Penelope looks to her sherry again. ‘No. Lydia never expected any money repaid.’
‘But we took money from her,’ pushes Leo.
‘We have taken everything from her, darlings. This house belongs to Lydia, not to us. When your father died, she promised she would give us her support to whatever end. She found us the house in Richmond first, then when she had the means she bought the Gate House and moved us here. We have never been charged rent, nor are we charged for the gas or the coal or the servants. It has allowed our small resources to suffice for our daily needs. It has allowed you, dear Leo, to work as an articled clerk until you qualify as a solicitor and you, Cessy, to indulge your desire to dally at university. You have both been raised in the manner I wished for you, and it is all down to Lydia.’
Penelope waits for her pronouncement to be absorbed.
There has been too much shock today. This, Cecilia cannot take in.
‘You mean Father left us nothing?’ asks Leo. ‘That cannot be right.’
Their mother draws her shawl close around her. ‘You know I don’t like to speak of your father. I am sure he didn’t mean it all to work out as it did, but there’s no changing it.’
She knew it would not be easy for her and Odette to find the money to leave home, to afford their flat in Bloomsbury. Her mother would hardly have been willing to help them but – but this is .?.?. What does it mean? She cannot grasp its enormity.
‘We have nothing?’ she asks softly. ‘We are out on the street?’
‘That depends,’ says Penelope. A different look has come across her face, one Cecilia cannot quite read.
She thinks of Uncle George and Claudine pressed together and is struck with the sense that Lydia’s death is more than the passing of one life.
Leo frowns, fishing a fresh cigarette from his case and fitting it to his lips. ‘Depends on what?’
Penelope grimaces. ‘I have told you how I hate that habit.’
‘Well, we shall all be in the workhouse soon, according to you, so I don’t think I’ll worry too much about my habits. So, this is Lydia’s house – what of it?’
‘It is no longer Lydia’s,’ says Cecilia softly.
‘No,’ confirms Penelope. ‘It will be George’s now; as her husband it will all revert to him.’
‘Then what is the problem? Uncle George won’t throw us out.’ Leo laughs, looking at his mother and sister, as though he hopes that they will join in, the problem being slain.
‘Don’t be naive,’ says Penelope. ‘George is not a bad man, but he is easily swayed, and if we are no longer wanted here, we will have to go.’
Leo frowns. ‘But I don’t understand – who would not want us here?’
Cecilia glances at her mother, who returns her gaze with a look so forceful Cecilia feels light-headed.
‘It is not important. The fact of the matter is that we are no longer under Lydia’s protection.’
Leo stubs out his cigarette and tosses the end into the fire. ‘So, what is it you think we must do now? I have my salary. It is not much, but I hope it will grow as I build my practice.’
It is easier to let Leo speak, to concede to his simpler understanding of their world. It is how the three of them have always been. Her mother speaks in stage dialogue, striking herposes, Leo steps in to act the gallant, golden son, the only level head amongst skittish women, and Cecilia – Cecilia relinquishes ground to them both, Cecilia is the audience.
‘Thank you, my darling,’ says Penelope, patting his hand. ‘There is nothing to be decided tonight, but I could not sleep without telling you both the truth.’
‘I doubt sleep is something any of us will be getting much of. I believe you’re making a storm out of a drizzle. Nothing need change simply because Aunt Lydia has gone.’ Leo seems to catch himself at the offhand way he speaks of her death. ‘Well. You know what I mean to say.’
‘Could you tell Masie to bring my tonic to my room?’ says Penelope. ‘You are quite right; I won’t sleep a wink now, and it is the only thing that brings me any respite.’
Leo’s face crumples with distaste. ‘I am not the boot boy – tell her yourself.’
Penelope squeezes his hand. ‘Darling boy, don’t argue.’
When Leo is gone and the door has shut behind him, Penelope turns to Cecilia, eyes fiery, pinning her in place.
‘Do not breathe a word of what you saw.’
