here,’ she said and came to kiss me on the cheek. ‘We’ll have drinks on the lawn and then go inside for lunch. It’s impossible to eat out here when it’s so hot. I thought we might play tennis, but it is much too warm.’
‘I do play a little,’ I said. ‘They taught us at school, but I’m not terribly good.’
‘Nor am I,’ Mary confessed. ‘Paul is marvellous, of course. Eleanor was too … Did you like my cousin? He can be rather a tease but he isn’t too bad – at least not with me. My father doesn’t care for him much. They don’t get on, but they are always polite to each other for the sake of appearances.’
‘He seemed very pleasant,’ I said, letting the comment about her father pass.
‘Paul is charming when he wants to be, though he isn’t as nice as he was before the war. That changed him, I suppose. He hated every minute of it, but his father insisted he join up. He was in the Royal Flying Corps as a pilot. A lot of his friends were killed, but Paul was wounded and discharged a year or so before the end. He had a nervous breakdown and spent some months in hospital. I think Eleanor’s death had something to do with his illness lasting as long as it did.’
‘He was her brother?’
‘Yes, of course. And he absolutely adored her. I’m fond of Paul, but I don’t trust him as much as I did Eleanor. He … Well, he can be a bit odd at times.’
‘What do you mean, odd?’
Mary shrugged. ‘I’m not sure. Changeable might be a better word. I suppose he’s moody. Eleanor said it was because he is such a gifted pianist. Did you notice his hands?’
‘No, not particularly. Should I?’
‘He has beautiful hands, long fingers.’ She splayed her own. ‘I play the piano but not like Paul. I could listen to him for hours, but he is very private about his music. If he knows I’m listening without his permission he will stop.’
‘That is strange. Has he always been like that?’
‘No, not before the war. He used to play all the time then. Now he only opens the piano if he thinks he is alone.’
‘Have you ever asked him why he doesn’t want you to listen?’
‘No. Paul won’t answer questions like that these days. Eleanor knew how to coax him, but he just sulks if I try. Sometimes he sulks and I don’t see him for days.’
‘I shouldn’t like him much if he was like that with me.’
‘You probably would,’ Mary said with a sigh. ‘I like Paul despite his moods. I feel sorry for him because he is so unhappy. He hates his father. He never says as much, but I know. I understand him because …’ She broke off and frowned as if fearing she had said too much. ‘We are friends, even if it doesn’t sound like it.’
‘He is a complex character,’ I said. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like that. My father and brothers are very straightforward and uncomplicated.’
‘How many brothers have you got?’ She looked at me curiously.
‘Jon and Terry,’ I replied. ‘Jon was a pilot in the war, like your cousin. He joined as soon as he was old enough, but Terry is still at medical school. He is very clever and he’s going to be a doctor.’
‘It must be nice to have brothers. Do you have a sister?’
‘No. My father said three children to plague him were more than enough, but he’s always teasing us so it may just be that no more children came along.’
‘My mother had two miscarriages after me,’ Mary said. ‘Then I think they gave up trying. She slept alone. I don’t think she liked my father very much.’
‘Mary!’ I was shocked. ‘Surely that can’t be true?’
‘Yes, it is. He wasn’t always very nice to her, Amy, though he could be charming if he chose. I don’t know for certain, but I think …’ She broke off as a maid came out of the house carrying a tray. ‘Ah, here comes our iced lemon barley water. We’ll have some wine with our lunch, but this is nice on a hot day – don’t you think so?’
‘Yes, lovely.’
I sipped my drink and waited for Mary to continue what she’d been saying before the maid came out, but she didn’t. Instead, she started to talk about various functions she had been to and the people she had met. It was so peaceful, the only sound that of a blackbird trilling from the branches of a cherry tree.
‘We’re going to a performance by the Ballet Russe next week. They are performing the first showing of Stravinsky’s Les Noces. I don’t much want to go. Do you like the ballet, Amy?’
‘I’ve only been once with my school to see Swan Lake, but I enjoyed it – why don’t you want to go?’
‘We’re going with the Bradwells. Aunt Emily thinks the Bradwells are marvellous,’ she said and pulled a wry face. ‘That’s because Mr Bradwell was an equerry to the King before he retired. Their son is a major in the regular army. He must be forty or more, but she thinks he would be a perfect husband for me.’
‘You wouldn’t marry a man so much older than you, would you?’
‘No, certainly not. I wouldn’t have Major Bradwell whatever age he was. Besides …’ She wrinkled her nose in concentration. ‘I am not sure I want to marry anyone, Amy. My father and Aunt Emily both say I should marry into a good family but I don’t think I could unless I was in love. I’m not sure I’d want to, even then.’
‘I think it will be nice to be married, to the right man, of course.’
‘It might be worth trying if he was like Paul …’ She sighed. ‘That would never be allowed, of course.’
I thought I understood what she meant.
‘Cousins are allowed to marry, aren’t they?’
‘Not in my family. Aunt Emily certainly wouldn’t approve. She says there’s bad blood in the Ross side of the family and my father wants more than that for me. I think he hopes I’ll marry a viscount or something – and he doesn’t get on with Paul’s father. They had a huge row years ago.’
‘You wouldn’t really want to marry Paul – would you? Not if he’s so moody.’
‘Perhaps not.’ Mary looked thoughtful, unsure. ‘I’d rather marry Paul than most of the men I know, but it won’t happen. Daddy would do something to stop us.’ She shivered despite the heat of the sun, and once again I sensed something hidden – something that bothered her deeply. ‘No, I mustn’t even think of it.’
‘You might meet someone wonderful at a dance, Mary.’
‘I might,’ she agreed. ‘If I don’t I can always go off and become a nun or something.’
I laughed because there was mischief in her eyes and I believed she was joking.
‘Make the most of your Season first then, Mary.’
‘I intend to,’ she said and giggled. ‘My father is giving an evening party for my friends next Friday. Would you come, Amy? He phoned me and told me to ask whomever I want.’
‘He probably didn’t mean a shop girl, Mary.’
‘Daddy owns shops …’ She frowned, again seeming uncertain. It was becoming clear to me that Mary’s feelings about her father were very mixed. At times she seemed almost to fear him, at others to accord him a reluctant respect. ‘At least, I think he does. He owns all kinds of things. He won’t even ask who you are. I shall tell him I like you and he won’t care about anything else.’
‘Well …’ I hesitated and was lost as I saw the eagerness in her eyes. ‘I should like to come, Mary. What do I wear?’
‘A