Fallen Skies Read online

  Stephen looked around in satisfaction. “Very nice indeed, Mother,” he said. “You have been busy!”

  “I had it well planned! The cushions and carpets were ordered as soon as you said you were marrying. I had to rush the decorators through, but I knew exactly what I wanted and I wouldn’t take any excuse. I counted on having at least three more days . . .” Muriel broke off. There was a little silence. No-one wanted to acknowledge that Stephen and Lily had come home from their honeymoon early.

  “It looks finished,” Stephen offered.

  “There’s a dressing table with a little stool to come,” Muriel said. “And the carpet fitters are due tomorrow. I’ve ordered a blue carpet, I think it’ll match.”

  “Lovely!” Lily said. “It’s a lovely room. Thank you.”

  Muriel went towards the door. “I’ll leave you to get settled,” she said. “Shall I send Sally to unpack for you?”

  “I can manage,” Lily said.

  “Dinner at seven then.”

  She shut the door behind her. Stephen and Lily were alone.

  “Jolly nice of her to go to all this trouble.”

  Lily nodded.

  “You like the colours and everything?”

  “Oh yes.”

  “And I know you like looking out at the sea. Just like a little mermaid.”

  “Yes.”

  There was a silence between them.

  “It’s good to be home.”

  Lily nodded.

  “I tell you what, we’ll take a run out in the car tomorrow. Drive over and have lunch at Chichester or somewhere. I don’t have to be back at the office until next week—we could have a couple of jaunts out and about.”

  “That would be nice.”

  “I’ll leave you to unpack,” Stephen said. “Or get the girl to do it.”

  “I like to do it,” Lily said. “I like to deal with my own things. I want to look at them again.”

  Stephen chuckled. “I’ll go down and sit with Father for a bit, meet this new nurse.”

  He put a hand on Lily’s shoulder as he went towards the door. It was the first time they had touched in daylight since he had collapsed outside the British Museum. Lily stayed very still and looked steadily at him, her face showing nothing. She was a little basilisk. Stephen’s confident smile never flickered. He bent and kissed her lips. Lily felt the brush of his moustache and the touch of his full lips on her mouth and forced herself not to pull away. She stood quite still, her lips cold and uninviting.

  Stephen sighed with pleasure. “What about trying out the bed, Mrs. Winters?” he asked gently. “Trying out the new bed? We’ll be sharing it for a good few years!”

  Lily moved away from him and sat in the window seat, looking out towards the sea, the beach, the calling gulls and the holidaymakers packing up and going back to their hotels and boarding houses.

  “Stephen, really!” she said. Her voice was balanced precisely between reproof and mild shock.

  Stephen flinched at her tone. “I’m sorry, Lily,” he said. He looked at her apologetically. Lily sat like a little yellow statue of indifference with the blue sky behind her. “You’re so damned lovely. I keep wanting to . . .”

  Lily looked at him coldly and his words dried in his mouth. He smiled awkwardly. “I’ll go and visit Father,” he said.

  Lily nodded. She sat without moving until the door had closed behind him and only then did she exhale deeply, as if she had been holding her breath with fear.

  When she heard the door of his father’s room close, Lily slipped from their bedroom and stepped quietly down the stairs. They were carpeted with a faded red and blue runner held in place with brass stair rods and rings. By stepping on the edge of the carpet where it was thickest, Lily could get downstairs unheard.

  Madge’s letter was at the front of the post rack. There was one other letter for Lily with a typewritten envelope and a Southsea postmark. Lily took them both and slipped upstairs again.

  She sat on the window seat to look at them. She opened Madge’s letter first.

  Darling Lil,

  How does it feel to be a maried woman then? I bet your not so keen now you know all about it! Make sure you don’t get into trouble—you know what I mean. When I see you again I’ll tell you a few things you should know. I doubt any one else has put you wise!

  Your the luckiest girl that ever was catching your Captain. Hes a real peach and absolutely rolling in it. Charlie was telling me about the family the other night. So you’ll be living in that lovely house unless you get your own I suppose? I’d hold out for my own place actualy. What about a nice little flat overlooking the seafront? Or London? Cant you get him to move?

  Were working our way home again. Im writing this from Sidmouth again on the return trip and we’ll be home in four weeks. Its going well. No news really. Ill phone you when we get into Southsea and you can invite me round for tea, duches! Posh!

  As you can guess, I didn’t really want to write. Charlie made me write to you and he’s going to inclose a page. By the by Sylvia de Charmante made a huge pass at him and he turned her down flat. She was sick. It was divine. Charlies leaving the show to take up his new post at the Kings almost at once. We’ve got some drery replasement starting tomorrow.

  See you when we get home,

  Love

  Madge.

  Lily read through Madge’s letter quickly and then turned to Charlie’s.

  Dear Lily,

  Congratulations on your marriage. I hope you will be very happy. It’s obvious that Captain Winters was very much in love with you from the start. I am sure you have made the right decision in marrying him.

  I am writing to tell you that they will be auditioning for the Kings from the middle of July and if you wish I can put your name forward. There is also the pantomime which might suit you in the winter season, especially as it would not take you from your new home.

  Yours sincerely,

  Charlie Smith.

  There was a postscript, as if Charlie knew that his letter to Lily must be something that her husband could read, and yet at the moment of putting it into the envelope he had heard the coldness of his tone, and remembered her despairing telegram the day before her marriage which he had left unanswered.

  I should like to see you if Captain Winters permits.

  Your friend, as ever,

  Charlie.

  Lily read and re-read the letter. Then she folded it up and put it carefully in a pocket in her new handbag. She sat for a moment looking towards the sea where the families playing on the beach had been replaced by people dressed in their evening clothes, strolling along the sea wall. Somewhere in the distance there was a brass band playing waltzes. Lily remembered the night in Charlie’s room and the irresistible longing, as powerful as pain, that she had felt for his touch. She could not relate the arid painful struggles with Stephen to her easy melting desire for Charlie. The night with Charlie seemed like a dream now, one of the strange romantic dreams of her girlhood. Charlie’s scarred wounded body was like a girl’s dream: sensual, warm, unthreatening. The reality was a nightmare. Lily could not think of Stephen’s aggressive maleness as part of the same species.

  She remembered her second letter and opened it. She gave a little gasp of delight. It was work. It was from the manager of the Kings Theatre offering her a date for an audition to be held at the theatre under the supervision of their new musical director, Charlie Smith, on 21 July. Lily leaped to her feet and walked around the room, too excited to sit still. On the bare floorboards her shoes echoed loudly. Lily did not care, she had the offer of work as a professional singer in her hand.

  The sound of Rory’s bedroom door opening and Stephen’s step on the stairs startled Lily. She thrust the letter in the pocket of her jacket and threw open the lid of her suitcase.

  “Not unpacked?” Stephen said, coming into the room.

  Lily stared. He had not knocked. She realized that he would never have to knock. He had an absolute right to