‘Sit down,’ said Gina briskly, managing to make Lizzie feel even more that she’d intruded on something private. ‘Tell us about your course.’ She patted Barry’s knee. ‘Lizzie is learning to cook – among other things. Such fun! What did you learn today, darling?’
Lizzie got the impression that Gina was asking this in order to make conversation rather than because she cared. ‘We learnt a lot about garlic and olive oil and how to make caramel. Never stir the pan, just shake it.’ Lizzie smiled, wondering how soon she could leave the room again. ‘Would you like me to make more tea, Aunt—’ She remembered too late that her aunt had told her the previous evening that being called Aunt made her feel old. ‘Um – Gina, or shall I just take these things out?’
‘Oh, take them out, do. Thank you!’
Having escaped, Lizzie didn’t return to the sitting room. She washed up the tea things, dried them and put them all away.
Eventually, when the little kitchen was spotless, she heard Barry leave. It seemed to take a long time.
‘Oh, darling, you’ve cleared up. How kind. My char comes in the morning. Mrs Spriggs. Salt of the earth but rather short-sighted. By the way, your mother telephoned earlier. If you could ring herback? She wants to find out about the course.’ Gina smiled. ‘It can’t be easy for her, letting her little girl go to London on her own.’
‘I’m not on my own,’ Lizzie protested. ‘I’ve got you, Gina!’
Lizzie sat in the hall by Gina’s telephone table. ‘Mummy?’ she said, when the phone was answered. ‘It’s me.’
‘Elizabeth!’ said her mother. ‘Don’t move; I’ll ring you back. We don’t want you running up phone bills.’
A few seconds later her mother was back on the line. ‘So, how did it go? Were the other girls nice?’
‘Yes. A couple of them were really nice. The others were quite – haughty. They’re the ones doing the Season.’
Her mother sighed. If her dreams had come true, Lizzie would be doing the Season too, going to balls, tea parties, sporting events, all with the object of meeting suitable young men: good husband material who could provide for a wife and family and keep them all in a suitable upper-class manner. Lizzie knew this but as her ambitions did not include forcing herself into a group of girls where she knew no one, she didn’t know what to say to please her mother. ‘One of the nicer girls seems quite grand though,’ she said, hoping this would give her mother a little titbit of joy.
‘Really, darling? What’s her name?’
‘Alexandra.’
‘You must bring her down for the weekend as soon as you can. Maybe this weekend?’
Although Lizzie was the most obedient, compliant daughter possible, she could manage her mother to some extent. ‘I won’t know her nearly well enough to invite her down in a week, Mummy. Besides, I think Gina wants me to do something this weekend.’ This was a lie, obviously, and although Lizzie considered herself to be a truthful person, sometimes lying was necessary. Lizzie didn’t think she’d be ready to go home after only a week. She felt she’d only been in London for five minutes – she wanted a bit longer to stretch her wings.
Her mother, who had pressed on Lizzie exactly how important it was to keep in Gina’s good books – Lizzie was staying for a very reasonable rent – didn’t argue. ‘I expect she wants you to clean the silver. It certainly needed doing yesterday. I was only in the house for five minutes and I noticed.’
Lizzie didn’t point out that her mother wouldn’t need a whole five minutes to spot the gaps in Gina’s housekeeping skills.
‘I think I’d better ring off now, Mummy. Gina might like help with supper.’
‘All right, darling. Ring and tell me if you can pop home at the weekend. And find out more about this Alexandra. She sounds like such a nice girl.’
Lizzie knew that Alexandra was a nice girl but how her mother could have come to that conclusion on so little evidence she didn’t know. Or rather she did know. It was because Lizzie had described her as ‘grand’.
She went downstairs into the little kitchen where she found Gina. ‘Can I help?’
‘You can scrub the new potatoes. But it’s a very simple supper. Unlike you, my darling, I’ll never be able to cook anything too complicated.’
Lizzie was grateful. The night before she’d been confronted with an avocado pear – a fruit entirely new to her. It was so waxy and dense it took her a few moments to decide if she liked it or not.
‘Maybe when I’ve learnt a little bit more, I’ll be able to cook some meals for you,’ she suggested.
Gina smiled and nodded but didn’t seem exactly enthusiastic at the prospect of being cooked for by Lizzie.
Bearing in mind her mother’s advice about being useful she went on, ‘I’m also very good at mending. If you’ve got anything that needs a stitch, give it to me and I’ll have it mended in a jiffy.’
‘Really? Did you learn at school?’
Lizzie nodded. ‘A bit, but my mother taught me to sew lace round bits of fine lawn to make handkerchiefs. They go down very well at the Bring and Buy sales she organises. My hems are invisible too, although I did learn that at school.’
‘Oh. Well, after supper, I’ll give you my mending basket – see what you can do with it.’
