Martha broke off as the door opened and Rousseau came in.
‘Ah, girls, marvellous, I was hoping you’d be here. How’s darling Ava today?’ He scooped the puppy up and kissed her lavishly before continuing, ‘I wanted to see if you were both here for supper tomorrow night. It’s a yes from everyone else – even Frankie, although we’ll see if that comes to fruition. I’m inviting a special guest who I’d like you all to meet.’
‘Ooh, Dad, who is it?’ asked Juliet.
‘I’m not telling you, and you’re not to gossip about it, the three of you – although one might as well be Canute trying tohold back the tide,’ he added dramatically. ‘You can find out tomorrow, just make sure you’re free.’
Both girls agreed, and when he had left the room, blowing kisses to them and Ava – but mostly Ava – they turned to each other and grinned.
‘Come on, then,’ said Juliet, ‘let the gossip begin. Who doyouthink it is?’
The next evening, everyone started gathering in the sitting room at seven o’clock. Léo and Sylvia were missing, as they had promised to cook for Rousseau’s mystery guest, but the three sisters were there with Will. Ava was snuggled in a blanket on the sofa with Moriarty lying next to her, keeping a close and adoring eye. Even Frankie had turned up, positioning herself by the cocktail cabinet with a feverish glint in her eye.
‘Right, what’s everyone having? I have the tiniest feeling that we might need a stiffener before Dad appears with whoever-it-is. My money’s on an American magnate who wants to pay over the odds for Feywood and chuck us all out so he can make it into a hotel.’
Martha’s hand flew to her mouth.
‘You don’t really think so, do you, Frankie? Surely he wouldn’t?’
Frankie poured a large measure of vodka into the cocktail shaker and shook her head solemnly.
‘Well, I wouldn’t be at all surprised, Martha, not at all.’
Martha turned towards Juliet, her eyes panicky.
‘He won’t, oh hewon’t,will he?’
‘Calm down, she’s only joking. You know Dad would prefer to stand here like some sort of tragic Miss Havisham as the crumbling fragments of Feywood fell around him rather thansell it to anyone. Come on, Frank, stop making trouble and start making drinks. I’ll have a Tom Collins if there’s any gin left.’
Soon everyone was furnished with a cocktail – even Will, who usually stuck to tea.
‘You must be worried,’ said Frankie. ‘Do you think he’s bringing in a new estate manager?’
‘Oh, do shut up,’ hissed Juliet. ‘I heard a car outside – that must be them.’
Sure enough, the living room door soon swung open, and everyone sat up in interest, only to be disappointed when Léo and Sylvia came in.
‘Why do you all look so horrified?’ asked Sylvia. ‘We’ve just about finished making supper and we’ve brought canapés; we thought you’d be pleased to see us.’
‘Sorry, Aunt Sylvia,’ said Martha, jumping up to take the large tray from her. ‘We’re all just a bit on edge waiting for Dad and his mystery guest.’
‘But surely it is a lover?’ said Léo, going over to sit next to Juliet. ‘What were you all thinking?’
But nobody had a chance to reply, as the door opened again and this time it was Rousseau, hand in hand with a woman. She was of a similar age to him, with silver hair pinned up, soft waves falling around a pretty and intelligent face. She wore a flowing dress patterned with exotic birds and over this a soft velvet duster coat in deep pink, with a turquoise lining.
‘Everyone, I’d like you to meet Sindhu. Darling, these are my three daughters, Martha, Juliet and Frankie; my sister, Sylvia; Léo, who is running the cooking school with her; and my estate manager, Will.’
Sindhu smiled and gave a little wave.
‘Lovely to meet you all, and to see your wonderful house. Rousseau has told me a lot about Feywood and how much you all love it.’
There was a little ripple of ‘hellos’, followed by an awkward silence. It was Martha who found something to say.
‘I can show you round later, if you like? But maybe you’d like something to drink first?’
‘Yes, please. What are you all having?’
‘Well, Frankie’s making cocktails, but they’re rather strong. We’ve got everything.’
