water lazily lapped against the shore. Gareth stirred himself, he hadn’t felt so relaxed in ages.

The tide is coming in, perhaps we should move ourselves. There seems to be a lovely little building built into the cliff above the beach over there.

Gareth stood and slung his jacket over his shoulder and reached his free hand out to pull her to her feet. He noticed that she was shivering slightly and her pallor was paler than pale.

I’m sorry but I don’t think I can. She looked towards the water for a moment then calmly returned her gaze to his. I seem to have hurt my foot.

What do you mean hurt your foot?

She smiled wryly at him. Not only did I shoot my best friend’s horse but I also foolishly managed to take a tumble down the cliff. So, you see it has not been the best of days for me either.

He looked at her as if he thought her quite mad. He craned his neck and looked up. That is a devilishly long way to fall!

It is rather. However it could have been a lot worse, I was lucky and landed in the sand, a few yards over and that would have been the end of me, she shuddered.

Perhaps your luck has changed, I happen to be a doctor.

She looked at him for the longest time before she said anything and he met her gaze with a hint of smugness.

And are you a good doctor? she asked with a dose of cold contempt more fitting an adult.

Taken aback by her question and tone of voice, not quite sure how to answer he turned his head and focused his eyes on the shimmering sea. Of course he was a brilliant doctor but to say so would sound rather conceited. Nobody had ever questioned his ability before; perhaps his Harley street consulting rooms gave people a sense of assurance. However, it was a very honest thing to ask, he had to admit. He turned back and looked at the young girl, her unwavering gaze was fastened on him, not letting him get away.

I never had any complaints.

Dead people cannot complain, she said gravely. Then she added almost as an afterthought, Have you ever killed anybody?

He laughed at her audacity. Not to my knowledge. If however, I told you that, yes, I have killed several just for the lark of it, then what would you do? His eyes suddenly danced with amusement.

That would be the perfect ending to the worst day of my life, she said sotto voce.

Well, I am certainly not some mad killer. Quite the opposite in fact and I shall do my very best to improve your day young lady, not make it worse.

My friend, Pasha, says that a young doctor makes a humpy graveyard.

Your friend, Pasha, sounds like an old curmudgeon if you ask me.

He does rather, she said with a sad smile.

Well, like I said I have not killed anybody but I suppose there is always a first.

Then he became quite serious. If you fell all that way I should really take a look at you.

No, I rather you didn’t.

Most people fawned on being taken care of by him and even though he found it slightly annoying at times, it made his work rather easy but this slip of a girl was clearly not in the least impressed by him.

Do you mind awfully if we just sit here for a bit longer, she asked.

Let me ascertain that you have no serious injuries, he insisted. Then I’ll help you over to the bathing hut and we’ll take it from there. Would that be all right?

Everything about him seemed dark, like a raven, she thought and wondered briefly about the scar running across his cheek. She nodded reluctantly, knowing that she really had very little choice.

His dark eyes focused on her before he gently reached out for her hands and turned them over, they were all scratched and bloodied. He tilted her chin up and carefully pushed her hair away from her brow, only to reveal a long gash.

Ada closed her eyes. How careless of her to fall down the cliff, and what a disaster. She was not really supposed to come here on her own but she always did. Father had vetoed it too dangerous, but there was nothing dangerous about the place other than the fact that one had to keep an eye on the tide. But now she had proved him right. How wretched it all was. Her father had a passion for absurd rules and forgiveness was not exactly a family trait.

How long have you been sitting here like this? His question bit into her thoughts.

I do not know. The last thing I remember was the view from the top, next I came to over there.

What do you mean came to? he sounded alarmed.

It’s all rather a frightful blur, she mumbled.

All right. Now is this the foot you hurt?

She nodded. It feels as if the boot holds everything in place. Does that make sense? she asked, looking uncertainly at him.

It does, let us leave your foot alone for now. Do you hurt anywhere else?

No, her voice slightly mulish again.

His eyebrows shot upwards showing that he did not really believe her. It is important that you tell me the truth. You did not fall all that way without doing damage to yourself. Have you moved yourself at all after the fall?

Only a few yards, I landed over there.

He looked to where she was pointing and saw that she had indeed been lucky, a few more yards to the left and she would have been dead, smashed to bits on the jagged rocks. He craned his neck and studied the path she must have tumbled down. The first stretch was not all that steep. There were even some gorse bushes stubbornly clinging to the rock. Then the cliff face became steeper and the last bit a sheer drop, it was a wonder she had not broken in two. She seemed such a fragile little thing.

Can you move your arms all right? Yes, good. How about your neck, is it stiff or tender? Any double vision?

He was hunched down in front of her as he reached out and felt along her neck, his fingers probing her skin. She felt unhappy, he was too close.

Do you hurt anywhere else? He looked at her questioningly.

I hurt everywhere but I think my ankle is the worst of it, she answered knowing it was only a half-truth but not wanting to make a fuss.

Have you tried to put any weight on it?

No.

Here let me help you up, then we’ll see how you do.

No sooner was she on her feet then she collapsed like a rag-doll, feeling frightfully nauseated. He simply gathered her in his arms and started to walk, her beat up body screamed in protest, the fifty yards suddenly seemed like a thousand. It had been all right as long as she sat still, still like one of the holy men Pasha had told her about from India. Still, like the grey heron patiently waiting for a carp to swim by in the pond at home but being carried like this was torture.

Gareth put the girl down on the flagstone floor on the little terrace. Then he folded his jacket and put it under her head. He gently brushed strands of her wild hair away from her pale freckled cheeks. She looked so very broken. He sensed her gaze on him. You fainted, he explained.

It was better when I was sitting still. Do you think I could sit up.

He helped her to sit up against the wall, her legs stretched out before her.

Why did you not immediately tell me that you were hurt?

Does it matter? she shrugged her shoulders, the movement making her wince. Ignoring the pain she said. There is a key hidden on top of that ledge. I think there are some bottles of mineral water inside. I should very much like one.

The key turned easily in the lock and he stepped inside. The room was simply furnished, a few basket chairs, a tattered old chaise longue, and a table with an old Tatler splayed open. Against the wall, a few striped sun-chairs folded and stored, a shelf with a few bottles on it, some volumes of poetry and a statue of Venus de Milo. A small writing desk and a frayed Persian rug completed the room; it was perfectly charming in its simplicity. It was cooler in here perhaps he should move her out of the sun. He gave her a bottle of water, which she greedily drank from, while he helped himself to a bottle of orangeade.

Do you want me to move you inside?

No, don’t. I love feeling the sun on my skin.

He looked at her sitting against the wall, her skin white under a myriad of freckles. If I were to go and fetch help, how far would that be?

There is no need for that. Stop fussing, why can we not just sit here for a little while.

Gareth sat down next to her, feeling slightly mystified. Why?

Solitude, there are no people here, just the sound of the ocean, the seagulls and the oyster-catchers. Well, you are here but you seem... nice, she finished off a little lamely.

He could see that she was shivering, struggling against the pain and against him to a certain degree.

"I think it would be a good idea to get you to the local hospital, we need to get an X-ray of your ankle.

No! Not the hospital. Please!

For the first time since he had found her, she sounded distressed. Most people would be relieved to know that they would go to the hospital for treatment but not this brave foundling.

What is wrong with the hospital?

It’s just not my favourite place.

It is not supposed to be anybody’s favourite place, one just goes there to get patched up by kind doctors like myself, he smiled.

There is no such thing as a kind doctor, Ada said with vehemence.

That is a rather dim view, he looked at her with curiosity. May I ask why?

She suddenly felt a little ashamed. It was not his fault that the doctor at the cottage hospital hated her. He kept staring at her, not letting go of her eyes and slowly a blush spread across her features.

I am still waiting for an answer, he said sternly. Being politely savage always made people respond, it was of course pompous and supremely arrogant. However, he had successfully manipulated many a difficult patient that way and made rather a sport of it.

Suddenly, without warning, tears spilled down her cheeks and her lips trembled slightly. God, here he was interrogating this poor child instead of taking care of her. He watched her sitting there silently crying, her eyes still fastened upon him, making him feel like a common criminal. No wonder she had a dim view of doctors, he thought and reached out and squeezed her shoulder reassuringly, which made the girl yelp in pain and brought him sharply back from his musings.

I really should have a quick look at you.

Why? You cannot do anything anyway, she sniffled unhappily.

You do not know that.

I don’t want you to.

You were the one that wanted to stay here for a while. Let me look you over and if it is, as you say, nothing too serious then we can take our time. I am in no particular hurry to get back to the grim gathering of relatives who have congregated for the funeral. I’d be just as happy here with you, a lot happier in fact.

He could see from her expressive face that she was struggling with herself, yet he could understand her reluctance.

He took her bottle of San Pellegrino and poured some over his handkerchief and gently wiped smudges of dirt from her face. He gently dabbed at the cut across her brow, it was not as deep as he had first thought.

Stop fussing. Please! she begged and swatted his hand away from her face as if it was an irritating insect.

He let his arm drop. He wasn’t sure about anything when it came to this girl; she made no sense to him. She seemed rather frightfully brave; perhaps she was an elf or was it a pixie. He tried to remember the characters from The Water-Babies, Nanny must have read that book to him a hundred times.

Did you ever read The Water-Babies?

I didn’t like it much but Nanny thought it very good. She smiled a little at the memory it evoked.

Was it a pixie that was the water elf?

No, I believe that was a nixie.

Are you quite sure, I do not remember any nixies but then again it is a long, long time since Nanny read to me, he said with a wistful smile. He watched the tide slowly reclaiming the beach, it had almost reached to where they had been sitting only moments ago.

Had I not arrived the tide would have washed you out to sea, he mused.

That might not be the worst thing that could have happened to me, she sighed morosely.

He refrained from saying anything but allowed himself to smile reassuringly at her, it always worked with patients.

You don’t have to try so hard to be nice you know, it really doesn’t matter, she said with an irritated sigh.

You just said only a little while ago that I was nice?

Yes, but now you are smarmy, she grimaced.

Smarmy! I have never been accused of being smarmy before, he laughed delightedly. You have been very brave but I think you are quite badly hurt and like you said, I have no way of taking care of you here. I should get you to the hospital, it is in fact rather irresponsible of me not to do so.

I know. I hate for the real world to take over again. It has been rather nice to spend the time here today despite everything, she said softly.

Ah, yes, the real world. It can be a prickly place but most of the time it is … not so bad.

You don’t sound overly convincing you know.

You are right, he chuckled. It seems to me that we are both fugitives but the real world does not go away so easily, he said as he locked up the little bathing hut and placed the key back where he had found it.

My grandfather had this place built as a wedding present for my grandmother. She didn’t like it one bit, she never really liked anything he did for her.

I think it is rather a splendid spot, perhaps I shall trespass again someday, he teased.

It is my favourite place, few people know of it. Besides it is private property you know, she added in a magnificently superior tone of voice.

My uncle’s wife told me about this beach earlier today, when I told her I wanted to get away for a bit. I wonder how she came to know this place?

He sat hunched down beside Ada noticing how her eyes started to look slightly glazed, she must be utterly exhausted he thought. He was glad she was tiny for the path up to the top of the cliff looked steep and was probably hard enough to traverse on one’s own, let alone carrying another person. The path he had come down, at the other end had not been half as tricky but it added distance.

All right little elf, he said and scooped her up and started to walk up the path. Ada hid her face against his chest, desperately trying to ignore the pain.

Half way to the top, he gently put her trembling body down, slightly out of breath himself.

She looked out at the sparkling water below, at the gulls dancing on the wind, and she could hear a skylark somewhere in the distance. She felt terribly dizzy and had an awful feeling that she was going to be sick. At first she did not hear him speak, then he put his warm hands on her cold ones to get her attention. Are you all right? His eyes seemed filled with concern.

She simply nodded feeling a little better now that they were still.

You certainly are one rum child, he said still studying her.

She did not understand his meaning and hated that he called her a child. She had never liked being a child. For as long as she could remember she had longed to be older. And why was it that this man made her so sharply aware of everything, every thought that flittered through her head, every expression, every hand gesture, every touch, everything she said seemed magnified, loud and mostly silly.

He reached out and gently tucked one of her wild auburn curls behind her ear. He had never come across anyone with such unique hair colour, nor with so many freckles.

He lifted her up in his arms once again and pressed on, she could feel the warmth from his body, she could hear his heart beating hard in his chest – she closed her eyes.

When they reached the top he put her down on the ground and sat down next to her breathing heavily, they sat quietly for a while.

Listen Ada I shall go and get my motorcar, shan’t be long, ten minutes at the most, he explained. He kindly put his jacket around her shoulders before he disappeared down the path that ran along the top of the cliffs. She drifted off into an uneasy half slumber.

Gareth hurried along the cliff top towards his parked motorcar. He was quietly humming to himself while thinking what a peculiar turn the day had taken.

Ada woke up as he lifted her into his little roadster. He drove fast asking her for directions, how she dreaded what was to come next. The trip took less than fifteen minutes. He carried her into the little cottage hospital and placed her on a chair in the gloomy waiting area and vanished. Ada looked around but the place was empty. There was a mirror across from her, and she looked rather a frightful mess. Her clothes were torn and dirty, her hair was like a bird’s nest and her face scratched and streaked by traces of tears.

Doctor Fitzgerald came over to Ada with Gareth in tow, he looked at her sternly over his horn-rimmed glasses.

And here you are once again Miss Alexander, the old doctor said coldly.

Droctor Fitzgerald are you not diverted to see me? Ada answered sweetly.

You know full well that we have better things to do than to constantly patch you up. What in God’s name have you been up to this time? Without waiting for an answer, he turned to Ashton. This young lady should take a few lessons from her sister, a delightful creature, she has only been here once and that too was Miss Ada’s fault if my memory serves me right. I must say I feel for her poor parents and if she had been my daughter I certainly…

Doctor Fitzgerald, I don’t think she is paying much attention to you right now if you take my meaning.

She never pays any attention to anybody, that is exactly the crux of the matter.

She is quite unconscious, Doctor, Ashton said a tad sharply.

Indeed, blasted bad timing for I am in the middle of a tricky delivery. With that he turned around to leave.

How about if I look after her, if you have a nurse to show me...

Capital idea, young man. There is an examining room through there you can use. He vaguely pointed his arm in the direction of a glass door. Splendid, that’s settled then, jolly good. With those words carelessly tossed over his shoulder, Doctor Fitzgerald vanished down the corridor without a backwards glance.

Gareth knelt by Ada’s side and just shook his head. Curiouser and curiouser, he thought feeling slightly amused. He picked her up and carried her through to the room Fitzgerald had indicated he could use.

Ada slowly came to and looked around. Where is my arch-enemy? she whispered.

He is busy with another patient and since there were nobody else around to take care of you, I kindly offered my services. Gareth smiled, feeling strangely pleased with himself when he saw the look of relief wash across her face.

Thank you, she said with a small inscrutable smile.

Well old thing, now you are in my territory and I intend to make absolutely certain that you are all right. Do I make myself clear? Now let’s get that boot off for starters.

He swiftly cut the laces off her paddock boot, and then he carefully jiggled the boot off her foot. She blinked to keep the tears at bay. They both stared in amazement at her ankle. It was enormous and had taken on a most peculiar shade of purple.

This is not good. He gently put his hand on her swollen foot. It felt pleasantly cool against the taut skin but the throbbing pain was excruciating. He pricked her toe, asking if she could feel it. Then he wanted her to wiggle her toes, which seemed near impossible.

All right, he said looking up from her foot, this will definitely need an X-ray. Now then what else?

She took a deep, shaky breath of air. My left arm was bleeding.

He helped her remove her cardigan. The white shirt underneath was a mess, it was torn in several places, bloodied and streaked with dirt.

She looked charmingly dishevelled sitting in front of him in a silk camisole, jodhpurs, one boot on, the other off and her hair, a mass of curls tumbling around her shoulders. She was a truly enchanting child, he thought to himself as he took her skinny, freckled arm and looked at it in wonder. Somehow she had managed to bandage a cut on her upper arm, having ripped a strip from the bottom of her Aertex shirt. He carefully unwound the bandage and winced at the ragged gash of flesh.

Ouch, that looks nasty. It will need sutures but first I have to clean it up, the wound is full of dirt. While I do that you can amuse me by telling me what on earth you have done to evoke such hatred in old Doctor Fitz?

She flinched as he cleaned the wound, Doctor Fitzgerald and I took an instant dislike to each other when I was five years old. I do not think there was any one reason - other than perhaps I have been a rather frequent customer.

You have hated each other for eight years? That is a long time.

It is an eternity. The man is insufferable and a huge fan of my sister, Jules.

How come?

Oh, you know the usual.

No, I do not know. Paint me a picture.

Julia is exactly the opposite of me, much better suited for society, if you will. She giggled at her own wit.

If Julia is suited for society, where does that leave you?

I am suited for solitude, she said solemnly and nodded her head for emphasis.

Good God! Sounds rather monastic. Do you aspire to become a nun Miss Alexander?

A nun! I should think not. She smiled at the absurd notion.

What did you mean then?

She was saved from answering by the nurse, Miss Ada, what on God’s green earth happened to you this time?

I had a little tumble, that’s all. Nurse Pengelly, this is Doctor Ashton.

How do you do, he said slightly distracted. I should very much like Miss Alexander’s medical chart and I need a suture kit and anaesthetic. I shall also need an X-ray of her foot if at all possible.

Our X-ray machine is not serviceable. You have to go to Truro for that I’m afraid. The rest I can easily arrange for you, she smiled kindly and left the room.

Truro! I guess you and I are going to town together, this is turning out to be quite an adventure.

Ada raised her eyes to his, I am sorry to be such a nuisance. If our chauffeur is still at the house perhaps he can take me.

No need for that old thing. While we wait for Nurse Pengelly, let us have a look at your shoulder. Your body will have enough bruises to qualify as a world map but your shoulder is frightfully swollen. It looks as if something heavy landed on it.

I landed on it when I came off the horse. I think there was a rock or a root, something very hard.

Perhaps we should X-ray all of you, he teased her.

No, that’s not at all necessary.

What about your legs?

Nothing but bruises. Look, not too many rips or tears in my jodhpurs.

True. However I still have to make certain.

She was about to protest when the nurse walked back in. Doctor Ashton busied himself with the anaesthetic. Ada only slightly winced at the needle prick.

You father is not going to be pleased about this Miss Ada.

Ada glanced at Ashton but he had his nose in her chart. She cringed at what he would read there.

Why, Nurse Pengelly, will Mr. Alexander be displeased with his daughter? Doctor Ashton asked sternly without looking at the nurse.

Well, Sir Charles does not approve of Miss Ada’s wild behaviour.

God, what must he think of me? That I am an imbecile. Does it matter what he thinks? a little voice in the back of her head piped up. Strangely she wanted him to think well of her, not that she was some unruly child but, unfortunately, it was a little late for that.

Time to stitch you up wild thing, he said and tossed her dossier carelessly aside as if it were of no great importance.

A little later he carried her back out to his car and handed her a pretty chiffon scarf to tie around her hair while he lit a cigarette for himself. The scarf smelled softly of a floral scent. She wondered to whom it belonged. Was he engaged or married? She had not noticed a ring on his finger. It didn’t really matter. She decided she would just enjoy his company as long as it was hers to enjoy. She felt quietly relieved that he was willing and able take her to the hospital in Truro.

I was late afternoon when Ashton’s roadster finally swung in through the gates at Goodly Manor. An overwhelming sense of dread came over her, but before the emotion managed to take a firm grip, Doctor Ashton exclaimed in a surprised voice. What a perfectly charming spot you’ve got here elf. No wonder you don’t want to leave. He slowed the motorcar to a crawl, and then stopped for a moment to better take in the view.

She tried to look at it through a stranger’s eyes, the manor house in which she had lived for all of her thirteen years. She would never tire of the prospect of Goodly Manor, it was a beautiful honey coloured country house, perfectly proportioned and happily situated on well kept lawns. The long winding avenue of old linden trees and big rhododendrons made for a welcoming entrance through the park.

A few minutes later Doctor Ashton pulled the car to a stop on the gravel in front of the house and came around to help her. Julia came flying out of the front door. She stopped and stared at Ada for a brief second before she focused her attention on Ashton. She reached her hand out in greeting. Introductions over with, she briefly turned her attention back to her sister. You are in serious trouble.

Yes, I suppose I am, Jules, you don’t know the half of it.

Mr. Ashton, would you care to join us for tea or perhaps a drink?

I don’t think so, Miss Alexander, I have somewhere I need to be.

When Ashton reached in and lifted Ada out of the car, Julia looked slightly irritated, even more so when the man asked her to fetch the crutches from behind the seat.

Jessop, where are you? Julia called and looked over her shoulder. The crutches, Jessop. Julia flapped her hand in the direction of the motorcar as soon as the butler arrived.

What have you done to disgrace us now? Julia complained loudly, sounding a touch malicious.

Which way to your room, Ada? he whispered in her ear.

He put her gently on the bed and pulled up a chair, Jessop put the crutches by her bedside.

Are the parents still here? She had to ask, even though she knew the answer.

No, Miss Ada. London, I believe.

It wasn’t like Jessop to sound shifty but she could tell that he was uncomfortable. Thank you, Jessop. I shan’t take any supper. Will you tell Cook for me, please.

I will of course, he said and left the room looking relieved to go. Jules would no doubt fill her in on all the gory details later. She always enjoyed a bit of drama and had an amazing knack to embellish them.

You should eat something, Ada, it is important that you get your strength back.

I am not hungry right now. Do you think you could open the window for me please? It feels rather stuffy in here.

He was standing by the window admiring the view when Nanny B came bustling in wringing her hands. Julia told me you had hurt yourself again, darling child. When shall you ever learn, she fretted.

Nanny Busby, this is Doctor Ashton. He kindly rescued me today.

Ashton and Nanny politely greeted each other. Ada smiled at them fighting the sleepiness that started to weigh her down. She heard Ashton give Nanny some advice on the care she would need. Then she thought Ashton was leaning over her saying, It has been a strangely pleasing day despite a bad start, little elf. He gently touched her cheek or perhaps that bit was only wishful thinking.

***

Chapter II

CHRISTMAS AT LAWNS, 1937

The door to the first class compartment slammed shut behind Ada. She sat down and as soon as the train started to move, she closed her eyes. This was the last Christmas before school finished. God, she would be eighteen in a few months. It was hard to believe that she was about to step into adulthood. She didn’t mind the getting older bit, but the horrors of her ‘coming out’ - the expectations! Months of London life filled with parties and loads of gauche young people. ‘Coming out’ - the sole purpose to find a suitable husband, she cringed at the insanity.

She was not like the rest of them, the girls at school, it was all they could think of - the dresses, the parties and the prospects of a good catch, they sounded like Pasha before one of his fishing trips to Scotland.

Fragile beginnings of a plan had slowly started to take shape a few weeks ago, a plan to escape it all. She wanted to