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  Mina carefully set out the pieces on the backgammon board, put the dice ready in their cups and waited for Nest to position her chair comfortably. In the corner of the room, Inspector Morse, with the faithful Lewis, was solving Oxford’s crime whilst Georgie watched alertly, muttering excitedly from time to time.

  Mina threw a five, Nest a two, and Mina began to move her counters.

  ‘Georgie came into my room again last night.’ Nest spoke quietly but normally, knowing that the noise of the television would mask her actual words, not wishing to attract attention by sounding conspiratorial.

  ‘Oh, no!’ Mina fumbled with her dice as she put them back into the cup, looking at her anxiously. ‘What happened?’

  ‘I was out for the count.’ Nest threw her dice. Double four. ‘To begin with, I wondered if it was a dream. You know what it’s like when you take a sleeping pill? You feel drugged.’ She began to move her counters. ‘She thought I was Mama, lying down in the morning-room. She couldn’t understand why.’

  She finished her move and Mina threw her dice, six and four, and frowned at the board.

  ‘Did she say anything . . . well, anything silly?’ Mina’s hand hovered over a counter.

  ‘She said that she knew Mama’s secret and asked if she should tell it.’

  Mina’s hand trembled a little; she moved her counter quickly and then put both hands in her lap.

  ‘And did she?’ she asked, quite casually. ‘Did she tell this secret?’

  Nest made her move, taking one of Mina’s undefended counters as she did so.

  ‘No,’ she answered. ‘I managed to catch hold of her. She was leaning over me, you see, whispering.’

  Nest watched Mina give a tiny shudder as she threw her dice. ‘How horrid for you.’

  ‘It was, rather. I managed to grapple with her. And then I said that it was me, Nest.’

  ‘Oh, trust me to throw a double six when I can’t use it. Your turn. So what did she say then?’

  ‘There was a bit of a silence. Then she said, “I know a secret about you too,” or something like that. “Shall I tell it?” she asked me.’

  Nest deftly moved her counters out of an imminent danger and glanced across the table at her sister. Mina looked old and tired; her frailty filled Nest with love and remorse.

  ‘And did she?’ Mina could barely frame the words. ‘Did she tell you what she knows?’

  ‘No.’ Nest shook her head. ‘I shouted at her. Well, I think I did, it was all so hazy, but perhaps it was stupid of me. I’m beginning to think that it would be more sensible if we confronted her and found out exactly what it is she does know. If anything.’

  ‘No,’ said Mina quickly. ‘No, I don’t think so.’

  They stared at each other across the forgotten game and, quite suddenly, loud music and the sound of commercials crashed ear-splittingly into the room. Nest winced and, just as suddenly, there was silence.

  ‘Sorry,’ said Georgie cheerfully. ‘I turned the thingy the wrong way.’ She got up and came towards them. ‘I’ve seen this one before. It’s the don who did it. Funny, isn’t it? You’d never expect the things that happen in Oxford, would you? I always thought that Oxford dons were such respectable people.’ She peered at them, eyes bright. ‘Shall I get the tray in while the commercials are on? The coffee’s all ready, isn’t it? Just pour boiling water in the jug?’

  She went away. Nest bit her lip and Mina reached to touch her hand.

  ‘I was dreaming about Connor, you see.’ Nest spoke rapidly. ‘Remembering those years after the war and Timmie going off to Sandhurst. Mina, do you remember the day Connor called on you here that very first time?’

  Mina took a slow, deep breath, her gaze drifting away from Nest’s face, looking back to a long-past June day.

  ‘Yes,’ she said gently. ‘Yes, of course I do. We were in the garden after lunch. I was putting out some bedding plants and Henrietta was talking to me. She’d brought out a garden chair and was sitting smoking, chatting while I worked. Mama was resting. Henrietta was being naughty about Mama disapproving of her slacks. You know how old-fashioned Mama was about things like that? They were quite beautiful, I have to say, in a delicious navy-blue linen. Superbly cut, of course, and she was wearing a bright yellow shirt . . .’

  ‘Go on,’ said Nest grimly. ‘I can imagine the scene.’

  ‘Well, Connor came walking down the drive – of course we had no idea who he was – and introduced himself and explained that it had seemed rather pushy to sweep in with the car and so on. He apologized for calling unannounced but said he’d been passing and that he’d met you at a party and you’d told him to drop in.’ She paused, thinking back, cudgelling her memory.

  ‘Go on,’ whispered Nest urgently, listening for Georgie.

  ‘Henrietta was enchanted by him. She got up and said something like, “I didn’t know my baby sister had such good sense,” and introduced herself. He took her hand and bowed over it but you could see,’ Mina’s voice was dragging, hesitating – ‘Go on!’ said Nest fiercely – ‘that he was bowled over by her. I have to say that she looked sensational. She was so . . . breathtakingly English. A dark-haired Grace Kelly. It was as if he’d been suddenly blinded. It was the true coup de foudre – I recognized it because I’d been there once, myself – and he shook my hand in a complete daze. I offered him some tea and he said that he’d love some – oh! but he was charming with that faint touch of the Irish – and Henrietta carried him off to help her make it. I think she was afraid that I might make eyes at him.’ Mina paused. ‘You must remember,’ she pointed out, ‘that he was much more our generation than yours.’

  ‘You don’t have to remind me,’ answered Nest bitterly. ‘Once he’d clapped eyes on Henrietta I must have looked like a raw, tongue-tied schoolgirl. That’s what he said when he wrote to me, you know? Not in those words but it’s what he meant. Oh, he didn’t mention that he was dating Henrietta, of course – I found out about that much later – but he talked about the difference in our ages. Cradle-snatching, I think he called it. He took me out to tea first, if you remember? He wanted to do the honourable thing and tell me face to face but, afterwards, he wrote to me, to confirm it, you might say. I think he suspected that I’d simply refused to take it in, that I’d go on hoping, and he was absolutely right. In the letter, he repeated what he’d said in that wretched tea-room, that he’d given it a great deal of thought and he’d realized that it would be wrong of him to let our friendship develop any further. He said that the romantic way we’d met had put a whole false impression on it and that I’d soon find that my feelings for him were simply infatuation, a schoolgirl crush. He was very, very kind.’ She stared across the neglected backgammon board at Mina. ‘I learned that letter by heart,’ she said bleakly.

  ‘Here we are!’ Georgie was back with them, carrying the tray. ‘Oh, it’s started again.’ Mina and Nest stared guiltily at the silently mouthing, gesticulating Morse. ‘You should have shouted.’ She looked at them reproachfully.

  ‘Well, if you’ve seen it before I expect you’ll soon pick it up,’ said Mina pacifically. ‘We got carried away by our game.’

  Georgie stood the tray on the low table by the fire and came to look at the board.

  ‘Looks a bit messy,’ she said critically. ‘Remember the day when I gammoned you, Mina?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Mina, smiling. ‘I remember it very well. It was jolly clever stuff. You’d better get back to Morse and I’ll pour the coffee and make Nest’s tea.’

  Captain Cat and Nogood Boyo came from their beds, ears pricked hopefully, and she fed them a morsel of shortbread, murmuring her love words to them and taking a piece to Polly Garter, who was still curled on her beanbag. By the time she got back to the board, with her coffee and Nest’s mug of herbal tea, the moment of confidence was past and they played in silence, each locked into her thoughts of the past, until the game was over.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Helena and Rupert arrived late on Satu
rday morning, by which time all three sisters were in a state of nervous tension. Georgie was, by turns, either capriciously critical of the arrangements made for their comfort or petulantly indifferent, as if she’d suddenly remembered exactly why she was at Ottercombe in the first place. Nest had slept badly, reliving those days of Connor’s rejection but unwilling to take another sleeping-pill, and looked exhausted. Mina, ploughing steadily onwards, disregarding Georgie’s sudden switches of mood but anxious for Nest, was still trying to come to some decision as to whether or not she should insist that Georgie should be removed.

  The previous night she had sent an e-mail to Elyot.

  From: Mina

  To: Elyot

  My dear friend I am in a state of guggle. There is no doubt that Georgie has opened Pandora’s box and all our skeletons are tumbling out. Or am I mixing my metaphors? First me and Tony Luttrell, now Nest and Connor. I simply do not know what to do for the best . . .

  From: Elyot

  To: Mina

  Wait, wait until the moment shows its hand. These things so often resolve themselves and we need the patience to let ourselves be carried. Oh dear! How simplistic that sounds – and so much easier written than done! Don’t I know it. Just don’t give in, dear old friend, but let me know how the day went – if you have any strength left by the end of it . . .

  So Mina had gone to bed, determined to take his advice, holding Lydia’s carved, wooden rosary, allowing the beads to slip between her fingers, until a measure of calm possessed her weary brain and she’d slept. She’d risen refreshed, surprisingly peaceful, but Georgie’s mood-swings and Nest’s look of patient suffering gave rise to anxiety that she was unable to control. It was almost a relief when Rupert and Helena arrived and they all went out to meet them.

  ‘Mother!’ Helena swung herself enthusiastically out of the car and hurried to the waiting Georgie as if they’d been kept forcibly apart for months. ‘How are you?’ She held her at arm’s length. ‘Looking very well.’

  She beamed tenderly into Georgie’s sulky, watchful face and Nest felt an overwhelming urge to burst into hysterical laughter. She caught Mina’s eye but Mina stared back at her expressionlessly, daring her to grin, although Nest knew that she too longed to chuckle. Rupert was approaching, having carefully locked and alarmed the car – ‘Does he think that there are car thieves hidden in the garden?’ asked Mina indignantly, later – and smiled graciously upon them. He kissed each of them lightly on the cheek and took Georgie’s unresponsive hands.

  ‘Well, Ma-in-law,’ he said jovially, with all the brutal condescension of a senior master to a young and foolish pupil, ‘have you been behaving yourself?’

  Georgie stared up at him: humiliation stiffened her jaw and squared her thin shoulders whilst the colour flowed into her pale cheeks. She freed her hands, firmly but politely, and turned away from him.

  Mina and Nest looked at one another – ‘It was at that point,’ Nest said, afterwards, ‘that I knew we couldn’t ask for her to be taken away. My God! He is such a pompous prat of a man!’ – and both broke into speech, urging the whole party into the house.

  It was clear that Helena was ashamed of Rupert’s patronizing behaviour, though she refused to side against him. Too many of Georgie’s cruel cuts and slights over the long years had sliced away at her love for her mother until only the bare bone of filial affection was left for this elderly woman, who had consistently withheld any shred of diplomacy or generosity with respect to her daughter or her husband. Helena knew that Rupert was at his worst with her mother and her family and, embarrassed though she might be, yet she could understand that it was his own past humiliations at her mother’s hands that reinforced his own least likeable mannerisms in her presence.

  Georgie had heard the words ‘As you sow so shall you reap’ but it had never occurred to her that they would ever ultimately apply directly to her and, now, she turned into the house, mortified, resentful and powerless. Mina, who had some idea of the reasoning behind the behaviour of all three of them – and a certain degree of sympathy for both Helena and Rupert – was nevertheless a prey to sibling solidarity and was relieved to see that Nest, for the same reason, was firmly supporting Georgie.

  It seemed, after all, that Elyot was right: the moment had showed its hand and the situation was resolved almost before they’d begun. Nothing occurred to change their minds. The meeting, having got off to an unfortunate start, continued to deteriorate. Helena, refusing to disapprove of Rupert’s continuing pomposity yet attempting to restore Georgie’s pride, fell between all the stools. Her desperation to shield her husband whilst ameliorating the situation with her mother became too painful to watch and, after lunch, Mina announced that she was taking the dogs for a walk down to the beach. For one brief moment, Nest was truly tempted to break her self-imposed rule and ask to go with her but Mina, not guessing this, added that this was Nest’s rest time.

  ‘I expect that the three of you would like to have some time together,’ she said brightly and, without waiting for anyone to agree with this optimistic statement, she seized Nest’s chair and pushed her firmly out of the drawing-room and into her bedroom, closing the door behind them.

  For a moment they stared at one another fearfully, almost as if they expected one of the others to come rushing after them, before Nest let out a gasp of relief whilst Mina collapsed on Nest’s bed.

  ‘Do you realize,’ asked Nest, presently, ‘that we have nearly twenty-four more hours of this hell to get through?’

  ‘Don’t,’ said Mina. ‘Just don’t. At least you can plead exhaustion or pain, or something, and escape.’

  ‘Poor Georgie,’ said Nest. ‘Oh, wasn’t it horrid? She looked so utterly humiliated.’

  ‘Yes.’ Mina hesitated for a second, wondering whether she should attempt to put forward Helena and Rupert’s point of view but decided against it. It was as if she had been given an answer to her prayer and, that being so, it would be wrong now to cloud the issue. ‘Poor old Georgie. I think, after all, that she’ll be better off in that home.’

  ‘So do I,’ agreed Nest at once. ‘Anyway, did you hear Rupert say that they’re off for a week’s holiday? In which case it looks as if we haven’t much choice. Honestly, Mina, Rupert is the end!’

  They talked together for a little longer but by the time Mina set out on her walk, the decision had been taken.

  From: Mina

  To: Elyot

  . . . and, to be honest, nothing happened to make us change our minds. It’s very sad that they don’t get on better as a family but it’s too late to turn the clock back and, after all, Georgie will only be with us for three more weeks. It was odd, and very endearing, to see Nest’s volte face in the light of Georgie’s humiliation. I pray that nothing happens now to make her regret it. I can’t really imagine anything that could precipitate such a disaster . . .

  At half-past ten on Monday morning, after a long walk beside Malpas creek, round the ornamental lake and home again, Lyddie settled a weary Bosun in the yard, checked his bowl of cold water and gave him a biscuit. He looked at her pathetically, ears flattened, but she patted him briskly and gave him a quick kiss on the nose.

  ‘I shan’t be long,’ she told him, ‘but I simply have to do some clothes shopping and I can’t drag you round with me. You can have a good, long sleep and we’ll go out again later. Good boy!’

  He watched her go back into the kitchen and heard the key turn in the lock; when he heard the front door slam and her footsteps going away, he sighed heavily and began to crunch his biscuit. Ten minutes later he was deeply asleep.

  Lyddie heard the cathedral bell chime the third quarter as she passed down Pydar Street. It was a bright, crisp October morning and she was glad of her wool jacket although the cold air was invigorating. Even after her long walk with the Bosun, she felt full of energy and was enjoying a sense of freedom. An author had been late submitting his manuscript, a long novel, and Lyddie was in the unusual position of having a two-week
slot booked and no work. For some reason she couldn’t quite define, she hadn’t told Liam about this unexpected bonus: she’d decided to chill out a little, to do some shopping and perhaps pop in to The Place at lunchtime: something she very rarely did.

  She spent some time in the Body Shop and then headed for the Mounts Bay Trading Company, where she bought a charming silk and wool cropped jersey and hesitated longingly over a narrow, elegant skirt in dark green, soft merino wool.

  ‘I’ll think about it,’ she told the assistant laughingly. ‘No, no, don’t tempt me any more! Put it back on the hanger. I’ll have some coffee and brood on it.’

  She hurried out into the bright sunshine, back to Boscawan Street, wondering whether to check out the Jaeger shop in Lemon Street before deciding on the merino skirt. There was a small queue at the bank and she glanced at her watch as she waited to draw some money: it was nearly half-past eleven. Should she have coffee at the patisserie in Lemon Street or go to The Terrace? Lyddie pushed her card into the slot, tapped in her code and waited. Of course, she could have coffee at The Place – but almost instantly she rejected the thought. It was much more likely that Liam would spare half an hour to have lunch with her than to stop for coffee. After all, he’d have to eat at some point – and it would be fun to have a little extra time together.

  For the last few days he’d been on brilliant form: amusing, tender, passionate. She’d begun to believe that the ‘No Thoroughfare’ sign was beginning to come down and a new way forward was opening up to them after all. She’d decided that the time was very nearly right to talk to him about her longing for a child: to suggest that it was time they started a family. Putting the cash into her purse, peeping at her new jersey, remembering last night, with its long, languorous hours of glorious, heart-stopping love, Lyddie thought: I am happy. She paused for a moment, aware of nothing but untinged, pure joy; a few seconds in which nothing else existed but this upward-winging sensation. The man behind her in the queue shifted and cleared his throat and Lyddie smiled blindingly at him before turning away.