Death on the Ice by Robert Ryan Page B

were whipped off and gazes lowered. Bryan winked at him. It was a neat ploy to diffuse the call for any more speechifying. When the sixty seconds was up, Oates said: ‘I thank my mother, sisters and brother for nursing me back to health. I thank you for coming, because there are no folk like the folk of Essex. And I think you should enjoy the rest of the day!’ He pointed towards the stream that ran through the property. ‘The swings and roundabouts and amusements await you.’
    Bryan was there to help him down as the clapping rang in his ears. ‘Well done.’
    Oates felt his head swim from the sun and the ale. ‘Take me inside.’
    Bryan tried to steer him to the drawing room, then the morning room, but Oates insisted on going into those parts of the house where carpet gave way to linoleum. He settled in the kitchen, where the staff was trying to make headway against the devastation left by the party. Amid the clatter of pots and pans and the barked orders from Mrs Melton, the cook, Oates accepted a glass of water from Alice, the scullery maid, and eased himself into a wooden chair, pushing his damaged leg straight out and massaging his aching thigh.
    Bryan crouched down. ‘Will you be all right? I should go back out.’
    ‘Spotted a young lady, have you?’
    ‘No. Yes.’ Bryan blushed. ‘And I dare say our war hero could have the pick of many a maiden out there.’
    Oates sipped his water. ‘You know the army’s opinion on that. If I want to advance, I should delay marrying.’
    ‘Marrying?’ Bryan looked shocked. ‘I was just thinking of an Essex Rose to mop your poor brow and keep you company.’
    Such talk from his younger brother made him uncomfortable. ‘Preferably one who doesn’t know Tennyson.’
    ‘I heard that.’ It was Lillian, feigning horror. ‘You are a monster. I for one, didn’t believe a word of Reverend Bromwich’s speech. You are mean spirited and ungrateful.’
    He nodded solemnly. ‘“We cannot be kind to each other here for even an hour. We whisper, and hint, and chuckle, and grin at a brother’s shame; however we brave it out, we men are a little breed.” Forgive me.’
    Lillian laughed at the quotation. ‘So you were listening. Mother wants to know if you are well enough to rejoin the celebrations. Or if you would like to rest.’
    ‘Please tell her not to fuss.’
    Lillian laughed. ‘If dinner for three hundred people isn’t a fuss, I don’t know what is.’
    ‘And inviting the Dunwoodys.’
    ‘Now, now,’ she chided. The Dunwoodys were the area’s most prominent Catholic family and Carrie had a history of antagonism with anything papal. Especially where her children were concerned. One of the Dunwoody boys had once taken an interest in Lillian. He was sent off with a flea in his ear, in double-quick time. ‘That’s all behind us.’
    Outside, he heard Violet shouting their names up the narrow back stairs, thinking they had bolted to the servant’s hall or even, reverting to childhood, the warren of storage rooms in the attic. ‘Laurie. Lillian. Bryan. Are you up there? Uncle Charles is here. Wants to meet the hero!’
    ‘I think’, Oates stared at Bryan to make sure his brother appreciated he was serious, ‘I would like to retire from being a war hero after this day. I’d prefer we didn’t mention it again.’
    ‘Then what shall you do?’ asked Lillian with affectionate sarcasm. ‘If you can’t bask in your military glory? Or turn a pretty girl’s head with a wound for king and country.’
    ‘That’s what I suggested,’ said Bryan.
    ‘Look what happened last time I turned a pretty girl’s head.’
    ‘Oh, Laurie, shush,’ scolded Lillian. ‘Don’t get all maudlin. What are your plans?’
    Lieutenant Oates thought for a moment. ‘I shall buy some horses. They are a sad lot you have left in the stables. And as soon as I am able, I shall ride to the hounds.’
    Bryan stood and clapped Oates on his shoulder. ‘Welcome back,