One Summer at Deer’s Leap

I stopped at the lidded box and left a note for the milkman to find in the morning, then wondered if there would be any sign of the airman. It seemed ages since the last encounter.

Yet the trip there and back passed completely without incident. Even my parents hadn’t been in; all I’d got was Mum’s posh telephone voice, inviting me to leave a message on the answerphone.

I got back a little after five, just enough time to make up Jeannie’s bed and dust her room. Then a quick tidy-up all round and with luck I’d be able to wash my hair before she got here.

The contented feeling was back again. I looked forward to seeing Jeannie and wondered why she was taking the day off, and driving up too. I opened wide the windows and smiled into the pale purple distance, remembering that the big, blowsy poppies Jeannie liked so much were just breaking bud, and though they would quickly open and fall indoors, I decided to pick some for her room.

Jeannie was her usual unruffled self with not a hair out of place, despite the long drive.

‘Did you stop to eat?’ was the first thing I asked and she said she’d had fish and chips and peas. Mushy, of course.

I helped her in with her things, thinking that if she wasn’t such a love, I could hate her for the way she could pig it, without adding an inch to her waistline.

‘So what’s news?’ We were sitting outside with glasses of wine, watching the twilight thicken. ‘How come you’ve driven up, and a day early too?’

‘There’s a literary luncheon hereabouts tomorrow and I’m minding Susanna Lancaster. You’ll have heard of her?’

‘Of course. Who hasn’t? But what is minding?’

‘That, my dear good girl, is the taking care of an author when she’s making an official appearance, so to speak. Writers of Lancaster’s calibre always get one. She’s the guest speaker. It’ll be her last time, so Harrier Books want it to go well for her. Her book comes out officially today, and after that she’s giving up writing, or so she says.’

‘And are you her editor, Jeannie?’

‘No, her regular editor is getting married on Saturday, so I volunteered. I tried to get a ticket for you, Cassie, but no luck. Strictly limited, and sold out ages ago.’

‘No problem.’ For some reason, literary luncheons made me think of poetry readings, and big hats. ‘Where will it be?’

‘At the Throstle Farm Hotel, about seven miles from here. The great lady will want driving there – it’s why I brought the car. I’ll have to be up early in the morning to give it a wash and polish.’

‘Does she live far from here?’

‘Near Lancaster, actually. I believe her house is really something.’

‘It follows.’ Every one of Susanna Lancaster’s novels were bestsellers and some had been made into television dramas. I figured she wouldn’t be short of a pound or two. ‘What’s her latest book called?’

‘Dragonfly Morning. There’ll be books for sale at the luncheon and she’ll do a signing session afterwards. The area sales rep will be there and we’ll organize things between us. And when she’s had enough, I’ll drive her home.’

‘Do all writers speak at luncheons and have book-signing sessions?’ Just to think of it made me uneasy.

‘Quite a few. It’s a pity you can’t come along, Cas, and see how it’s done. There’s more to getting to the top of the heap than writing good books, you know. Publicity is important, as well.’

‘Mm. Piers arrived this morning,’ I said, by way of changing the subject. ‘Uninvited and unannounced.’

‘Oh, lordy! I thought your mother wasn’t going to give him this address?’

‘She wasn’t – didn’t. But he saw a postcard of Acton Carey I’d sent home, and put two and two together. We had words and, to put it in a nutshell, I gave him his marching orders. Hector got so nasty I had to shut him in the outhouse.’

‘Well, if it’s to be the end of Piers Yardley I can only say I’m not altogether sorry. I got the impression, from things you let slip, that he can be a little bit selfish.’

‘He is, but it isn’t entirely his fault.’ I had to be fair. ‘His parents dote on him. From being little, nothing was too good for our Piers. He expects everyone else to bow down and worship too. It’s a pity, because he’s very attractive, if you like ’em dark and brooding.’

‘And all of a sudden you don’t?’

‘Seems not. Aunt Jane was right, I suppose. She always said you shouldn’t settle for second best and that’s what Piers would have been.’

‘Why, Cassie? Was there once someone else?’ She topped up the glasses, avoiding my eyes.

‘No. Piers was the first, but I think I always knew he wasn’t the right one. Better to end it than let it drift on and fizzle out. Mind, Mum would like to see me married, though I think she went off Piers a bit when she found he’d asked me to go to London and live with him.’

‘So we’re both fair, free and on the shelf. Spinsters, I suppose you’d call us.’

‘Then here’s to spinsters!’ I said defiantly, raising my glass. ‘And just look at that sunset!’

A blazing sun had reddened the sky and the hills stood mistily black against it. At the top of the laburnum beside the front gate, a thrush sang its heart out, and love of Deer’s Leap washed me with a sadness that hurt.

‘I must take a lot of snaps before I go back, Jeannie – for the Deer’s Leap book, I mean. And if Beth asks me here at Christmas, I’ll take some winter ones, too.’

‘She’ll ask you. I’m glad you’re still keen on the book, Cassie. I like the idea. I think it would do well.’

‘I’ve thought of doing a succession to take in the whole history of the place. I’ve worked out I could write four, all linked to Deer’s Leap. I’d start with the building of the house, I think, in 1592. There should be loads of good factual background material; the Pendle Witches, the Civil War …’ I decided not to mention Margaret Dacre.

‘OK. Get the current book finished and I can’t see why we shouldn’t give you a contract. Are you up to four in fairly quick succession? When it’s a series, it’s better if there isn’t too long a lapse between the books.’

‘I can do it!’ Of course I could. Writing about Deer’s Leap would be no trouble at all. ‘You know how fond I am of this place.’

‘You had mentioned it! And had you thought, Cassie, that the bank just might give you a mortgage on the strength of a four-book contract?’

‘Oh, I couldn’t!’ I felt my face flush. ‘I’d be so scared owing so much it would affect my work. I’d dry up, I know it. Besides, I don’t even have the deposit.’

‘Pity. You could do it, you know, but I suppose it isn’t for me to try to influence you.’

‘Aunt Jane always said that if a thing is for you, it will come your way in the fullness of time. I suppose I can always hope.’

‘Have you seen any more of the ghost?’ She changed the subject so quickly I was caught unawares.

‘Y-yes,’ I admitted, though I’d meant not to mention it. I mean, what would she say if she knew I’d biked back here in the dark, and been scared witless because I imagined I was being followed. ‘I thought I heard him at the kissing gate, but it was dark. I’d popped out to check that the white gate was shut.’ The lie came glibly. ‘I thought I heard him talking – maybe to Susan. Imagination, probably.’

‘I know. A lot of writers suffer from a fertile imagination, thank God! Shall we see this off?’ She divided the remaining wine between the glasses. ‘Then it’s me for bed. I shall sleep tonight. I always do here. It’s so peaceful after London. No street lights, no noise.’

‘Before you do, Jeannie, what’s the drill for tomorrow?’

‘I’ll give Susanna Lancaster a ring to confirm I’ll be picking her up, and at what time. The lunch is twelve thirty for one, so she’ll want to be there a bit beforehand – get her bearings. Suppose I should leave here no later than half-past ten. Don’t let me sleep in, there’s a love?’

‘I won’t. I’ll wake you with coffee – how’s that?’

‘You’re a good girl, Cassandra Johns,’ she murmured.

‘Yes, but good girls don’t have a lot of fun!’