stolen a march on her.
She could not wait to tell George, to have him dumbfounded as she had been, but his reaction took her quite unawares.
"Interesting" was all he said.
"You don't seem very surprised."
"I'm not."
She frowned. "George, it's Olivia we're talking about."
"Certainly it's Olivia." He looked at his wife's bewildered face and almost laughed. "Nancy, you surely don't imagine that Olivia has lived like a good little nun all her life? That secretive girl with her flat in London and her evasive ways. If you believed that, you're a bigger fool than I thought."
Nancy felt tears sting the back of her eyes. "But . . . but, I thought ..."
"What did you think?"
"Oh, George, she's so unattractive."
"No," George told her. "No, Nancy, she is not unattractive."
"But I thought you didn't like her."
"I don't," said George, and opened his newspaper, thus putting an end to the discussion.
It was unlike George to expound so forcefully on any sub-ject. It was also unlike him to be so perceptive but, with hindsight and a good deal of mulling over this new turn of events, Nancy finally decided that he was probably right about Olivia. Once she had come to terms with the situation, she did not find it hard to turn it to her own advantage. Being able to boast of such a dashing relation seemed to Nancy both glamorous and sophisticated —like an old Noel Coward play—and provided one glossed over the living-in-sin bit, Olivia and Cosmo Hamilton provided quite a good conversation stopper at dinner parties. "Olivia, you know, my clever sister, it's too romantic. She's thrown everything up for love. Living in Ibiza now ... the most beautiful house." Her imagination raced ahead to other delightful, and hopefully free, possibilities. "Perhaps next summer George and I and the children will join her for a few weeks. It depends on the Pony Club events, though, doesn't it? We mothers are slaves to the Pony Club."
But although Olivia asked their mother to go and stay and Penelope accepted with delight and spent more than a month with her and Cosmo, no such invitation ever came the way of the Chamberlains, and for this Nancy had never forgiven her sister.
The restaurant was very warm. Nancy felt, all at once, far too hot. She wished she had worn a blouse instead of a sweater, but she couldn't take the sweater off, so instead she took another cool mouthful of wine. Despite the warmth she realized that her hands were trembling.
Beside her, Olivia said, "Have you seen Mumma?"
"Oh, yes." She set down her glass. "I went to see her in hospital."
"How was she?"
"Very well, considering."
"Are they certain it was a heart attack?"
"Oh, yes. They had her in intensive care for a day or two. And then they put her in a ward and then she discharged herself and went home."
"The doctor can't have liked that very much."
"No, he was annoyed. That's why he rang me, and that's when he told me that she shouldn't live alone."
"Have you considered a second opinion?"
Nancy bridled. "Olivia, he's a very good doctor."
"A country GP."
"He would be very offended . . ."
"Rubbish. I consider there is no point in doing anything about a companion or a housekeeper until she's seen a consul-tant."
"You know she'd never see a consultant."
"Then let her be. Why should she have some dim woman foisted on her if she wants to live on her own? She's got nice Mrs. Plackett coming in three mornings a week, and I'm sure the people in the village will all rally round and keep an eye on her. After all, she's lived there for five years now, and everyone knows her."
"But suppose she has another attack, and dies, just because there's nobody to help her. Or falls down the stairs. Or has a car crash and kills somebody."
Olivia, unforgivably, laughed. "I never knew you had such a vivid imagination. And let's face it, if she's going to have a car crash,
She could not wait to tell George, to have him dumbfounded as she had been, but his reaction took her quite unawares.
"Interesting" was all he said.
"You don't seem very surprised."
"I'm not."
She frowned. "George, it's Olivia we're talking about."
"Certainly it's Olivia." He looked at his wife's bewildered face and almost laughed. "Nancy, you surely don't imagine that Olivia has lived like a good little nun all her life? That secretive girl with her flat in London and her evasive ways. If you believed that, you're a bigger fool than I thought."
Nancy felt tears sting the back of her eyes. "But . . . but, I thought ..."
"What did you think?"
"Oh, George, she's so unattractive."
"No," George told her. "No, Nancy, she is not unattractive."
"But I thought you didn't like her."
"I don't," said George, and opened his newspaper, thus putting an end to the discussion.
It was unlike George to expound so forcefully on any sub-ject. It was also unlike him to be so perceptive but, with hindsight and a good deal of mulling over this new turn of events, Nancy finally decided that he was probably right about Olivia. Once she had come to terms with the situation, she did not find it hard to turn it to her own advantage. Being able to boast of such a dashing relation seemed to Nancy both glamorous and sophisticated —like an old Noel Coward play—and provided one glossed over the living-in-sin bit, Olivia and Cosmo Hamilton provided quite a good conversation stopper at dinner parties. "Olivia, you know, my clever sister, it's too romantic. She's thrown everything up for love. Living in Ibiza now ... the most beautiful house." Her imagination raced ahead to other delightful, and hopefully free, possibilities. "Perhaps next summer George and I and the children will join her for a few weeks. It depends on the Pony Club events, though, doesn't it? We mothers are slaves to the Pony Club."
But although Olivia asked their mother to go and stay and Penelope accepted with delight and spent more than a month with her and Cosmo, no such invitation ever came the way of the Chamberlains, and for this Nancy had never forgiven her sister.
The restaurant was very warm. Nancy felt, all at once, far too hot. She wished she had worn a blouse instead of a sweater, but she couldn't take the sweater off, so instead she took another cool mouthful of wine. Despite the warmth she realized that her hands were trembling.
Beside her, Olivia said, "Have you seen Mumma?"
"Oh, yes." She set down her glass. "I went to see her in hospital."
"How was she?"
"Very well, considering."
"Are they certain it was a heart attack?"
"Oh, yes. They had her in intensive care for a day or two. And then they put her in a ward and then she discharged herself and went home."
"The doctor can't have liked that very much."
"No, he was annoyed. That's why he rang me, and that's when he told me that she shouldn't live alone."
"Have you considered a second opinion?"
Nancy bridled. "Olivia, he's a very good doctor."
"A country GP."
"He would be very offended . . ."
"Rubbish. I consider there is no point in doing anything about a companion or a housekeeper until she's seen a consul-tant."
"You know she'd never see a consultant."
"Then let her be. Why should she have some dim woman foisted on her if she wants to live on her own? She's got nice Mrs. Plackett coming in three mornings a week, and I'm sure the people in the village will all rally round and keep an eye on her. After all, she's lived there for five years now, and everyone knows her."
"But suppose she has another attack, and dies, just because there's nobody to help her. Or falls down the stairs. Or has a car crash and kills somebody."
Olivia, unforgivably, laughed. "I never knew you had such a vivid imagination. And let's face it, if she's going to have a car crash,
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