‘Now if we could get on,’ Lady Fogg said. ‘I’m extremely busy. Yours is not the only house call I have to make this morning.’
‘I suppose I would be adding to your burden if I were to offer you some refreshments; a cup of coffee perhaps?’
Lady Fogg hesitated.
‘No, no,’ said Romily quickly, enjoying herself, ‘you have far too much to do. Silly of me to say anything, of course you need to get on. I mustn’t delay you. Not for a minute.’
Her lips pursed together, Lady Fogg opened the folder on her lap and withdrew a pen from her handbag. A pen that didn’t work, it transpired. She jabbed it at the piece of paper, but it refused to cooperate.
Romily went over to her desk and helpfully handed Lady Fogg a pen. ‘Try this one.’
‘Thank you,’ the woman said, without the slightest trace of gratitude. The pen poised, she crossed her legs at her ankles, which were remarkably slim, given her bulk. ‘Of course in so many ways this is all highly unethical,’ she said, ‘but needs must.’
‘In what way unethical, Lady Fogg?’
‘Well, Island House isn’t strictly yours, is it? Not until probate has been dealt with, presumably.’
If she was trying to make a point that Romily did not in some way belong here, she had better think again. ‘In that case, maybe this has been a wasted visit for you,’ said Romily, with some heat to her voice. ‘I’d hate for you to feel compromised in the name of necessity.’
‘In difficult times one can always find a way round these things,’ Lady Fogg replied. Her satisfied expression showed that she felt she’d scored a well-aimed blow. She then gave her attention to working through the details of what would be involved in having an evacuee to stay.
When she’d finished, she said, ‘Will the house be sold off and the proceeds shared amongst the children? Talking of which, I heard they were staying on with you. It must be a trying time for you; they’re not an easy family.’ She gave a bizarrely sudden and loud laugh, like a gunshot being fired, which made Romily start. ‘You may well rue the day you ever met Jack Devereux!’
Enough was enough. Romily rose to her feet. ‘Lady Fogg, you could not be more wrong. On all counts. Do please forgive me for rushing you, but I’m expecting a phone call from my editor. Do you have time to inspect upstairs before leaving? I must ask you to respect Mrs Meyer’s privacy; she’s working in her room so I’d rather we didn’t disturb her.’
With his eyes closed, and basking in the pleasantly warm morning sunshine on the wooden bench to one side of the open French doors of the drawing room, Kit had been listening to the exchange between Romily and Ma Foghorn, all the while silently cheering Romily on. Hearing how easily she had run rings around the old battleaxe, he’d back his stepmother any day in a head-to-head!
He opened his eyes and looked over to the pond, where his brother was rowing languidly through the lily pads. Once he was in the middle of the pond, he stopped and drew in the oars, then produced a bottle of beer and proceeded to twist off the cap. Watching his brother gulp down the beer, tipping his head back in the sun, Kit could almost believe Arthur was happy, that he was enjoying the solitude. But more likely he was plotting who to upset next.
Well it wouldn’t be him, vowed Kit. There were more important things going on in the world than allowing himself to be cowed by Arthur. Following his admission to Evelyn yesterday that he was thinking of joining the RAF, he couldn’t help but think he’d better get on and do something about it. Or should he wait until war was declared? No point in rushing to sign up if nothing was actually going to happen.
And there he went again, he thought crossly. Why did he keep procrastinating? Why could he not just make his mind up and get on with things?
From around the side of the house his cousin Allegra appeared. She saw him, hesitated, and then came over. ‘You look as bored as I feel,’ she said.
‘I’m not bored at all. I was just sitting here thinking. You’re welcome to join me.’
Again she hesitated, but then smoothed down the back of her skirt and sat next to him. ‘What do you think of this idea of Romily’s to have us all babysitting Annelise?’ she said.
‘It’s certainly not something I thought I’d ever be doing, but you saw the state Hope was in yesterday; she was obviously at her wits’ end.’
‘Yes, but I don’t see why that should mean we have to be reduced to the same neurotic state. Why doesn’t she simply find some girl from the village to do it?’
Kit had thought much the same thing, and for now was grateful that the maid, Florence, was occupying Annelise while Hope worked upstairs in her bedroom. ‘It’s only for a few days,’ he said mildly.
‘That’s so typical of you!’ snapped Allegra. ‘Always sitting on the fence, not wanting to cause any fuss or bother.’
‘As opposed to you, always making a drama out of the smallest of things. It must be the—’
‘Oh, that’s right!’ interrupted Allegra, not giving him a chance to finish his sentence. ‘It must be the illegitimate hot-blooded Italian in me!’
Kit was astonished, although he shouldn’t have been; Allegra’s mood swings were legendary. ‘I was going to say it must be the prima donna in you.’
‘Liar!’
‘For heaven’s sake!’ he said, exasperated. ‘Aren’t you tired of always dragging out that old chestnut? Do you really think any of us gives a damn about it now?’
‘Maybe it’s because I do give a damn about it. You have no idea what it feels like never to have known your mother or father.’
