Liza was sitting up in bed, sipping her morning tea when the phone on her bedside table rang.
‘Hello?’ she asked brightly. She had almost recovered from the scandal caused by Rosie leaving Salton the previous year. ‘Oh, hello! How are you?’
Henry, coming out of the bathroom, raised his eyebrows enquiringly. She waved him away and shook her head, smilingly. But as she listened to what the caller was saying, her expression changed and she looked horrified.
‘No, absolutely not!’ she exclaimed. ‘On no account must she be told. She’s happily married and settled now and we can’t risk rocking the boat.’
‘What’s happened?’ Henry asked, walking to the side of the bed. ‘Who are you talking to?’
Liza covered the mouthpiece with her hand. ‘It’s nothing, Henry,’ she insisted. ‘I’m… it’s just gossip, darling. Nothing for you to worry about.’
‘I insist on knowing, Liza,’ he said sternly. He could always tell when she was lying. Who was the ‘she’ who mustn’t be told?
‘It’s only Aunt Tegan…’ she began, her blue eyes reproachful.
‘And…? What’s happened?’
‘Oh, Henry, it’s best we should keep out of it. There’s nothing we can do…’
Deeply perturbed he seized the phone from her hand. ‘Aunt Tegan? This is Henry; what’s happened?’
Her Welsh accent was strong and she sounded upset. ‘There was an accident last night,’ she told him bluntly. ‘It was a bad car crash near my cottage. I’m afraid both Tostig’s ma and da were killed and the police, knowing they’d adopted the boy through me, brought him to me. He’s not hurt, but he needs a home, and as I’m too old to be doing with a nine-year-old child, I thought Louise might like to have him, now she’s got a husband and all.’
Henry, ignoring Liza’s frantic gesticulations, spoke without hesitation. ‘I know there’s nothing she’d like better. I’ll get on to her right away. The poor little chap must be terribly shaken.’
‘He is that,’ Aunt Tegan confided, dropping her voice. ‘It’s a miracle he wasn’t killed. I’m keeping him in bed today, because of the shock. It’s a dreadful tragedy. They loved that boy like he was their own.’
Henry thanked her for all she was doing and when he’d hung up he turned to Liza. ‘What the hell were you thinking of?’ he thundered.
Liza shrank visibly under the bedclothes. She’d never seen Henry as angry as this in all the thirty-six years they’d been married.
‘But Shane… and Daisy!’ she said weakly.
‘Do you honestly think Shane is going to turn against Louise’s first baby?’ he asked incredulously. ‘And that Daisy won’t be thrilled to have a half-brother? And as for Louise herself…’ Henry’s eyes suddenly stung with unshed tears.
Turning away from his wife he dressed hurriedly and left the flat, without saying goodbye. Then he hailed a passing taxi and gave him Louise’s address.
‘Daddy!’ she squealed with delight, when she opened the front door to him twenty minutes later. Daisy was balanced on her hip, her small mouth grubby with porridge. ‘Come in! Would you like a cup of tea?’
Shane came forward to shake his hand, while Bella hopped around, barking excitedly.
This, Henry thought, almost wistfully, is what family life should be like.
‘I’ve got some news for you both,’ he said without preamble, ‘but maybe you should sit down first, Louise.’
‘What is it, Daddy? Has something happened to Rosie?’
Henry shook his head. ‘This is bad news but it’s also, I believe, good news.’ He looked at Shane and then at Louise again. ‘How would you feel, both of you, about Rupert coming to live with you?’
Louise gave a shocked cry and her hand flew to her mouth. Her eyes were instantly awash and Shane put his arm protectively around her shoulder.
‘Why? Why, Daddy? How can I get him back?’
Gently, Henry told them what had happened. ‘Aunt Tegan is looking after him at the moment. He’s obviously dreadfully shocked, but the great thing is he escaped the accident without a scratch.’
‘Of course we’ll have him,’ Shane said at once.
Louise was sobbing now. ‘I can’t b-believe it. Oh my God! Little Rupert, after all these years.’ She hugged Daisy. ‘A big brother for you, my darling! Isn’t that extraordinary, Shane?’
He stooped to kiss her. ‘It looks like fate to me, darling. We were meant to have him after all.’
‘What does Mummy say?’ Louise asked, wiping her eyes with her fingertips.
‘I think we’re both in shock,’ Henry replied lightly from his chair. ‘I’ll leave it to you to tell the rest of the family. Now, I’d better get off to the bank. I think I’ve had enough excitement for one day.’
‘Let’s go and fetch him today,’ Louise said excitedly, when she and Shane were on their own again.
Shane took her hand. ‘Will you allow me, as a doctor, to give you a bit of advice?’ He smiled tenderly into her tear drenched eyes.
‘Of course I will.’ She settled herself at the kitchen table with Daisy on her lap.
‘Both physically and mentally this will have shattered the boy. He’ll be grieving for his parents, or the couple he’s always looked upon as his parents. At least he knows your great-aunt, and he’s in familiar surroundings. If we go rushing in, calling him Rupert when he thinks his name is Tostig, he’ll be terrified. He doesn’t know you and he’ll be scared at the idea of our taking him away from the people he does know.’
Louise nodded in understanding, but it hurt to realize she couldn’t just sweep him up and take him home and expect him not to mind.
‘So…’ Shane continued carefully, ‘we’re going to have to plan, in easy stages, how we’re going to bring him up to London. He’s probably never left Wales. We’re also going to have to introduce ourselves to him, as his real mother and step-father. That’s going to be the biggest shock of all, unless he’s already been told he’s adopted.’
‘You’re right. I’d have gone rushing up there like a bull in a china shop.’ She paused, her brow puckered with apprehension. ‘What if he doesn’t accept me? What if he wants to stay in Wales?’
‘Let’s take it a step at a time, darling. Children are more resilient than you think.’
The next day they took the train to Llandrindod Wells, and as soon as she saw the Black Mountains, Louise felt a sick sensation of dread in her stomach. She’d made this same journey on her own ten years ago, as a pregnant fifteen-year-old, who had brought shame to her family, and was having to give away the baby she was expecting. Her heart was already broken because she knew she’d never be with Jack again, the sweet boy she’d loved and to whom she’d willingly given herself. Everyone had referred to him as ‘that East End evacuee in the village’, but to her he would always be Jack, the boy who reminded her of Rupert Brooke. Confined to her aunt’s tiny cottage, seven months of misery had lain ahead of her before she gave birth to ‘an unwanted baby’.
How terrifying the future had been then, when she’d looked at those Black Mountains, as she was looking at them now. And how frightening it was now, to be faced with having to return to the place where she’d been more unhappy than she’d known was possible.
She glanced at Shane, seated opposite her, and knew she’d never be able to put into words, even to him, how deeply desperate she’d been, living with Aunt Tegan, wanting the baby to arrive, but at the same time hoping he wouldn’t, just yet, because every day he stayed inside her, was an extra day to have him with her.
Louise held Daisy tightly in her arms, remembering the anguish when Rupert was ripped from her side three days after he’d been born.
‘I never thought I’d get over losing him,’ she suddenly said aloud, her eyes brimming at the memory. Aunt Tegan had just picked him out of his wooden rocking cot, and whisked him out of the little room under the eaves of her cottage where he’d been born, and carried him down the narrow stairs, where at the bottom the local farmer and his wife, waited to receive him.
Shane reached for her hand and squeezed it. ‘God moves in mysterious ways and you were obviously destined to have Rupert back one day.’
‘Do you think it’s going to be all right?’ she asked brokenly. ‘I couldn’t bear it if…’ She was shaking now, terrified at the thought he might reject her.
Shane continued to reassure her and comfort her but he couldn’t help being anxious. If the boy had been two or three years old, it wouldn’t have been so bad. Even if he’d been six or seven, he’d have been able to adjust to a completely new way of life, going from being a penniless farmer’s lad, to a boy from an upper class family who would be expected to go to Eton and Oxford and have a privileged life.
But a boy who was nine, nearly ten, already set in the ways of a simple farm life in the depths of Wales, was an entirely different matter.
‘I want me ma!’ Rupert screamed at Louise, when she’d suggested she take him back to London, even though she’d stayed down in Wales for a couple of weeks, trying to build a relationship with him. ‘You’re not me ma! And that man’s not me da!’ he added, referring to Shane who’d been forced to return home, because of his work at the hospital. Then he’d said something in Welsh to Aunt Tegan which Louise hadn’t understood.
Aunt Tegan scolded him angrily, cuffed him lightly about the head and sent him into the backyard.
‘What did he say?’ Louise asked.
She pursed her lips, and for a moment Louise was reminded of how her mother looked when she was shocked.
‘He said you were what we call lady dogs,’ she said primly. ‘He’s going to need a firm hand is that one, mark my words! He’s used to the belt so it won’t do him any harm.’
‘He was whipped?’ Louise asked horrified.
‘Children are like puppies, Louise. A quick spank and they soon learn what’s what. Don’t you go spoiling him now. He’s lucky to have you and that husband of yours, not to mention the life of Riley to look forward to.’
But Louise felt like weeping for the heartbroken little boy who was the image of Jack, and who was missing his ‘ma’ and ‘da’, and was also terrified of being whisked away from the only life he’d ever known.
She could see him now through the small kitchen window of the cottage, kicking pebbles around the yard. His shoulders drooped sadly in the cheap jumper he wore, and his small mouth was turned down at the corners. But it was the sight of the back of his small neck, so pale and vulnerable, that made Louise’s tears rise uncontrollably to the surface.
Jack’s neck had been like that, with the same fair curls nestling in the nape, and although Jack had been a big boy, his neck had been the neck of a child; inexplicably, she’d always been touched by the sight of it.
Suddenly, the memory was too painful and powerful, reminding her of how much she’d loved Jack in that last summer of her youth, before the dark clouds had gathered in her life.
For a mad moment she wanted to rush into the yard and gather Rupert up in her arms and tell him how much she’d always loved him, and how much she’d loved his father, and how she wanted him to be happy and how she would make him happy now. But she held back, scared by the strength of her own emotions, knowing she would scare him too, if he saw her grief and her guilt.
Instead, she dried her eyes, and picking up Daisy carried her into the yard, where she sat on a low stone wall watching Rupert messing around with an old wooden beer crate. He appeared not to notice her.
‘If you came with us to London, Tostig,’ she said forcing herself to call him by his Welsh name, while trying to sound matter-of-fact, ‘we could take Daisy to the zoo to see the animals. She’s never been and it would be a chance for you to show her what elephants and lions and tigers look like. I believe,’ she continued swiftly, realizing he’d stopped playing to listen to her, ‘they have penguins and monkeys and even giraffes at the zoo. I remember going when I was small but I haven’t been since.’
He stared at her with Jack’s blue eyes and for a heart-stopping moment she felt as if he were about to accept her into his life, but then he looked away, the resolute expression of hostility back once more.
‘I’m not going anywhere with you,’ he said rudely. ‘Me ma told me never to go with strangers.’
‘I’m not really a stranger, Tostig. I gave birth to you,’ she said very gently.
He turned away, his expression stubborn. ‘Me ma was me mother.’
‘You were born here, in this cottage. In Aunt Tegan’s top bedroom,’ Louise persisted quietly. ‘I nursed you for three days. I loved you then, and I love you now…’
He swung round angrily. ‘Then why did you get rid me? Me ma an’ da said you’d never wanted me! But they wanted me. They took me in ’cos I’d be an extra pair of hands when I was big. I don’t want you here! You’re not a real ma!’ he yelled accusingly, kicking the wooden crate across the yard.
Stricken, Louise blanched, unable to conceal her anguish. ‘It wasn’t like that,’ she protested. ‘Didn’t Aunt Tegan explain I was only just sixteen when you were born? Seven years older than you are now. I wanted to keep you, more than anything, but I wasn’t allowed to. They sent me away from home, and… and… Oh, Tostig, I’ve missed you every day since the day you were born,’ she wept. ‘And I’m sorry, so sorry, but let me make it up to you now. If I’d had my way you’d never have left my side, but when you’re older you’ll understand why I wasn’t allowed to keep you then. But now that I’m married to Shane, I can.’
Louise was desperate to make him understand how much she loved and wanted him but she could see from a child’s perspective that she was the person who had abandoned him at birth.
‘I’m going to stay here,’ he said defiantly. ‘The farm is mine now and when I’m bigger I’m going to have cows and sheep and… and…’ His small bottom lip quivered and his face turned pink.
‘Of course you are,’ Louise agreed instantly. ‘It’s your farm, where you were brought up and you’ll be able to have all the animals you want, but I was wondering, in the meanwhile, well, if you wouldn’t like to come and stay with us in London? Just for a while? Just to see how you like it? I’m sure Aunt Tegan will keep an eye on the farm in the meanwhile, and you can come back here, whenever you want.’
Louise’s mind was working fast. She’d heard he’d inherited the small holding and if farming was what he eventually wanted to do there was nothing to stop him. Meanwhile, they could bring him down here for holidays and perhaps they could afford to employ someone to manage the place until Rupert – or was it always going to be Tostig? – was older.
‘What do you say? How about a visit to our home in London? We’ve got animals, too. A dear little dog called Bella, and a kitten called Miggy, and some birds; we might even get you a pet of your own. Would you like that?’ she added rashly.
He remained silent, scuffing the ground again with his worn miniature farmer’s boots.
‘Could I have a puppy?’ It was the first time he’d spoken to her politely.
Louise smiled and spoke robustly. ‘I don’t see why not.’
He looked at her warily, still suspicious. ‘When would we go?’
‘Whenever you like.’
‘I have to fetch my things from the farm.’
‘Absolutely.’ Louise was so relieved at the progress she’d made that she was prepared to do anything to please him.
The next day Aunt Tegan, who had the keys to the farm house, drove them over to collect the rest of Tostig’s things. It was a bleak grey stone building, with mean little windows, and a rambling collection of outbuildings, some of which were on the point of collapse. As soon as they entered by the kitchen door, Louise was shocked by the poverty of the small pokey rooms, filled with battered furniture and clutter. The ceilings were sagging and the painted walls were frosting and stained with rising damp. It was obvious that nothing had been touched since the farmer and his wife had been killed. A mouldy loaf stood on a breadboard on the kitchen table, surrounded by hundreds of mice droppings. A jug of congealed milk stank the place out.
‘I’ll get my things,’ Tostig said, climbing up the rickety stairs to the floor above.
When he’d gone Louise turned, shocked, to her great-aunt. ‘I’d no idea he’d been given to people who lived in a slum dwelling like this,’ she said accusingly.
Aunt Tegan looked defensive. ‘They’ve had a run of bad luck. The last few summers have been bad for crops, and well…’ She shrugged her ample shoulders. ‘Things have got a bit run down.’
‘Run down,’ Louise repeated incredulously. ‘The place should be condemned. It’s not much of an inheritance for poor Tostig, who wants to live here when he’s grown up.’
‘Oh, I don’t know. It could be fixed up with a bit of money, and there are twenty acres of good land so it’s worth something.’
Tostig came clattering down the stairs at that moment, clutching a battered Huntley & Palmer biscuit tin, a mud-covered football, and a few dog-eared comics. Round his shoulders he’d hung an even cheaper jumper than the one he was wearing.
‘Shall we find you a suitcase for your things?’ Louise suggested.
He frowned. ‘I can carry them.’
‘But you must have…?’ she began.
‘The rest of my clothes are at Aunty Tegan’s,’ he replied loftily, going out to the car.
‘Is that all he’s got?’ Louise whispered. ‘Hasn’t he any books? Or toys? What about his toys? Surely he has a train set or something?’
Aunt Tegan looked at her severely. ‘He hasn’t been spoilt like you and your sisters, you know. I always said to Liza that you were all overindulged and had no idea what the real world was like; well, now you know. And I hope you’re not going to spoil a decent little boy like Tostig. He’s used to having nothing. He’ll play happily for hours with sticks and stones and he has his comics to read.’
‘But…’ Louise began, then stopped, once again filled with guilt. If she’d kept him when he’d been born, he’d have had a nursery filled with toys and books, the garden at Hartley to play in, and Nanny to teach him nursery rhymes. By now he’d have been at St Peter’s Court Prep School, where her father had gone, getting a good education.
Rupert had been denied all that she’d taken for granted, and the feeling that she’d failed him overwhelmed her now.
The next two weeks were fraught as Louise and Shane struggled to get Tostig to accept them as his parents. He fought them every inch of the way, refusing the food put in front of him, and insisting on wearing his worn and grubby clothes, especially his jumpers which his ma had bought him. Louise wasn’t even allowed to wash them.
The London traffic terrified him as did the crowded streets. Shane bought him some small toy cars which came in match boxes, a skipping rope, and a train set with a circular track, but he refused to play with them, spending his time instead kicking around their little back garden, or re-reading his beloved comics. Louise bought him some books recommended for his age group, but he tossed them aside and she began to despair of ever getting through to him.
Then every night there was the Battle of the Bath. It seemed he’d never been in a conventional bath in his life. He’d been used to sitting in an old tin tub which his da had set before the kitchen range every Saturday night, and his ma had filled with buckets of warm water.
When Louise led him into the bathroom on the first night and she turned on the taps he screamed and yelled, refusing to get into the water. Then he chucked away the bar of Imperial Leather soap on the rack, and demanded carbolic soap because it smelled ‘clean’. Somehow she managed to persuade him to wash himself, but then came a nightly tantrum as he wanted to sleep in his vest and pants instead of the new striped pyjamas she’d bought him.
‘I’m not wearing those bloody things!’ he yelled one evening, throwing them on the floor.
‘Rupert, you are not to swear,’ she told him severely.
‘My name’s not bloody Rupert!’ he shouted. ‘My name’s Tostig! Why do you keep calling me Rupert? I hate the name! I hate it here! And I hate you! I want to go back to my farm and if you try to stop me I’ll run away!’
Louise sent him to bed without his supper, and then felt stricken when a little while later she heard sobbing coming from his room.
‘I can’t bear this,’ she told Shane after two exhausting weeks. ‘He’s so unhappy and he hates us and he hates being here, and I’ve tried so hard…’ She covered her face with her hands. ‘He’s missing his… his parents,’ she added with finality, because that was the truth. Rupert thought of the farmer and his wife as his parents, and merely telling him it wasn’t so had made no difference. He had no sense of belonging to them, and it was obvious he wasn’t even going to try.
‘Come and sit down, dearest,’ Shane said in concern, as he lead her over to the sitting room sofa. ‘You’re exhausted, that’s the trouble. You’ve got Daisy to look after, and the house and the cooking, and it’s too much to expect you to rehabilitate Rupert all on your own.’
‘I feel I’m letting him down… that I’ve always let him down and it’s all my fault. We even promised him a puppy and I haven’t got around to getting one yet. He doesn’t trust us, Shane,’ she added in desperation. ‘What are we going to do?’
‘For a start, stop blaming yourself, Louise. It’s not your fault. Why don’t we take both Rupert and Daisy down to Hartley for a couple of weeks? I think he will adjust better if we’re in the country and he’ll have Sophia and Jonathan for company. Your family wouldn’t object, would they?’
‘Mummy won’t approve, because it will confirm to the whole village that he’s my son, but Daddy and Granny won’t mind.’ Her face had brightened and her eyes lit up. ‘Oh, Shane, I think it’s a wonderful idea. He’d love Hartley and he might be able to learn to ride Jonathan’s pony.’ Her smile broadened. ‘You are brilliant!’
He grinned sheepishly, always embarrassed by praise. ‘Then let’s do it. We need the help of the whole family if Rupert is going to settle down. Poor little chap, it’s not surprising that he’s grieving for the couple who brought him up. But children do adjust and I believe he just needs time and lots of healthy outdoor exercise and distraction.’
‘I’d really wanted to do this on our own, but he will probably adjust better with the help of the rest of the family. But I long for it to be just you and me, Shane, with Daisy and Rupert. Our own little family.’
Shane smiled at her. ‘I know Louise, but you’re an incurable romantic, and that’s what I love about you. Because you were so thrilled to have him back you felt it was like the happy ending of a fairy story, didn’t you? You know, long lost little boy reunited with his real mother, who he’d recognize at once and fall into her arms with rapturous happiness! But real life isn’t like that, I’m afraid.’
She gave him a rueful smile. ‘No, it’s not, is it?’
He put his arms around her and hugged her. ‘I’m owed some leave, so I’ll take you all down, and stay for as long as I can. There is something else we should talk about, too.’
She looked at him with anxiety in every line of her face. ‘What? What else is there to talk about?’ she asked nervously.
‘Now is the time to be honest with Rupert, and I think you should tell him about his real father. Let him understand I’m his step-father and I’ll always be here to love and support him, but I think we should arrange for them to meet at some point, don’t you?’
‘Oh, my God!’ Louise looked stunned. For a moment she felt horrified at having to face more of her past. But Shane was right. Not only should they meet, but Jack should be given access to Rupert, so they could build a father-and-son relationship.
‘Don’t you think we should let Rupert get used to us first? Before he meets Jack?’ she asked, desperate to play for time, until she could get used to the changing sands of her life. ‘I don’t even know how to get hold of Jack.’
‘His aunt still lives in the village, doesn’t she? Why don’t we go and ask her for his address when we’re at Hartley?’
Louise’s head was spinning. Too much was happening too fast, and she felt a sense of nervous dread at having to see Jack again. It had been so awkward when he’d turned up just before she’d married Shane, and the worst part was realizing that they no longer had anything in common. Her family had been right; marriage between them, even if they’d been older, would never have worked.
‘Supposing Rupert likes him more than me?’ she suddenly blurted out, jealousy mingled with fear making her voice high pitched.
‘Why should he?’ Shane asked in surprise.
‘Because… Oh, God, I sound like my mother, but because Jack is the same class as the couple who adopted Rupert. He’s bound to feel more comfortable with him, and even have more in common with Jack than he does with us?’
Shane looked thoughtful for a moment. ‘We’re going to have to put the boy’s happiness before our own,’ he said slowly. ‘You’ll have to let Jack have visiting rights, or Rupert will never forgive you. Do you think Jack will show an interest in his son?’
Louise nodded. ‘I know he will. That last time he came to see me he said he wished he’d had a chance to see the baby before I gave him away. I felt dreadful about it at the time, but I did understand how he felt,’ she added with honesty. She turned to look at Shane. ‘You do know that it’s you, and only you that I love, though, don’t you? What I had with Jack was a passing fancy. I was fifteen and probably more in love with love than anything else.’
Shane grinned, the skin around his eyes crinkling at the corners. ‘Weren’t you also in love at the same time with Rupert Brooke and his poetry?’ he teased gently. ‘Hence the name of your baby?’
‘Yes,’ she admitted. ‘I had such romantic notions at that age.’
Shane leaned forward and kissed her gently on the mouth. ‘Don’t lose all your romantic dreams, sweetheart. I want you to stay just the way you are. Try not to worry. I’m sure that once we’re at Hartley things will get better with Rupert. We’ll soon get him house trained,’ he added jokingly.
‘I hope so,’ Louise said, remembering how, when they’d arrived home from Wales, he’d asked if ‘the lavvy was in the backyard?’ and where was the pot in his bedroom kept? His astonishment at seeing their pretty bathroom would have been comical if she hadn’t found it so sad.
The lime trees that lined the drive of Hartley were tinged with gold, but there was still warmth in the sun as Shane drove them back to Louise’s childhood home.
The rose pink Georgian house, decked out in the last of the climbing summer roses, stood serenely surrounded by lawns and flower beds and mature oak and elm trees. The polished windows seemed to be winking at them in the sunshine, and as always, the white front door stood open in welcome. On the warm stone steps the family dogs slumbered drowsily.
‘Here we are!’ Louise burst out excitedly, bouncing a gurgling Daisy on her knee. ‘Look!’ she said, turning to Rupert who was sitting in the back with Bella and the kitten, who was in a basket. ‘Look! This is Hartley, Rupert. This is my old home, where we’re going to stay.’
Rupert, looking sullen, turned his head away and ignored her. His eyes were blank, his expression listless, and his small mouth drooped with sadness.
Louise and Shane exchanged glances, and she was suddenly filled with a sense of foreboding. It wasn’t only that she hoped Hartley Hall would work its magic on Rupert, as it had done on all the Granville family during two world wars and a string of personal disasters; she also hoped it would give her the strength to face her past mistakes. For letting Jack back into her life, for Rupert’s sake, could prove to be the biggest mistake of all.
‘You should have got a bigger dining room table, Henry,’ Liza wailed with irritation. ‘How am I supposed to get ten people around this one?’
‘How was I to know you intended trying to give grand dinner parties when I got this flat?’ Henry retorted with equal annoyance. He was desperately tired and hadn’t felt well for the past few days. The problem was his workload at the bank had increased in the past year because the country was emerging from the doldrums of the late forties and Britain was on the brink of prosperity once again. Business at Hammerton’s was good, but he was beginning to feel he could no longer cope with the pressure of being Chairman.
Coming back from work that evening, all he was looking forward to was a quiet supper, before the new novelty of watching the news on a television screen which he found fascinating. Then he wanted an early night.
Instead, their flat was in an uproar as hired caterers, a butler and a footman rushed around preparing for a dinner party he’d forgotten all about.
‘Oh, really, Henry!’ Liza scolded, ‘How could you forget? We’ve got Lady Diana Cooper coming, the Duke and Duchess of Northumberland, Lord and Lady Mountbatten, and I’ve invited the Duke of Marlborough’s heir, Lord Blandford, because I’ve persuaded Charlotte to stay in for once… now that would be a good match for her, and the…’
‘All right, all right,’ Henry protested, rubbing his forehead. ‘Why are you calling them by their titles? They’re our friends, – Dickie and Edwina Mountbatten, Diana Cooper and so on. I’ve told you it’s fearfully common to refer to our friends by their titles. It sounds as if you’re bragging to impress yourself, for God’s sake!’
Liza’s face fell and she turned scarlet. She simply couldn’t help herself. She knew she was tremendously impressed by titles. She still couldn’t quite believe that titled people came to her dinner parties. Her only regret in life was that she didn’t have one herself. She felt quite aggrieved that both Rosie and Juliet had married titled men, only for their marriages to end, so they were now just plain ‘Mrs’.
‘Henry, don’t talk to me like that,’ she whispered, so the hired staff wouldn’t hear them arguing. ‘The point is, how are we going to get them all round that stupid little table?’
‘Why don’t I go out? That would give you enough room!’ he retorted, turning his back on her and walking out of the room.
She stared after him as he marched along the narrow corridor to their bedroom, appalled by his mood. What was the matter with him? He was usually so kind and only teased her in a joking way about her class obsession.
Swaying in a billowing swirl of black taffeta, and hung about with diamonds, she hurried into the tiny kitchen, where a chaotic scene met her eyes, as the caterer laid out the prepared first course of buttered shrimps with toast, while the rack of lamb roasted in the oven. There was food and dishes on every surface, and even on the floor.
‘We’re a bit short of space in here, madam,’ the butler remarked in a slightly critical tone. Liza grieved inwardly for the loss of Parsons, and a kitchen that had been big enough to hold a drinks party for fifty people.
‘That can’t be helped,’ she snapped crossly. ‘You’re going to have to put that narrow side table at one end of the dining room table, then we can easily sit ten. You’ll find two more chairs in the hall.’
‘Yes, madam.’
‘And I’d like a glass of champagne, please. And take one to Mr Granville as well.’
‘Yes, madam.’
As she swept away, skirt rustling, bracelets rattling, she distinctly heard one of the hired helps whisper, ‘Who does she think she is? The Queen of Sheba?’
‘What’s the matter, Mummy?’ Charlotte asked, coming out of her bedroom at that moment, in a pink satin Dior dress, which showed off her tiny waist.
‘Nothing,’ Liza sighed theatrically. ‘It’s just so ghastly not having one’s own staff any more. These hired people really are hopeless.’
‘Where’s Daddy?’
‘Changing… I hope,’ Liza replied, suddenly worried. Henry couldn’t have been serious, surely, when he’d said he’d go out? ‘Why don’t you take him a glass of champagne, darling?’ she coaxed. ‘He’s a bit grumpy; he forgot we had a dinner party tonight.’
‘He’s so tired these days,’ Charlotte said sadly. ‘He works too hard.’
As Charlotte left the room, Liza walked over to the horrid little modern fireplace and looked at her reflection in the mirror which hung about it. In spite of having spent the morning at Elizabeth Arden having a facial, she looked old and strained. She touched her tightly permed hair with a manicured hand, and gave a deep sigh. She and Henry were at loggerheads these days. He was always tired, saying he wished they hadn’t taken a flat in town, and she was bursting with frustration, because having returned to London at last, she longed to get back into the swing of things. Even at weekends he was bad tempered, grumbling about everything and criticising her all the time.
She took a swig of champagne, suddenly feeling nervous. What would happen if he no longer loved her? Worse, what would she do if he’d found someone else? Perhaps she should cut back on inviting people to the flat. But then, if you didn’t entertain, you didn’t get asked out. She downed the rest of her champagne, decided she must act merrily for the benefit of the guests and promptly ordered her glass to be refilled.
To her intense relief Henry appeared looking suave and immaculately groomed in his dinner jacket, just before the first guests arrived. No one, enveloped in the warmth of his welcome and charm, would have guessed that half an hour before he’d been in a foul mood.
‘How is Rosie?’ Lady Diana Cooper asked Liza, as they sipped their drinks and nibbled from a platter of canapés the footmen was handing around. ‘It seems only the other day I came to her coming-out ball in that divine house you had in Green Street.’
‘She’s still in Monte Carlo,’ Liza replied cryptically, as if it were a section of Alcatraz. ‘I don’t know when, or if, she’ll return to England.’
Lady Diana lowered her voice diplomatically. ‘Is she going to marry this chap she ran off with? What’s his name?’
‘Baron Philibert Guerin. His aunt is Lady Fulsham. Henry used to know her late husband, but Salton doesn’t want a divorce so I don’t know what’s going to happen.’
Lady Diana pursed her beautiful lips and her forget-me-not blue eyes were penetrating. ‘Duff and I used to know the Guerin family. Penniless, you know, my dear. Quite penniless.’
Liza leaned closer, whispering now. ‘Philibert is Lady Fulsham’s heir. I hear her husband left her a packet.’
At that moment the Northumberlands and the Mountbattens arrived and Liza switched into hostess mode, fluttered from guest to guest, delighting in her role of society hostess once again.
‘Louise will be there when we get home, won’t she?’ Henry remarked with pleasure as he drove them down to Hartley the next afternoon.
‘Yes.’ Liza had come down to earth with a bump when she’d woken up, the euphoria she’d felt the night before, vanished like the bubbles in champagne.
‘I’m longing to see Rupert.’
‘I gather he’s completely wild,’ Liza retorted drily. ‘I dread to think what characteristics he’s inherited.’
‘He’s still Louise’s child.’ Henry’s tone was suddenly cold. ‘But he’s been brought up by a farmer and his wife. Aunt Tegan might at least have put him with a better family than that.’
Henry spoke sarcastically. ‘I imagine she didn’t think she’d ever have to face your wrath that he was with working-class people.’
‘That’s a horrid thing to say,’ Liza complained. ‘I don’t understand you, Henry. I would have thought you’d want the very best for your children, but there’s Charlotte, throwing her chances away by being a model. And Amanda, burying herself at university, not caring how she looks; what’s going to become of her? Rosie made the mistake of marrying that American and now her behaviour is causing a scandal! Now the whole village is going to know this boy is Louise’s child. It’s a disaster! Her reputation, which I was so careful to guard, will now be in shreds.’ She sighed deeply. ‘Sometimes I wonder why I bother. You never give me any support.’
Henry was silent for a few moments, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. Then he spoke. ‘Surely you’ve also got something bad to say about Juliet?’ he enquired.
She flashed him an angry look. ‘Oh, your beloved Juliet! She can’t do anything wrong in your eyes, can she?’
He ignored the jibe, but pressed down harder on the accelerator as if he wanted to punish the engine. ‘I’m afraid you’re disappointed with the life I’ve given you,’ he said at last, his tone even.
‘I just think that we haven’t reached our potential and neither have the girls,’ she replied sulkily.
‘Of course that depends on what one’s aims are? Money, power or position are the three most common ambitions but there is one other; happiness. As long as our children find happiness, I think that’s the most important thing of all.’
‘But happiness depends on getting what you want.’
He glanced at her discontented profile. ‘I’m not sure, Liza, that you’d recognize happiness if it swamped you, because you’d always be looking over the fence, wondering if the next field isn’t greener.’
‘That’s not true!’ she exclaimed, enraged. ‘Other people have children who make brilliant marriages and do well for themselves, so why haven’t our girls done better? Only Juliet married a man who seemed to have everything; a dukedom, a castle and half of Scotland, and an enormous fortune, and…’
‘It turned out to be a sham of a marriage because he was homosexual,’ Henry cut in bluntly, ‘and it was you who wanted that marriage more than anything. You filled Juliet and Rosie’s heads with a great deal of nonsense and I think they felt compelled to follow your dreams and ambitions.’
She turned on him indignantly. ‘Henry! I only wanted the best for them, what’s wrong with that?’
‘Marrying what you call “brilliantly” isn’t necessarily “for the best”. It certainly doesn’t always lead to happiness.’
‘It did for me,’ she retorted quickly, then stopped, her bottom lip quivering. ‘At least it used to, but all you do is pick fault with me these days. What’s wrong? Why aren’t we happy any more?’ she added tearfully. ‘I still love you. All I want is for us to be happy.’
Relenting for a moment, he reached out and laid his left hand over hers, steering the car with his other hand. ‘We can be happy again, if you’d just calm down,’ he explained. ‘Liza, I can’t go on working as hard as I’m doing and socialize every night and at weekends, too.’
‘Then don’t work so hard,’ she said stupidly.
‘I’m trying to recoup the enormous financial losses I incurred during the war. I lost thousands of pounds in foreign investments and no matter how hard I work I’ll never be able to rebuild my fortune. But I can make sure you and the girls are all right, and that Hartley remains standing for the next generation.’
Liza dabbed her eyes with a tiny lace edged handkerchief. ‘Oh, don’t let’s have this morbid conversation. I simply can’t bear it.’
‘Facts are facts, and I’m sixty-one, my dear,’ he told her flatly. ‘Most of my friends have already retired, and I will as soon as I feel I can, but meanwhile, let’s lead a quieter life, for God’s sake.’
Subdued, Liza remained silent, letting the shock of realizing how old Henry was, sink in. Why was she so surprised? She was fifty-four after all, but the difference was that she didn’t feel it. If someone had asked her how old she was and not given her time to think, she’d have said she was forty, maybe forty-one.
The most ghastly thing of all, she reflected, was the knowledge that she’d got as far in life as she was ever going to get, and from now on it was going to be a downward path all the way.
Henry might not mind, but she resented the fact bitterly.