long, until she had gone to Oxford in fact. Then by some strange social process, via Celia she supposed, she had become Miss Miller: more important, a grown up, but at the same time awkwardly further removed from the Lyttons.
‘Oh, thank you, Brunson. Who is it?’
‘It’s Mr Miller, Miss Miller.’
Billy! How had that happened? He never phoned, wasn’t allowed to, naturally.
‘Billy? Hallo, what’s wrong?’
‘Nothing. Just wanted to say congratulations. Well done. You deserve it.’
‘Oh, Billy, thank you. But how did you know and how—’
‘Lady Beckenham come to tell me. Running into the yard, all excited. Said I had to come up to the house and telephone you.’
‘Oh, Billy! That’s really kind of her.’ Barty’s eyes filled with tears; she swallowed hard.
‘Yeah, well, she is kind. Course she is. I know that more than anyone. Anyway, pleased as punch she was. So am I. You got brains, Barty, you really have. Mum would have been pleased, wouldn’t she?’
‘Yes,’ said Barty, ‘yes, she would.’
‘Barty, my darling, it’s Sebastian. I just wanted to congratulate you. It’s fantastic news. I’m so proud of you. Not that I have any right to feel pride, but – well, I’m thrilled.’
‘Who told you?’
‘Oliver. I went into Lyttons this morning. He and Celia are sitting there looking like cats that got a whole cow-full of cream. Can I buy you lunch?’
‘Kit and I are having lunch here,’ said Barty. ‘Cook’s already at work on a feast, I don’t like to disappoint her. Why don’t you come too?’
‘Well – it’s tempting. Will the Terrors be there?’
‘No, they’re going out.’
‘Then I might. No, then I will. I’d love to see you.’
He arrived just before midday, with a huge bunch of roses in one hand and a bottle of champagne in the other. He handed the champagne over to Brunson and took her in his arms and hugged her.
‘You clever girl. You clever, clever girl. It’s so marvellous. Pandora sends lots and lots of love.’
‘Thank you. Send mine back, won’t you. Is she well?’
‘Very well. Busy with plans for the wedding.’
‘Which is to be in September, Wol said. At her house in Oxford. Lovely idea, it’s so pretty.’
‘I know. I think so too. I’m having the devil’s own job persuading her to come down and live here afterwards though. She wants to stay there.’
‘Why don’t you?’ said Barty.
‘Because I love my house in London.’
‘Well, why not spend half the time in each?’
‘Oh, much too complicated. Everything is always in the wrong place at the wrong time, clothes, friends, parties. And where would I keep my books?’
‘Well, you could keep one set in each place.’
‘Have you been talking to Pandora?’ said Sebastian suspiciously.
‘No, of course not. It just seems quite – obvious to me. And it is so lovely, her house.’
‘So is mine. Now come along, let’s open that champagne. Kit, hallo old chap. How are you? How do you feel about this brilliant creature in our midst? Something to live up to, eh?’
Kit grinned, shook his hand then gave him a hug; they were extremely fond of one another. Barty watched them as they sat together on the sofa, chatting easily, and thought how oddly alike they were. Both with the same golden looks, both so easily charming; two of her favourite people in the world. One of the proudest moments in her childhood had been when Celia had asked her if she would like to be Kit’s godmother. And Sebastian had always been so kind to her, such a good friend, so interested in everything she did. And she was so proud of knowing him, the most famous children’s author of his day, probably the most famous ever – except, perhaps, for Lewis Carroll. All her friends had been so impressed.
For years she had had something of a crush on him; even now, she thought he was quite absurdly handsome. He hated his looks, said they were a liability rather than an asset, not in the least suited to a
‘Oh, thank you, Brunson. Who is it?’
‘It’s Mr Miller, Miss Miller.’
Billy! How had that happened? He never phoned, wasn’t allowed to, naturally.
‘Billy? Hallo, what’s wrong?’
‘Nothing. Just wanted to say congratulations. Well done. You deserve it.’
‘Oh, Billy, thank you. But how did you know and how—’
‘Lady Beckenham come to tell me. Running into the yard, all excited. Said I had to come up to the house and telephone you.’
‘Oh, Billy! That’s really kind of her.’ Barty’s eyes filled with tears; she swallowed hard.
‘Yeah, well, she is kind. Course she is. I know that more than anyone. Anyway, pleased as punch she was. So am I. You got brains, Barty, you really have. Mum would have been pleased, wouldn’t she?’
‘Yes,’ said Barty, ‘yes, she would.’
‘Barty, my darling, it’s Sebastian. I just wanted to congratulate you. It’s fantastic news. I’m so proud of you. Not that I have any right to feel pride, but – well, I’m thrilled.’
‘Who told you?’
‘Oliver. I went into Lyttons this morning. He and Celia are sitting there looking like cats that got a whole cow-full of cream. Can I buy you lunch?’
‘Kit and I are having lunch here,’ said Barty. ‘Cook’s already at work on a feast, I don’t like to disappoint her. Why don’t you come too?’
‘Well – it’s tempting. Will the Terrors be there?’
‘No, they’re going out.’
‘Then I might. No, then I will. I’d love to see you.’
He arrived just before midday, with a huge bunch of roses in one hand and a bottle of champagne in the other. He handed the champagne over to Brunson and took her in his arms and hugged her.
‘You clever girl. You clever, clever girl. It’s so marvellous. Pandora sends lots and lots of love.’
‘Thank you. Send mine back, won’t you. Is she well?’
‘Very well. Busy with plans for the wedding.’
‘Which is to be in September, Wol said. At her house in Oxford. Lovely idea, it’s so pretty.’
‘I know. I think so too. I’m having the devil’s own job persuading her to come down and live here afterwards though. She wants to stay there.’
‘Why don’t you?’ said Barty.
‘Because I love my house in London.’
‘Well, why not spend half the time in each?’
‘Oh, much too complicated. Everything is always in the wrong place at the wrong time, clothes, friends, parties. And where would I keep my books?’
‘Well, you could keep one set in each place.’
‘Have you been talking to Pandora?’ said Sebastian suspiciously.
‘No, of course not. It just seems quite – obvious to me. And it is so lovely, her house.’
‘So is mine. Now come along, let’s open that champagne. Kit, hallo old chap. How are you? How do you feel about this brilliant creature in our midst? Something to live up to, eh?’
Kit grinned, shook his hand then gave him a hug; they were extremely fond of one another. Barty watched them as they sat together on the sofa, chatting easily, and thought how oddly alike they were. Both with the same golden looks, both so easily charming; two of her favourite people in the world. One of the proudest moments in her childhood had been when Celia had asked her if she would like to be Kit’s godmother. And Sebastian had always been so kind to her, such a good friend, so interested in everything she did. And she was so proud of knowing him, the most famous children’s author of his day, probably the most famous ever – except, perhaps, for Lewis Carroll. All her friends had been so impressed.
For years she had had something of a crush on him; even now, she thought he was quite absurdly handsome. He hated his looks, said they were a liability rather than an asset, not in the least suited to a
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