began to take an interest in the debates and read the dog-eared papers for herself. She looked around at the graduates, the teachers on secondment, the lecturers. What would happen to them if war came?
Bruce offered to play her at tennis to make up foursomes, to escort her home to say hello to Walter and Evadne, but Joan’s words of warning rang in her ears. He was too old and worldly-wise for her. Now she felt shy in his presence, nervous and self-conscious. He was much darker, rougher than she recalled, with his jagged, rock-like features. In the cafés, he was often loud and half drunk, quick to argue and make jokes she didn’t understand. Then he disappeared into some mountain in the Peloponnese on an excavation, leaving her wishing she could join the other students on a dig, but Evadne wouldn’t hear of it.
‘Look we’ve got to face the fact, it’s time you went home. We must make plans, though I don’t want to miss the Christmas ball at the legation. We must find you something decent to wear for that too . . .’
Soon enough Evadne was distracted by talk of clothes and the subject was mercifully dropped. But Penny was all too aware that she was living on borrowed time.
Evadne was never still, always out shopping, visiting friends, preparing to entertain. Penny noticed that as the time when her baby should have been born drew nearer Effy grew increasingly restless and snappy. Penny was outstaying her welcome but the thought of going home now was unbearable. She knew now that Joan’s down-to-earth dismissal of her Society world wasn’t sour grapes but welcome iced water thrown on all Mother’s fanciful plans for the coming season. Sometimes her words were challenging – ‘Who is she doing it for, you or her?’ – and Penny loved it when she argued so hard on her behalf. Mother would be appalled at Joan’s accent but she would be no match for her plain-speaking. Joan was becoming a close friend, one from whom Penny had so much to learn: how to interpret sculptures and art, how to study textbooks and write up reports, how to live on a shoestring, looking for bargains in the shops and markets. Life was never dull when Joan was around.
Penny challenged Evadne about why she had to come out as a debutante, but Evadne just dismissed her arguments with a wave of her hand. ‘If I had to endure it so will you. It’s not that bad and it got me darling Walter and away from Mummy’s clutches. Just buck up and bear it.’ However, Evadne wasn’t rushing to leave either; there were so many parties and social events over the Christmas vacation.
At one of these gatherings, at St Paul’s Anglican Church, Penny felt a sudden tightness in her throat, a blinding headache, and then the room began to swim. By the time she was taken home and put to bed she couldn’t raise her head from the pillow. Within hours Walter lay prostrate in the other bedroom and soon Evadne was crawling through on all fours, feeling ill. They’d all picked up influenza and were in no fit state to travel anywhere. Christmas was cancelled.
As they lay pole-axed on their pillows, wishing they were dead, Joan called in with supplies, and Kaliope fed them fresh juices to keep up their strength. None of their fair-weather friends dared visit for fear of being struck down, though Bruce, who was up in the north, sent Penny flowers with a card promising to take her to see the Blessing of the Water in the New Year. This lovely surprise cheered her recovery. Here was something to look forward to, another chance to be in Bruce’s company. Perhaps he cared for her after all?
A furious telegram arrived from England, saying how the girls had ruined all their mother’s house-party plans and Penny must return by air or ship immediately. She was needed for fittings in London or she would have to attend her coming-out party in last year’s frilly organza.
Penny couldn’t even raise herself to reply, much less be concerned. For once in her life she was
Bruce offered to play her at tennis to make up foursomes, to escort her home to say hello to Walter and Evadne, but Joan’s words of warning rang in her ears. He was too old and worldly-wise for her. Now she felt shy in his presence, nervous and self-conscious. He was much darker, rougher than she recalled, with his jagged, rock-like features. In the cafés, he was often loud and half drunk, quick to argue and make jokes she didn’t understand. Then he disappeared into some mountain in the Peloponnese on an excavation, leaving her wishing she could join the other students on a dig, but Evadne wouldn’t hear of it.
‘Look we’ve got to face the fact, it’s time you went home. We must make plans, though I don’t want to miss the Christmas ball at the legation. We must find you something decent to wear for that too . . .’
Soon enough Evadne was distracted by talk of clothes and the subject was mercifully dropped. But Penny was all too aware that she was living on borrowed time.
Evadne was never still, always out shopping, visiting friends, preparing to entertain. Penny noticed that as the time when her baby should have been born drew nearer Effy grew increasingly restless and snappy. Penny was outstaying her welcome but the thought of going home now was unbearable. She knew now that Joan’s down-to-earth dismissal of her Society world wasn’t sour grapes but welcome iced water thrown on all Mother’s fanciful plans for the coming season. Sometimes her words were challenging – ‘Who is she doing it for, you or her?’ – and Penny loved it when she argued so hard on her behalf. Mother would be appalled at Joan’s accent but she would be no match for her plain-speaking. Joan was becoming a close friend, one from whom Penny had so much to learn: how to interpret sculptures and art, how to study textbooks and write up reports, how to live on a shoestring, looking for bargains in the shops and markets. Life was never dull when Joan was around.
Penny challenged Evadne about why she had to come out as a debutante, but Evadne just dismissed her arguments with a wave of her hand. ‘If I had to endure it so will you. It’s not that bad and it got me darling Walter and away from Mummy’s clutches. Just buck up and bear it.’ However, Evadne wasn’t rushing to leave either; there were so many parties and social events over the Christmas vacation.
At one of these gatherings, at St Paul’s Anglican Church, Penny felt a sudden tightness in her throat, a blinding headache, and then the room began to swim. By the time she was taken home and put to bed she couldn’t raise her head from the pillow. Within hours Walter lay prostrate in the other bedroom and soon Evadne was crawling through on all fours, feeling ill. They’d all picked up influenza and were in no fit state to travel anywhere. Christmas was cancelled.
As they lay pole-axed on their pillows, wishing they were dead, Joan called in with supplies, and Kaliope fed them fresh juices to keep up their strength. None of their fair-weather friends dared visit for fear of being struck down, though Bruce, who was up in the north, sent Penny flowers with a card promising to take her to see the Blessing of the Water in the New Year. This lovely surprise cheered her recovery. Here was something to look forward to, another chance to be in Bruce’s company. Perhaps he cared for her after all?
A furious telegram arrived from England, saying how the girls had ruined all their mother’s house-party plans and Penny must return by air or ship immediately. She was needed for fittings in London or she would have to attend her coming-out party in last year’s frilly organza.
Penny couldn’t even raise herself to reply, much less be concerned. For once in her life she was
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