The Last Pier by Roma Tearne

reception in Palmyra House the bride played Schubert on the piano her new husband had bought for her. Then she played a version of ‘Honeysuckle Rose’, setting the tone for the next decade.
    But it was the even more brilliant and newly married Kitty who stole the show that day. Perhaps also, it was the presence of the girls’ parents that gave Kitty her sense of triumph. Or it might have been the presence of Kitty’s bored husband, adding a world-weary touch of glamour to a country event. Or it might have been the confusion in Selwyn’s eyes, of course. Whatever the reason, it was Kitty the locals remembered.
    After the wedding not a day passed without Selwyn seeing that he did not love his new wife. But the marriage set its own standards, unaided by anybody. They were neither happy nor sad together. Agnes quickly fell pregnant, and settled back into her old rural habits. The piano was still played but morning sickness moved uneasily into evening sickness and apathy took centre stage, supplanting Liszt. It was the best that could be expected although occasionally, when she heard a piece of piano music on the wireless, something a little dangerous would stir inside Agnes. Selwyn, about to be a father at forty-one, hardly noticed. It was left to Cecily to detect this unsafe edge in her mother in later years. Cecily wisely learnt to keep away from Agnes at such moments.
    When the elderly Mr Maudsley died soon after his first grandchild, Joe Maudsley, was born it was obvious to Selwyn and Agnes, living temporarily in Eel cottage, that they would take over the running of the farm. They moved into Palmyra House. The year was 1920. Two years later Rosemary Maudsley was born and by the time Cecily appeared the strains of ‘Honeysuckle Rose’ were rarely heard in Palmyra House while the piano had fallen badly out of tune. But such was the business of the era that no one complained.
    Staring at her wedding photograph, enveloped in yards of white tulle and Chantilly lace, Agnes would write in her notebook,
    I am not unlike a pupa!
     
    When one looked back several things happened in those last two weeks of August 1939 into which all time would be forever condensed. The first was that Cecily noticed her sister changing in an indefinable way. She had been listening to Partridge talking to Cook.
    ‘That one is going to be a beauty,’ he said.
    Cook sniffed.
    ‘D’you mean Rose?’ Cecily asked coming out from behind the door.
    ‘Curiosity killed the cat,’ Cook said tartly.
    ‘But do you mean Rose?’
    ‘Ay,’ Partridge said relighting his pipe.
    ‘She doesn’t think so,’ Cecily told him.
    Cook sniffed again and Partridge laughed.
    ‘She will soon enough,’ he said. ‘I’ll be bound!’
    After that Cecily noticed that Rose’s sleepy, slanty eyes had taken on a new indolence. She noticed her sister’s languorous air, the way her mouth twisted into an ironic half-smile whenever the Italian boys stared at her, the way she held herself, still and watchful when Bellamy appeared at the kitchen door. The way she would scratch her throat with her left hand, once even to the point of drawing blood. The boys must have been aware of this too for they never ruffled Rose’s hair, or offered her a piggy-back. It made Cecily look at her own face with dislike, longing for something just out of reach.
    The second thing that happened was the appearance of air-raid shelters in Suffolk. Not that anyone really believed they would be needed.
    Extracts of George VI’s speech about the True Greatness of the Empire was printed in the paper although in Germany, Jewswere not allowed in public gardens and Picture Post published an article about Britain preparing for war.
    But the third thing that happened had nothing to do with war. Several posters appeared on the new pier announcing the arrival of the Sadler’s Wells dance company. This was the real news!
    Rose wanted to go with Franca.
    Cecily wanted to go too but Rose didn’t want a