“Meredith,” she whispered, after a long, uneasy silence.
“I’m Maria!” the girl called from the water, her arms windmilling madly beneath the surface.
“And I’m Flag. Do you want to come in for a swim? It’s quite safe,” the boy told her. He put his hands on his hips and examined her, head tipped to one side. His wet skin shone over the curves of his arms and legs, and liquid light from the water danced in his eyes. Meredith felt almost too shy to answer him. She thought him beautiful, and was not sure what to say.
“What kind of name is Flag?” she asked, haughtily, in spite of herself.
“My name,” he shrugged. “Do you live at the big house, then?”
“Yes,” she replied, her words still reluctant to come.
“Well,” Flag continued, after a pause, “do you want to swim with us or not?”
Meredith felt her face burn and she tipped her chin down to hide. She was not allowed to swim. She never had been-but the temptation was so strong and, she reasoned, who would ever find out?
“I… I don’t know how to swim,” she was forced to admit.
“Paddle then. I’ll fetch you out if you fall in,” Flag shrugged. Meredith had never heard the word paddle before, but she thought she understood. Fingers trembling with the illicit thrill of disobedience, she sat down on the cracked earth and pulled off her boots, then crept carefully to the water’s edge. It wasn’t really disobeying, she told herself. Nobody had ever said anything to her about not paddling.
She slithered the last few inches down the steep bank and gasped nervously as her feet stumbled into the water.
“It’s so cold!” she squeaked, hastily scrambling backwards. Maria giggled.
“It’s only cold when you first jump in. Then it’s perfect!” she said.
Meredith edged forward again and let the water rise to her ankles. The bite of it made her bones ache and scattered silvery shivers all over her. With a yell, Flag took a short run up and leapt into the middle of the pool, bending his knees and wrapping his arms around them. The splash caused a wave to engulf Maria and soak the bottom six inches of Meredith’s dress.
“Now look what you’ve done!” she cried, afraid that Mrs. Priddy or her mother would see and she would be found out.
“Flag! Don’t,” Maria told him gaily as he surfaced, spluttering.
“It’ll soon dry out,” Flag told her carelessly. His hair was plastered to his neck, as slick as otter fur. Meredith climbed out crossly, sat down on the bank and studied her feet, which had gone from pink to bright white after their wetting.
“Flag-say you’re sorry!” Maria commanded.
“Sorry for getting your dress wet, Meredith,” Flag said, rolling his eyes at his sister. But Meredith didn’t reply. She sat and watched them swim for a while longer, but her sullen presence seemed to spoil their fun and they soon climbed out and pulled on the rest of their clothes.
“Do you want to come and have tea?” Maria asked her, her smile a little less ready than before. Flag stood half turned to go. Water ran from his hair and wet his shirt, slicking it to his skin. Meredith wanted to look at him but her eyes slid away infuriatingly when she tried.
She shook her head. “I’m not allowed,” she said.
“Come on then, Maria,” Flag said, a touch impatiently.
“Goodbye, then,” Maria shrugged, and gave Meredith a little wave.
It took nearly two hours for the thick cotton of her dress to dry out completely, and during that time Meredith kept to the outer edges of the garden where only the gardener might see her. He was ancient and didn’t pay much attention to anything except his marrows. She thought about her paddle, and about Maria inviting her to tea, and about Flag’s wet hair shining, and each of these things gave her a fizzing feeling quite at odds with the resentment she had felt before. It made her skip a little and smile excitedly. She imagined how it might be to go to tea, to see the inside of the covered wagon that she had watched so many times from the trees, to meet their blonde and affectionate mother, who put her arms around them and smiled all the time. How do you do, Mrs. Dinsdale? She practiced the phrase under her breath in the safe, silent confines of the greenhouse. But there could be no arguing that this would be a huge disobedience. And that talking to Flag and Maria had been one as well, even if she could argue her way around the paddling. Just thinking about what would happen if Mama found out about it brought her spirits low again, and when she was called in for tea she made sure that she was quiet and dull and gave nothing away.
For days, Meredith was consumed with thoughts and daydreams about the Dinsdales. She had so rarely encountered other children-only visiting cousins, or the children of other guests who stayed only fleetingly so she never really got to know them. She knew she was supposed to despise the tinkers, and she knew all the things her mother had told her about them, and she still longed more than anything to please her mother and to make her happy, but the idea of having friends was irresistible. A week later, she was playing in the barred shadow of the tall iron gates when she saw Flag and Maria walking along the lane toward the village. They would not see her unless she called out and for a second she was paralysed, torn between longing to speak to them again and knowing that she shouldn’t-least of all from the gate, which was visible from the house if anybody happened to be at one of the east-facing windows. In desperation she came up with a compromise of sorts and burst loudly into song-the first thing that came to mind, a song she had heard Estelle singing as she pegged the laundry out to dry.
“I’d like to see the Kaiser, with a lily in his hand!” she bellowed, tunelessly, hopping from one bar of shadow to the next. Flag and Maria turned and, seeing her, came over to the gates.
“Hello again,” Maria greeted her. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing,” Meredith replied, her heart yammering behind her ribs. “What are you doing?”
“Going on to the village to buy bread and Bovril for tea. Do you want to come too? If we can get a broken loaf, there’ll be a ha’penny left to buy sweets,” Maria smiled.
“Not necessarily,” Flag qualified. “If there’s enough left over we’re to buy butter, remember?”
“Oh, but there’s never enough for butter as well!” Maria dismissed her brother.
“You have to go to the shops yourselves?” Meredith asked, puzzled.
“Of course, silly! Who else would go?” Maria laughed.
“Suppose you’ve got servants to run around buying your tea, haven’t you?” Flag asked, a touch derisively.
Meredith bit her lip, an awkward blush heating her face. She hardly ever went into the village. A handful of times she had accompanied Mrs. Priddy or Estelle on some errand, but only when her father was away, and her mother laid low and guaranteed not to hear of it.
“Do you want to come, then?”
“I’m not allowed,” Meredith said unhappily. Her cheeks burned even more, and Flag tilted his head at her, a mischievous glint coming into his eye.
“Seems to be a fair bit you’re not allowed to do,” he remarked.
“Hush! It’s not her fault!” Maria admonished him.
“Come on-I dare you. Or maybe you’re just scared?” he asked, arching an eyebrow.
Meredith glared at him defiantly. “I am not! Only…” She hesitated. She was scared, it was true. Scared of being found out, scared of her mother’s lightning-fast temper. But it would be so easy to slip away and back again without being noticed. Only the worst luck would mean she was discovered in this outrageous behavior.
“Cowardy, cowardy custard!” Flag sang softly.
“Don’t listen to him,” Maria advised her. “Boys are stupid.” But Meredith was listening, and she did want to impress this black-eyed boy, and she did want to be friends with his sister, and she did want to be as free as they were, to come and go, and to buy sweets in the village and bread for tea. The gates of Storton Manor seemed to rear up above her head, ever higher and starker. Jangling with nerves, she reached for the latch, pulled open a narrow gap and slipped out into the lane.