feathers in her hair.
A great day [she had written]. Why was I so nervous? The Mall was one long line of cars to the Palace gates with white feathers nodding in each one. There were people all along the roadside to watch us arriving. Then all at once we were walking down the long red carpets past the flunkeys and there were seven girls in white dresses in front of me, then four, three, two and one, then I heard my name and all I could think was gather the train up, step forward, right foot behind left, head bowed and down, down, count to three and then up again. I didn’t fall over or drop my flowers. And then the King said something about Father at the Coronation …
Someone tapped at Amy’s door.
‘It’s me. Can I come in? I can’t sleep at all.’
Isabel came in wrapped in her old dressing-gown, and sat down on the bed.
‘Are you scared?’ Amy asked, and she shook her head.
‘Not exactly. Just thinking how … important it all is. How did Peter look?’
‘Very handsome,’ Amy said truthfully. ‘And he was wonderful with Uncle Edward and the colonel and all the rest of them.’
‘He is, isn’t he? I look at him sometimes when we’re with people and I feel so proud of him, and yet I feel that I don’t know him at all, and that he isn’t the private kind of man he is when we’re alone together.’
‘Do you know the private man, as you call it?’
Isabel blushed. ‘Not … not altogether physically, if you mean that. Neither of us felt that that was the right thing to do. But I think I do understand him. When he asked me to marry him, everything seemed suddenly simple, and clear, and I knew that I should accept.’
‘I’m glad,’ Amy said softy.
They were silent for a moment, and then Isabel asked in a lighter voice, ‘What are you doing?’
‘Just writing in my diary. Or no, not even that. Looking back, instead of facing up to today. I was reading about the day I was presented. It seemed so important then, and so completely pointless now.’
Isabel laughed. ‘Oh dear, yes. I remember mine. I was directly behind Anne Lacy, who looked so beautiful no one could take their eyes off her. I could have been wearing trousers and a lampshade on my head and no one would have noticed.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. The Prince of Wales danced with you twice, the very same evening.’
‘Oh, do you remember? Mother thought our hour had come at last. Now you’ll have to marry him instead.’
‘Not a chance. I can never think of a word to say. Insipidity personified. I don’t know why Mother doesn’t try for him herself. She’s much more his type.’ They were still laughing, and Amy was thinking Is this the last time we’ll do this? when they heard quick, unsteady footsteps outside.
‘Is this a private party, my sisters, or can anyone join in?’
‘Richard.’
He was still wearing his school change coat, and his hair and trousers were soaked with rain.
‘I walked. From Soho, can you imagine? Tell me quickly, am I disinherited completely?’
‘Nothing was said. Father just gave us one of his white, silent looks when he realized you weren’t coming.’
‘Poor old tyrant. What about Mother?’
‘Worried about the table. You were promised to Lady Jaspert.’
‘Oh, dear God. Well, too late to worry now. And look, I’m not all bad. I’ve brought us this. The little man promised me that it was cold enough. Chilled further, I should think, by being hugged to my icy chest.’
From the recesses of his coat Richard produced a bottle of champagne. ‘Do you have any glasses in your boudoir, Amy, or shall I nip downstairs for some?’
‘You’ll have to go and get some. And change your clothes at the same time or you’ll get pneumonia.’
‘Well now, isn’t this snug?’ Richard reappeared in a thick tartan dressing-gown that made him look like a little boy again. He had rubbed his hair dry so that it stood up in fluffy peaks. He opened the champagne dexterously and poured it without spilling a drop.
‘Where have you been?’ Isabel asked. ‘It doesn’t matter about the party, and I’m glad you’ve turned up for the wedding itself, but you’re much too young to be wandering about in Soho, and drinking. Don’t pretend you haven’t been.’
‘I wouldn’t pretend to pretend,’ Richard said equably. He had developed the habit of looking out at the world under lowered eyelids that still didn’t disguise the quickness of his stare. He raised his glass to his sister. ‘Long life and happiness to you, Isabel. And I suppose that has to include Jaspert too. May his acres remain as broad as his beam and his fortunes in the pink like his face …’
‘Shut up, Richard,’ Amy ordered. ‘Where have you been?’
‘I came up on the four o’clock train like a good little boy. I was going to have tea with Tony Hardy at his publishing house and then come home to change. You remember Tony? As a matter of fact he’s coming to the wedding. I got Mother to ask him. D’you mind him being at your wedding, Bel?’
‘Not in the least.’
‘Good. It will be a help to me, you know, to have an ally amongst the ranks of duchesses. So, I went decorously to meet Tony at Randle & Cates and we talked about an idea I have. Then Tony suggested that we go across to the pub for a drink. Somehow one thing led to another, after that. We had dinner with a jazz singer and a woman who owns a nightclub, and about twenty others. It was a good deal more interesting than school supper and study hour, I can tell you. I lost Tony in the course of it all, and when I finally decided to extricate myself I realized that I had laid out my last farthing on your champagne and had to walk all the way back here in the rain. There you are. Nothing too culpable in that, is there?’
‘Tony Hardy should know better,’ Isabel said.
‘Unlike you, Tony knows that I can perfectly well take care of myself.’
‘I’m jealous,’ Amy told him. ‘I’ve never met a jazz singer in my life. Didn’t you look rather peculiar, a schoolboy amongst all those people?’
‘I was the object of some interest,’ Richard said with satisfaction, ‘but no one thought anything was peculiar. That’s the point, you see. Everything is acceptable, whatever it is.’
‘It’s not exactly the conventional way to behave.’ Isabel was frowning.
‘I’m not conventional. Surely you can’t condemn me for that? I don’t think Amy is, either. But you are, Isabel, and that’s why you’re going to marry Peter Jaspert tomorrow in the family lace and diamonds, in front of half the Royal Family and with your picture in all the dailies.’ Richard stood up and put his glass down with exaggerated care. Then he went and put his arms around his sister and hugged her. ‘I hope you’ll be so happy,’ he said seriously. ‘For ever and ever.’
Isabel smiled at him, her anxiety gone. ‘Thank you.’
They drank their champagne, and Amy made them laugh by recounting the excitements of her evening. ‘Every time Peter mentioned Ramsay MacDonald or the balance of payments or anything unconnected with horses or crops, Uncle Edward would shout “What? What? Can’t understand a thing the boy says.”’
At last Isabel stood up. ‘I’d better try and get some sleep. I think I’ll be able to, now I’ve had something to drink. Clever of you, Richard.’
‘Anything to help. I have to say one serious thing before you go.’
Isabel turned back again, alarm showing in her face.
‘What is it?’
‘It’s