anything, but she gave Mary Ann an extra-specially warmsmile. And Mary Ann grinned back.
And that was how the orangery came to be a crystal dome once more, full of nothing but clear, sparkling air. By now the emerald silk dress was almost ready, Papa had secured the promise of a gramophone, and plans for the food and decorations were well under way. Amelia had a lurching feeling in her insides every time she thought about the party, but she took a deep breath and reminded Mama that it was time to write the invitations.
So they sat down one evening with Papa’s best fountain pen and a pile of smooth square white cards edged with gold and wrote notes to all Amelia’s classmates and her cousins Louise and Beatrice. ‘And Joshua, Mama,’ said Amelia.
‘Joshua? Oh, I’m sure your cousin Joshua won’t want to come to a girls’ party.’
‘But, Mama, we’ll need some boys. For the dancing.’
‘Ah, for the dancing,’ said Mama with a knowing nod.‘I see. I knew there must be some point to boys. Goodness knows, they’re pretty useless otherwise.’
Amelia was too distracted even to notice that Mama was making a little joke. She chewed Papa’s fountain pen and looked out of the window.
‘And what other young men did you have in mind, Amelia? I don’t suppose poor Josh is expected to do all the honours.’
‘Mary Webb has a brother,’ said Amelia without enthusiasm . ‘And Dorothea Jacob has a cousin, a boy-cousin, I mean. Lucinda’s brother is almost sixteen. Do you think that’s too old, Mama?’
‘I expect he’s almost ready to draw a pension,’ said her mother, ‘but we could ask him anyway, and if he can still walk without a stick, perhaps he might be prevailed upon to come.’
‘I can’t think of any more,’ wailed Amelia. ‘Oh, Mama, have any of your suffragettes got sons?’
‘Are you sure that is the sort of boy you want to mix with, Amelia?’ asked her mother wickedly.
‘Why, Mama! You’re a suffragette.’
‘And I’m all right?’
‘Oh yes, Mama. Of course you are.’
‘I’m pleased to hear it,’ said Mama. ‘Sometimes, Amelia, I think you are so disapproving of everything I do, that I almost feel guilty.’
‘Oh, Mother!’ said Amelia. ‘It’s not up to me to approve or disapprove of what you do.’ But she knew, deep down inside, what her mother meant.
‘No, of course it isn’t. But still, one doesn’t like to feel one’s own daughter thinks one is crackers.’
‘Mama, I don’t think you’re crackers. I think perhaps you’re a little … well, perhaps a little quick to get involved in things. But not crackers.’
‘Ah well,’ said Mama. But she didn’t finish the sentence.
Just then Papa came into the room, smoking his curly pipe and scenting the air with it. He was in his carpet slippers and had on his comfortable at-home look.
‘What are the ladies up to?’ he asked in his gallant way.
‘Writing invitations, Papa,’ said Amelia. ‘For the birthday party.’
‘Ah, next week!’ said Papa, ruffling Amelia’s hair.
‘Oh, and Papa, can the guests have a ride in the motor-car? I promised.’
‘What?’ said Papa, in mock horror. ‘Do you think I’m running a motorised hackney-cab? Or a funfair ride?’
‘That’s right, Papa,’ said Amelia, laughing up at him. ‘They’re all so excited at the thought.’
‘Well, you tell all the young ladies to wear warm coats, and we’ll see if we can’t manage a spin around the square.’
It was going to be such fun, Amelia knew it. Cook was already stacking goodies in the pantry, and Edmund had helped Amelia to make paper lanterns to hang up, and streamers from coloured paper, and the orangery was looking so splendid and now Papa was going to come home early from the office and take people on motor-car rides. Amelia wasn’t too sure herself how the dancing part would go, but she knew that was what the girls at school expected, so she just hoped they would know how to handle it. It was all
And that was how the orangery came to be a crystal dome once more, full of nothing but clear, sparkling air. By now the emerald silk dress was almost ready, Papa had secured the promise of a gramophone, and plans for the food and decorations were well under way. Amelia had a lurching feeling in her insides every time she thought about the party, but she took a deep breath and reminded Mama that it was time to write the invitations.
So they sat down one evening with Papa’s best fountain pen and a pile of smooth square white cards edged with gold and wrote notes to all Amelia’s classmates and her cousins Louise and Beatrice. ‘And Joshua, Mama,’ said Amelia.
‘Joshua? Oh, I’m sure your cousin Joshua won’t want to come to a girls’ party.’
‘But, Mama, we’ll need some boys. For the dancing.’
‘Ah, for the dancing,’ said Mama with a knowing nod.‘I see. I knew there must be some point to boys. Goodness knows, they’re pretty useless otherwise.’
Amelia was too distracted even to notice that Mama was making a little joke. She chewed Papa’s fountain pen and looked out of the window.
‘And what other young men did you have in mind, Amelia? I don’t suppose poor Josh is expected to do all the honours.’
‘Mary Webb has a brother,’ said Amelia without enthusiasm . ‘And Dorothea Jacob has a cousin, a boy-cousin, I mean. Lucinda’s brother is almost sixteen. Do you think that’s too old, Mama?’
‘I expect he’s almost ready to draw a pension,’ said her mother, ‘but we could ask him anyway, and if he can still walk without a stick, perhaps he might be prevailed upon to come.’
‘I can’t think of any more,’ wailed Amelia. ‘Oh, Mama, have any of your suffragettes got sons?’
‘Are you sure that is the sort of boy you want to mix with, Amelia?’ asked her mother wickedly.
‘Why, Mama! You’re a suffragette.’
‘And I’m all right?’
‘Oh yes, Mama. Of course you are.’
‘I’m pleased to hear it,’ said Mama. ‘Sometimes, Amelia, I think you are so disapproving of everything I do, that I almost feel guilty.’
‘Oh, Mother!’ said Amelia. ‘It’s not up to me to approve or disapprove of what you do.’ But she knew, deep down inside, what her mother meant.
‘No, of course it isn’t. But still, one doesn’t like to feel one’s own daughter thinks one is crackers.’
‘Mama, I don’t think you’re crackers. I think perhaps you’re a little … well, perhaps a little quick to get involved in things. But not crackers.’
‘Ah well,’ said Mama. But she didn’t finish the sentence.
Just then Papa came into the room, smoking his curly pipe and scenting the air with it. He was in his carpet slippers and had on his comfortable at-home look.
‘What are the ladies up to?’ he asked in his gallant way.
‘Writing invitations, Papa,’ said Amelia. ‘For the birthday party.’
‘Ah, next week!’ said Papa, ruffling Amelia’s hair.
‘Oh, and Papa, can the guests have a ride in the motor-car? I promised.’
‘What?’ said Papa, in mock horror. ‘Do you think I’m running a motorised hackney-cab? Or a funfair ride?’
‘That’s right, Papa,’ said Amelia, laughing up at him. ‘They’re all so excited at the thought.’
‘Well, you tell all the young ladies to wear warm coats, and we’ll see if we can’t manage a spin around the square.’
It was going to be such fun, Amelia knew it. Cook was already stacking goodies in the pantry, and Edmund had helped Amelia to make paper lanterns to hang up, and streamers from coloured paper, and the orangery was looking so splendid and now Papa was going to come home early from the office and take people on motor-car rides. Amelia wasn’t too sure herself how the dancing part would go, but she knew that was what the girls at school expected, so she just hoped they would know how to handle it. It was all
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