The Song of the Siren

“But it’s all right now, you say?”

“We’m off. There’s other places in the world besides this ‘ere Dower House, mistress.”

I was amazed. “What .., what do you mean?”

“There be Grasslands, mistress, that where we be going. Mistress there have places for us both.”

Mary tossed her head. A smirk of triumph was on her face.

I turned away and went into the house.

Well, I thought, it was good of Elizabeth. But it would make an awkward situation between our families-living so close together as they did.

Through the June and July that followed I saw a great deal of Matt. They were enchanted months for me. We discovered so much that we had in common. He knew a great deal about birds and we used to lie in the fields quietly watching for hours at a stretch. The birds had ceased to sing so joyously because they were busy with the young, though the wren and the chiffchaff now and then made themselves heard and the cuckoo was still announcing his presence.

Matt taught me a good deal and I loved to learn from him. We took Belle for long walks and sometimes when we rode out she would follow us; she liked to trot beside the horses and run with us when we cantered and galloped, until she tired. He was always reminding her that she was no longer a puppy. Sometimes we rode down to the sea and walked along the shingle. We explored the pools for sea anemones and sometimes we took off our shoes and paddled, looking for all the curious little creatures which inhabited the shallow water. We had to be watchful and look out for dragonets and weevers. Matt showed me what looked like a three-bladed knife on either side of the dragonet’s head, and the weever was even more deadly, with spines on its back which could be poisonous.

They were such happy days for me.

Once I overheard my grandmother say to my mother: “He looks upon her just as a child.

He must be at least seven or eight years older than she is.”

My mother replied: “She is such a child, but I think she may be seeing too much of him.”

I was very much afraid that they were going to try to stop our meetings, but I suppose they thought he would go away in due course, and as I was so young they could let our friendship come to a natural conclusion.

One day we passed by Enderby Hall and, as usual, paused to look at it. There was something impelling about the house which made most people do that.

“It’s a delightful house,” said Matt. “I was sorry my mother didn’t take it.”

“Are you still sorry?” I asked.

“No, not now she has Grasslands. That’s as near to Eversleigh Dower House as Enderby.”

I glowed with pride when he said things like that.

“I’d like to have a look at it again,” he said. “I saw it once when my mother was considering taking it.”

“That’s easily done. The keys are at Eversleigh. I’ll get them tomorrow and take you over the house.”

”I should enjoy that.”

“We will go in the afternoon-not too late. We want to see it before dusk.”

“Ah, you mean when the ghosts come out. Are you scared of ghosts, Damaris?”

“I shouldn’t be if you were there.”

He turned to me and lightly kissed my brow. “That’s the spirit,” he said. “I’d protect you from all the perils and dangers of the day and night.”

He did little things like that. He had great charm. But he did them lightly and naturally and I sometimes wondered how deeply he meant them.

The outcome was that I took the key from the desk where it was kept at Eversleigh and met him the next afternoon at the gates of Enderby Hall.

Belle was with him.

“She so wanted to come,” he said, “I hadn’t the heart to refuse her. She must have known I was meeting you.”

She leapt round me showing her pleasure. I patted her and told her how glad I was that she had come.

I took out the keys and we went through the gardens to the front porch. The garden had been kept in some order. Jacob Rook had been one of the men who had looked after it. I thought, it will have to be someone else now. The house was of red Tudor brick built like so many of its era with its central hall and a wing on either side. The creeper covered large portions of the wall. It looked lovely with the red bricks showing through the green glistening leaves-but not really as beautiful as it. would look later in the autumn when the leaves were in the full glory of their russety colours.

“If we cut back the creeper it would be much lighter inside,” I commented.

“You would detract from the ghostly atmosphere,” said Matt.

“Well, that might be a good idea.”

“No. You’d take away its aura of mystery.”

We stepped into the hall. Matt looked up at the magnificent vaulted ceiling.

“It’s lovely,” he said.

“Look. There’s the haunted gallery.”

“That’s where the minstrels used to play.”

“It’s the scene of the tragedy. One owner hanged herself there ... or tried to. The rope was too long and she injured herself and was an invalid and suffered a great deal before she died.”

“Is she the ghost?”

“I believe there are others. But that’s the story which is always told.”