‘Fair enough. What do you want me to do?’
‘I want you to know the combination also, in case anything happens to me or Florence.’
‘Nothing is going to happen to you,’ he said with a frown. ‘You’ll live forever, Romily. You’re indestructible.’
Romily recalled saying a similar thing to Jack. ‘But in the event of your optimism being misplaced,’ she said, ‘I’d like for you to have the combination. It would give me peace of mind. I think it would give Florence peace of mind too, knowing she wouldn’t have to shoulder the responsibility completely alone if for some reason I did fall out of the sky or something equally careless. We also need to have a document drawn up stating very clearly who owns the contents of the safe. Of course none of this really seemed necessary when I carried out the favour for Sarah, as we didn’t think the war would go on for too long. Now we know better.’
‘I’ll do whatever is necessary,’ he said. ‘Will you have time to sign the paperwork before you and Sarah leave?’
‘Sarah’s leaving first thing tomorrow morning, but I’ll be here until the afternoon. I’d also like to make a new will. Again, it’s something I should have done before now. Will you have time to prepare everything?’
‘I shall make time.’
‘Thank you, Roddy, what would we do without you?’
‘You of all people would manage.’
‘Well, Hope, this is quite the party you’ve thrown,’ said Arthur, coming over to join her and Kit. ‘If you’re not careful, the good people of Melstead St Mary will expect this every Boxing Day.’
‘Would that be such a bad thing?’ replied Hope. ‘I enjoyed organising it, so why not?’
‘Why not indeed?’ With a nod to Kit, Arthur said, ‘You’re looking in pretty good health, all things considered.’
‘I’ll take that as a compliment coming from you,’ said Kit. ‘Fatherhood seems to be suiting you,’ he added. ‘Ralph is a regular chip off the old block and no mistake.’ He exchanged a look with Hope. Not long after his return to Island House, his sister had confided in Kit what she and Edmund had witnessed in London: Irene playing fast and loose with another man. A year ago Kit might have taken grim satisfaction in telling Arthur that his wife was making a fool of him, if only to settle an old score, but he had no appetite for such juvenile games now. What was more, when Ralph was born there was no question of his parentage. The child bore an unmistakable likeness to his father; he was a Devereux through and through. The poor devil even had his father’s temper if he couldn’t get what he wanted. As a consequence, both Kit and Hope had decided that maybe all marriages had their share of secrets, and if Irene was unfaithful to Arthur, it was frankly none of their business. Sleeping dogs and all that.
Absorbed in his own thoughts, he hadn’t realised his brother had drifted off to talk to somebody else, not until Hope nudged his arm. ‘You all right?’ she asked with a small frown on her face. ‘Are you weary of being sociable?’
‘I’m fine,’ he lied. Tiredness was a permanent problem for him. He rarely slept for longer than a couple of hours at night, frequently woken by terrifying nightmares of being consumed by a raging inferno, the flames licking at his body. He would wake bathed in sweat and more often than not screaming loud enough to wake the entire household.
But he was determined to get better, to focus on leading as normal a life as he possibly could. As Evelyn never stopped telling him, he just had to be patient with his recovery. He looked across the room to where she was talking to Romily. He smiled to himself, thinking he could look at her for hours, given half a chance.
When the revulsion and rejection he had anticipated from Evelyn had not happened, he had assumed her feelings for him were based on nothing more than pity. She had soon put him right on that score, telling him that as far as she was concerned, he was still a work in progress, an undertaking that she had every intention of seeing through to the end. She caught him staring at her now and smiled. It was the kind of smile that made him believe in miracles, that anything really was possible.
‘She loves you very much, you do realise that, don’t you?’ Hope said softly beside him.
‘She could have any man she wanted,’ Kit murmured, still staring at Evelyn.
‘True. But she’s chosen you, so don’t you forget that.’
‘I won’t,’ he said, turning to look at his sister. ‘The same goes for you and Edmund.’
She smiled, reminding him of when they were children and she had corrected him over something, only then to concede that he hadn’t been wholly wrong. ‘I suppose we have to count ourselves lucky,’ she said, looking around the crowded room until her gaze found Edmund.
‘Perhaps you should go and rescue him,’ said Kit, seeing him cornered by Lady Fogg.
‘I’m sure he can take care of himself. Besides, there’s something I’ve been wanting to say to you.’
‘Oh, that sounds ominous. What are you going to take me to task over this time? I’ve said I’ll agree to see that skin-graft specialist friend of Edmund’s in the new year; you don’t need to cajole me any more over that.’
Kit would prefer never to see another doctor or hospital again for the rest of his life; any visit to one usually resulted in excruciating pain. But if he were to have any semblance of a normal life, including a way to earn a living, it was something he would have to endure for a long time ahead. He’d do it for Evelyn’s sake, if not for himself.
‘Kit, you always make me sound such a tyrant,’ his sister said disapprovingly. ‘I only nag you because I want the best for you.’
He smiled and put his arm around her. ‘I know. And you know what, that was probably what Dad thought when he was screaming blue murder at us.’
‘Lord, now you’re likening me to our father, of all people!’
‘But isn’t it true? Aren’t we all a bit like him, just trying to make the best of a difficult life? More and more I’ve begun to see what a challenge it must have been coping with us four children on his own. Yes, he often got it wrong, spectacularly wrong, but by God, can we say we’d have done any better? If nearly losing my life has taught me one thing, it’s to walk a mile in another fellow’s shoes before I judge him.’
