feels like it and, and, you know.’
‘I don’t think there is any question of that,’ said Matthew.
‘Gosh.’
‘Yes—well.’
‘And she hadn’t heard a whisper about the dinner party in the garden and if she had she still would have nothing to wear.’
‘What a gullible little darling you are.’ Matthew hugged her.
‘I am not.’
‘If you believe all that, you’ll believe anything.’
‘Barbara did.’
‘That makes two.’
‘Brute, I shall give you back your ring.’
‘I haven’t given you one yet.’
‘Are you suggesting I—’
‘I don’t know, darling. I don’t know Henry all that well. I’ve stayed a couple of weekends; I’ve met his wife once. I don’t believe she is ill. The only thing I happen to know is that Ebro does all the redecorating; he is training to be an interior decorator.’
‘In London?’
‘I suppose so.’
‘So that wasn’t a lie.’
‘Half.’
‘Oh.’ Antonia was thoughtful.
‘I suggest,’ said Matthew, ‘that if you girls are all that interested, you ask Henry for the truth of it.’
‘Maybe I will,’ said Antonia.
Matthew wished he had not made this suggestion. ‘Can we get back to you and me?’ he asked. ‘When shall we marry? Where shall we spend our honeymoon? Where shall we live? How many children shall we have—?’
‘Steady on,’ said Antonia. ‘Let’s start with the engagement ring. I like rubies.’
‘And you are virtuous,’ Matthew ventured.
‘Of course I am.’ Antonia hugged him. ‘Darling, darling Matthew.’ There’s a trousseau to choose, she thought. A house to find. What fun! I can stop going to my office and all that rush in the mornings and the horrible journey home on the tube. ‘I shall try and make you happy,’ she said.
‘That will be no problem,’ said Matthew. ‘I am happy now. It will only get more so.’
SIX
J AMES MARTINEAU HAD ENJOYED his supper. Pilar was a good cook. Eating the roast duck, he compared the meal with previous meals at Cotteshaw, each in its way excellent. As he ate the duck and watched Barbara, he remembered the weekend a year ago when he had brought Valerie with him. There had still been some small possibility that she would stop messing about and make up her mind.
Valerie had stopped messing about and she had made up her mind. Putting paid to any residue of hope he might have had, she had married a man richer, more intelligent and better-looking than himself. Savouring the peas, James remembered Valerie: he had been so very much in love!
During that weekend Valerie had chatted and joked, made herself interesting, drawn Henry out. Yet Valerie had not been invited upstairs to meet Margaret. Remembering Valerie, and the awful pain of disappointment, James determined, as he ate his pudding, never again to allow himself to be so vulnerable. Spooning fruit into his mouth, he watched Henry watching the girls and the girls’ responsive glances, and Matthew watching Antonia. Helping himself to more cream, James tried to remember what exactly he had said to Barbara when they stopped on their way to Cotteshaw. Had he or had he not committed himself? Certainly Barbara had said neither yes nor no. The episode had been on a jokey plane. Remembering this, James thought that he need not necessarily follow it up, and that anyway Barbara was, and would always be, second best.
When supper was over Matthew and Antonia had strolled out into the garden, while Barbara helped Pilar clear the table. Ebro went to fetch Margaret’s tray. Henry suggested, ‘Like a walk? Come on, Barbara—and James.’
Pilar said, ‘You go, Barbara, it’s a lovely night, I finish this easy.’
Barbara said, ‘Right then, thank you,’ and put down the glass cloth and the plate she had been drying. ‘Come on, James.’
Henry led them across the lawn through a gate to a path which ran across a hayfield. His dogs padded ahead, snuffling the night smells. Halfway across the field, Henry said, ‘I must see to
‘I don’t think there is any question of that,’ said Matthew.
‘Gosh.’
‘Yes—well.’
‘And she hadn’t heard a whisper about the dinner party in the garden and if she had she still would have nothing to wear.’
‘What a gullible little darling you are.’ Matthew hugged her.
‘I am not.’
‘If you believe all that, you’ll believe anything.’
‘Barbara did.’
‘That makes two.’
‘Brute, I shall give you back your ring.’
‘I haven’t given you one yet.’
‘Are you suggesting I—’
‘I don’t know, darling. I don’t know Henry all that well. I’ve stayed a couple of weekends; I’ve met his wife once. I don’t believe she is ill. The only thing I happen to know is that Ebro does all the redecorating; he is training to be an interior decorator.’
‘In London?’
‘I suppose so.’
‘So that wasn’t a lie.’
‘Half.’
‘Oh.’ Antonia was thoughtful.
‘I suggest,’ said Matthew, ‘that if you girls are all that interested, you ask Henry for the truth of it.’
‘Maybe I will,’ said Antonia.
Matthew wished he had not made this suggestion. ‘Can we get back to you and me?’ he asked. ‘When shall we marry? Where shall we spend our honeymoon? Where shall we live? How many children shall we have—?’
‘Steady on,’ said Antonia. ‘Let’s start with the engagement ring. I like rubies.’
‘And you are virtuous,’ Matthew ventured.
‘Of course I am.’ Antonia hugged him. ‘Darling, darling Matthew.’ There’s a trousseau to choose, she thought. A house to find. What fun! I can stop going to my office and all that rush in the mornings and the horrible journey home on the tube. ‘I shall try and make you happy,’ she said.
‘That will be no problem,’ said Matthew. ‘I am happy now. It will only get more so.’
SIX
J AMES MARTINEAU HAD ENJOYED his supper. Pilar was a good cook. Eating the roast duck, he compared the meal with previous meals at Cotteshaw, each in its way excellent. As he ate the duck and watched Barbara, he remembered the weekend a year ago when he had brought Valerie with him. There had still been some small possibility that she would stop messing about and make up her mind.
Valerie had stopped messing about and she had made up her mind. Putting paid to any residue of hope he might have had, she had married a man richer, more intelligent and better-looking than himself. Savouring the peas, James remembered Valerie: he had been so very much in love!
During that weekend Valerie had chatted and joked, made herself interesting, drawn Henry out. Yet Valerie had not been invited upstairs to meet Margaret. Remembering Valerie, and the awful pain of disappointment, James determined, as he ate his pudding, never again to allow himself to be so vulnerable. Spooning fruit into his mouth, he watched Henry watching the girls and the girls’ responsive glances, and Matthew watching Antonia. Helping himself to more cream, James tried to remember what exactly he had said to Barbara when they stopped on their way to Cotteshaw. Had he or had he not committed himself? Certainly Barbara had said neither yes nor no. The episode had been on a jokey plane. Remembering this, James thought that he need not necessarily follow it up, and that anyway Barbara was, and would always be, second best.
When supper was over Matthew and Antonia had strolled out into the garden, while Barbara helped Pilar clear the table. Ebro went to fetch Margaret’s tray. Henry suggested, ‘Like a walk? Come on, Barbara—and James.’
Pilar said, ‘You go, Barbara, it’s a lovely night, I finish this easy.’
Barbara said, ‘Right then, thank you,’ and put down the glass cloth and the plate she had been drying. ‘Come on, James.’
Henry led them across the lawn through a gate to a path which ran across a hayfield. His dogs padded ahead, snuffling the night smells. Halfway across the field, Henry said, ‘I must see to
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