“How on earth did the American end up at dinner?”Violet whispered to Una as they found their seats and Oolong slipped under the table into his accustomed place at Una’s feet.In Aunt Emily’s absence, Una was at the tail end of the table and Violet claimed the empty spot next to her.“And are thosedinner clothes?”
“Oh, that was Uncle,” whispered Una.“And Mr Anderson brought the dinner things with him.”
Before they could seat themselves, Mr Anderson startled them by jumping up and running round the table to pull out both their chairs.
“Good evening, Miss Worms,” he said heartily, sliding their chairs carefully under them as if they were made of porcelain.“And Miss Worms!”
Violet got the impression Edith was giggling behind her napkin.
As Anderson went back to his seat, Violet leaned close to Una and spoke low.“He hasn’t worked out which of us is which yet, has he?”
“Does it matter?”Una murmured, smoothing her napkin over her lap.
Mr Anderson sat back down with a satisfied smile and recommenced answering Iggy’s questions.
“Does he smile more than anyone else,” Violet asked out of the side of her mouth, “or is it just the teeth that make it seem like that?”
“I think it’s because he’s American,” Una whispered back.
“You mean the confidence, or the teeth?”
“Do shut up, please,” Una said sweetly through her own teeth.
“We ought to sort out this mix-up,” Violet said, “because when he proposes to you later I’d rather it not be with my name.”
Una pinched her.This had been her childhood signal for Violet to drop a subject, but Violet wasn’t used to it anymore and she let out a full-throated yelp.
Mr Anderson paused with his water glass halfway to his lips.
“I do beg your pardon,” Una said, “the dragons are getting peckish.”She pointed under the table.
Mr Anderson leaned back in his chair to peer under the table linen.It must have been the first time he laid eyes on Frances and Oolong, for he mostly disappeared, leaving only his highly developed neck and shoulders visible.
Now that his source of information on the Wild West had dried up, Ignatius leaned towards Violet and pleaded in a loud stage-whisper, “Will you tell us more about how you took care of the dancing bears?”
Everyone looked at Violet.Mr Forrester put his hand on Iggy’s shoulder.
“Stop asking questions!”hissed Dolly.
“But it’s so interesting!”Iggy objected.“And Cousin Violet knows all about it because she was with one for simply ages.”
The silence was dense as fruitcake.Violet didn’t dare look up from her plate.All she could see of Una were her hands, clasped together tightly in her lap.
“Later, Iggy,” Violet managed.
“I do hope it was a respectable sort of circus that employed you,” said Uncle George in a pained tone.
Violet felt pressure rising inside her like water in a pipe; she was a quarter-inch from coming apart at the seams, she knew.There was no such thing as arespectable circus!
Heaven help her, she was going to say something terrible.
“No bearded lady, then?”said Iggy with profound disappointment.
“Oh, never fear, Iggy, I was the bearded lady,” were the terrible words that tumbled out of Violet’s lips.
At that precise moment, the rest of Mr Anderson reappeared, very flushed from being under the table for so long.
“What do you do about their diet, Miss Violet?”he asked Una earnestly.“I’m concerned the large black one is overnourished.”
