Dressed in a stylish and perfectly fittingtwo-piece suit – probably Chanel – Romily rose elegantly from the armchair by the gas fire and hugged her. ‘Don’t give it another thought. I’ve been thoroughly entertained by your wonderful porter who took pity on a poor bedraggled old woman.’
‘What a preposterous thing to say! You’re incapable of looking bedraggled and you most certainly are not old. And for the record, Roberts is completely smitten by you. If you want someone to walk on hot coals for you, he’s your man.’
‘I’ll bear that in mind. Now then, sit down and warm yourself by the fire and tell me all your news, and then I shall take you for dinner. It’s been ages since we had the chance for a proper chat.’
‘I agree. I still haven’t heard in any detail about your time in Hollywood and Palm Springs, other than,’ she added as she made herself comfortable in the armchair opposite Romily and kicked off her shoes, ‘you were approached to have your first Sister Grace novel made into a film.’
‘An idea that came to nothing in the end,’ Romily said dismissively.
‘You know Isabella is furious you didn’t pursue the idea; she says she would have been perfect to play Sister Grace.’
‘Lord yes, she has made her feelings very vocal on that account!’
‘It’s a shame though that things didn’t work out. What was the reason?’
‘An incompatibility issue with the scriptwriter the studio wanted me to work alongside. The whole thing would have been a disaster.’
‘That’s unlike you. You usually find a way to get on with people.’
‘There’s a first time for everything. Anyway, that’s of no consequence, I’m much more interested in making amends for neglecting you these last few months. Isabella too. Now tell me all your news.’
Where to start?thought Annelise, staring into the fire and listening to the gentle hiss of the gas. More than anything she wanted to talk about Harry, to confide in Romily and pour out her heart. Instead she settled on raising her concern about Mums and asked if Romily had noticed anything wrong.
Drawing her brows together, Romily rested her chin on her thumb and forefinger and nodded thoughtfully. ‘I’d only been home a few hours when I became aware of some kind of friction between Hope and Edmund. I’ve tried asking Hope several times if there’s anything worrying her, but you know of old what she’s like. Rather than deal with a problem she buries herself in her work. They move into their new house at the weekend, and so I’m hoping that will ease the situation. Maybe that’s all that is at the bottom of the problem, Hope’s impatience to be settled at Fairview.’
Not entirely convinced, Annelise said, ‘Have you been to see the house?’
‘Not yet, I haven’t had time. But I hear Stanley has made a fine job of it. Just as I knew he would.’
It was during dinner that Annelise decided to be brave and broach the subject of Harry with Romily. ‘Do you suppose love is ever a truly happy state of affairs?’ she asked.
Romily put down her wineglass. ‘My dear girl, what on earth makes you say a thing like that?’
‘Because I’m in love with somebody and if I’m honest, at times the pain of it far outweighs the pleasure.’
‘Are you saying it doesn’t make you happy? Because if so, take it from me, that’s not love.’
ChapterThirty-Five
St Gertrude’s College, Oxford
November 1962
Romily
Early the next morning Romily greeted the day with drained relief.
All night she had drifted like the tide in and out of sleep, one hectic dream following another. But the most unnerving dream was the one that saw her back in Palm Springs. She was lost in the desert and with the light fading she caught the sound of her name being called. It was no more than a faint whisper carried on the cool evening breeze. But she recognised it instantly. Yet rather than be pleased that Red had come to rescue her, she hid behind a large rock until he was gone, and she was again alone in the dark and rapidly dropping night temperature. Shivering with cold, she had suddenly felt unutterably bereft. The feeling was with her still, giving her the sensation that she had lost something of great value. What irked her more was the irrational feeling that she was entirely to blame for getting herself lost in the desert.
It was only a dream, she told herself as she slipped out of bed and went to run herself a bath in the adjoining bathroom. But adding some scented bubble bath to the water before stepping in, she reluctantly acknowledged that, as Freud and Jung would say, there was no such thing asjusta dream.
Logically she could work it all out. What had gone on between her and Red was that on a subconscious level there had been a spontaneous and mutual attraction, which, when reluctantly realised, had surprised and rattled them both, and for differing reasons. Or maybe for similar reasons. Perhaps they each had become too used to being autonomous and doing things their own way without ever being challenged.
She could go on theorising ad infinitum, but her time in Palm Springs was of no matter now. She had more important things with which to occupy herself following dinner with Annelise last night. It would appear that a lot had gone on in her absence from Island House. Which only came to light when, and as if opening the floodgates, Annelise had let it all pour out.
Firstly there had been Annelise’s worry about Hope, which Romily felt was not misplaced. After what she had witnessed herself, she had been tempted to speak in private to Edmund, but had decided against it. What went on between a husband and wife was nobody’s business but their own.
Stanley had his problems too, it now transpired, and that upset Romily hugely. More shocking though was what Annelise had told her about Evelyn, that she had received an anonymous letter implying Kit wasn’t Pip and Em’s father. Not only that, somebody with whom Evelyn had clearly been close had shown up at the party – and that somebody just happened to be called Max who had worked with Evelyn during the war.
