Watch for Me by Twilight Read online

  ‘Cassie, darling.’ This time it was Margaret. ‘There’s an awful lot of food-related things there.’

  ‘Going by previous events,’ Cassie swiped another document open on her iPad and consulted it, ‘we can expect to treble the number of daily visitors. Treble it.’ She looked at them, from one to the other and smiled. ‘I’ve done the stats.’

  ‘Well done.’ Margaret’s voice was rather faint.

  ‘I’ve included bunting, remember,’ Cassie reiterated. ‘It’s not all food. I just know that last time we needed more clotted cream as the cream tea demand went through the roof. I’m trying to anticipate all that. Oh, and I’ve already mentioned the squash courts and the tennis courts to Elodie. You know.’ She waved her hand around expansively. ‘Last year when we started planning this.’

  ‘Those old courts are a little on the hazardous side at the moment, don’t you think?’ Delilah commented. ‘And I don’t think anybody ever started planning this properly, because the wedding happened and Elodie was planning that instead. So this is all still quite – unplanned. As I understand.’

  ‘The courts and the Spa area are all in my risk assessment, or it will be, once I’ve organised it.’ Cassie was quietly hoping that Elodie would be back in good time to sort that out. Cakes and bunting she could deal with. The rest seemed a bit scary. ‘Oh! But that’s something I’ve done,’ she said suddenly, tapping the screen. ‘I’ve already arranged the publicity material. I figured that was important to distribute early on. We’ve got leaflets going out to the motorway service stations and the local tourist information offices. They should be there next week. We should get quite a lot of footfall, thanks to them.’

  ‘So you’re advertising the event, but we haven’t really got anything ready to advertise yet?’ Margaret raised her eyebrows.

  ‘I suppose so.’ Cassie smiled widely at Margaret. ‘But like I say, we’ve got months yet.’

  There wasn’t much left of Aidan’s great-great-uncle’s possessions in a physical sense. It was more the idea of what was missing that had always bothered Aidan. It had been bothering him a little more since his visit to Hartsford, and he’d started to think about Robert’s life.

  It was a damn shame that Robert had chosen to join the RAF when he did. He’d been twenty-five when he was listed as Missing in Action, during World War Two. If he’d waited, he might have missed that air battle over France. If he’d waited, though, he might have been killed outright; one month, two months, three years down the line. There had never really been a good time to be in the RAF during the war.

  Aidan looked at the black and white photograph of the young man in an RAF uniform, his hat at a jaunty angle, a gung-ho smile on his young, clean-shaven face. There was, however, a haunted look in his eyes – as if he was simply pasting on that smile and there was something else burning behind it. Then Aidan picked up the other photograph, an informal shot, taken, one assumed, at Cambridge, before the war.

  Robert had been good-looking, that was for sure. Aidan studied the floppy, side-parted hair – much longer and more untidy than it was in the RAF shot – and looked at the crumpled tweedy-looking suit and open-necked shirt. That was definitely a young man who’d had a good time – and recently. Aidan smiled.

  He turned the photograph over and read the inscription on the back for what seemed like the millionth time. Reach for the Star. Dance until we die. And for what also seemed like the millionth time, Aidan frowned and shook his head.

  Robert had been a poet and a playwright and an author, and that only served to make it even more annoying that he had written ‘Star’ singular, instead of the usual ‘Stars’.

  For a man who used each and every word perfectly and correctly, and could make images burst into life with the smallest tweak of a phrase, it had bugged Aidan ridiculously over the years that Robert had never written that quote down properly.

  Why the hell hadn’t he?

  Chapter Three

  1936

  ‘Rob? Are you in here?’ Stella hurtled into the squash court. The door was propped open, thanks to the desperate heat outside.

  Rob had run off, zig-zigging away from her as they raced each other through the estate towards the Spa, and she’d pounded after him, her plimsolls slapping on the paving slabs near the pool. She’d slowed down, not wanting to take the chance of slipping and ending up in the water just yet. It was terribly inviting though – it would be perfect for a dip after they’d had their game of squash.

  It was her birthday, and everyone was expected – Stella knew they’d end up in the pool at some point this evening, but now all she was bothered about was finding Rob. He’d turned up in his white shirt and shorts and smiled down at her, his navy-blue eyes twinkling with a challenge as he twirled his racquet in his hands. He’d cut quite a figure on the steps of the Hall with the parkland shimmering behind him. The sun had made it look as if he had a halo. And he was no angel – she knew that as well.

  ‘Happy birthday, Lady Stella. I challenge you to a squash match in celebration of that event.’ He bowed ridiculously low as she rushed out to greet him.

  ‘Oh, Rob! Thank you! And challenge accepted. Come in and wait until I get changed.’

  Rob shook his head. ‘No, thank you. It’s too beautiful a day. I think I’ll wait out here and be inspired by Nature.’ He’d bowed low again and backed away theatrically.

  Stella laughed. ‘Very well. I shan’t be long.’

  She’d dashed upstairs and pulled her own tennis outfit from the wardrobe, a white playsuit that had very, very short shorts; short enough to distract most male opponents, anyway. She giggled, wondering if they’d work their magic on Rob. He was by far the better player anyway, so she doubted it, but they were the best weapon in her arsenal.

  ‘I’m ready!’ Soon, she had hurried out of the Hall and seen Rob sitting on the lawn, watching the house – certainly not watching Nature.

  As she skipped down the steps, his face split into a wide grin and he stood up. ‘Beautiful. You see, I am always inspired by Nature – when it’s your nature, that is. Now – race you!’ And he’d sprinted off, so much faster than her, even though she had been House Captain for sports at school.

  At twenty, however, Rob was in his prime. He was in so many teams at Cambridge she couldn’t quite remember them all. Athletics was one of them though, she recalled now as he sped across the lawns outpacing her easily.

  Eventually, she caught up with him and burst through the doors. ‘Rob! I know you’re hiding in here. I just know it.’ She paused and looked around. There was a movement upstairs in the gallery and she shouted with delight. She raced up the stairs and flung herself at him laughing.

  ‘I win! Caught you!’ Rob called as his arms came around her. He was laughing too. His hair had grown over the last few months and he looked mischievous and devilishly handsome with it flopping down to the side.

  ‘You did indeed. But you’re back and you said you might not even make it. Did you get sent down from Cambridge, or are you here legally?’

  ‘No, I didn’t get sent down. Close call, though.’ His eyes twinkled. ‘Remind me not to write satirical nonsense about the masters next time I try it. At least I did not echo Shelley – I denied authorship, unlike that exalted poet who stood by every word in his time at Oxford. I’m here officially. Well, truth be told, I skipped this weekend to see you.’ He swung her around and kissed her nose. ‘I can’t leave the birthday girl alone when she’s supposed to be celebrating. Tell me, where is everybody?’ He made a show of peering down into the main courts and searching in the nooks and crannies of the courts, then turned to smile down at her.

  ‘They’re coming later.’ She made her own show of searching as well, and thought she actually did see someone in the centre of the building – a tall figure with long, dark hair – but it was simply a fleeting glimpse of a shadow or a trick of the light. There was nobody there – of course not. They were coming this afternoon and she could hardly wait. She shrugge
d her shoulders and shook her head. ‘No, nobody is here yet. Except you.’

  … and you’re the most important one anyway.

  She looked up into his dear, dear face and thought there was absolutely nothing better than being twenty years old in 1936 and sharing part of that precious day with her most favourite person in the whole world.

  They’d come later – of course they had. Stella’s whole crowd of friends had landed en masse, the cars coming up the driveway in convoy. Rob leaned on the balustrade and drained his glass as he watched them arrive. Stella and he had already opened a bottle of champagne, and she’d yelped as the cork had shot up into the air. He’d promised her that the next time he’d break the neck of the bottle with one of the Earl’s swords, which at least was something practical he’d learned at university.

  The guests tumbled out of the cars, and Rob thought that the girls, if not the boys, were already lit up, judging by the way they were shrieking and laughing and waving more champagne bottles around, some of which were, joyfully, unopened. He raised his arm in welcome, and Veronica and Rosie squealed in delight, tripping over each other to scramble up the steps to greet him, while the rest of Stella’s crowd slammed car doors and dragged cases around, waving and shouting greetings as if it was years since they’d seen one another, not simply weeks.

  ‘Rob! Oh joy! How wonderful. Did Cambridge finally chase you out?’ Veronica bounded up the steps unsteadily, and Rob caught her before she stumbled.

  ‘Why does everyone think that?’ Rob laughed and shook his head. He kissed Veronica on her delicately scented cheek. ‘No. I’ve come for Stella’s birthday. The simple truth.’

  ‘It’s wonderful to see you, whatever the reason.’ Veronica hugged him and tottered off to greet Stella who was running out of the Hall and waving at her madly. ‘Stella! Happy birthday, darling.’

  ‘Vronnie! Did you bring all our boys along? Oh, you did! You clever thing.’

  Rob put his glass on the ground and headed down the steps to greet the others. Yes, the usual suspects were all there, and he grinned, looking forward to the party and to spending carefree time with the best people in the world. Having said that, there didn’t need to be a party at Hartsford Hall for Rob to see the most beautiful girl he could ever hope to meet. So long as Stella was there, that was all that mattered.

  ‘Did I tell you that I’m writing a play?’ Rob looked at Helen, Stella’s closest friend, and grinned. ‘You’ll do us the honour of starring in it, won’t you?’ She was a sweet little thing who looked like Mary Pickford. ‘Stella has quite beaten any poetry out of my soul. She’s supposed to be my muse, and by Heaven, “Fool” said my Muse to me, “look in thy heart and write.” My heart says I must write a play today. Perhaps a poem may follow my truant pen. But at the moment, dearest Stella has drained my life and my words with her antics. How can a man concentrate on poetry when he is busy defending his honour from someone who looks that adorable?’

  They’d taken a picnic lunch outside onto the lawn and a couple of them had started a game of croquet, which someone seemed to be smashing, loudly and intently.

  ‘I’ll star in it only if Anthony’s my leading man,’ Helen answered, laughing. Helen and Anthony – a quiet chap, the very image of a silver screen heart-throb himself, and a man who was not-so-secretly in love with Helen – were always nominated for the lead in Rob’s plays.

  ‘Oh, Helen, you’ve killed me!’ Rob mourned and threw himself to the ground in an attitude of despair. ‘Stella! Tell your good friend here that I’m dead as dead can be and it was her fault.’

  ‘I most certainly will not!’ Stella cried. ‘I love Helen and she’s entitled to perform with anyone she likes – oh!’ She covered her mouth with her hands and giggled. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, that came out all wrong.’

  Helen shouted with laughter and Rob sat up. ‘Stop it! Stop it now, dear heart. You’re actually making things much, much worse.’

  ‘I wouldn’t dare steal you away from Stella,’ replied Helen. ‘Why, she’d never forgive me and it’s really not worth the risk.’

  ‘It’s still a rejection.’ Rob gave a heartfelt sigh. He pulled a notebook closer to him. ‘Very well. Let’s go through the play as it stands, and I’ll shout for old Anthony to join in. He has to learn his lines before dinner.’

  A photograph fell out of the notebook and Stella pounced on it. ‘Oh, Rob. Is this the one I took—’ She clamped her lips shut and instead flushed a little as she looked at the picture.

  ‘It is,’ he acknowledged.

  ‘Let me see.’ Helen reached over and plucked it out of Stella’s hands. It showed a very tousled-looking Rob, smiling cheekily into the lens. A river and some buildings were in the background and Helen frowned. ‘Where’s that? I don’t recognise it.’

  ‘Cambridge.’ Rob leaned over her shoulder and smiled down at the photograph. ‘It’s a very special photograph.’ He remembered the day very well. Stella had turned up in the town, waiting outside his college, leaning against a bicycle with a little basket on the front of it …

  ‘Stella Aldrich!’ He’d run over to see her and she’d stuffed the book she’d been reading in the basket and met him halfway.

  Rob lifted her up and spun her around. ‘What in God’s name are you doing here?’

  ‘I heard you were in a show tonight.’ Her eyes sparkled. ‘In fact, a little bird told me that you’d written the show. Well, two little birds. Mary and Lois, to be fair. Imagine!’ Mary and Lois were identical twins and Rob grinned, remembering Stella’s last get-together when the twins duetted, drunkenly, on the poolside and announced they quite fancied becoming famous Vaudeville singers. ‘I’m so proud of you,’ Stella rushed on. ‘You’re in Footlights, for God’s sake, but I’ve no idea why you picked a silly name to hide under. The twins told me you’d written the script as “Jack Shelley”! Why not use your own name?’

  ‘I don’t want to get sent down if the masters disagree with my words.’ He grinned, and he knew, that she knew, he didn’t give a fig about the masters disliking his words. ‘Anyway, it’s not silly. My brother Jack will love it, and Shelley – come on, darling girl. Shelley! That’s a very good name to use.’

  ‘It is, it is, but you’re still silly. Gosh, Footlights, though!’ Rob cut her off with a friendly kiss as her voice rose in excitement.

  ‘Well I am in the show, I grant you that. And it’s a sort of comedy, a sort of satire.’ He frowned. ‘Rather silly, but rather fun and should be taken in that spirit – Jack Shelley would agree.’

  ‘I am so very, very proud of you.’

  Rob laughed and caught her hand in his. They walked to the bicycle, him swinging her hand deliberately further and further up, until their hands were clasped above their heads and swooping down in a great arc. ‘And that’s the reason you turned up here today, is it? To congratulate me on that?’

  ‘Oh, no.’ Stella looked up and grinned. ‘I came to watch you. But before that, I thought I’d treat you to afternoon tea. If you grab your cycle, we can go along the river and find a nice spot. Just to set you up for the evening. And—’ They had reached her bicycle, and she plunged her free hand into the basket. ‘I want to play with this. Leo bought it for me as an early birthday present.’

  ‘Your brother has frightfully good taste.’ Rob admired the compact camera Stella held up for him to inspect. ‘A shame it’s wasted on you. Perhaps, though, you could be a photographer?’

  She shoved him good-naturedly, then did a little twirl. ‘I think I would be much more suited to being a model than a photographer. Come on.’ She laid the camera back in the basket. ‘I didn’t lug this all the way down here on the bloody train to stand and chatter. Let’s go. Oh.’ Her face fell. ‘Unless you’re busy? I never thought …’

  Rob grinned and shook his head. ‘It’s nothing that can’t wait.’ He lifted a book up. ‘If I get into trouble for a late return, though, you can explain it to the librarian.’

  There had followed the most delightf
ul afternoon, where they had cycled along the River Cam and found a little place for tea. They’d lain on the grass and talked rubbish, then flirted a little and kissed a little, and it had ended with Stella taking Rob’s photograph against the backdrop of the river and the old buildings.

  ‘I shall ask Leo how we go about getting the photographs out of this thing.’ She held it up and peered at it. ‘I’ve got quite a few of ducks and buildings and grass. Maybe one, I think, of my foot.’ She frowned as she remembered pointing it downwards to look at the buttons and dials. ‘I hope that was a nice one of you. Not too blurry.’

  ‘I look forward to seeing it. May I take one of you, before we head back? I’d quite like to remember the day you dashed down here on a train and forced me into afternoon tea.’

  She agreed and posed for him, laughing up at him as she sat on the grass.

  ‘Hang on – does anyone know you’re actually here?’ He suddenly had visions of her older brother developing the photographs for her and an awful lot of questions coming his way afterwards.

  ‘Oh, don’t worry. Leo does.’ She scowled. ‘I tried to book a hotel room and he caught me on the telephone. We argued. I didn’t manage to book my room at all.’

  ‘So how are you getting back tonight?’ he asked. Part of him hoped she’d say, ‘Oh, I don’t know, can’t I simply stay with you?’, and part of him knew that was a dangerous thing to wish for.