‘So’s Jack,’ I said quickly.
Maggie looked at me out of the corner of her eyes.
‘Oh, Jack has very taking ways, particularly with other people’s girlfriends, and a very good line in smooth talk, just like his mum. But we’re hell together, we rat all the time. Now if I were married to Ace it would be different. I wouldn’t dare behave horribly. I’ve always wanted a man I can honour and obey.’
She really shocked me.
‘Let’s go and get Rose up,’ she said. ‘She should have finished her exercises by now.’
I took Rose some coffee, and Maggie went on ahead carrying my cigarette. Rose’s bedroom, quite unlike the rest of the house, was enchanting. All pink silk and rosebuds. She was fully made-up, wearing a pink negligee and painting her nails.
‘Darlings, you shouldn’t have bothered. It’s terrible to leave you on your own on your first day,’ she added to me, ‘but those wretched boys have rushed off to look at the mill. Jack’s like a little boy with a new toy.’
Maggie pulled a face behind her back.
‘They make the most lovely tweeds,’ said Rose. ‘Not quite my style but the Americans go wild about them. You’ll have to get Jack to give you a piece, and have it made up into a skirt when you get back to London.’
The telephone rang, and Maggie rushed off to answer it, but was back in a few seconds.
‘Some awful-sounding man for you, Rose,’ she said. Rose brightened, pinched one of my cigarettes and the matches and went out, carefully shutting the door behind her.
‘It’s that ghastly Copeland, Linn’s boyfriend,’ said Maggie, trying on one of Rose’s lipsticks and wiping it off on the counterpane. ‘He’s always hanging around. I once asked Jack what his childhood was like. He just said, “My mother was always in love.” ’
We couldn’t hear what Rose was saying, but her laugh rang out over and over again.
‘Copeland once told her she had a beautiful laugh,’ said Maggie sourly, ‘and she’s been behaving like a hyena ever since.’
‘Does she have lots of people after her?’ I asked.
‘Oh, millions,’ said Maggie. ‘Seems extraordinary, doesn’t it? She must be at least fifty; but I suppose she’s only a few years older than Bardot. I hope I have as much fun when I get to her age.’
‘What does Copeland do?’ I said.
‘Calls himself a writer, but we’ve never seen any evidence of it. He was attached to Manchester University, but he gave it up to write full time and pursue Rose.’
I wondered if he was the tall man I’d seen creeping out that morning. I examined Rose’s dressing-table. I’d never seen so many bottles. Her knowledge of make-up and skin care must be positively encyclopaedic. In the middle, tucked into a framed photograph of Jack, was a snapshot of a little girl with blonde hair and blue eyes.
‘Who’s she,’ I asked Maggie.
‘Lucasta, Jack’s child from his first marriage,’ said Maggie.
‘She’s ravishing,’ I said, and suddenly, as Maggie’s eyes narrowed, I realized I’d put my foot in it.
‘Well she certainly doesn’t get her looks from her mother,’ she said sharply. ‘Fay’s an old frump. I can’t think why Jack ever married her. And Lucasta’s so bloody spoilt, she winds Jack round her little finger. She’s terribly jealous of me of course.’
‘And you’re terribly jealous of her,’ I thought.
‘Does she come over here often?’
‘As little as I can help it. She’s an absolute menace when she does…’
Her outburst, however, was checked by Rose coming back pink with excitement.
‘Admiring my beautiful grandchild?’ she said, seeing me still holding the photograph. ‘Isn’t she a poppet? That was dear Professor Copeland,’ she went on. ‘He’s coming to dinner.’
‘There’s no one to cook,’ objected Maggie.
‘So there isn’t. Never mind. There’s buckets of drink and we can always go out. I thought we’d ask Admiral Walker and the Simons and have a little party.’
Maggie, who was gazing through the rain-smeared window at the grey sky and careering leaves, cheered up a bit. ‘It’s the last one we’ll have,’ she said. ‘You’ll have to give up your cakes and ale once Ace arrives.’
‘Yes,’ said Rose gaily, ‘I
And although they smoked their way through three packets of my cigarettes and I cooked and washed up lunch and tea and the thought of Pendle and Maggie was never far from my mind, that day was one of the happiest I spent with the Mulhollands. It was like being in the flat with Jane.
I can’t say the same of the evening. Pendle and Jack got home about six. Jack looked tired and headed straight for the drinks tray. Pendle kissed Rose, and ruffled — yes, actually ruffled — my hair. He seemed curiously elated.
‘I’m sorry we slunk off at the crack of dawn,’ he said to me, ‘but we’ve had a marvellous day. Jack’s done wonders with the mill. You should be proud of him, Maggie.’ He looked at her for the first time.
‘Oh I am, I am,’ she said.
‘Have you been all right?’ Jack asked me, pouring himself a tumblerful of whisky and not even bothering to dilute it with water.
‘She’s been perfect,’ said Maggie. ‘A walking cigarette machine and endless lovely food appearing on trays.’ There was a slight edge to her voice.
Jack smiled and said, ‘I expect you’ve waited on them hand and foot. My mother is the laziest woman in the world, but my wife runs her a close second.’ He squeezed Rose’s hand as he said this, but the look he directed at Maggie was decidedly unfriendly.
Pendle lit a cigarette. ‘People in boiler suits kept rushing up to me,’ he said, ‘telling me what a great thing Jack’s been for the Mill.’
‘He spends enough time there,’ snapped Maggie.
‘At least I get regular meals at the canteen,’ said Jack. ‘Did you get my blue suit out of the cleaners?’
‘No,’ said Maggie.
‘You’ve had all bloody day. Did you go down the house and talk to the plumber?’
‘No.’ Maggie’s lashes swept down over half her cheek.
‘Well, what the hell have you been doing?’
‘Entertaining lovely Pru,’ said Maggie, demurely. ‘I know what a fan of hers
Jack shot her a murderous look.
‘By the way, Lucasta’s coming next weekend,’ he said.
‘Christ,’ muttered Maggie, ‘that’s all we need.’
My blood froze as I looked at Pendle. His pale grey eyes were gleaming. He’s enjoying it, I thought. He likes them sniping at each other.
‘Professor Copeland and a few people are coming over this evening,’ said Rose.
‘Oh God!’ said Jack, draining his glass of whisky. ‘For once I thought we might get an early night.’
I felt very depressed as I went up to change. Then I thought, to hell with it. Where’s your fighting spirit? Put on your warpaint and three pairs of false eyelashes, and go out and get him.
I wore a very simple, very short tunic in coffee-coloured crepe, with a wide belt. At least I had a waist to belt, which is more than Maggie had, and I brushed my curls sleek to my head. I was pleased with my appearance. But it might just be the Mulholland’s mirrors — they were so dusty one tended to look good in them.
Jack, meeting me in the hall, gave an appreciative whistle.
‘You look like a Greek youth,’ he said.
‘Is that nice or nasty?’
‘Nice and extremely disturbing.’
I was pleased that Maggie wore a purple dress obviously bought before she put on weight. She had added black fishnet stockings, yesterday’s green belt and jade earrings.
‘That looks smart,’ mocked Jack. ‘It must have shrunk at the cleaners.’ Maggie scowled at him.
At that moment the door bell rang. Answering it, Jack found a man from the Inland Revenue, come to talk to Rose about her tax. He was pasty-faced and bald with a few strands of hair combed across his head, like anchovies across a boiled egg.
