cities where he’s tackling unemployment, alleviating poverty and improving schooling,” Lydia said. “And besides, you’ve got to admire a man who dares to appoint a woman to a cabinet post.”
“A good move, Lydia, as all agree, but—he also appointed that scallywag young fascist Mosley to the Privy Seal’s office,” Marcus countered equably. “That alone makes the old man’s judgement questionable in my book. Tired? Ill? Too many lavish suppers chez Lady Londonderry? So—the jury’s out, I’d say, on his latest appointee—the holder of this new Office of State. Reform, eh? A broad canvas. I expect he’s treading on a lot of toes while he sets about marking out his territory.”
“And
I’m
thinking that perhaps the shepherd has found his dog,” Joe said. “In which case we should all be heaving a sigh of relief that it’s not Oswald Mosley he’s chosen to go haring about biting bums on his behalf! Do you think that could be so, Marcus? That what we’re looking at is no more than the tip of an iceberg? The visible bit of a political power struggle. How dull!”
“Dull for you and dull for me,” Marcus said thoughtfully. He began to rearrange the photographs to his further satisfaction.“Perhaps not for these poor little tiddlers. How do they come to be caught in the net? I’m thinking you’ll be needing all your nifty footwork to sort this lot out, Joe!”
“No nifty footwork expected. I find myself once again the tiniest cog in the affairs of state. I’m just required to do my job without snarling up the works. Insignificant.”
“Below the horizon isn’t a bad place to lurk in dangerous times,” Marcus commented. “It worked for Lord Nelson. Be insignificant but—make sure your cannon are primed and ready to go. Now tell me why young Truelove’s poaching on police preserves.”
He grinned and added: “And how you’re planning to confound him!”
CHAPTER 9
“W ith low cunning and a crunching right fist!” Dorcas answered for him. “His usual technique.”
She had entered unnoticed. She put down a glass of whisky in front of Joe, murmuring: “Glenmorangie with a teaspoon of chilled water,” and squeezed herself in beside him, smelling deliciously of something he thought he recognised. Roses and sandalwood. He’d left a bottle of expensive scent under Lydia’s tree for her Christmas present.
“Lydia—before we get on to plotting the downfall of the government, may I just report a small domestic detail? I’ve exceeded orders upstairs. Everyone is happily bedded down, though not necessarily in their own bed or their own room. The girls are completely besotted by Jackie—insisted on taking him in with them for the night. He was playing up to this no end—told them he’d never spent a night in a room on his own until last night at Uncle Joe’s.”
“True enough,” Joe supported the boy’s assertion. “In India he would have been in the constant company of his Ayah. And then twenty-nine other boys in the dormitory at school.”
He hardly knew what he was saying. He was dealing with a blinding flash of memory that took him back through the years to a château crowded with children and showed him again theskinny girl struggling to appear grown up, all eyes and elbows and determination. She’d always known what to say to children when he’d been left mumbling.
“And the girls took pity on him?” Lydia nodded.
“Who wouldn’t? With those innocent blue eyes and that golden hair, he’s a baby Apollo! And can he ever tell a story!”
“But where have they settled?”
“All three are in Vanessa’s room. There’s a good fire in there and a big bed which Juliet has agreed to share with her sister. We all dragged the guest bed in for Jackie and put it next to them. I left him telling them an Indian ghost story. He doesn’t seem at all sleepy. Now, I overheard that last bit. Why, Joe, would you be thinking of locking antlers with my hero? It
was
my Sir James you
“A good move, Lydia, as all agree, but—he also appointed that scallywag young fascist Mosley to the Privy Seal’s office,” Marcus countered equably. “That alone makes the old man’s judgement questionable in my book. Tired? Ill? Too many lavish suppers chez Lady Londonderry? So—the jury’s out, I’d say, on his latest appointee—the holder of this new Office of State. Reform, eh? A broad canvas. I expect he’s treading on a lot of toes while he sets about marking out his territory.”
“And
I’m
thinking that perhaps the shepherd has found his dog,” Joe said. “In which case we should all be heaving a sigh of relief that it’s not Oswald Mosley he’s chosen to go haring about biting bums on his behalf! Do you think that could be so, Marcus? That what we’re looking at is no more than the tip of an iceberg? The visible bit of a political power struggle. How dull!”
“Dull for you and dull for me,” Marcus said thoughtfully. He began to rearrange the photographs to his further satisfaction.“Perhaps not for these poor little tiddlers. How do they come to be caught in the net? I’m thinking you’ll be needing all your nifty footwork to sort this lot out, Joe!”
“No nifty footwork expected. I find myself once again the tiniest cog in the affairs of state. I’m just required to do my job without snarling up the works. Insignificant.”
“Below the horizon isn’t a bad place to lurk in dangerous times,” Marcus commented. “It worked for Lord Nelson. Be insignificant but—make sure your cannon are primed and ready to go. Now tell me why young Truelove’s poaching on police preserves.”
He grinned and added: “And how you’re planning to confound him!”
CHAPTER 9
“W ith low cunning and a crunching right fist!” Dorcas answered for him. “His usual technique.”
She had entered unnoticed. She put down a glass of whisky in front of Joe, murmuring: “Glenmorangie with a teaspoon of chilled water,” and squeezed herself in beside him, smelling deliciously of something he thought he recognised. Roses and sandalwood. He’d left a bottle of expensive scent under Lydia’s tree for her Christmas present.
“Lydia—before we get on to plotting the downfall of the government, may I just report a small domestic detail? I’ve exceeded orders upstairs. Everyone is happily bedded down, though not necessarily in their own bed or their own room. The girls are completely besotted by Jackie—insisted on taking him in with them for the night. He was playing up to this no end—told them he’d never spent a night in a room on his own until last night at Uncle Joe’s.”
“True enough,” Joe supported the boy’s assertion. “In India he would have been in the constant company of his Ayah. And then twenty-nine other boys in the dormitory at school.”
He hardly knew what he was saying. He was dealing with a blinding flash of memory that took him back through the years to a château crowded with children and showed him again theskinny girl struggling to appear grown up, all eyes and elbows and determination. She’d always known what to say to children when he’d been left mumbling.
“And the girls took pity on him?” Lydia nodded.
“Who wouldn’t? With those innocent blue eyes and that golden hair, he’s a baby Apollo! And can he ever tell a story!”
“But where have they settled?”
“All three are in Vanessa’s room. There’s a good fire in there and a big bed which Juliet has agreed to share with her sister. We all dragged the guest bed in for Jackie and put it next to them. I left him telling them an Indian ghost story. He doesn’t seem at all sleepy. Now, I overheard that last bit. Why, Joe, would you be thinking of locking antlers with my hero? It
was
my Sir James you
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