September

without a fire for companionship, was like a person without a heart, and only on the hottest days of summer was it ever allowed to go out. He found matches, lit the paper in the hearth, waited until the kindling crackled, added logs. The flames leaped up the chimney, warming and lighting, bringing the room alive. Thus he contrived his own welcome and felt marginally cheered.

He watched the flames for a bit, then put on the fire-guard and made his way back to the kitchen. He unloaded the whisky and the gin and put them in the cupboard, and then carried his suitcase and the Duty-Free bag upstairs. The ticking of the grandfather clock accompanied his tread. He crossed the landing and opened the door of their bedroom.

'Edmund.'

She was there, had been in the house all the time. She sat at her dressing-table and was engaged in painting her nails. The room, so spacious and feminine-dominated by the enormous king-size double bed draped in antique- white linen and lace-was, uncharacteristically, in a state of some disarray. Shoes lay about, a pile of folded clothes stood stacked on a chair, wardrobe doors hung open. On one of these doors, from a padded hanger, was suspended Virginia's new evening dress, the one she had bought in London especially for the occasion tonight. The skirt, flaring out in layers of some filmy material, was spattered with a confetti of black spots. Without her inside it, it looked a bit sad and empty.

Across the room, they eyed each other. He said, 'Hi.'

She wore her white towelling robe and had washed her hair and set it on the huge rollers that Henry always told her made her look like some monster from outer space.

'You're back. I never heard the car-'

'I parked it by the garage. I thought there was nobody around.'

He carried the suitcase through to his dressing-room and set it down on the floor. All his evening clothes were laid out on the single bed. His kilt, stockings, skean dhu, evening shirt, jacket, and waistcoat. The buttons of these shone like stars, as did the silver buckles on his shoes.

He went back into the bedroom. 'You cleaned my buttons.' 'Edie did.'

'That was kind.' He went over to her side and stooped to give her a kiss. 'A present for you.' He put the box on her dressing-table.

'Oh, lovely. Thank you.' She had finished painting her nails, but the varnish had not yet dried. She sat with fingers outspread, from time to time blowing on them to speed the process up. 'How was New York?'

'Okay.'

'I didn't expect you back so soon.'

'I caught the early shuttle.'

'Are you tired?'

'I won't be when I've had a drink.' He lowered himself onto the edge of the bed. 'Is there anything wrong with the telephone?'

'I don't know. It rang about five minutes ago, but only once, and then it stopped.'

'I answered it downstairs, but it went dead.'

'It's done that once or twice today. But it's working for outgoing calls.'

'Have you reported it?'

'No. Do you think we should?'

'I'll do it later.' He leaned back on the piles of pillows, his head against the quilted bedhead. 'How have things been with you?'

She inspected her nails. 'All right.'

'And Henry?'

'I don't know about Henry. I haven't heard and I haven't telephoned.' She looked at him, and her brilliant blue gaze was cool. 'I thought that perhaps telephoning was not quite the right thing to do. Untraditional, perhaps.'

Which made it abundantly clear that he was not forgiven. But this was not the time to pick up the gauntlet and precipitate yet another row.

'Did you get him to Templehall?'

'Yes. I drove him. He didn't want to go with Isobel, so we took Hamish with us. Hamish was in one of his most disagreeable moods, Henry never said a single word the entire journey, and it peed with rain the whole way. Apart from that, it was a picnic.'

'He didn't take Moo with him, did he?'

'No, he didn't take Moo.'

'Thank God for that. And Alexa?'

'She arrived yesterday morning, with Noel.'

'Where are they now?'

'I think they took the dogs out for a walk. After lunch they had to go to Relkirk to pick up Lucilla's dress from the cleaner's. We had an SOS from Croy. The dress had been forgotten, and they're all so busy getting the dinner party together that nobody had time to go.'

'So what else has been happening?'

'What else has been happening? Vi had her picnic. Verena's had us all at her beck and call like slaves, and Edie's cousin has gone back to hospital.'

Edmund raised his head a fraction, as an alert dog will prick its ears. Virginia, her nails now satisfactorily dry and hard, took up the package that he had brought her, and began to tear off the cellophane wrapping.

'She's gone back?'

'Yes.' She opened the box and drew out the bottle, square-cut and opulent, the stopper ringed with a bow of velvet ribbon. She unscrewed the stopper and dabbed a little on her neck. 'Delicious. Fendi. How kind. I've been wanting this scent, but it's too expensive to buy for oneself.'

'When did this happen?'

'Lottie, you mean? Oh, a couple of days ago. She became so impossible that Vi insisted. She should never have been discharged in the first place. She's insane.'

'What did she do?'

'Oh, talked. Meddled. Made mischief. She wouldn't leave me alone. She's evil.'

'What did she say?'

Virginia, turned back to the mirror, began, slowly, to take the pins out of her rollers. One by one, she laid them on the plate glass of the dressing table. He watched her profile, the line of her jaw, the curve of her lovely neck.

'Do you really want to know?'

'I shouldn't ask if I didn't.'

'All right. She said that you and Pandora Blair were lovers. Years ago, the time of Archie and Isobel's wedding, when Lottie was a housemaid at Cray. You always said that she listened at doors. She doesn't seem to have missed a trick. Describing it all to me, she made it quite vivid. She became quite excited. Turned on, one might say. She said that it was because of you that Pandora ran off with her married man and never came home again. That it was all your fault. And now…' One of the rollers was being stubborn, and Virginia jerked at it, trying to free it, tugging at and tangling her corn-coloured hair. '… now she is saying that you are the reason that Pandora has come back to Croy. Nothing to do with the party tonight. Nothing to do with Archie. Just you. She wants to start it up all over again. To get you back.'

Another jerk and the roller was loose, and Virginia's eyes were watering with agony. Edmund watched her, scarcely able to bear the pain that she was inflicting upon herself.

He remembered the evening when he had encountered Lottie in Mrs. Ishak's supermarket, and how she had buttonholed him. He had recoiled from her distasteful presence. He remembered her eyes, her pallid skin, her moustache, and the useless fury that she had kindled within him, so that he had come very close to losing his temper and inflicting upon her grievous bodily harm. He recalled the stirring of a dreadful apprehension. An apprehension well-founded, for now it seemed it had come to this.

He said coldly, 'She is lying.'

'Is she, Edmund?'

'Do you believe her?'