she's
having a wobble. On the other hand, I should
be deeply relieved to hear that this affair with
Peter is over. Naturally I can't interfere but you
know how unhappy I have been at the thought of
Clio involved in a relationship that can have no
future. Having had my own similar experience all
those years ago I'm in no position to throw stones
at Clio but I worry that there are so many people
who could be hurt. Not least the children. Anyway,
I really have hopes that she is seeing clearly
now.
Your last letter was so very much in tune
with what was happening here that I've been
wondering how to reply to it. Michael's grandson
has been here, Blaise. Clio met him – I won't
bother you with how or where at the moment –
and brought him to Bridge House at his own
request. Something very odd happened. It was as
if at some emotional level he tapped into his
whole history, and he's coming again next week.
He wants to know about those war years. His
mother up until now has refused to talk about it –
and who can blame her? – although he's seen old
snapshots of us all. I remember sending photos
to Michael during the war, so as to keep him
in touch, and Jonah (that's his name) specially
remembers one of Lucy with Jack and Robin.
He's clearly a very intuitive boy – well, he seems
like a boy to me, probably thirty – and he had a
very strange experience on his arrival here.
She paused, wondering how to explain Jonah's
experience and her own reaction to it, and at that
moment the telephone rang and Hester put down
her pen and went to answer it.
It was odd, she reflected in the few seconds that
this took, that though she used the computer for
most of her correspondence she still wrote to Blaise
by hand, with her fountain pen and sitting at
the table in the breakfast-room. Before she could
come to any conclusions about this, she'd picked up
the receiver and said as she always did, 'Hester
Mallory.'
'Hester.' The familiar voice was warm, flexible
and very charming. 'How are you?'
'Robin.' She spoke his name on a little gasp of
surprise. 'I can hardly believe this! I've just this
minute written your name in my letter to Blaise.
How extraordinary.'
There was a tiny pause before he said: 'Oh?' A
chuckle. 'Nothing defamatory, I hope?'
'Of course not. I've been looking at some old
photos of you and Jack. How are you, Robin?'
'I'm very fit. No problems there.'
Hester took the telephone to the table and sat
down. The inflexion was slight but she knew Robin
of old and she grew alert.
'So where do you have a problem?'
'Oh, Hes. I never could fool you, could I?'
His voice was rueful now, self-deprecating –
almost the voice of the small boy caught taking
more than his fair share of the sweet ration, spoiled
by his mother and by Nanny. Their voices echoed
in her head.
' Now, you mustn't be too cross with him, Hes. He's too
young to understand. You're sorry, aren't you, Robbie?
There, you see. Give Jack a hug and he shall have an
extra sweetie next time .'
' Come to Nanny, there's a good child. He's a bit
unsettled now that Lucy's arrived. It's only to be expected.
It's not his fault .'
'I hope you wouldn't want to fool me, Robin,'
she answered, putting the memory of the small,
engaging boy out of her mind. 'So what is it?'
'Well, it's the usual thing but rather more serious.
I owe a bit of money, Hes, and things are a trifle
tricky.'
'My dear, I told you last time that I have no more
money to lend you. I'm living on my pension now
and it doesn't go far.'
She forbore to point out that he never repaid her
'loans' and tried to bear in mind that since his
wife had died Robin had lost the one person who
had been able to keep his impracticalities and
extravagancies under control.
'I know that.' Her nephew's voice shifted key;
became conspiratorial. 'It's a bit different this
time and I don't want a loan. I've had a different
idea. It's to do with the house. I need to sell
my share and I have the feeling that Amy might
be rather
having a wobble. On the other hand, I should
be deeply relieved to hear that this affair with
Peter is over. Naturally I can't interfere but you
know how unhappy I have been at the thought of
Clio involved in a relationship that can have no
future. Having had my own similar experience all
those years ago I'm in no position to throw stones
at Clio but I worry that there are so many people
who could be hurt. Not least the children. Anyway,
I really have hopes that she is seeing clearly
now.
Your last letter was so very much in tune
with what was happening here that I've been
wondering how to reply to it. Michael's grandson
has been here, Blaise. Clio met him – I won't
bother you with how or where at the moment –
and brought him to Bridge House at his own
request. Something very odd happened. It was as
if at some emotional level he tapped into his
whole history, and he's coming again next week.
He wants to know about those war years. His
mother up until now has refused to talk about it –
and who can blame her? – although he's seen old
snapshots of us all. I remember sending photos
to Michael during the war, so as to keep him
in touch, and Jonah (that's his name) specially
remembers one of Lucy with Jack and Robin.
He's clearly a very intuitive boy – well, he seems
like a boy to me, probably thirty – and he had a
very strange experience on his arrival here.
She paused, wondering how to explain Jonah's
experience and her own reaction to it, and at that
moment the telephone rang and Hester put down
her pen and went to answer it.
It was odd, she reflected in the few seconds that
this took, that though she used the computer for
most of her correspondence she still wrote to Blaise
by hand, with her fountain pen and sitting at
the table in the breakfast-room. Before she could
come to any conclusions about this, she'd picked up
the receiver and said as she always did, 'Hester
Mallory.'
'Hester.' The familiar voice was warm, flexible
and very charming. 'How are you?'
'Robin.' She spoke his name on a little gasp of
surprise. 'I can hardly believe this! I've just this
minute written your name in my letter to Blaise.
How extraordinary.'
There was a tiny pause before he said: 'Oh?' A
chuckle. 'Nothing defamatory, I hope?'
'Of course not. I've been looking at some old
photos of you and Jack. How are you, Robin?'
'I'm very fit. No problems there.'
Hester took the telephone to the table and sat
down. The inflexion was slight but she knew Robin
of old and she grew alert.
'So where do you have a problem?'
'Oh, Hes. I never could fool you, could I?'
His voice was rueful now, self-deprecating –
almost the voice of the small boy caught taking
more than his fair share of the sweet ration, spoiled
by his mother and by Nanny. Their voices echoed
in her head.
' Now, you mustn't be too cross with him, Hes. He's too
young to understand. You're sorry, aren't you, Robbie?
There, you see. Give Jack a hug and he shall have an
extra sweetie next time .'
' Come to Nanny, there's a good child. He's a bit
unsettled now that Lucy's arrived. It's only to be expected.
It's not his fault .'
'I hope you wouldn't want to fool me, Robin,'
she answered, putting the memory of the small,
engaging boy out of her mind. 'So what is it?'
'Well, it's the usual thing but rather more serious.
I owe a bit of money, Hes, and things are a trifle
tricky.'
'My dear, I told you last time that I have no more
money to lend you. I'm living on my pension now
and it doesn't go far.'
She forbore to point out that he never repaid her
'loans' and tried to bear in mind that since his
wife had died Robin had lost the one person who
had been able to keep his impracticalities and
extravagancies under control.
'I know that.' Her nephew's voice shifted key;
became conspiratorial. 'It's a bit different this
time and I don't want a loan. I've had a different
idea. It's to do with the house. I need to sell
my share and I have the feeling that Amy might
be rather
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