Read Online Midsummer's Eve by Philippa Carr - Free Book Online Page A

down. When are your parents coming home?”
    “Very soon now.”
    “It was very sad about your grandpapa. But it was expected. I daresay you’re missing them. I shall want to be asked over to hear how things are in that corner of England—and I don’t doubt your parents stayed in London for a while, so they should be well informed of the latest news.”
    “Yes, they would of course have a little time there.”
    “You’re wondering where Rolf is. I guessed you came to see him, eh?”
    “Oh, Mr. Hanson …”
    “Don’t apologise. I understand. I know you like to talk to Rolf … and so does your brother. He’s well, I hope.”
    I said Jacco was very well.
    “A sad thing about that old woman.”
    “Oh yes … on Midsummer’s Eve. Is … Rolf out?”
    “That is what I’m getting to. He’s away, my dear. He’ll be away at least another week.”
    “He went away then?”
    “Yes. Staying with a friend who’s going to the University with him. They’re going to study something … ancient documents or something. You know the sort of thing.”
    “Oh … I see.”
    I felt bewildered and while Mr. Hanson went on talking about something—I forget what, for I was not paying much attention—the tea came in.
    I had to spend nearly an hour with him, and all the time I was thinking of Rolf. He must be ashamed of the part he had played on that terrible night and like everyone else connected with it was trying to pretend it had never happened.
    We gave ourselves wholeheartedly to the task of keeping Digory hidden. Jacco did not mention the figure in the robe whom we had seen that night. Some of them did wear fancy dress on the night of the bonfire, bringing out old smocks and hats which their grandfathers had worn. I remembered that the robe had been mentioned in his presence, but Jacco was the type to forget things like that, particularly if he was interested in something else at the time. I was glad he did not refer to it and I was certainly not going to bring the matter up.
    Then my parents came home.
    I had never seen my mother so sad. She had loved her father dearly.
    We had to choose the right moment to speak to our parents and the opportunity did not come until after dinner.
    I thought the meal would never end. There was a great deal of talk about Eversleigh and the family there. They had wanted to bring my grandmother back with them but she had said that she felt too distraught for travel just yet. We must all be together soon.
    “So we shall be going to Eversleigh,” I said.
    “It’s such a long journey for her to come here,” my mother pointed out. “Perhaps we could meet in London. It would do your grandmother good to get away for a while, I am sure.”
    We kept talking about Grandfather Dickon and what a wonderful man he had been and how strange it would be without him.
    My father said: “That was a terrible thing about the fire.”
    “That poor woman,” said my mother.
    “And the boy too,” added my father.
    There was silence. Jacco looked at me warningly. There were servants about, he implied. As if I would have forgotten the need for secrecy even now.
    As we rose from the table, I said: “We want to speak to you … Jacco and I.”
    “Somewhere quiet,” said Jacco.
    “Am I included?” asked our mother.
    “Of course,” replied Jacco.
    “Something troubling you?” My father spoke anxiously. “Come into my study at once.”
    So we told them how we had gone out, how the cat had been thrown into the fire and how the mob had gone into the woods. I did not mention Rolf.
    “Oh, my God,” said my mother. “They are savages.”
    “Go on,” said my father.
    “When they threw her into the river,” said Jacco, “the boy ran out.”
    “No one saw him but us,” I added.
    “He was hiding close to us,” went on Jacco. “They threw the torches at the roof and she … walked into the fire. I took him up on my horse and I brought him away. We escaped.”
    “Good boy. You did well. What