It was the big house, close to the beach. It was known for its lavish parties every summer. Its wooden front, once white, now dappled by the wind and debris thrown up by the waves in winter. In spite of its drabness, people remembered how it came to life in the summer, once upon a time.

They turned heads. He was tall and handsome with black curly hair and a moustache. Mrs. Thornton, some years younger than her husband, was blond and impish, and flitted between guests throughout the summer season. She loved the splendour of their house in New York, but summer and the old house on the beach at the Hampton’s brought a freedom that she thrived on. Their children, a son and two daughters, were now teenagers. They sailed with their father and played games on the beach. Their friends from New York often spent holidays in the big summer house.

The Thornton family had owned the house for generations. Every summer it opened its doors to family and friends. Mr. Thornton was a big shot in Wall Street. Little was known about his wife, but they were a devoted couple. “Why don’t you come down to the coast” was a frequent invitation from Mr. Thornton to friends and acquaintances.

The house was run like clockwork by Mrs. Bridges and a team of servants. Her word was law, but she was like a mother to Mrs. Thornton. The lawns at the back of the house went on for miles, interspersed by several species of trees, and an orchard. They had stables with four horses and three ponies. The paddock was to the right of the lawns, surrounded by a wooden fence. The horses too enjoyed the freedom of open spaces. It was easy to see that the family loved their animals, including dogs and cats.

The rose gardens were the pride and joy of old Johnny Carlton. He had been with the family since he was a boy, and nurtured the rose beds, just beneath the wide veranda that straddled the house. The fragrance of those old roses drifted upwards to the where the family sat in the late evening, watching the sun go down.

When they arrived at the beach house each summer, trunks of various sizes were brought around to the back of the house. Mrs. Thornton made sure that she had the latest fashion from New York when they entertained. She bought her children several outfits. The girls loved showing off their beautiful clothes and their mother was only too happy to take them to the big stores in the city. The Thornton’s knew how to

entertain, and being the best dressed was part and parcel to being a good host. The house was re-painted every summer before they arrived. Dust sheets were removed from the furniture. Drapes were cleaned, silver polished, windows sparkled. Every room was inspected by Mrs. Bridges down to an inch of its life.

Old Johnny spent days mowing the lawns and tending the plants. Everything had to be perfect and to his high standard. Leaves were taken out of the swimming pool and it was cleaned. The blue marble surround glistening in the sunshine. Large stone pots had been placed near each corner of the pool. They were filled with fresh summer flowers, blue and white lobelia, with petunia cascading down the sides. Honeysuckle weaved its way through the pergola, its sweet perfume wafting through the evening air. All the outdoor furniture were taken out of storage, placed on the veranda and around the pool.

The house lit up as soon as the family arrived. They brought a lust for life with them. The silent house opened its doors and windows to the happy voices of young and old, delicious aromas wafting from the kitchen once more. It was like going from black and white photography to technicolour. The children and their friends burst through the open doors, heading for the pool. After spending two hours in a car, they didn’t waste any time before diving into the clear cool water. Before long splashes and shrieks could be heard. Mr. Thornton looked from the balcony of their bedroom, his arm around his wife. He might have been thinking “how can one man be so lucky”.

That was until the night that Jimmy, after finishing a bottle of whiskey with his friends, argued with his father. The youngster wanted to take out one of the boats. In spite of his father’s warning, he wouldn’t back down in front of his friends. Jimmy left the party. The next morning, the boat was missing, and so was Jimmy. It was found wrecked a few miles up the coast. A dark cloud descended on Thornton’s place, and the laughter turned to silence.