‘Good God, Maureen.’Honor was disgusted, as much by the way Maureen spoke as by what she said.
‘No, I suppose you wouldn’t notice,’ Maureen said, looking her over beadily.‘You have no idea about that sort of thing at all, do you?’
It was humiliating – why did everyone assume she was some terrible prude?Honor decided she had had enough.She would go back to the house and they could join her when these silly games were done.It was still hot – too hot – but there was no sun at all anymore, just that bank of damp cloud that lay over everything, making all movement an effort.The yellow-ish tinge to the air was worse now, like looking out through a glass filled with lemon barley water.
She turned but before she had gone two paces, there was a loud clap of thunder and rain began to spill from the sky, hitting the hot ground and sending up an acrid smell.For a moment, big heavy drops chased each other almost singly, one landing before the next arrived, as though an advance party had been sent out, and then, with another loud clap, down it came in a torrent, like the moment a basin overflows.
‘Quick, inside!’she called.The group scattered and began to run.Kick and Brigid squealed in excitement and ran laughing, zig-zagging through the rain as though they could avoid it.The ambassador produced a large umbrella he must have taken from the house and snapped it open.Rose stepped under it and the two of them walked away briskly.Albert caught up a jacket and held it over his head – held it out for Doris to duck under too.She did, and the two of them ran together towards the house, close together in that tiny patch of shelter.Honor, not nearly as fast, ran behind them but quickly was out of breath.She was so wet anyway, what was the point, she decided.And so she slowed down, walked, watching the flowers flatten under the weight of the rain.The garden was quickly blotted out around her, hidden by the lowering gloom.The ground couldn’t absorb water fast enough and soon there were busy rivulets running alongside her as she walked.Another clap of thunder.She wiped her soaking fringe from her eyes, licking her lips where drops had trickled down and over them.The rain tasted ferrous.
Ahead, she could just about make out a figure in the porch of the side door.Who, she thought, would stand in a porch, even if it was partly sheltered, when they could be inside?Perhaps it was a guest, fussing about wet shoes.She speeded up, ready to call and tell them not to bother, but as she got closer, she saw it wasn’t one person but two, standing huddled together.Later, she realised she would never have known it was two, so close were they, except that one of them pulled away and the space between them showed the truth.The one who pulled away was Doris.She slipped in through the door behind her, leaving whoever it was she had been talking to.Albert.Honor watched as he turned and went towards the back of the house.
What, Honor wondered, could Doris possibly have to say so intently to a man she had only just met?A servant, at that.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Kick
The first match had been a bit of a dud, Kick reflected, but she was looking forward to playing that Doris girl.Therewas someone who knew how to swing a racket.Although, she reflected, the speed with which Duff had been drinking whatever was in that jug – gin, mainly, judging by the taste – was unlikely to have improved his serve.She must make sure not to get partnered up with him if they played again.That fellow Albert was more like it.How funny the English were about servants, she reflected.The way they had drawn back from him, as if he had some kind of rash or cold they might catch, until Fritzi went on about how he wasn’t exactly a servant … Even then, they had been pretty wary.Except for Doris.She, Kick thought, seemed alright.
She dried her hair vigorously with a towel.A tap at the door.Her mother.
‘Kathleen!Put that towel down.’
‘But my hair …’
‘Will dry fluffy.Leave it.I will send Wilkes to you.’
‘Oh, who cares?’
‘Don’t be irritating, Kathleen.I am not having this conversation again.What did you make of all that?’she asked, sitting carefully on the edge of Kick’s bed and smoothing out the counterpane on either side of her with thin fingers.
‘Brigid would play well if she concentrated better.Chips isn’t bad either, but he gets excited and misses easy shots …’
‘I don’t mean the tennis.All that with Maureen and Duff’ – Kick looked at her mother sharply.Something about the way she said his name – ‘and then Fritzi and his manservant.That girl Doris arriving …’
‘That’s the English,’ Kick said wisely.‘Always pretending to have everything so perfectly under control, whereas in fact they’re just a few steps away from chaos, like the rest of us.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘It’s a thing they do.I’ve seen it before.’As she spoke, she was magnificently conscious, for the first time, of knowing more than her mother.Knowing this place better than her mother.‘They make such a deal about everything being exactly as they expected it – nothing unplanned, ever.Except it’s an illusion.Plenty of unexpected things happen, only they immediately all get together and make believe they are anticipated.’
‘But surely if they all do it together, they all know it isn’t true?’Rose sounded honestly baffled.
‘Maybe, but it’s the pretence that matters.They behave as though there is an invisible audience to everything they do, watchers with pens poised, ready to make judgement, who they must deceive.’
Kick expected to be complimented for her clever understanding, but all her mother said was, ‘Don’t waste too much of your time understanding all this, Kathleen.It is important that you get on well, now, for your father’s sake.But after all, we won’t be here so very long.’And, when Kick didn’t answer, ‘Let us say the rosary now because it will be difficult to get away later.’
So Kick took up her beads from the bedside drawer where she had placed them; not exactly hidden, she thought, but out of sight.They knelt together at the side of Kick’s bed.Her mother began in low, clear tones, ‘Our Father, who art in heaven …’ Kick listened, then joined her voice to her mother’s, her mind free to wander as the familiar words she loved ran their own course.Even though they didn’t talk at these times, beyond the saying of prayers, there was a harmony between them that she treasured and that was as much a part of her religion as the mysteries and miracles.When she said, ‘Hail Mary,’ it was Rose’s face she saw – only Rose’s face as it so rarely was: gentle and soft.Without criticism or calculation.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Doris
Doris stood in the hallway.Her clothes clung to her, wet and unpleasant, like a skin only half shed, she thought.There was no one in sight and she didn’t know where her room might be.If she even had a room yet.She could always go along the corridor upstairs and open every door she found, she thought with a laugh.Or indeed step out of her wet clothes right where she was and wait for someone to appear and tell her where to go.
Honor came in behind her.Doris turned.‘Thank goodness,’ she said.‘I thought I might have to improvise.’
‘You’d better come to my room, I have no idea where to put you yet.I don’t even know how many rooms there are.’Honor half-laughed, but helplessly.‘Some are not ready yet.Only Chips knows what’s what.’
