delightful to listen to her. And dance ... well, I'll tell you something in confidence--' His voice dropped as if it were meant only for this corner of the table, yet there were other ears cocked in his direction as he said softly, " Lorraine had lost four babies through miscarriages, and she was on the point of losing her husband. Oh, yes. Yes, she was. Hugh is not a very patient fellow at any time, but you know, from when that child came on the scene, you wouldn't believe it, you would have thought they had just been married and life was a bed of roses.
It was, wasn't it, Elsa? Wasn't the house different? "
"As you say, George, as you say, it was different."
"Yes. Yes, of course, it was different." His voice was raised now.
"It was a happy home." He looked at Bill again.
"They take her everywhere with them, and she's always welcome."
He liked the fellow. Yes, indeed, he liked the fellow. Bill was practically nodding to himself now, and for the rest of the evening he nodded to himself, and all the way home in the car, he nodded to himself. And when he reached the house, the first thing he said was, "I like that fella Ferndale."
"So do I."
"Well, as long as you like him for the same reason." He leaned forward and kissed her, and she said, "Shh! You'll wake the house."
They were making for the stairs when the drawing-room door opened and a sleepy-eyed Mark said, "You've got back then?"
"Mark! Why on earth have you stayed up? What's the matter? Anything wrong?"
"No. No, of course not. I just wanted to know how it went. Did you enjoy it?"
"It was lovely. Lovely."
"She made a hit." Bill pushed Fiona before him into the sitting-room, then closed the door softly behind him.
"You should have seen them.
Mark:
you would have wanted to punch their noses; they were all after her. "
"Don't talk rot. But' - she looked at Mark 'it was a nice evening.
And I learned a lot, and I met a lot of nice people; some not so nice;
but none to compare with my family and friends. "
"Well, your friends, namely Mr. and Mrs. Bert Ormesby, were up till after twelve o'clock with their wonderful son, 'cos he was howling his head off."
"He's teething. By the way," Bill dropped into a chair by the side of the dying fire, asking as he did so, 'd'you know anything about Roland Ferndale?
"
"You mean the barrister's son? The one who gave you the invitation?"
"One and the same."
"Not much, only that the girls make a beeline for
him, and he can pick and choose where he likes, I think. Because well, he's very good-looking. Blond, tanned skin, the lot. "
"He's just your age, isn't he?"
Mark looked at his mother and said, "Oh, a bit older, I think. Looking back, I recall he couldn't get into R.G.S. nor Dame Allan's.
Supposedly he didn't want to be in either, but that's all my eye and Betty Martin, as our dear Nell would say, because he's at a crammer, isn't he? St.
Augustine's. "
"Yes. Yes, he's there."
"What about him? What's he done?"
"Nothing. Nothing." Both Bill and Fiona spoke together. Then Bill, pursing his lips, said, "Except that I don't think he comes up to his father's expectations. But then, which son ever does, natural or step?
You never will. Going to be a bloomin' doctor. "
"Surgeon."
"Yes. Yes, surgeon. Who wants to be a surgeon? There's no money in that."
"Oh, yes there is. Dad. There's a lot of money in cutting up, so I'm given to understand."
"Yes, but what if there's a lot of you aiming to cut up, and there's only one poor bugger lying on the shelf there waiting?"
Fiona almost jumped from the couch. She made a gurgling sound in her throat, then said, "You two can stay here and discuss bodies on slabs waiting to be cut up until the cows come home, here's some body going to bed. I'm going to dream of a fairy prince who took me to a ball, and his name certainly wasn't Bill Bailey. You could never have a prince called Bill Bailey, now could you?"
As she marched out of the door Mark grinned at Bill and said, "Has
It was, wasn't it, Elsa? Wasn't the house different? "
"As you say, George, as you say, it was different."
"Yes. Yes, of course, it was different." His voice was raised now.
"It was a happy home." He looked at Bill again.
"They take her everywhere with them, and she's always welcome."
He liked the fellow. Yes, indeed, he liked the fellow. Bill was practically nodding to himself now, and for the rest of the evening he nodded to himself, and all the way home in the car, he nodded to himself. And when he reached the house, the first thing he said was, "I like that fella Ferndale."
"So do I."
"Well, as long as you like him for the same reason." He leaned forward and kissed her, and she said, "Shh! You'll wake the house."
They were making for the stairs when the drawing-room door opened and a sleepy-eyed Mark said, "You've got back then?"
"Mark! Why on earth have you stayed up? What's the matter? Anything wrong?"
"No. No, of course not. I just wanted to know how it went. Did you enjoy it?"
"It was lovely. Lovely."
"She made a hit." Bill pushed Fiona before him into the sitting-room, then closed the door softly behind him.
"You should have seen them.
Mark:
you would have wanted to punch their noses; they were all after her. "
"Don't talk rot. But' - she looked at Mark 'it was a nice evening.
And I learned a lot, and I met a lot of nice people; some not so nice;
but none to compare with my family and friends. "
"Well, your friends, namely Mr. and Mrs. Bert Ormesby, were up till after twelve o'clock with their wonderful son, 'cos he was howling his head off."
"He's teething. By the way," Bill dropped into a chair by the side of the dying fire, asking as he did so, 'd'you know anything about Roland Ferndale?
"
"You mean the barrister's son? The one who gave you the invitation?"
"One and the same."
"Not much, only that the girls make a beeline for
him, and he can pick and choose where he likes, I think. Because well, he's very good-looking. Blond, tanned skin, the lot. "
"He's just your age, isn't he?"
Mark looked at his mother and said, "Oh, a bit older, I think. Looking back, I recall he couldn't get into R.G.S. nor Dame Allan's.
Supposedly he didn't want to be in either, but that's all my eye and Betty Martin, as our dear Nell would say, because he's at a crammer, isn't he? St.
Augustine's. "
"Yes. Yes, he's there."
"What about him? What's he done?"
"Nothing. Nothing." Both Bill and Fiona spoke together. Then Bill, pursing his lips, said, "Except that I don't think he comes up to his father's expectations. But then, which son ever does, natural or step?
You never will. Going to be a bloomin' doctor. "
"Surgeon."
"Yes. Yes, surgeon. Who wants to be a surgeon? There's no money in that."
"Oh, yes there is. Dad. There's a lot of money in cutting up, so I'm given to understand."
"Yes, but what if there's a lot of you aiming to cut up, and there's only one poor bugger lying on the shelf there waiting?"
Fiona almost jumped from the couch. She made a gurgling sound in her throat, then said, "You two can stay here and discuss bodies on slabs waiting to be cut up until the cows come home, here's some body going to bed. I'm going to dream of a fairy prince who took me to a ball, and his name certainly wasn't Bill Bailey. You could never have a prince called Bill Bailey, now could you?"
As she marched out of the door Mark grinned at Bill and said, "Has
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