Two weeks after the interview, Mummy received a letter from Mary Hall’s Girls School confirming my place for the autumn term. She was thrilled and so was I until a terrible thought occurred to me.
‘Will I have to go on Saturdays? I can’t. What about riding?’
Daddy was reading the paper at the kitchen table with two-year-old Poppy sitting on his knee. He looked up, raising his spectacles on to his forehead. ‘No one goes to school on Saturdays,’ he said. ‘No one works on Saturdays either.’
Dan appeared from the playroom. ‘It’s Saturday now. It’s sweetie day. When are we going to the shop to get our sweets? I can take Poppy on my own now.’
‘No you can’t.’ Mummy heaved the iron door-stop back to its position against the fridge door where it squatted as a sentry against the fiendish cunning of the cats. ‘Four simply isn’t old enough to cross the road. Brodie can take you.’
‘I’ll have to go to school on Saturdays.’ Brodie was invisible, perched behind the sheets which hung low over the Aga to dry. ‘When I go to King Henry’s I’ll have to wear shorts and go on Saturdays.’ Brodie had also just passed his scholarship exam and, with relentless dolour, was not looking forward to his new school.
Daddy folded the newspaper. ‘I’m going for a drive to the coast. I may have fish and chips for lunch …’ and he let his sentence trail as children engulfed him, baying to be included.
It took hours putting on coats, and in the middle Flook returned from his dig in the garden. Flook was nine and had for a year been engrossed in a project he started at school to discover the history of Mildney. He was breathless with excitement. ‘Look what I’ve found. I think it’s prehistoric.’ He held up a skull the size of his own head.
‘It’s a goat,’ said Dan immediately, and Flook sighed. ‘Of course it’s a goat, but it might be a prehistoric goat, or from Roman times.’
Daddy held the skull up to the light. ‘We shall start our museum with this,’ he said. ‘Flook, you have the bones of a great archaeologist; now let’s get the hell out of here and go to Cromer.’
Daddy was never late and he hated dawdling. Mummy found it impossible to leave the house on time, and whenever they went out together Daddy would sit in the car for twenty minutes revving the engine and shouting, while Mummy rushed through the house muttering ‘I’m coming, you silly sod’ under her breath.
We waited for her in the car. Brodie and I slid along the shiny leather of the front seat to make room for Flook. Mummy came out of the house without a coat. ‘I’ll stay here. All those people are coming this evening and I’ve got so much to do. Have a lovely time, darlings.’
We bumped down the drive, Dan and Poppy kneeling up to look out of the back window. ‘Dobe’s coming too,’ said Dan, as we accelerated out of the village. Our anarchic Dobermann had a private mission to outpace the car, and he always tried to come too. He hurtled past the Mercedes as Daddy slowed down and, saliva foaming at his jaws, stood triumphant in the middle of the road.
‘For Christ’s sake,’ sighed Daddy, and opened a door. Dobe scrambled in, licking faces politely, and positioned himself with his head resting on Daddy’s shoulder to help him navigate.
We had fish and chips, then filed into Daddy’s favourite junk shop. ‘It’s Liza’s birthday today. We must find something to give her this evening. Poppy shall choose it,’ said Daddy. Liza had once been Daddy’s wife, before he knew Mummy, and their three children, Dominic, Helen and Theresa, were all grown-up. They called Daddy ‘Patrick’ and they didn’t feel like siblings to us; they were as old as Mummy and had children of our age.
Liza came often to Mildney, driving perilously on her orange moped and clad in a coordinating cagoule. She always brought a bottle of gin, telling us, ‘This is mother’s ruin, and your mother and I are longing to be ruined.’ She was funny and kind, we liked the way she danced in the Drinking Room and teased Daddy. He called her ‘darling heart’ and said, ‘Come and tell me some lies, dear Liza.’
Poppy chose a teapot in the shape of a Christmas pudding. Daddy was impressed. ‘My love, you have exquisite taste,’ he said to his tiny daughter, and we left the shop, pausing to purchase a rusty colander for Mummy.
Brodie, Flook and I got out of the car on our drive. The boys vanished to go fishing and I plodded through the dusk to feed my pony Shalimar. Yanking tufts of hay from the bulging bale, I was inspired. ‘If there is Saturday school, I won’t tell Mummy.’ Pleased with this plan, I shuffled down to Shalimar’s field with a wedge of dusty hay.
Liza arrived at tea-time, her face glowing pink from her forty-mile moped ride. She hugged Mummy. ‘Eleanor, this is a treat. I’m sure I’m too old for a tea-party, I think I’m sixty-one, but I can’t quite remember.’
Taking off her crash helmet she dragged her fingers through her dark blonde hair and lit a cigarette. Liza looked ageless. She had deep cracks round her mouth and eyes from laughing, but they almost vanished when she was happy, and she usually seemed happy. She loved coming to Mildney because she lived alone. ‘I’m thirsty for conversation. Tell me a joke,’ she begged Dan, but he shook his head. ‘I’m eating cake,’ he mumbled. Brodie and Flook were still fishing, so she sat down with me and fumbled in her pocket for a letter. ‘It’s from Helen and the girls. Do you remember Zoe and Vinnie, my granddaughters?’
I nodded. ‘Of course she does,’ said Daddy. ‘They are her nieces, in a manner of speaking.’
‘Half-nieces actually,’ I replied, and Liza laughed.
‘I suppose they are; Helen is your half-sister, after all. How nice to have a family to extend at will.’
Brodie and Flook appeared. ‘Dominic’s here,’ said Brodie. ‘He’s brought a box of drink.’
‘Is this a family reunion?’ Liza raised her eyebrows and Mummy laughed.
‘No. Only Dominic, he wanted to surprise you on your birthday.’
Liza and Daddy went through to the Drinking Room and Flook and I rolled our eyes. ‘I suppose they have to celebrate Liza’s birthday,’ said Flook, ‘but I wish they didn’t have to get drunk to do it.’
Mummy frowned at him. ‘Don’t be mean. Liza loves parties, and she wanted to be here with all of us for her birthday. Dominic has simply come to see his mother, and a few other people will be here after you’ve gone to bed, so try and be pleasant, please.’
Brodie, Flook and I glared back at her. ‘You know we hate Drinking Evenings,’ I muttered, but Mummy didn’t hear me; she was helping Poppy down from the table where she sat marooned among the debris of tea.