‘OfcourseI love Marilise, and all of you. But this house…’
‘You loved that, too, when you were little,’ said Angela.
‘I did,’ he replied. ‘But only until I realised it was a millstone and that the only reason behind my birth was so that someone could inherit it. My father’s only love.’ He sounded bitter now. ‘Well, I can’t wait to sell it.’
‘Sell it?’ gasped Angela.
‘Yes,’ he said, his mouth settling into a stubborn line. ‘Astrid will be moving to Texas soon, when she marries that awful man…’ He broke off, frowning theatrically. ‘Do you think that my stepmother marrying him makes him my stepfather? More opportunities for happy families?’ Angela and I just stared athim, and he continued. ‘Anyway, with his oil billions I doubt Astrid will care about Lyonscroft. Victoria will be glad of half the money. Obviously, I hope that you and Greg stay on, in London.’
He switched on his charming smile again, but the colour drained from Angela’s face and she turned back to the sink without speaking. His smile faltered as he looked at me.
‘Welcome to Lyonscroft,’ he said, irony tinging his voice. ‘It always wassucha happy home, and I clearly have my father’s knack for keeping it that way.’
He stood up, whistled to Steve, who scrambled to his feet instantly and glued himself to his master’s side, and they went to leave the room. However, as they reached the door, it was flung open and in swept India, the girl we had seen earlier on the horse.
‘Don’t go anywhere, Nick, I need to talk to you about tonight.’
‘Tonight?’ said Nick.
‘Tonight!’ shrieked Angela.
‘Tonight,’ repeated India. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten?’
Apparently sensing that this one was going to run, Steve collapsed in front of the Aga again, with a blissful sigh. I felt like joining him. There had been more excitement at Lyonscroft in an hour than I usually see in a month on jobs, and I hadn’t even met my patient yet.
‘Oh, dear me, I hadcompletelyforgotten,’ said Angela, bringing the now clean but empty teapot back to the table and attempting to pour herself a cup. Clicking her tongue in irritation at its inability to produce tea from thin air, she put it down and turned to me. ‘Laura, I should have told you at the interview, but it flew out of my head. There’s a party tonight at a neighbour’s house and we’ve all been invited. Marilise dearly wants to attend. She’s been looking forward to it since the summer, when we were first invited.’ She must have seen the look of surprise on my face at a party being arranged sofar in advance. ‘Oh, it was originally meant to be a Halloween party, but the entire family got Covid, so they had to reschedule. Anyway, the doctor said that Marilise’s nurse – you – would have to decide if she’s up to it, and would have to go, too, to be with her.’
‘That’s okay,’ I replied in my best soothing voice. I stood up, ushered her to a chair and filled the kettle. ‘Late notice isn’t a problem for me – I’m here at your disposal and I’ve got a dress that will be suitable.’
It was true. I always packed an odd selection of clothes when I stayed with patients because while sometimes we barely left the house, which only needed something comfortable, other times it felt more hedonistic as my patient enjoyed their final fling with life. And then, who knew where I’d end up going? Recently, I attended the beautiful wedding of the star ofMayfair Mews, Jacqueline Honeywood, to Sir Douglas Knight, up in Yorkshire with my patient Essy, who had been Jacqueline’s dresser for many years. Another time I recalled, shuddering, I had gone up in a titchy little plane and been strapped to an instructor to follow my patient in leaping out into the abyss. He was ninety-two and fulfilling a lifelong dream; I was thirty-six and terrified. So, I could easily take a party in my stride. I smiled around at the others, who were darting anxious looks at one another. Eventually, Nick cleared his throat and spoke.
‘Uh, the thing is, it’s um, it’s a…’
Another awkward silence. My stomach began to churn. What horror was about to be unleashed?
‘It’s a fancy-dress party,’ burst out Angela, jumping up to attend to the now-boiling kettle.
‘But I don’t have any costumes with me,’ I said, probably unnecessarily. I doubted they had expected their grandmother’s nurse to roll up with a case full of sailors’ hats and flamenco dresses.
‘Oh, you don’t have to worry about that,’ said India breezily, with the mischievous grin that was already becoming familiar. ‘We’ve got a family theme, and you’ll have no trouble fitting in the costume.’
‘What’s the theme?’ I asked suspiciously. ‘Something Christmassy?’
‘Not in November!’ said India, who clearly hadn’t visited London any time after July. ‘No, when it was delayed from Halloween, the hosts decided to keep the theme.’
Angela refilled my cup and offered me another macaroon.
‘We’re going as the Addams Family,’ she said, an apologetic look on her face.
A vague image of black and white clothing and pale make-up crossed my mind.
‘Well, that’s all right, isn’t it?’ I said. ‘What costumes do you have?’
‘Astrid, my stepmother, is going as Morticia,’ said Nick, looking determinedly away from India, who had started giggling. ‘I’m Gomez Addams and India is Wednesday. Marilise – if she’s well enough – will be Grandmama, with Greg as the butler, Lurch, and Angela as Morticia’s pet lion, Kitty Cat.’
‘We had the costumes fitted a while ago,’ said Angela. ‘And when we rang them to ask them to add something extra for a nurse we hadn’t yet hired, they said they had something that didn’t need to be fitted, that would be fine for anyone.’
India’s giggles were ramping up, and she turned away in an attempt to stifle them.
