All Change: Cazalet Chronicles by Elizabeth Jane Howard Page B

elastic band that snapped at the last moment. ‘Oh, bother! Oh, damn! I didn’t bring a spare.’
    ‘You’ll have to make do with a girly ribbon. Bunch your hair and I’ll do it for you.’
    ‘Have you talked to Rachel?’
    ‘Haven’t had a chance. She’s being rather guarded by Sid. I think she feels she’s the only person to look after Rachel just now.’
    ‘At least they won’t have the strain of concealing anything from the Duchy.’
    ‘At least that.’

    But several times during that evening Archie wondered whether there might be other, less definable strains.
    After remarkably stiff drinks made by Edward, they assembled in the dining room for poached chicken with vegetables followed by strawberry shortcake and cream.
    Neither Rachel nor Sid ate much in spite of urging each other to eat more.
    After some abortive efforts, the safest subjects turned out to be politics (the men) and the children (their mothers). The unrest at the local docks was embarking on its sixth week, which was beginning to affect the family firm as it depended largely upon imports of hardwoods. Hugh, as chairman, was very exercised by this and irritated when Rupert said that their men had a point. Edward said he doubted whether Eden had the right cabinet to deal effectively with a national strike of any kind. It was uncomfortably agreed that he had not been in office very long, and he had been good in the Foreign Office. Rachel sat through all this, gaunt with grief but smiling if anyone caught her eye. Stories about the children were a relief. Georgie and Rivers and the rest of his menagerie, Laura sleeping in her pirate’s hat, Harriet and Bertie trying to divide a lone banana with a ruler . . .
    Archie became aware that something was terribly wrong with Sid, who was sitting next to him. He had thought she wasn’t looking well – she’d had some bug, she’d told him at the beginning of dinner, but she was fine now. She didn’t look it, her usually rather sunburned face sallow with mauve smudges under her eyes. She had picked at her chicken but, except for urging Rachel to eat more, she had remained silent. Now, when Eileen put the strawberry shortbread before her, he heard her being suddenly horribly sick into her napkin. She got unsteadily to her feet, and as he rose to help her there was Jemima, quick as a flash putting an arm round her, adding her napkin to the soiled one, and making soothing noises as she took her out of the room. Rachel made to follow, but Sid called – almost shouted – ‘No. Please leave me alone.’
    And Rachel stayed. ‘She isn’t at all well. She should never have come.’ Then she pressed her knuckles to her eyes to stop any more tears.
    Hugh, who was sitting next to her, leaned across to take her hand with his good one. ‘Rach, darling, she came because she loves you, as we all do so much.’
    And Zoë, who had been swallowing hard – the one thing that made her want to be sick was being present when other people were – said, ‘The more I loved someone, the less I’d want them round me if I was sick. I’d just want to be on my own.’
    ‘Jemima will look after her,’ Hugh said.
    Edward looked at his brother. He couldn’t help remembering that Villy had always been the one who had looked after everyone when they were ill, fell off a pony or got their fingers slammed in a car door. Of course, she knew about first aid because she’d gone in for it before the war, but she also had a most practical compassion for anyone in trouble. The thought that Diana was not like that crossed his mind: she certainly had not liked him being ill, but on the other hand she was good with her sons. She would certainly look after them .
    Lately Diana had been suggesting that they should sell the house in West Hampstead and buy one in the country. A nice Georgian house within commuting distance of London. He had the feeling that she was pretty determined on this, in which case there would be absolutely no