‘They let us come for holidays, then packed us off to god-awful boarding schools. Vaughn got it worse, of course. When Daddy got posted to India he dragged us both over there. All highly irregular, but what Daddy wanted, Daddy got.’
Margaret’s laugh carried over the general hubbub, and
I looked for her across a sea of heads.
‘She’s with Vaughn,’ Miriam said, ‘quelle surprise.’
‘You knew Margaret in India?’ I asked.
‘Vaguely,’ Miriam said. ‘Mostly it was those two, thick as thieves. I was bundled off to Switzerland, and when I did make it home they made it clear I wasn’t welcome.’
She studied me openly, with no guile. It made me like her.
‘Vaughn said you’re up at Cambridge,’ I said.
‘They let a few of us girls in every now and then,’ Miriam said, ‘keeps the agitators off their backs.’
‘What do you study?’
‘I teach,’ she said. ‘Waves and all that.’
I nodded sagely, as if I knew what she was talking about. The closest I’d got to university was hearing about Doc’s exploits, and most of those had involved drinking.
‘The sea?’ I asked, imagining experiments with floats. There’d be charts involved, and speeches delivered in oak-panelled lecture theatres.
‘Radio,’ she said. ‘Very hush hush.’
Once again, Margaret’s laugh carried over the noise.
‘You should be careful,’ Miriam said, ‘if you’re intending to keep her. Vaughn’s had a lifetime of getting what he wants.’
‘Does he want Margaret?’ I asked.
‘Of course,’ she said. ‘We all do.’
43
Dinner was everything I’d expected. A long table, silver candelabra, enough food to feed a small town. Vaughn had been saving his ration coupons for a rainy day.
The room was designed to intimidate. A huge stone fireplace dominated the side wall. Above it, an ugly portrait of one of Vaughn’s ancestors.
They’d placed me between the two women we’d met on the Forest. Constance, in a flowery dress the size of a mess tent, on my left, and Kay, in a tailored dinner suit, on my right.
‘What do you think about the Jewish problem?’ Constance asked, raising her reading glasses in readiness to properly assess my response.
‘Is there a problem?’ I answered.
‘Namely that they live in our countries without considering themselves citizens,’ Kay answered, from my right.
‘Countries?’ I asked, spearing a piece of limp asparagus.
‘England, France, Germany ...’ Constance said.
‘... all the great European nations,’ Kay added.
I ate my asparagus. It was a first. Our greengrocer didn’t sell it, and I’d never grown it. Too much fiddling around with banking up the soil. It was gelatinous, and whatever taste it had was overpowered by the margarine. Even Vaughn was having trouble getting butter. He should have asked, and I could have put him in touch with Eric.
I didn’t respond to the women. I’ve found it’s the best way to draw people out, make them tell you more about themselves than you reveal about yourself. A matter of habit, compounded by my bad mood at being coerced into staying for the party, solidified by the sinking feeling that told me exactly where this conversation was going.
