Prudence

memory.

I was still laughing, when there was yet another knock on the door. This time it was Mrs Braddock.

‘And how are you, love? Feeling better, I hope. Now come along,’ she added to Lucasta, ‘you know Mr Ace said Miss Pru wasn’t to be bothered.’

‘I’m not bothering her,’ answered Lucasta. She turned to me. ‘Do you know, Mrs Braddock can do magic? She did some in the kitchen today…’

Mrs Braddock looked smug and smoothed down her apron, waiting, no doubt, for Lucasta to describe some particularly delicious concoction she’d run up that morning.

‘Well what is it?’ I said.

Lucasta gave a naughty giggle.

‘She can take all her teeth out and put them in again.’

I loved the Mulhollands, I loved them all, but I couldn’t cope with them at the moment. I couldn’t cope with the feverish cross-currents. I felt like the centre court net at the end of Wimbledon fortnight. All I wanted was to go back to the peace of Ace and me being shut up together. ‘It’s because I haven’t been well,’ I kept telling myself.

Mrs Braddock and Lucasta were shortly followed by Jack, back from the Borough engineer. When he’d finished grumbling about the builders and his hangover, he said, ‘Since I’m obviously not allowed to seduce you, or bring you a drink, shall we have a game of chess?’

‘All right,’ I said. ‘That would be fun.’

As we were setting up the board, Maggie wandered in and watched us sourly.

‘You never play with me,’ she said accusingly to Jack.

‘I do,’ protested Jack. ‘I played with you the other day.’

‘Ah yes,’ said Maggie bitterly, ‘but that was chess.’

On Sunday matters came to a head between the two of them. They had been to a drinks party at midday and carried on drinking through lunch, getting more and more stroppy. I wandered downstairs in the afternoon — it was my first time up. I felt dreadful, so exhausted in fact that I had to hang on to bits of furniture. I found Maggie in the drawing-room with the Sunday papers and a bottle. She had that sulky petulant look of a cat huddling on a window ledge to keep out of the rain.

Outside in the garden Wordsworth was chewing on one of the Sunday joint bones, and Coleridge, who’d already buried his, was walking round and round under the weeping ash tree wiping his face on the twigs. Jack, Ace and Lucasta were making a bonfire. Jack was pulling up undergrowth with the exuberance of too much alcohol, and fooling around with Lucasta. Ace was laughing and breaking up sticks. He was wearing a thick black sweater. I thought what a handsome trio they made, then collapsed on to the sofa wondering if it were possible to feel so weak.

‘Have you got Ace’s piece on Venezuela?’ I said.

‘Here,’ said Maggie, throwing the Review Section across to me. ‘It’s the only decent thing in the paper this week.’

They had given him a huge byline, and a picture, taken before he’d grown a moustache. He looked younger and much less sombre. He wrote very well. The prose was spare and economic, but his powers of observation were amazing. It was as though he had a hundred eyes like Argus. You could feel the heat and dust and despair of the rebels. You felt as though you were there.

‘It’s terribly good,’ I said in surprise.

‘I know. And he’s just as good on the box. That’s why he’s being head-hunted so much at the moment. God, I hate the country,’ she went on, refilling her glass. ‘Nothing to do for days on end, no one to drive me to the sea when I want to go to the sea. Nothing round me except sulky faces, and mine is the sulkiest of all. What shall we do now?’

In the end we settled down together to do a huge jigsaw puzzle of the New Avengers. It was all either of us were fit for. It was nearly dusk when Jack came in.

‘Hullo, lovely,’ he said to me. ‘How are you feeling?’

He was about to ruffle my hair; his hands smelt of wood smoke.

‘I wouldn’t,’ I said. ‘Ace won’t let me wash it. It’s coming off my head. I’m sure I’ve got scurf.’

‘I never get scurf,’ said Maggie smugly.

‘You’re too thick-skinned,’ remarked Jack, bending over the puzzle. ‘Bags I put in Joanna Lumley’s crutch. I’ll get it,’ he said as the telephone went.

‘Darling, how are you,’ we could hear him saying from the hall. ‘So sorry I missed you the other day. Why didn’t you pop in?’

‘I think this is a bit of Steed’s bowler hat,’ said Maggie.

‘Who is it?’ I whispered.

‘Well, we know her name’s “Darling”,’ said Maggie.

‘No, she’s being marvellous,’ Jack went on. ‘Kept us all in fits. She’s out with Ace at the moment, flying the kite. He bought her the most fantastic fox puppet back from the States. Yes, he thinks she’s terrific.’

Maggie stiffened, and her hand moved slower and slower over the puzzle, ears on elastic. It must be Fay on the other end.

For at least a quarter of an hour Jack had a very leisurely gossip about the family, Copeland, the Admiral, and Pendle having been up for the weekend. I didn’t dare look at Maggie. Jack must be still tight, or he’d never have made such a meal of it.

I glanced round. He was lounging on the hall chair, his feet up on a table, smiling into the telephone, utterly relaxed.

‘When do you want Lucasta back?’ he asked eventually.

There was a long pause. Maggie unseeingly shoved a bit of Steed’s umbrella into the sky.

‘But that’s marvellous,’ Jack went on enthusiastically. ‘That’s a real break. I’m so pleased for you, darling. Until Thursday? Of course we can. No problem. No don’t worry about that; we’ll have her birthday party here. We’ve had enough practice for Christ’s sake. You can’t possibly organize it if you’re working. Maggie’s got nothing to do.’ Maggie clenched a pile of sky up in her fist. ‘And Ace is here, and Pendle’s girlfriend Pru. She’s been ill, but Lucasta adores her and she’ll be on her feet by then, so there’s only my dear Mother to rot things up… You’ve booked a conjuror? Well tell him to come here instead, we’ll pay the petrol… Of course we will, it’ll be fun, don’t worry about a thing. If you get away early on Thursday, come to the party. I know Ace’d love to see you… OK then and good luck, darling.’

Maggie got up and poured herself a drink. Her hand was shaking so much she spilt most of it. Her green eyes blazed. She looked like the Queen in Snow White, and as quite as capable of cutting out Lucasta’s heart.

Jack wandered into the room, looking pleased with himself.

‘Well, well, well,’ he said.

It was extremely unwell. I wanted to hide under the sofa.

‘I suppose you want a drink,’ said Maggie softly.

‘You read me like a book,’ said Jack. ‘Rather a bad one admittedly.’

He was still tight.

‘That was Fay,’ he went on. ‘She’s got a small film part at the beginning of next week.’

‘Playing the back of the pantomime horse, I suppose,’ said Maggie.

‘So I said we’d keep Lucasta here.’

‘For how long?’ These words were dropped like pebbles into a deep, deep pool.

‘Until Thursday night. It doesn’t matter if she misses school.’

‘And who’s going to look after her?’ said Maggie.

Jack filled his glass. ‘Why you are, darling. It’ll do both you and Lucasta good to have some time together with me out of the way.’

‘I’ve got things to do. Tomorrow, Tuesday and Thursday.’

‘Well you’ll have to cancel them and think of someone else for a change,’ said Jack sharply, picking up the sports page. ‘Oh sod it, United lost again.’

‘I should have expected it of Fay,’ said Maggie belligerently. ‘Trust her not to give anyone any warning.’

‘She’s only just heard about the part,’ protested Jack.