Grover. The response was predictable.
‘The little fool,’ said Verona. ‘Doesn’t she know he’s gay?’
Ursula quickly disagreed with her. ‘People can change,’ she said. ‘It’s a complete fallacy to think sexual orientation is immutable. Just a modern fad, that’s all that is. Good luck to the girl, I say.’
Verona, almost as retiring and silent as Leslie, but immeasurably less shy, gave a little laugh. Everyone turned to look at her. When Verona laughed, it made you stop whatever you were doing. The sound pierced to your marrow, raising ripples on your skin, shivers in your guts. Verona laughed as if to tell you that she had just glimpsed your destiny, and it was as amusing as it was unpleasant.
Kenneth, in possession of thicker psychological skin than most, raised his eyebrows at her. ‘What’s funny?’ he asked.
Verona shrugged with a fleeting glance at me, full of her usual sly superiority. ‘Nothing much,’ she said. ‘Only that I hear they’ve been seen around together a few times. We oughtn’t to be so quick to laugh. I vote we do the divination, just as she asks.’
‘And I say good luck to her,’ Ursula endorsed.
I had glanced at Leslie in the middle of these jumbled reactions, and been shocked by his expression. It seemed to me to comprise an unsavoury mixture of disgust and anger. I realised that he knew Gaynor and Oliver rather well, and had had the unique privilege, amongst those in the room, of seeing the two together.
‘What do you think?’ I asked him. ‘Does Gaynor stand any chance of winning him over?’
He said nothing for a long beat. Then, ‘We’ll have to wait and see, won’t we?’ he managed.
Pamela, sitting next to him, gave him a little nudge with her elbow. ‘Go on,’ she teased him. ‘Commit yourself, why don’t you? Make a guess.’
He didn’t look at her, but twisted away, staring down at the floor. His mouth moved, but he didn’t say anything.
Kenneth came to his rescue. ‘What would he know about it?’ he said.
Leslie lifted his head as if this was a directchallenge, or a final intolerable straw. ‘I know them both,’ he said, rather loudly. ‘That’s not it.’
He was like a tortured adolescent, embroiled in unmanageable emotions. With one accord, the whole group released him from the painful spotlight of their attention. Ursula got up to take some empty cups out to the kitchen. Verona began talking to Pamela about childhood memories of bobbing for apples at Hallowe’en. Kenneth jingled coins in his pocket and seemed to have some urgent private thinking to do. Leslie’s tension receded, and he was soon himself again, asking for precise timings and duties during the ceremony.
They left before eleven, going out into the dark night quite quietly. I watched the last car drive away, satisfied that we’d had a good moot, reinforcing our ideas, marking the season, preparing for the climax to come.
CHAPTER FIVE
Sunday morning was even damper than the previous days had been. A mist hung over everything, and I could scarcely see Greenhaven, only thirty feet away. But regardless of the weather, I heard Phil and Thea load their dogs into the car and drive off before nine. That seemed rather odd. If they wanted to give the beasts a run, they only had to turn right outside their gate and have an ideal cross-country walk to Notgrove. An arrow-straight avenue of young beeches comprised most of the way – perfect for dogs as well as horses. The almost total disappearance of livestock from farming in this part of Gloucestershire made things much more relaxed for dog walkers than they would have done in the era of wholesale sheep husbandry.
Besides, I remembered I had told Phil I would call in and talk to him about the Masonic things from the attic. Wasn’t it rather rude of him to swan offlike that without waiting for my visit?
Giving myself a shake, I turned to my morning tasks. Another batch of bread had emerged as crusty and redolent as
‘The little fool,’ said Verona. ‘Doesn’t she know he’s gay?’
Ursula quickly disagreed with her. ‘People can change,’ she said. ‘It’s a complete fallacy to think sexual orientation is immutable. Just a modern fad, that’s all that is. Good luck to the girl, I say.’
Verona, almost as retiring and silent as Leslie, but immeasurably less shy, gave a little laugh. Everyone turned to look at her. When Verona laughed, it made you stop whatever you were doing. The sound pierced to your marrow, raising ripples on your skin, shivers in your guts. Verona laughed as if to tell you that she had just glimpsed your destiny, and it was as amusing as it was unpleasant.
Kenneth, in possession of thicker psychological skin than most, raised his eyebrows at her. ‘What’s funny?’ he asked.
Verona shrugged with a fleeting glance at me, full of her usual sly superiority. ‘Nothing much,’ she said. ‘Only that I hear they’ve been seen around together a few times. We oughtn’t to be so quick to laugh. I vote we do the divination, just as she asks.’
‘And I say good luck to her,’ Ursula endorsed.
I had glanced at Leslie in the middle of these jumbled reactions, and been shocked by his expression. It seemed to me to comprise an unsavoury mixture of disgust and anger. I realised that he knew Gaynor and Oliver rather well, and had had the unique privilege, amongst those in the room, of seeing the two together.
‘What do you think?’ I asked him. ‘Does Gaynor stand any chance of winning him over?’
He said nothing for a long beat. Then, ‘We’ll have to wait and see, won’t we?’ he managed.
Pamela, sitting next to him, gave him a little nudge with her elbow. ‘Go on,’ she teased him. ‘Commit yourself, why don’t you? Make a guess.’
He didn’t look at her, but twisted away, staring down at the floor. His mouth moved, but he didn’t say anything.
Kenneth came to his rescue. ‘What would he know about it?’ he said.
Leslie lifted his head as if this was a directchallenge, or a final intolerable straw. ‘I know them both,’ he said, rather loudly. ‘That’s not it.’
He was like a tortured adolescent, embroiled in unmanageable emotions. With one accord, the whole group released him from the painful spotlight of their attention. Ursula got up to take some empty cups out to the kitchen. Verona began talking to Pamela about childhood memories of bobbing for apples at Hallowe’en. Kenneth jingled coins in his pocket and seemed to have some urgent private thinking to do. Leslie’s tension receded, and he was soon himself again, asking for precise timings and duties during the ceremony.
They left before eleven, going out into the dark night quite quietly. I watched the last car drive away, satisfied that we’d had a good moot, reinforcing our ideas, marking the season, preparing for the climax to come.
CHAPTER FIVE
Sunday morning was even damper than the previous days had been. A mist hung over everything, and I could scarcely see Greenhaven, only thirty feet away. But regardless of the weather, I heard Phil and Thea load their dogs into the car and drive off before nine. That seemed rather odd. If they wanted to give the beasts a run, they only had to turn right outside their gate and have an ideal cross-country walk to Notgrove. An arrow-straight avenue of young beeches comprised most of the way – perfect for dogs as well as horses. The almost total disappearance of livestock from farming in this part of Gloucestershire made things much more relaxed for dog walkers than they would have done in the era of wholesale sheep husbandry.
Besides, I remembered I had told Phil I would call in and talk to him about the Masonic things from the attic. Wasn’t it rather rude of him to swan offlike that without waiting for my visit?
Giving myself a shake, I turned to my morning tasks. Another batch of bread had emerged as crusty and redolent as
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