it.’
Alice picked the baby up and searched for signs of emotional disturbance.
Shortly before lunch, Lettice warned, ‘I’m going to ring Archie. We always talk on Christmas Day.’
Victoria, unable to bring herself to admit that she knew he was in hospital, asked, ‘Where?’
‘He’s sure to be at his lodgings. He always lunches
en famille
at Christmas. Probably some of his cousins and Harold. The usual, you know.’
She was gone, down the passage to the telephone and dialling furiously.
Back and mystified she said, ‘Very bizarre. No reply,’ glancingat Victoria who had got out her knitting and was making a scarf for Archie. ‘Did he say anything –
en passant
I mean, when he stayed with you?’
‘No. He didn’t mention his Christmas plans then.’
‘Since? Has he mentioned them since?’
Joanna bounced in, ‘You’re not still talking about that prickly old Thorne, are you? He’s biting into your flesh.’ Pleased with her joke she turned to Victoria.
‘The baby’s spiffing but don’t you find her an awful bind?’
Signalling in lively fashion, Lettice led the party along a festooned hall.
‘Victoria. You must sit by me, then Maudie will be near the fire.’
‘I’ll feed Maudie. It won’t kill me for once.’ Joanna, with wisdom unexpected in one so young and brash, saw danger in seating her mother next to Victoria who quickly exchanged seats. Victoria longed to get on with the complicated pattern she knitted into Archie’s scarf and which was bundled into her bag.
The meal over, a restless and fidgety Lettice said, ‘I’ll try Archie again. It was silly of me not to remember. Often they go out for a drink before luncheon on Christmas Day. And, Roland, don’t forget to give Orpheus some special delicacies on this of all days.’
Chapter 10
H arold, having eaten alone in an expensive hotel, went to Archie’s study at the lodgings.
He turned on a bar of the electric fire. There were things that Archie might like to have with him in hospital. He sat down on an armchair, still wearing a black overcoat, while his mind went round and round. He was organising an operation.
When the telephone rang he shuddered from shock.
It could only be Archie or, more alarming, news from the hospital. He took the receiver and held it with a damp hand as a voice said, ‘All form of Christmas nonsense from The Old Keep. Don’t say you have overindulged and rendered yourself silent. What pagan feasts you do go in for.’
‘No. It’s Harold. I’m sorry. Archie can’t, I’m afraid. Not now. Oh dear. I’m sorry.’
‘What did I say? I’m always telling him that he’s just a motherless boy at heart. I’ll have a word with him, sober or otherwise.’
‘No. He can’t. He really can’t. He’s rather bad. Ill, I mean. Rather ill. I was fetching some things.’
Lettice capped the mouthpiece and cried, loud and clear down the passage, ‘Archie’s ill.’ Uncupping, she wailed, ‘I’m sorry. I wish I’d known. Does anyone know – besides yourself, I mean?’
She squinted as she thought with sour suspicion of Victoria.
‘There hasn’t been much time. It was only yesterday. He went to hospital yesterday. I was going to let you know.’
‘I won’t be cross but, another time, you must do so at once. That’s what friends are for and, as I said to Archie the other day, friendship is so important. One needs to remember this more and more with the sad changes that go on around us.’
‘Oh dear. Of course. I know. I’m sorry. Oh dear.’
‘Don’t be hard on yourself. You shall come for the New Year whatever happens. Even if poor Archie can’t make it. I’ll have to say that you rang me instead of the other way round or it would look bad.’
Near to fainting, Harold sat down and wound a greasy curl around his thumb. How kind of Lettice to accept him, alone if necessary, for the New Year.
Lettice, tense with humiliation, returned to the sitting room and broke the news of
Alice picked the baby up and searched for signs of emotional disturbance.
Shortly before lunch, Lettice warned, ‘I’m going to ring Archie. We always talk on Christmas Day.’
Victoria, unable to bring herself to admit that she knew he was in hospital, asked, ‘Where?’
‘He’s sure to be at his lodgings. He always lunches
en famille
at Christmas. Probably some of his cousins and Harold. The usual, you know.’
She was gone, down the passage to the telephone and dialling furiously.
Back and mystified she said, ‘Very bizarre. No reply,’ glancingat Victoria who had got out her knitting and was making a scarf for Archie. ‘Did he say anything –
en passant
I mean, when he stayed with you?’
‘No. He didn’t mention his Christmas plans then.’
‘Since? Has he mentioned them since?’
Joanna bounced in, ‘You’re not still talking about that prickly old Thorne, are you? He’s biting into your flesh.’ Pleased with her joke she turned to Victoria.
‘The baby’s spiffing but don’t you find her an awful bind?’
Signalling in lively fashion, Lettice led the party along a festooned hall.
‘Victoria. You must sit by me, then Maudie will be near the fire.’
‘I’ll feed Maudie. It won’t kill me for once.’ Joanna, with wisdom unexpected in one so young and brash, saw danger in seating her mother next to Victoria who quickly exchanged seats. Victoria longed to get on with the complicated pattern she knitted into Archie’s scarf and which was bundled into her bag.
The meal over, a restless and fidgety Lettice said, ‘I’ll try Archie again. It was silly of me not to remember. Often they go out for a drink before luncheon on Christmas Day. And, Roland, don’t forget to give Orpheus some special delicacies on this of all days.’
Chapter 10
H arold, having eaten alone in an expensive hotel, went to Archie’s study at the lodgings.
He turned on a bar of the electric fire. There were things that Archie might like to have with him in hospital. He sat down on an armchair, still wearing a black overcoat, while his mind went round and round. He was organising an operation.
When the telephone rang he shuddered from shock.
It could only be Archie or, more alarming, news from the hospital. He took the receiver and held it with a damp hand as a voice said, ‘All form of Christmas nonsense from The Old Keep. Don’t say you have overindulged and rendered yourself silent. What pagan feasts you do go in for.’
‘No. It’s Harold. I’m sorry. Archie can’t, I’m afraid. Not now. Oh dear. I’m sorry.’
‘What did I say? I’m always telling him that he’s just a motherless boy at heart. I’ll have a word with him, sober or otherwise.’
‘No. He can’t. He really can’t. He’s rather bad. Ill, I mean. Rather ill. I was fetching some things.’
Lettice capped the mouthpiece and cried, loud and clear down the passage, ‘Archie’s ill.’ Uncupping, she wailed, ‘I’m sorry. I wish I’d known. Does anyone know – besides yourself, I mean?’
She squinted as she thought with sour suspicion of Victoria.
‘There hasn’t been much time. It was only yesterday. He went to hospital yesterday. I was going to let you know.’
‘I won’t be cross but, another time, you must do so at once. That’s what friends are for and, as I said to Archie the other day, friendship is so important. One needs to remember this more and more with the sad changes that go on around us.’
‘Oh dear. Of course. I know. I’m sorry. Oh dear.’
‘Don’t be hard on yourself. You shall come for the New Year whatever happens. Even if poor Archie can’t make it. I’ll have to say that you rang me instead of the other way round or it would look bad.’
Near to fainting, Harold sat down and wound a greasy curl around his thumb. How kind of Lettice to accept him, alone if necessary, for the New Year.
Lettice, tense with humiliation, returned to the sitting room and broke the news of
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