Midsummer's Eve

"Midsummer's Eve," I cried.

"No. We were celebrating the victory of Trafalgar. We were all very merry and rather careless.... As a result of that night, Tamarisk was born. I am Tamarisk's father.”

I said: "Strange things happen on nights like that. People become ... not themselves.

Perhaps it has something to do with bonfires.”

Then I was thinking of that fearful night again ... even more than I did of my father and the girl who was Tamarisk's mother.

She had died, I learned, having Tamarisk, and that was why Tamarisk had been brought up by my family and so she had known Jonathan all her life.

They loved each other very much, those two. I could sense it although Tamarisk could be very angry with Jonathan, but it was a strong, fierce love which made her angry, and she was ready to attack anyone who criticized him. She was the same with her children; she had two boys, Richard and John; they were wild and rebellious but very lovable.

I always enjoyed the Eversleigh visits. I loved the country and the nearby sea and those two old houses not very far from Eversleigh, Grasslands and Enderby-which seemed part of the family estate. My mother had lived in Grasslands with her first husband, for she had been married before; and Enderby belonged to Peter and Amaryllis Lansdon. It had been left to Tamarisk but Peter had bought it a long time ago and it was used really as a country home, for the Lansdons were mainly in London.

My father had sold our house in London some years before. We did not need it. There was the family house in Albemarle Street which was not often occupied nowadays and we could use that on our visits to London. The Lansdons had a big house in Westminster.

That always seemed to me a most exciting house. It was tall and imposing and from some rooms there was a view of the river.

Peter Lansdon was a Member of Parliament-a very important one. When his party was in power he had had a high post in the Government and led a most exciting life for he was a man with many business interests in the City. He exuded power. Amaryllis was so proud of him. His daughter Helena and his son Peterkin-the name had been given to him when he was a baby to distinguish him from his father and it had remained-were very much in awe of him.

I was very fond of Helena and Peterkin. Helena was about six years older than I; Peterkin four. Helena had been presented at Court-an ordeal which Mother had said I should have to undergo. Helena had hated it, she told me. Everything depended upon a girl's being a success. If she was she was envied; if not she was despised. Helena had been despised, except by her mother of course. Amaryllis was one of those innocent, sweet and gentle women overflowing with sympathy and good will. But Helena told me that her father was disappointed. He had wanted her to make a good match.

I could understand that. Uncle Peter had made a great success of everything he had undertaken and he expected his children to do the same.

I said to my mother once: "I don't think two people could be less alike than Uncle Peter and Aunt Amaryllis.”

I remembered how her face hardened as it often did when Uncle Peter was mentioned.

She said: "You are right. There could not be two people less like each other.”

'Then I wonder why they married," I said.

My mother remained silent with that rare hard look about her mouth. There was no doubt that she disliked Uncle Peter.

I could not do anything but admire him. He must have been very Sood-looking when he was young and now that he was no longer so e looked distinguished, with a touch of silver at his temples and those rather lazy eyes of his which always seemed to express amusement at the world and a confidence that he could easily conquer it. He enjoyed living. The trouble was that such a father must be very hard to live up to; and both Helena and Peterkin felt inadequate. Helena because she had failed to pass the coming-out test and had turned into her twenties without having been asked in marriage and Peterkin because he was as yet undecided as to what he intended to do with his life; and of course, his father would have been showing signs of success when he was at his age.

I felt some trepidation at the prospect of a season, though, of course, if I failed to pass the test I knew my parents would not want me to care very much. They wouldn't look upon it as failure. But then I was lucky to have unusual and very understanding parents.

I was almost eighteen when a trip to London and Eversleigh was proposed. That was in the year 1838.

It was the end of May and my birthday was at the beginning of September, a few months away.

My mother had said: "Now that the old King is dead and we have a young Queen on the throne we shall have to think about your coming out.”

"That is going to entail a lot of preparations, I'll swear," said my father.

"Amaryllis did it for Helena, so I suppose I can manage.”

"It will mean a stay in London," said my father. "By the way, I want to go up shortly.