Andrew Taylor - Bleeding Heart Square

‘No, it’s not,’ Lydia said. ‘There’s no need to be tactful. But it’ll do for the time being.’

Pamela’s eyes widened as they lingered on the pipe in the ashtray on the table. ‘Is it — is it all yours?’

‘Hasn’t Mother told you? This is my father’s flat.’

Pamela blinked. ‘Your father? But I thought he lived abroad.’

‘Not now. He came back.’

‘I see.’ Pamela smiled. ‘Anyway, I’m glad I’m here at last. It’s been horrible without you.’

Lydia turned aside to pick up yesterday’s evening paper from the sofa. ‘Won’t you sit down?’

Her sister fluttered onto the sofa, where she perched like an expensive bird. She opened her handbag and took out a cigarette case with a diamante clasp, rather dressy for a morning call.

‘I’m afraid I can’t offer you coffee,’ Lydia said. ‘Would you like tea instead?’

‘Not for me, darling.’ She held out the cigarette case.

Lydia shook her head. ‘How did you get the address?’

‘I asked Mother.’ Pamela lit a cigarette. ‘I do think you’re a beast not to write.’

‘Sorry,’ Lydia said.

‘Did you get my note with the invitation?’

Lydia nodded.

‘I wish you’d sent me a postcard or something. Or rung me up. I’ve been worried about you. Why did you do a bunk?’

‘Marcus and I haven’t been getting on very well.’

Pamela pursed her lips. ‘Are you sure it’s not just one of those things that marriages go through? You know, one of those things they warn you about in the instruction manuals: for better or worse, richer or poorer, all that sort of thing.’

Lydia shook her head.

‘He’s always been as nice as pie to me.’

‘You’re not married to him, Pammy.’

Her sister exhaled slowly, squinting at her through the smoke. ‘You’ve changed. I don’t know, you’re … You seem harder. I know it must be nice to see your father after all these years’ — her tone suggested the opposite — ‘but it can’t be much fun living like this. I mean, how do you manage with things like cooking and washing?’

‘With difficulty,’ Lydia said. ‘Like most people, I suppose.’

‘Mother says you’ve got a job.’

‘I work in a solicitor’s office.’

‘How amusing.’

‘I’m one down from the office boy. Part-time. Ten bob a day.’

‘But that’s frightful. Do you actually need some money? It never occurred to me. But I’ve got-’ She broke off and reached for her handbag.

‘No,’ Lydia said. ‘Thank you, but no. It’s very kind of you, but I’m managing very well.’

Pamela subsided. She stubbed out her cigarette and leant forward. ‘Actually, it was Mother who suggested I come and see you.’

Lydia said warily, ‘What does she want you to do?’

‘Just to see if you’re all right. She is awfully upset, you know.’

Lydia nodded. There had never been much wrong with Lady Cassington’s intelligence. Their mother had calculated not only that Lydia might refuse to see her but that she would want to see Pammy; and also that, for Pammy’s sake, Lydia would keep quiet about what she had seen on Sunday morning. That, of course, assumed that Lady Cassington had realized that Lydia had seen her in flagrante with Lydia’s husband.

Marcus is being very patient. But he’s a man, you know, and men have needs .

‘Anyway,’ Pamela went on, ‘I must tell you my news. Rex Fisher has asked me to marry him.’

‘Mother thought he might. Are you pleased?’

‘Of course I am. I mean, it’s always nice to be asked.’

‘And what did you say?’

‘I said I needed to think about it. And talk it over with Fin and Mother, of course. It doesn’t do to seem too eager, you know.’

Lydia thought that her sister had a point. She herself had worn her devotion to Marcus on her sleeve. When he had asked her to marry him, he hadn’t even waited for her answer. He had taken it for granted she would say yes, and so had she and everyone else.

‘But I will say yes, of course. I know he’s dreadfully old. I looked him up — he’ll be forty-one next birthday. On the other hand, he’s very well preserved, apart from the slightly gammy leg, but that’s just a war wound. All his own teeth, and he doesn’t look silly in a bathing suit. And on the practical side there’s the money and the title. I know some people say the Fishers are trade, but that’s all nonsense nowadays. It’s only snobs who say that. Nobody else cares.’ She took out another cigarette. ‘He gave me this case, actually. Isn’t it pretty?’

‘Charming. Is it silver and enamel?’

‘Platinum, darling. Did you know that Rex’s almost certainly going to stand for Parliament? I do like a man who does something, don’t you? Fin says he’ll probably end up in the Cabinet. I say, wouldn’t it be fun if he and Marcus were in the House together? It’s perfectly possible if Mosley decides to field a few candidates in the next election. They’re just the sort of men he’d want. They won’t frighten the left-wingers or spit in the Lobby. And above all they’re not decrepit .’ She flashed a smile at Lydia. ‘Anyway, it’s all the more reason for you to go back to Marcus, darling. Then we can be political wives together. We can start a salon and invite lions every Tuesday evening. Think what fun we can have.’

She began to giggle, and Lydia found herself first smiling and then laughing.

‘That’s better,’ Pamela said. ‘You’ve been looking ever so solemn. And hardly any make-up, either.’

‘Do you love him?’

‘Rex? I suppose so. I like him, and he makes me laugh. He makes me feel safe too. I’m sure everything else will come naturally after we’re married.’

‘Wouldn’t it be better if you were in love with him now?’

‘As you were with Marcus?’

‘That wasn’t love. That was idolatry. And it’s all over now.’

Pamela stretched out her hand and took Lydia’s. ‘Look, Lydia. I’m twenty-one. I’ve been out for years . The only people who’ve wanted to marry me have been quite unsuitable. Either they hadn’t got a bean or they were perfectly loathsome. And now here’s Rex. He may not be absolutely perfect but he’s streets ahead of the competition. The odds are, I’m not going to get a better offer. One has to face facts.’

Lydia said nothing but she returned the pressure of her sister’s hand.

‘Incidentally, if you’d rather not bump into Marcus, I shouldn’t go out this morning.’

‘Why? Is he outside?’

‘No. Not exactly — and he’s not coming here as far as I know. But he and Rex are visiting a BUF branch in Clerken-well this morning. And Rex said they were going to call at Rosington Place because he needs to see someone who lives opposite where you work.’

‘Not many people live in Rosington Place. It’s mainly offices now. Including mine.’

‘Well, that’s what Rex said. They were calling on someone who lives there.’

‘Anyway, there isn’t a house opposite our office. It’s an old chapel.’

‘There we are then,’ Pamela said with another giggle. ‘I expect Rex and Marcus are calling on God.’

Tuesday, 11 March 1930

Men are such BRUTES. My hand trembles so badly I can hardly hold the pen. I am writing this by candlelight in our room at the Alforde Arms. Yes, OUR room. Joseph is in the bar downstairs talking to some men of the village .

He didn’t mean us to spend the night here. The plan was that we would come down to Morthams Farm for the day and make a list of what we needed to buy, and discuss what would have to be done to make the house ready for us to move in. The trouble began on the train from Liverpool Street. There was a young woman in the compartment — I really cannot call her a lady — wearing a great deal of lipstick, black satin high-heeled shoes, a vulgar little cloche hat and a very short skirt. She pretended to have trouble lifting her case onto the rack, and Joseph sprang to his feet and helped her. It was the way he did it. And the way she responded. I doubt if the horrid girl was more than eighteen — a mere child, which made it worse .