edge of the fall by kate williams extract

7/24/2019 Edge of the Fall by Kate Williams Extract

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TeEDGE ftheFALL

KATE WILLIAMS


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First published in Great Britain in by Orion Books,

an imprint of Te Orion Publishing Group LtdCarmelite House, Victoria Embankment

London

An Hachette UK Company

Copyright Kate Williams

Te moral right of Kate Williams to be identified as the authorof this work has been asserted in accordance withthe Copyright, Designs and Patents Act of .

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may bereproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmittedin any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical,photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the

prior permission of both the copyright owner and theabove publisher of this book.

All the characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to

actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.A CIP catalogue record for this book is

available from the British Library.

(Hardback) (Export rade Paperback)

(Ebook)

ypeset at Te Spartan Press LtdLymington, Hants

Printed and bound in Great Britain byClays Ltd, St Ives plc

Te Orion Publishing Groups policy is to use papers thatare natural, renewable and recyclable products and made from

wood grown in sustainable forests. Te logging and manufacturingprocesses are expected to conform to the environmental

regulations of the country of origin.

www.orionbooks.co.uk


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The de Witt Family and their Circle

Rudolf de Witt father of the de Witt family and owner of StoneythorpeVerena de Witt Rudolf s wife, daughter of the late Lord and Lady

DeerhurstArthur de Witt their oldest child, returned from ParisMichael de Witt (deceased) youngest son of the de Witts

Emmeline de Witt eldest daughter of Rudolph and Verena, marriedto Samuel Janus

Celia de Witt the de Witts youngest daughterSamuel Janus Emmelines husband, former summer tutor to Celia

om Cotton former assistant groom to the de Witts, soldier duringthe Great War

Mrs Cotton his mother, a former servant of the familyMary and Missy Cotton oms sisters

Jonathan Corrigan Michaels university friend, from New YorkStanley Smithson footman

John Tompson footmanJennie Christmas parlourmaidRufus Sparks university friend of Mr Janus

Jemima Webb university friend of Mr Janus and political campaignerLady Deerhurst sister to Verena, mother to Matthew and Louisa

Matthew Deerhurst Verenas nephew and Celias cousin, in IndiaLouisa Deerhurst Verenas niece and Celias cousinHeinrich de Witt Rudolf s cousinLotte de Witt Heinrichs wife

Johann and Hilde de Witt children of Heinrich and Lotte de Witt


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It really is beautiful, she said, raising her voice over the wind.Tey were walking along the cliffs, not too far from their guest

house in Margate, and they had the place almost to themselves, astretch of surprising green, then hundreds of daisies tipping rightto the edge. Te air was exhilarating, whipping her hair out fromits style, throwing her skirt against her legs. I do love it here. Shesqueezed his arm. How clever of you to find it. It was astonishing,really, to remember how during the war theyd thought places likethe cliffs dangerous. Te sea in front of them stretched out for

miles, so bright it hurt her eyes.She linked her arm in through his, leant her head on his shoul-

der, reaching a little since he was so much taller than her. Shefelt him tense, nestled her head closer. Tings were so difficultfor him. Hed suffered greatly before hed met her. His family hadbeen cruel. Yet she knew that, with patience and her generosity,hed come through. In a sense it was actually rather easy, there

was so much advice in magazines for women like her on how tohelp damaged men, even though the advice was about war andArthur had been in Paris the whole time. You listened with quiet,sympathetic understanding and if he spoke, you were to repeatback precisely the same words, reflect, empathise, love. You didnthave to have been at the Somme to suffer, she wanted to say tohim. She felt the warmth of his arm on hers, wished she couldfold herself into the whole of him. Te families behind them withtheir ice cream, the old people arm in arm, all seemed miles away.

Tey walked together, more slowly now because her head wason his shoulder. Te sky was the colour of a paint shed once had


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as a child, the blue of a babys eyes. She heard the word in hermind. Baby. She hugged the idea tight to herself, like a present.She would think about that later; right now her every thought wasabout him, so that even though they werent speaking, he would

be able to sense it, feel her affection, her devoted kindness. Hisshoulder was softening.

You cant see anything but sea for miles, she said. After all thattime of hiding away, of having to pretend not to walk together, ofstowing themselves in the dark corners of restaurants, those nightsthat she spent alone, sitting at her window, dressed in the gownsshed bought, wondering whether he might come. Now they were

together, walking openly. She couldnt believe, really, how generoushed been to her over the past few days.

Yesterday, at a flower stall, right in the centre of town, hedsuddenly turned to her and said, Which ones would you like?She had been confused, blushed it was so unfamiliar pointedat a few pink sweet peas. Hed smiled, demanded four bunches ofthem, then gardenias, daisies, dahlias and some beautiful flowers

that were dozens of pale pink ruffles with darker pink at the edges.Any amount, he said. Whatever youd like. Have whatever you

want, my love. My dear. By the end of her choosing for everytime she stopped, he encouraged her to go on, take more theyhad a bunch of flowers almost bigger than her torso.

Te woman had arranged them, gathering up the stems, holdingthem together as she tied the whole thing up with skein, thena pink ribbon she chose. He handed over dozens of notes (theflowers must have been terribly costly, sent from other countries,surely), then popped the flowers in her hands. For you, my dar-ling, he said. A small crowd had gathered by then and at thatone of them began applauding. Another man whooped. She heardtwo women sigh. Lucky girl, one said. And she was. She was aluckygirl. For the rest of that day, her face had been as pink as theflowers. Te colour of happiness; pleasure. Tat night, in the hotelrestaurant, he wouldnt let the waiter pull out her chair. Tats my

job, he said. I must look after my wife.Wife!she thought. Te word he never used, the word he said


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they never should use. Our relationship isnt to be definedby words, hed said. It is too special. Never mention me.Keepus free of words, for words sully, make us of the world, and weare free.

Tose flowers were so lovely, she said to him. No ones everdone something like that for me. Tank you.

He let her squeeze his arm. Tats how she knew he was agree-ing with her, that inside his head he was saying: I love you. I willalways love you.

Im so fortunate to have you. Te women in her head talkedto her. Lucky girl!

It was nothing, he said, his voice quick and low. She smiled,wanted to hold him. He was like a little boy, embarrassed by thegreat gift he had given.

What would you like to do tonight, Arthur? She almost saidthe word husband, then shied away. Shall we go to the hotelrestaurant once more?

He shrugged. Perhaps. Ten he manoeuvred her with her arm,

towards the sea. Youre right, he said. It isbeautiful. Why dontwe go closer?

Closer?o the sea. Its very handsome, as you say. You can see how

the romantics thought this kind of place was the most beautiful.I wouldnt want to go too close. His passion for touching close

to the edge of things.He patted her arm. Dear girl! Dont worry yourself. Im here

to look after you.She held on to his arm. Of course you are. Youre always here

for me.He steered her closer. he grass was crisp, untouched, she

thought. Look at it from here, he said, a half foot or so from theedge. Dont you feel free, looking out like this?

She clutched his arm. Directly below them the sea wasnt calmat all but slashing at the cliffs. Te spray surged up towards them.Te rocks were uneven, jagged. Dont look. She closed her eyes, butall she could see were fragments of stone tumbling down into the


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water. Once upon a time, the cliffs must have been miles furtherout to sea, but they had receded, collapsed into nothing and takeneverything down with them. She held tight to him, forced herselfto open her eyes.

Such wild beauty, he said.Oh yes. She didnt want him to see that she was afraid. Shed

told him shed never liked being high up, right from being a littlegirl. He must have forgotten. She felt she was swaying a little.

Tink of something else, she told herself. Her great, magnificentbunch of flowers, spread out between three vases (as there was nosingle one big enough) in their bedroom. She fixed her mind on

their delicate pinks, tried to hold her body still. She turned back,saw a man and a woman, arm in arm, sauntering towards them.Tey reminded her: this was all normal. A perfectly nice summersday. Tis was what couples did. Ten she looked down again andher stomach lurched.

He shuffled closer to the edge only an inch from the side! Sheheld back, the space between their arms greater. I love the sea air

in my face, he said. Can you feel the spray?Oh yes!Are you quite sure?Oh yes, my dear.He brought up a finger, touched her cheek. Its quite dry. Let

me help you step forward.Oh, Im fine here. She wanted to pull him back to her.He turned to face her, making her spin, forcing her to push her

feet hard into the grass to stay still. Dont tell me youre afraid.I wont believe it.

Im never afraid with you!Well, let me hold you then. Come along. I will hold you, keep-

ing your waist, and you can move forward.She shook her head. Te couple shed seen were coming closer.

Te woman wore a stylish hat. Te man looked familiar somehow.She couldnt quite see his face, but there was something about hisoutline, his walk.

Come now. His eyes were darkening. Dont be foolish.


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She looked at him. She had to do as he said, she could see. Shehad to move the way he wanted to, prove it to him. He wanted toplay the game again, like that time before. She had to let him. Itwont be long, she told herself. You just have to stand where he wants

you to, let him hold you. In a minute, maybe less, it will be over.Allthose things she did with her minutes, let them drift by as shegazed out of the window, tried and failed to read or embroider.

Tis minute here would be nothing more than that. She had totrust him. She did trust him. He was her husband. She loved him!

Are you coming?Yes! She gathered together all her strength, all her love, all her

need for him, and stepped forward. In a moment, he was behindher, holding her tight at the waist. She was right on the edge. Te

water was churning below her, dizzying, sickly. Stop. She triedto stare out at the wide expanse of blue that had pleased her somuch, could not.

See, my dear! he said, content now. You can admire the beautyof nature from here. Nothing brings you closer, does it?

She looked up and the other man was coming closer. Who washe? She felt sure she knew him.

Tis is the way to see the grandeur of nature, its purity. Hewas shouting now, voice into the wind.

She nodded weakly, trying to charge her mind, her everythought, into the soft, safe pressure of his hands on her waist.She closed her eyes again, thought of his fingers, their slightly dryflesh, the whorls on his thumbs, the delicate moons of his nails,the strength of his palms, holding her tight, safe.

But then, as she did so, the pressure of his palms began tochange. It started to loosen, move away. She felt her body tremble.Darling, she began, but the words themselves seemed to shakeher, move her closer to the edge.

See, he said in her ear, his voice low. Regard the beauties ofnature.

ButTe world is ours, he said, as muffled as the sound of a shell

held against her ear. We could hold it in our hands.


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She imagined, then, how it would be if she was falling, clutch-ing at the air, begging. And in a moment she was. Falling.

She cried out. Te air caught the sound.


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PAR ONE


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Stoneythorpe, May

Celia

Stoneythorpe looked nothing like it used to. Walking in, the housewound around Celia, threw its dust into her face, everything init a mockery we arent the same! She tried to see it as someonenew might, not remembering the house full of people for a party,her mother presiding, immaculate in one of her pale blue gowns.She came into the hall, reached out her hand for the Chinese

vase in the entrance. Teyd packed it up before theyd turned the

place into a hospital in the last years of the war, shed bundled itin newspaper full of reports from the front and advertisements forfalse teeth. Jennie and Tompson had wrapped up vases, boxes,portraits, silver frames, stacking them into crates and then drag-ging them out to the garden, hauling them into the ground bythe rose bushes, throwing soil over the top, promising themselvesthey wouldnt forget where they were.

When peace was declared, Celia thought theyd seize the vasesout of the soil as quickly as they could. But they didnt, not forages. Tey left them languishing there for nearly four months.We never get round to it, Verena said. We dont really think of them.It wasnt true, not for Celia anyway. Shed dreaded the beautifulthings coming out, how theyd throw into sharp relief the brokenhouse, its shabby walls, how everything was lost, how theyd let itfall into such disrepair even before her mother had turned it intoa hospital and when did the harried nurses or soldiers have timeto care for a house? And yet, when she and the servants finally didopen up the soil, tugging the crates, unpacking the layers of paper,


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pulling them off carefully the vases, the boxes, the frames werenot the same. Shed remembered them glittering, expensive as achild shed thought the vases the stuff of palaces. But the frames

were tarnished, the boxes worn and the Chinese vase was not

white but grey, tiny hairline cracks running down from the lip.Tompson had stared at everything, lifted the frames, turned thevase around. But they were so well packed up, he said. I dontunderstand it. It was as if the war had aged everything, dirtied itall, however much you hid things away.

Celia sat on the lowest step of the stair, the wood hard andcold on her legs. Her father Rudolf had longed for the house,

said Elizabeth I had once visited. Te de Witts would be udorhighborns, Celia supposed he thought, not German meatmakers.

And perhaps they were for a while, hosting great parties for thevillage, sitting in their pew in church, her sister Emmeline engagedto marry the local aristocrat, Sir Hugh Bradshaw. Celia lookedback at them, almost laughing. Didnt you know?she wanted to cry.It was all just make-believe, we were actors in some masque playing

for Elizabeth, and then the war came and exposed the truth of whatEngland felt: you are Germans and we hate you.Little Celia, Rudolfhad said, when he was finally sent home from the internmentcamp, the place hed never talk about save the fact that they hadnteven had their own mattresses. Te war stole your childhood.

But it hadnt, not really. Shed been fifteen when the war hadbroken out, adult enough for everything that came afterwards, allthe things she did, the mistakes she made. She, the family, all ofthem, had kept going, looking ahead.

Now, when theyd got to the years theyd all been hoping for,she didnt want them. She didnt know what to do with peace. Shedidnt even want to be here any more, but there was no room forher at Emmeline and Mr Januss flat now Emmeline was pregnant.Celia was like the vase: cracked, not the same, perched on herspot, still painted.

Louisa? she called. Tere was no answer. She supposed theyshould have covered the place in bunting to welcome her. Tey

would have done, before the war. But then, before the war her


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cousin would have been staying because they were having a ballor going for some sort of holiday. She wouldnt be coming to livewith them because her mother had died and she was alone. Whatwas she going to say to her? Celia didnt know. Louisa, almost

five years younger than her, was always the baby left out of theirgames. Now she was sixteen, parentless, nearly an adult, and she

was come to be in their family, another sister.Te whole thing had got off on the wrong foot. Teyd gone

into town to collect some things for Louisa, some welcomingcakes for tea and the like (well, such was the plan; in the event theonly whole cake in the bakers was a tired-looking plum sponge),and had meant to be back just before shed arrived. But they werelate starting out and Verena had to stop to talk to a woman sheknew and then they saw Mr Pemberton, the solicitor, and youhad to talk to him and so they were late back even though, allthe while, Celia felt the panic as if she was back in a dream aboutschool and late for a lesson, wanting them to hurry along, go

faster. Verena had talked on and on about being kind to Louisa,treating her delicately. Te poor child, she said.Cant you go faster? Celia pleaded with Tompson, who was

driving the cart in a flurry of mud (theyd had to give up the carin the war, and how could they ever afford another one?). Butthey were still late, and when they arrived, Jennie had come outto meet them, said that Louisa had been there for an hour or so,

gone up to her room, hadnt wanted to talk.So Verena sent Celia to find her. You girls, she said. Youll

know what to say to her. Celia felt her frustration rising, angrywith her mother for escaping any conversation that might betrying. And now here she was, sitting at the bottom of the stairs,shouting for Louisa, her voice echoing across the hall. Over thelast month since theyd had the news that Louisa was coming,shed imagined all the ways shed be kind to her cousin, how shedtake her to places and theyd talk, play music together, discussbooks. Te poor girl was only sixteen! Celia would comfort Louisa and in the process, feel better herself, less alone. Helping others,


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that was the way to feel better, so the teachers at Winterbournehad told them.

She hadnt thought much of Louisa when she was young,always the little girl trying to join in, run after them when she

was too slow and fell over her feet. Ten, during the war, Celiahadnt seen her. As soon as the British newspapers started fill-ing up with the Kaiser and his evils, Aunt Deerhurst said thatit would be better if they really didnt meet. Teyd come forMichaels funeral in that freezing winter, but Louisa had hardlyspoken. Cousin Matthew had talked on, attracting all the light.Celia was ashamed of herself; shed been so caught up in her

own grief, shed hardly seen Louisa at all. Now she would makeit up to her. Teyd welcome Louisa into Stoneythorpe and thenit would begin.

She started up the stairs. Verena had arranged one of thespare rooms for Louisa, one previously used for storing bits offurniture. It was two doors along from Michaels room, which

was still locked up, preserved as it had been dozens of wooden

aeroplanes hanging from the ceiling, his books and clothes piledup on the shelves and cupboards waiting for him to come backfrom the war.

But instead theyd got the letter saying the body was buried inFrance after his brave act in battle.

She remembered walking past the dark window that latesummer night in , hearing voices, thinking nothing of it butit had been Michael planning to run away to war with om, herbest friend. It was all oms idea, she knew, he had no longer

wanted to be their servant, assisting the groom, having to lookafter her. If shed realised, if shed gone out there, then perhapsMichael wouldnt have run off to join up.

Ten, of course, she reminded herself, hed have had to join upanyway by , and probably the same would have happened.

Died bravely, the letter said. She was the only one in the housewho knew that it wasnt true, who knew what had really happened.Michaels door, closed, still waiting for him, the one room in thehouse that had never changed.


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She walked up the stairs, hands trailing the banister. Louisa?she called again. Surely her cousin could hear her. She passed herown door, wide open, the books strewn over the unmade bed.Louisa could have peered in, she thought, looked anywhere really.

Shed had the house to herself.She walked up to the next staircase. She never came here, up to

the top of the house. Her brother Arthurs room was at the endof the corridor and she had no reason to visit him.

It was strange having Arthur around the house again, after hedbeen away for so long. Hed spent many years in Paris first hidingfrom Rudolf, then from the fighting. Sometimes she hated him;

hed been kept safe when Michael had died. Spending Rudolf smoney, doing as he pleased, not even coming to Michaels funeral,never caring about any of them.

At other times she thought it had been nothing but slaughter,and at least someone had escaped. Hed always be the eldestbrother, would grow older than his current age of twenty-six, whileMichael couldnt move, stuck forever at twenty-two.

She knocked on Louisas door. Hello, cousin? Tere was noreply. She pushed it open. Te empty room looked unchanged,apart from Louisas trunk in the middle of it. Shed made a half-hearted attempt at pulling a shawl out. Celia moved into theroom, stood at the window. She couldnt imagine what Louisa

would make of the garden, overgrown, untidy, stones missingfrom the walls, weeds sprawling across anything that was oncea flower. Lady Deerhurst, Louisas mother, would have thoughtit terrible if shed been alive. After the war, theyd promisedthey would improve it, make the beds and the gardens handsome,create Verenas Versailles garden again. But theyd let them col-lapse, really. She turned away, hurried out of the room.

Louisa? she shouted, out in the corridor. Her words echoedback to her. She hurried down the stairs. She called again, with noreply. She felt a thin creep of fear slide up her body, wrap aroundher heart. Where was she? Celia hurried down into the hall,rushing now, throwing open the door of the parlour, the diningroom, the study, the second receiving room. Broken furniture,


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legs snapped and piled up in the corners, paintings still dusty onthe walls. She hurtled to the kitchen. Jennie, Tompson and MrsBright said they hadnt seen Louisa.

ry the garden, said Jennie. Shell be somewhere.

But what if shes not? Celia thought, heart pounding, pullingopen the back door and running into the garden. Te poor child,Verena had said, she is so delicate. Celia ran, feet catching on thedamp grass. Tere were spring flowers poking up from the soil;she ignored them. Louisa! she shouted. Where are you?

Te words swung around the sky, flew. She called again. Louisa!Tere was no sign of her. Perhaps, she thought, shed walked

into the village. She gazed around the deserted garden. She musthave done. She could be anywhere now. Celia wanted to screamat her mother. Why didnt we go faster?

Louisa? she shouted.Ten a sound. She heard a laugh high, silvery. A womans,

definitely. Or a girls. Ten a mans voice, a laugh too. Celia edgedforward. It was coming from her dell at the back of the garden.

She stilled, listened. Te laugh again. It was definitely comingfrom there. She ran to the back of the garden, cut through thegap in the wall, into the dell.

She saw her cousin sitting, just where Celia liked to, on themossy stone next to the pond, the willow tree hanging over her.Louisa had always tried to follow Celia and om here when she

was a child. Wait for me! shed cry. Teyd hurry on without her.Celia remembered, ashamed, how shed sent Louisa away, shoutedat her to leave.

Cousin, Celia said, hurrying forward. We were looking foryou. Louisa looked at her, her face serene. We were worried aboutyou! We didnt know where you were.

Louisa shook her head. Im sorry. I didnt realise. I wanted towalk. She was three years older than the last time theyd met atMichaels funeral Celia reminded herself. Shed been a childthen. Now she was handsome, her pale blue eyes light pools inher face, her thick golden hair fluffed around her cheeks. It hadbeen stylishly cut, not so long ago, just past the chin, but the style


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was already growing out, strands straggling free. She was tall, justas tall as Celia, but wore it better, graceful where Celia was likea stalking heron, legs poking out of her skirt, stooping to avoidbeing seen.

Her face was thinner. Celia knew it was misery, loneliness in thecurves of her cheeks, shadows under her eyes, but she couldnt stopa flash of jealousy. Louisa had become beautiful. She was wearinga black dress, but it was fashionably short. Louisa, Celia realised,had the looks, the contrast between bright hair and pale skin, to

wear the newly stylish colours: yellow, mint, pale blue, delicateand pretty. She felt suddenly conscious of her scruffy jumper, the

old fawn skirt, not even her good belt.Im so sorry about your mother. We thought she was going to

get better.Louisa shrugged. We all did. Tey should have been to visit

Aunt Deerhurst. But Louisas letters had said she was recovering.Shed been lying, of course, Celia knew that. All those storiesabout the flu had flooded their minds, so that it was the only

disease that killed as long as you didnt have that, youd be fine.Aunt Deerhurst couldnt die of a stomach poisoning. But she did.

Celia resisted the urge to stare at Louisas beautiful face. Shelooked like the photographs of Verena as a young girl, before shedbecome broken and sad, the days when she had wanted to be aballerina. Except Louisa had the look of a modern girl, everythingbut the short hair.

She also tried to push down a creeping sense of possession. Tedell was hers, the place she used to guard from others. Louisawould never have been allowed here in the old days. Celia wouldnthave let her.

Who else is here?Louisa shook her head. No one.I heard someone here.Well, there wasnt.Celia gazed around. Once, shed thought of the dell as a magical

place, where you could hear voices from lands youd never see. Butall that shimmering stuff was gone now; she was too old for it.


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Perhaps, instead, shed imagined voices, Michael or om shoutingfor her to play with them across the grass. Te garden was fullof ghosts.

Louisa bowed her eyes. Celia softened. Why dont you come

out with me, Louisa? Mama is outside. We have things for teafor you.

Louisa stared at her.Celia crouched down, near her. Im sorry I said that there was

someone here. I must have been mistaken. Come out. Mama andPapa are so eager to see you.

Louisa shook her head. Please. Ill come out later. She looked

down, covering her face with her hair. Te light of the willows fellon to the dark mass of it, making patches of red.

Celias legs were hurting. Shed got it all wrong. Poor Louisa, sounhappy, and shed started off inventing other voices, only speak-ing sharply because she felt the dell was hers. And now their guest

wouldnt come out.Well have the tea waiting. Te words sounded weak. Louisa

didnt answer. Celia walked out of the dell and into the garden.She looked back and Louisa was still staring into the pond.

She walked slowly to the back of the house, not looking up atit. When she was younger, shed liked to pick out the windows,admire the light glinting out of them, wonder what was happeningin each one. She didnt any more; so many were deserted. Eventheir old telephone lay untouched, dust piling up over the numbers

you might dial. Rudolf used to like new things, order them infrom London. She turned up towards the kitchen then lookedagain. Her brother was leaning against the kitchen wall, smoking.

Arthur! I didnt realise you were back from work.He blew out a ring. I just arrived. Finished early. What are

you doing out here? He looked smart in his suit. He was workinghard, Celia knew, earning money for his businesses at his officein Winchester, some sort of property investment, he said. He waseven looking after what was left of de Witt Meats althoughtheyd renamed it Winter Meats so as not to lose any morecustomers. Hed got back some contracts with pie factories, and


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some of the big farmers who used to supply were breeding goodlivestock again (although at huge prices; it was a sellers marketthese days). Arthur said he might be able to make it success-ful once more. With the new world upon them, men who went

anywhere to work, he said, theyd need meat.Lots of people would tell her how lucky she was to have a

brother like him (how lucky, really, to have a brother at all), kind,hardworking. Looking after the business, which was more thanshe was doing. And he was handsome too handsome, maybe tall and thin with his thick hair curling over his forehead, so darkit would surely never go grey. Green eyes that shone out at you,

made you feel you were the only one he was speaking to.She was the plain one in the family, the disappointment hanging

behind three good-looking siblings. Michael was dead, Emmelinedidnt care about looks any more and so that only left Arthur. Itmeans nothing, she wanted to say. o shake the truth into them.His beauty doesnt make him kind. Hed left them all, stayed in Paris,not even coming back when theyd written to him about Michaels

death. Dont trust him, she wanted to say. But instead, she smiled,stayed quiet. Its wrong to bear grudges, she thought.

I was looking for Louisa. We got back so late that we missedher. And now shes run to the pond by the tree you know andshe wont come out. She tried to stop the tears pricking at theback of her eyes. I wanted to make everything nice for her.

Arthur stubbed out his cigarette, moved forward to pat her onthe shoulder. Poor Ceels. So shes refusing to come.

Celia felt a tear trickle over her cheek. Stop it, she said to herself.It came again. Mama was worried about her but we were late backfrom town. She wouldnt even come to find her. She sent me. AndI got it wrong.

Arthur patted Celia again. Listen, why dont I go and try tosmoke her out. Ill tell her theyre making tea. Ill have a go.

Would you really?He flashed her a grin. Of course. Anything for my little sister.

You go and get them set for tea. Ill bring her in. He spoke, Celiathought briefly, as if Louisa was a fish. Ten she told herself that


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she was being ungrateful. He strode off down the garden. She raninto the kitchen.

Lets put the tea out, she said to Jennie. Louisas coming inwith Arthur. She ran out to the hall for her mother. Verena was

coming in, hobbling, stooped as ever. Youre not an old woman,Celia wanted to cry. She was only fifty; the Pankhursts werefifty and look at them. But Verena was like an actress playing arole, ridiculously bent over, creeping across the stage, wrapped inshawls, her face sunken in. Louisa had all her beauty now. Verenaseyes had lost their colour, seemed barely grey.

Did you find her?

I did. Arthurs going to get her, though.Verena nodded, didnt question it as Celia thought she might.

Louisa always adored Arthur when she was a little girl.Celia nodded, went back to the kitchen, Jennie and the tea

tray. Jennie, Tompson and Smithson were the only servants leftfrom the old days. Smithson had come back from Mesopotamia,sad and angry, not relieved as Celia thought he might be. He

and Jennie were planning to marry in September, so they mustbe happy, surely.

Jennie was talking about how it was good for Celia to havesomeone young in the house again. Celia nodded. She couldntremember Arthur and Louisa together. She remembered Louisaalways chasing after her and om, not Arthur. He was never eventhere. She put the plate of cake on to the tray, passed it to Jennieto carry in. Tey walked into the parlour together, Celia behind.Over Jennies shoulder, she saw Louisa, flushed and happy on thesofa, sitting between Arthur and Verena. She was laughing. Verena

was patting her knee.Celia was caught again by a swift jealousy. It was ridiculous,

unreasonable, she knew, but she couldnt help it. It flooded aroundher, strengthening, growing as she passed out the plates, then thecake. Jennie served tea, offering the stuff to Arthur as he toldanother joke and Louisa laughed, then even Verena was giggling.Celia sat back in the chair with her cup, watched them, silently.

Tey were all in a castle and she was on the other side.


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*Over the next few days, Celia tried again with Louisa. But

whatever she said seemed always to be the wrong thing. OnlyArthur could make Louisa laugh. She heard the two of them

walking together, laughing as they passed her room, talking loudlyin the hall while she was in the study. Laughing, always laughing.I thought you were sad!Celia said to herself. I was going to makeyou feel better!

But instead, it was Arthur doing everything she had plannedto do playing cards with Louisa, talking about books, walkingaround the gardens with her.I came back to live here because of you,

she wanted to say. Which wasnt true at all, or at least only parttrue; shed come back for Louisa, but there was nowhere else forher to go. She couldnt stay in London at Emmelines any more,not now she was pregnant. Mr Janus, Emmelines husband, said hehad work to do, meetings, and there was no space. Celia knew hismeetings well enough, turning the system upside down, makingthe poor rich; hed said his work was more important than ever,

now the war was over. And on leaving London Celia thoughtabout how she would have Louisa. But she didnt.

She tried to join in. When she heard them talking in the parlour,she walked in and smiled. Tey fell silent, looked at her awkwardly.

At the dinner table, she tried to talk to Louisa about Emmelinespregnancy, told her about the time Stoneythorpe was a hospital.Louisa nodded, added polite words, didnt ask anything. When

Arthur was deep in conversation with Rudolf about a businessmatter, Celia went one further, started talking a little about hertime in France driving an ambulance, after running away there inthe middle of the war.

She tried to tell Louisa how dreadful it had been. Louisa onlynodded.Im telling you this!Celia wanted to cry out.I havent toldanyone else. Cant you see?

She talked about the ambulance training in the girls schoolin Aldershot. Louisa stared at her plate. Celia knew she wasntinterested, but she kept pressing, despite herself.

Tat night, after everyone had taken coffee in the parlour, after


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Verena and Rudolf had yawned and gone up as they always did,talking about putting out the fire, Celia didnt follow them. She

waited. Arthur lit a cigarette. He winked at Celia. Mama willnever smell it.

Celia ignored him. She leant across to Louisa. It must havebeen terrible to lose your mother, she said, the words tumblingout fast. Poor Lady Deerhurst. So sad.

Louisa turned and fixed her cool blue eyes on Celia. Shenodded.

Im so sorry, Celia kept on, emboldened. With you nursingher so much. It was wonderful you were there for her. It must

have been very hard.Louisa nodded. Celia thought she saw a tear glitter in her eye.You can talk to me about it, you know. Id love to, if you wanted

to. Not if you didnt, of course. But we could talk about it. Go intotown maybe for tea. Celia could see Louisas face changing, theeyes opening, her body turning towards her, just a little.

Arthur stood up, came closer. Im taking Louisa to town for

tea, he said. Next week. Arent I, Louisa?Louisa nodded. And then the opening, the ray that Celia had

seen in Louisas face, moved together, closed up. Yes, she said.And thank you, Celia. But Arthur has told me to write it alldown. He says thats the way to feel better.

Arthur seated himself in between Celia and Louisa. It is. Iknow. Writing it down, first. He shrugged. Arent you tired, Celia?Surely you want to go to bed.

Celia stared at the fire, burning down, sparks glinting over thewood. She nodded, rose, went out, closed the door behind her.She walked up the stairs and heard Arthur laugh.

edge of the fall by kate williams extract

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