They stepped outside, the cold pinching Lou’s cheeks and pricking her nostrils. Had someone in the real world opened a window? Perhaps. In this world, she walked along the snow-covered path beside Charlotte, breathing in the crisp, fresh air. She may have known Charlotte for less than a day but knew her silence to be quite out of character.
‘You don’t think Aunt Leonora was right, do you?’ Charlotte said finally. ‘That I lack compassion?’
‘Your aunt is worried about Edward, that’s all. I’m sure she didn’t mean to upset you.’
‘I wish I could be so certain. I’ve never known Aunt Leonora to say anything she doesn’t mean. And I don’t ever intend to be cruel to Edward. It’s just that … it’s just that he is always there. I spend more time with him, now that he has come home from Cambridge, than I do with almost anybody else. Except for the last three weeks, that is, when he has seemed preoccupied … He’s often sullen, but yesterday was by far the worst I have ever seen. I make it my job when he is unhappy or blue to try and goad him out of it. Does that make me cruel?’
Lou laughed. ‘No, it makes you his sister.’
Charlotte lifted her eyes. Her cheeks and the tip of her nose were nipped to a healthy pink. ‘I don’t know how you do it, Louisa, but you seem always to know exactly the right thing to say.’ She slipped her arm through Lou’s. ‘Wouldn’t it be marvellous if you could stay with us forever? I’m sure we would be the very best of friends. You are quite simply the kindest person I have ever met.’
‘Really?’ Lou said, embarrassed but touched by Charlotte’s immature enthusiasm. If Charlotte knew the truth, she might not be so gushing. ‘I think my brothers might disagree with you. I have been known to be quite cruel to them.’
‘Cruel! I don’t believe it for a second.’ Charlotte squeezed Lou’s arm. ‘Let’s say “pooh” to brothers. They are nothing but silly boys.’
Lou laughed. ‘All right, then. Pooh to brothers.’
Arm in arm, they walked through the freshly fallen snow, their skirts and boots growing increasingly sodden as they made their way towards the beacon of St Mary’s spire.
They didn’t need to leave the grounds; the church was within the boundary wall of Hill House. Taking the path around the side of the church, the view became more familiar to Lou – bushes and hedges, ancient headstones green with moss and lichen – although beyond the front gates stood a row of neat redbrick workers’ cottages, surrounded by woodlands and evergreens, not the back fences of council houses she was used to. Churchgoers milled around the open door; men in suits, women in dark dresses and children in smart little outfits, mirroring the adults. The staff of Hill House were amongst them, and Lou spotted Sally holding the hand of a little boy in a pale blue coat, a shock of blonde curls escaping from beneath a cap. There were more worshippers here today than she had ever seen at St Mary’s, and they all moved aside to let her and Charlotte pass, the men and boys removing their hats, the women and girls curtseying.
Inside the vestibule, they were greeted by the melancholy sound of the organ echoing around the stone walls. Lou was about to follow Charlotte into the church when a sudden and unexpected memory stopped her dead. It was no longer daytime but a cold evening in late December. A breeze whistled through the churchyard into the porch. She was a small child. She was with Stephen and Dean, bundled up against the cold in scarves and hats, each clutching an orange decorated with red ribbon and a small candle. Their eyes gleamed in the tiny flames, and Mum smiled as she held the door open for them. The scene transformed. It was years later. They were all older. Stephen and Dean looked uncomfortable in their newly-purchased cheap black suits. Heads dipped, they walked slowly through the vestry in time with the undertakers, bearing the weight of Mum’s coffin on their shoulders.
Lou’s legs buckled. Hands reached out to take hold of her. Charlotte’s face swam into view.
‘Louisa! Louisa!’ she heard Charlotte cry. ‘Please someone, help. Have Dawson bring Mama’s car around so that we can take Miss Arnold back to the house.’
‘No,’ Lou stammered. ‘I’m all right.’ She turned to look at the men holding her up and thanked William and Bainbridge, adding, ‘Really, I’m quite all right now.’ She had to reassure them for a third time, before they reluctantly released her. ‘Please,’ she said to Charlotte, ‘I don’t want to cause a fuss. Can we go inside?’
Charlotte gripped Lou’s arm and led her down the aisle to the front pew where Lady Mandeville, Mrs Hart, and Edward were already seated. Helping her to sit, Charlotte leant past and whispered to her aunt, ‘Louisa had a fainting spell outside. I said that she should go back to the house, but she insisted on coming in. Don’t tell Mama. Louisa doesn’t want a fuss.’
Lou fixed her gaze on the herringbone weave of her skirt and listened to the creak of wood and the rustle of clothes as the congregation filled the pews behind. Mrs Hart leant in so close that Lou could smell her exotically spiced perfume, full of ginger and jasmine. ‘We each feel our losses keenly at this time of year, don’t we?’ She slipped a handkerchief from the pocket of her coat and placed it in Lou’s lap.
The vicar stood in the pulpit. ‘Welcome one and all,’ he said. ‘It is truly wonderful to see so many smiling little faces here today. I hope you have all brought your loudest singing voices.’
Mrs Hart took Lou’s hand. She held it through the entire carol service, only letting go when they knelt to pray. The warmth of Mrs Hart’s hand gave Lou the strength to stay in her seat and not run from the church. Eventually, she stopped trembling. Somebody, somewhere, must have administered another dose of morphine.
When the service came to an end, Lou was glad to escape into the fresh air. Lady Mandeville thanked the vicar and took the car back to the house, and Lou joined Mrs Hart, Charlotte and Edward in making their way on foot.
After checking that Lou was well, Charlotte walked ahead with Edward, her arm slipped through his. His shoulders were rolled, and he walked slowly while Charlotte almost skipped beside him, turning to grin at him every so often, plainly attempting to make amends.
‘I’m afraid that I sometimes forget just how young my niece is,’ Mrs Hart said, a softness in her voice. ‘I’m hard on her, I know, but not nearly as hard as the world is on young women. I suppose, in my own way, I’m attempting to make her stronger. But I think I may have gone too far this morning. I will apologise to her later.’
‘I think she would appreciate that,’ Lou said. ‘And thank you … for being so kind to me in church.’
Mrs Hart turned to Lou and smiled. ‘I have been an aunt for so long that I seem to slip naturally into the role of confessor and comforter. An aunt should never judge, but always love and try to understand her nieces and nephews.’
They walked in comfortable silence for a while until Lou, remembering the earlier gathering, said, ‘I saw Sally at the church. She was with a little boy.’
‘Sally? Oh, you mean Morrison. That would have been Albert. He’s an adorable little creature, isn’t he?’
‘Is he her brother?’
‘Why, no.’ Mrs Hart’s laugh rang around the frozen landscape. ‘Albert is Morrison’s son.’
‘Her son!’
‘It is unconventional, I know, to have a mother as an employee, but one thing you should know about my brother’s family, Louisa, is that they have a sentimental streak as wide as the Atlantic.’
‘Sally isn’t married?’
Mrs Hart laughed again. ‘Oh, my dear, they are sentimental, not revolutionaries. Morrison is married to William, my brother’s footman.’
Lou put two and two together. Bingo! So, that was Sally’s situation; she had been allowed to marry and keep her job. ‘I had no idea.’
‘And why ever would you? Charlotte could tell you their story better than I, but as I understand it, the Morrisons both entered my brother’s service as young people. They fought to hide their feelings for each other – neither of them could afford to lose their good positions – but it’s impossible to keep such things secret for long. Love will always find its way in the end. And when Lady Mandeville became aware of the relationship, rather than have them dismissed, she convinced my brother to allow them to marry. Sir Charles is not foolish. He understands the benefits of keeping good staff. And he has indeed been proven correct. The Morrisons are a content little family, living down in one of the workers’ cottages by the church.’
‘But that’s so … so …’ Lou searched for the right word.
‘Modern,’ Mrs Hart said. ‘Indeed, it is. My brother may not be able to exhibit his liberalism in his professional life, but he can at least exercise it for the benefit of his household.’ She leant in closer to Lou, as though sharing a confidence. ‘Anyone with sense can see that these are changing times, Louisa. People like us can no longer expect those in our employ to deny themselves the freedoms we enjoy ourselves.’
People like us. Did Mrs Hart think she was one of them? She was doing a good job of fooling everyone.
They arrived at the house as Lady Mandeville stepped from her car. Somehow, the staff had made it back before them and had even managed to change their clothes. William held the front door open. Lou fell into place beside Mrs Hart to go inside when a noise like the buzz of a bee in the distance made Lady Mandeville spin around.
‘He wouldn’t,’ Lady Mandeville said, straining to see down the drive, a look of alarm crossing her features. ‘He knows my feelings on that contraption.’
‘I’m afraid that it rather sounds as though he has,’ Mrs Hart said.
Charlotte left Edward’s side and ran part of the way down the drive. She spun around and ran back, holding her hat in place. ‘He’s here! I can see him. He’s coming!’ she yelled and pointed as though she had just glimpsed the circus arriving in town.
Lou joined the others to watch a motorcycle manoeuvre through the open gates and speed up the drive. With its chains and innards exposed in a green metal frame, the machine looked more like a souped-up pushbike than any motorcycle she had ever seen. It slid on the gravel – causing Lady Mandeville to gasp – before coming to a sudden stop, the back-tyre skidding in the snow. Without waiting for the engine to cut out completely, Charlotte squealed and ran to the rider who was dressed in a long leather coat with a dark fur-trimmed collar. He dismounted and whisked Charlotte off her feet, spinning her around. When he deposited her back on the ground, he whipped off his flying helmet and goggles to reveal a grimy face, except for two circles of clean flesh around his eyes, making him look like a panda in reverse. He smiled at the assembled crowd. Lou would have recognised those piercing blue eyes anywhere.
‘Thomas,’ Lady Mandeville said, holding out her hands. Dispensing with formality, her son threw his arms around her and kissed her on both cheeks. She stepped away, blushing, batting the air in front of her face.
‘Mother,’ Captain Mandeville said, ruffling his hair. ‘You’re a sight for sore eyes.’
‘And you are filthy and so very cold,’ Lady Mandeville said. Looking past her son, she frowned at the motorcycle. ‘Why do you persist in riding that thing when I have made my feelings clear? It is so dangerous.’
Captain Mandeville patted the saddle of the motorcycle. ‘The old girl hasn’t let me down yet. She was even as good as gold when we went for a spin around the track at Brooklands last summer. Anyway, it was a mere sixty-miles from London this morning, and I only came a cropper on the icy country lanes outside Bletchley, once. Perhaps twice.’
‘Oh, Thomas!’ Lady Mandeville said, putting her hand to her chest. ‘You will send me to an early grave. And where is your father?’
‘I left him at his club. He’s planning on catching the 12.30 from Euston, but I wanted to surprise you all by arriving early.’
‘You have certainly done that. We’re nowhere near ready.’
‘For what? As long as there’s a bed to rest my head on and a fire to warm my feet by, I’ll be happy.’
‘You are not in barracks now, Thomas.’ Lady Mandeville gently reprimanded. ‘You must allow your poor mother to indulge herself and spoil you. For the short time you intend to stay with us, at least –’
‘Mother …’
‘All right, I know, I mustn’t take on so.’
‘Thank you.’
From her position beneath the portico, Lou watched Captain Mandeville greet the rest of his family. He stood head and shoulders above the women, and when he removed his gauntlet-like leather gloves to shake hands with Edward, she saw that he stood a good few inches taller than his younger brother. Lady Mandeville hovered slightly apart from the family group. Was she holding back? Lou wondered. Clinging to her reserve and maintaining her stiff upper lip? If she had lived a century later, Lady Mandeville would have felt no need to hide her emotions; a son returning unscathed on leave from the army was something to celebrate. As it was, Lady Mandeville kept her distance and watched on as Charlotte and Mrs Hart showered her son with the affection she seemed unable to.
With the family welcomes complete, Charlotte dragged Captain Mandeville in the direction of the portico. For a leader of men, he seemed unable – or perhaps unwilling – to resist his determined little sister.
‘Tom, let me introduce you to my very good friend, Miss Louisa Arnold,’ Charlotte said. ‘Louisa is staying with us as a guest of Aunt Leonora. I hope to convince her to stay indefinitely.’
‘Well,’ Captain Mandeville said, ‘any very good friend of my little sister’s is a very good friend of mine. It’s a pleasure to meet you Miss Arnold.’ He tucked his gloves beneath his arm and took Lou’s hand in his, shaking it warmly. ‘Please let me know if there is anything I can do to prolong your stay. Anything to keep this silly little bird quiet.’
‘You beast!’ Charlotte tapped her brother’s arm.
Captain Mandeville smiled at Lou and shrugged. His teeth were straight and so very white; contrasting with the grime smeared across his face, it made him appear boyish rather than a man pushing thirty. Could this really be the pompous cavalry officer from the painting in the hall? In the flesh, with his fingers pressed into her palm, he felt incredibly real. Incredibly human.
‘Come, Thomas,’ Lady Mandeville said. ‘Let’s go inside to the warm.’
Lou had left it too long to respond. When Captain Mandeville’s hand slipped from hers, she silently kicked herself. What would he think of her? He’d think she was a dumb idiot, that’s what.
Returning to his motorcycle, Captain Mandeville unstrapped a small, battered leather case from the back. He led the way into the house, his family following close behind with Lou dragging up the rear, kicking at the snow.
The staff had formed a line in the hall. Bainbridge stepped forward to take Captain Mandeville’s suitcase, which he handed to the second footman.
‘Really, old friend,’ Captain Mandeville protested, ‘I’m quite capable of carrying my own luggage up a few flights of stairs. Anyway, how have you been? How is the pheasant this year?’
‘I’m sure you will not be disappointed, Captain Mandeville,’ Bainbridge answered.
‘I was sorry to have missed the grouse. Father said it was a particularly good season.’
Bainbridge confirmed that it had been, before guiding Captain Mandeville along the line of staff beginning with Mrs Moriarty. Each woman curtseyed, and each man bowed. When Captain Mandeville came to the end of the line – where poor Mary shook so violently that her cap quivered – he placed his hands on his hips and turned around beneath the glass dome high in the ceiling. Silence descended, disturbed only by his leather soles squeaking on the tiled floor and the rhythmic tock of the long-cased clock at the far end of the hall.
‘It’s good to see the old place still standing. Ten months is rather a long time to be away.’
‘Too long,’ Lady Mandeville said. ‘Especially when you appear to have forgotten how to use a writing block. Now, won’t you take some tea?’
Ignoring his mother’s dig, Captain Mandeville said, ‘I can think of nothing I’d like more. The cookhouse has so far produced nothing to compare to Monsieur Gotti’s scones. But, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go and make myself presentable first.’
Captain Mandeville took the stairs two at a time. His mother, aunt and sister all followed his progress, smiling. None of them appeared to notice, as Lou did, that Edward slipped away through the billiard room.
In a flurry of activity, the maids circled the ladies to remove hats and coats. Lady Mandeville told Mrs Moriarty that they would take tea and instructed her to ensure that Monsieur Gotti provided a plentiful supply of scones.
Once in the morning room, Lady Mandeville took a seat beside the fire. Charlotte settled beside her mother, leaving Lou to share a sofa with Mrs Hart.
‘What a lovely surprise it is to have Thomas home so early,’ Lady Mandeville said.
‘Indeed, it is,’ Mrs Hart said. ‘The foreign climate has clearly agreed with him.’
‘I don’t believe I have ever seen Thomas looking more handsome or so healthy. If a little too tanned.’
Charlotte grinned. ‘I’m sure Cousin Emma won’t mind.’
‘Charlotte!’ Lady Mandeville said sharply but failed to hide a smile.
William and the other footman brought in trays of food, which they arranged on a side table. When they left, Sally appeared in the doorway. She curtseyed. ‘Would your Ladyship still like to see Albert today? I thought perhaps with Captain Mandeville’s arrival you may prefer just family.’
‘Why, no!’ Lady Mandeville exclaimed. ‘Please, Morrison, you must bring him in. Charlotte would never forgive me if she were denied her pet.’
Sally pushed the door wider. She beckoned and the little boy from the church came charging into the room. He was dressed in a blue and white sailor’s suit, and his blonde waves bobbed as he ran directly to Lady Mandeville and Charlotte, clambering up on to the seat between them.
‘Oh, Mama, doesn’t he look adorable! We knew that suit would look well on him, didn’t we?’ Charlotte gushed. She dusted the boy’s face with kisses. ‘Oh, my lovely little boy. Have you been good for your mama and papa this week?’
The boy nodded.
‘Have you been practising your French?’
He glanced up to the ceiling as though silently rehearsing the words before giving them voice. ‘Oui, mademoiselle,’ he said carefully. ‘Comment ça va?’
Charlotte shrieked with delight, and Lou joined Lady Mandeville and Mrs Hart in giving him a round of applause.
‘What an absolute genius,’ Mrs Hart said. ‘Barely four-years-old and already mastering foreign tongues. I see a future in the diplomatic service beckoning.’
Charlotte cupped her hand around the boy’s ear and whispered something. He slipped from the sofa and walked the two strides to Lou. Standing before her, he stared at her. ‘Good morning, Miss Louisa Arnold,’ he said very seriously. ‘My name is Albert William Morrison, and I am very happy to make your acquaintance.’ He bowed, eliciting another rapturous round of applause from his audience.
‘I’m very pleased to meet you too, Master Albert Morrison,’ Lou said, enchanted by this little boy with his mother’s kind eyes.
‘I think somebody has earned his treat today.’ Lady Mandeville said. ‘How would you like some scones and jam?’
Albert nodded enthusiastically. Mrs Hart filled a plate with treats and handed it to Charlotte who broke off pieces of scone. After smothering them with jam and cream, she fed them to Albert, and when the plate was cleared, she took a napkin and wiped his mouth. ‘What an absolute pet,’ she said. ‘Now, you may go and play.’
Albert skipped away and sat cross-legged on the rug before the fire, where a selection of toys had been arranged for him. He ignored a hobbyhorse, a train and a small army of tin soldiers, and settled on playing with a dolls’ house – a replica of Hill House in miniature.
‘That was my favourite plaything when I was small,’ Charlotte explained to Lou. ‘Of all the toys we put out for him, it’s his favourite too. Given the chance, he would play with it all day.’
Albert took up a wooden cigar box and removed the lid. Lying in compartments inside, were all manner of residents for the miniature Hill House – men and women, staff and children, dogs and cats. Turning his attention to the house, he removed the figure of a maid from the basement kitchen. He smoothed down her apron and red hair and after gently placing her in the box, selected the figure of a finely dressed woman and placed her in the morning room, joining three other ladies on the sofas.
‘Is that Miss Arnold?’ Charlotte asked.
Albert nodded and set about arranging little plates on the table.
‘Look how he concentrates,’ Mrs Hart mused. ‘He plays like a child well beyond his years. He is quite the old soul.’
‘Not too old to want a piggyback, I hope.’
All heads – including Lou’s – turned towards the door to see Captain Mandeville stride into the room. He had changed from his travelling clothes into a blue flannel suit. His face was clean, his hair combed and oiled to tame the unruly waves. In the winter sunlight flooding the room, Lou noticed that his hair was not quite as dark as it had seemed in the dim hall – now, each wave had an auburn hue. Pinching the legs of his trousers, he crouched before Albert, his elbows resting on his knees.
‘My, my, but how you have grown!’ he said, ruffling the boy’s hair. ‘You remember me, don’t you?’
Albert studied Captain Mandeville’s face briefly before selecting the figure of a man from his box and placing him in the morning room of the dolls’ house. ‘You are Captain Thomas Mandeville, and you are an officer in the cavalry. You ride a horse every day, and that makes you very, very lucky.’
‘I suppose it does.’ Captain Mandeville looked up and smiled at the women. ‘What a clever little chap you are, Bertie. I may still call you Bertie, mayn’t I? Even if you have grown into a strapping young man.’
The boy nodded. He peered into Captain Mandeville’s face and ran his finger along his own top lip.
‘And observant to boot!’ Captain Mandeville said. ‘We’ll make a scout for the battalion out of you yet. I have indeed shaved off my moustache as I found it fiendishly tickly. Tell me, Bertie, are you still ticklish?’
Albert shook his head.
‘No?’ Captain Mandeville said, feigning surprise. ‘Then you won’t mind at all if I do this.’ He gently tickled Albert’s arm, making him giggle and shrug his shoulder to his ear. ‘Bertie, do you remember the game we used to play when you were still a terribly small chap?’
‘Of course. You were my horse and I was the General.’
‘Precisely!’
Without warning, Captain Mandeville scooped the little boy up, balanced him on his shoulders and to squeals of delight, charged out into the hall. ‘Hold on tight, Bertie,’ he shouted, and Albert gripped the Captain’s chin, holding on for dear life.
‘Stop, Thomas, do,’ Lady Mandeville called out. ‘You will make the child ill.’
Captain Mandeville reappeared in the doorway. ‘Nonsense. The General has a cast iron constitution. Isn’t that right, General?’
‘Yes!’ Albert shouted. Tom whinnied and charged into the hall again.
‘How he loves children, and how they adore him in return,’ Mrs Hart laughed. ‘Thomas was born to be a father. Perhaps the events of the coming week may see that destiny realised all the sooner.’
‘I do hope so, sister, really I do,’ Lady Mandeville said. ‘But speak more quietly. Thomas must believe that an engagement is his idea. If he thinks, even for a second, that this has been engineered in some way, he will not entertain the notion. You know how stubborn he has always been, even as a small boy.’
‘True,’ Mrs Hart nodded. ‘My nephew certainly does know his own mind. But he has always been so very fond of Emma.’
Charlotte pouted. ‘We are all fond of Emma. It’s just a shame that she comes with the rest of her family.’
‘Charlotte, do not talk so!’ Lady Mandeville snapped before lowering her voice. ‘I want nothing, including your low opinion of your cousin George, to come between Thomas and Emma. Do you understand?’
‘Yes, Mama. Sorry, Mama,’ Charlotte said.
Captain Mandeville cantered past the doorway again, Albert bouncing on his shoulders, shrieking with delight. Lou’s heart sank. She was the only person here who knew that Thomas Mandeville would never have children. Because by this time next year, he would be four months dead, buried in a grave on a battlefield in France.
Captain Mandeville charged back into the room, his cheeks flushed. He swept his fringe away from his face. In his civilian clothes, he was far less imposing than the proud cavalry officer in the painting. Stripped of his finery and braid, and with no sword at his side, he seemed smaller somehow. More vulnerable.
Lou stood up. ‘If it’s all right with your Ladyship, I think I might go to my room.’
‘You won’t take tea?’ Lady Mandeville asked.
‘I don’t feel very thirsty. I’m sorry.’
She made to go but stopped when Albert hollered, ‘Please, put me down.’
Captain Mandeville came to an abrupt halt. He lifted Albert from his shoulders and deposited him on the floor. Albert made straight for the dolls’ house. Reaching inside, he removed the newly arrived, finely dressed lady from the morning room and eased the maid from the wooden box. ‘Do you see?’ he said to her, holding a doll in each hand. ‘One out, one in.’
It took a moment, but Lou’s mind flashed back to another day in this house. A day when it was a charred carcass, its walls caked in mould and dripping water. ‘I beg your pardon?’ she said, unable to trust her memory.
‘One out, one in,’ Albert repeated. Lou knelt before him. She looked first at the dolls and then into the little boy’s eyes. He smiled, a smile she recognised, even though last time she had seen it, the lips were thin and the teeth not his own.
‘You’re Bert,’ she whispered. ‘Julie’s Uncle Bert.’
He blinked and, still smiling, returned to his game. He placed the maid back into the box and the lady into the house. Lou was only vaguely aware of the babble of conversation around her. Something felt odd. Something that she couldn’t put her finger on. Why had her brain summoned up a little version of Bert who she had met only once before and hardly thought about since?
Instead of returning to her room as she had intended, she settled back on the sofa to watch Albert play with the dolls. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed when eventually Sally returned to take him home. At lunch, she spent more time mulling over Albert’s words than eating. One out, one in. Whatever did that mean? And why, of all the things that old Bert had said to her that day in the derelict house, had her memory dredged up that phrase?
When the lunch party dispersed, Lou returned to her room. Sally soon appeared to help her begin the process of dressing for dinner.
‘It’ll be more formal tonight, what with Sir Charles and Captain Mandeville at home,’ Sally said, inspecting the contents of the wardrobe and settling on a lilac satin dress with black straps and a black bandeau.
After her bath, Lou sat at the dressing table, watching Sally’s reflection as she constructed her hair. ‘Albert’s a lovely boy,’ she said.
Sally let out an exaggerated sigh. ‘When he wants to be.’
Lou fell silent. What else could she say? Didn’t Sally think it odd that the Mandeville women treated her son like a pet? Wasn’t she worried that they might tire of Albert and abandon him like an old ball gown? Although questioning the motives of the Mandeville women would be a far easier conversation than the one where Lou revealed that she had first met Sally’s adorable, fresh-faced little boy when he was an arthritic old man confined to a wheelchair.
‘He was beautifully behaved today,’ Lou said. ‘You must be very proud of him.’
Sally smiled, almost reluctantly it seemed, although Lou detected a glimmer of pride. ‘I’m just thankful that he minds his manners for Her Ladyship and Miss Charlotte. He’s a handful for me and for my mother when she looks after him. William is the only one he really listens to. I suppose men are better at understanding boys, I know I never shall.’
Lou busied herself with unscrewing the cap from a tub of cold cream. She rubbed a dollop into her knuckles. If she spoke, it would be to warn Sally to make the most of every minute of her life with William, to cherish every hurried kiss as her husband was on his way out of the door. She looked at Sally’s reflection again, at the tip of her tongue sticking from her lips as she concentrated on securing a hairpin. It was against Lou’s nature, but she decided to say nothing. If she couldn’t tell Sally that she had met her son as an old man, she could hardly tell her that her husband was destined to die in a war.