‘The fairies forgot to come.’
‘They’re terribly busy at this time of year,’ he said, ‘helping Father Christmas sort out all the toys. Sometimes they turn up a bit late.’
‘Why don’t you try again tonight?’ I said.
‘Keep her here,’ Ace mouthed to me over Lucasta’s head.
‘That’s a nice nightie,’ I said.
Lucasta sniffed. ‘Can I have a sweet?’
‘It’s a bit early. Would Maggie let you?’
‘Oh Maggie doesn’t mind what I do,’ said Lucasta bitterly. ‘She likes me being naughty, then she can grumble to Daddy.’
She unwrapped the lemon sherbet, dropping the paper on the floor.
‘Shall I draw you a picture?’
‘Why don’t you do one for Maggie?’
‘I hate her.’
‘If you were nicer to her, she might be nicer to you,’ I said. ‘And Daddy’d be so pleased.’
‘Daddy doesn’t like her. He’s always shouting at her. What’s a “slut”, by the way?’
‘That’s enough, Lucasta,’ said Ace, coming back again. ‘For very special people, the fairies work overtime. Why don’t you go and have another look?’
‘All right then,’ said Lucasta, and scampered off.
‘Poor little sod,’ said Ace, ‘too much spoiling, too little attention. Look, I’m going into Manchester today. The BBC want to see me, and I’ve got to have dinner with the Granada people tonight. I thought I might as well kill two birds. Will you be all right?’
‘Of course I will,’ I said quickly. ‘Oh, do look at McGonagall.’
The kitten, having pounced on Ace’s shoe laces, frenziedly pedalling at them with all paws, suddenly shot up his trouser leg, leaving only a ginger tail sticking out.
‘The fairies have come, the fairies have come,’ screamed Lucasta, thundering down the passage. ‘They’ve left me 50p. I must go and show Granny.’
‘You make a lovely fairy,’ I said to Ace, after she’d gone.
‘Wish I could magic up some fairy gold to pay a few bills,’ said Ace. ‘Talk about walking into the valley of Debt.’
It was a relief to joke. I was still dismayed how much I disliked the thought of him going off all day.
‘If you don’t overdo things,’ he said as he was leaving, ‘I’ll drive you down to the sea tomorrow.’
‘Can I wash my hair?’ I said.
‘No, I’m not risking you catching cold.’
I got up for lunch, still feeling very shaky. I was appalled at my appearance in the mirror. I’d lost pounds, and my hair was hanging round my grey little face like damp seaweed. I couldn’t go out with Ace looking like this. I heard voices whispering outside.
‘You ask her,’ I could hear Rose saying.
‘No you ask her,’ said Maggie. ‘It sounds better coming from you. Anyway she seems to rather like children.’
I opened my door. They were in the passage dressed to go out. I felt so pale and drab beside them.
‘Darling,’ said Rose, ‘Mrs Braddock’s going to Bingo this afternoon. She’s been so grumpy recently, I thought she needed cheering up, and Maggie and I are going out to lunch in Ambleside, so we thought you wouldn’t mind looking after Lucasta.’
After lunch Lucasta and I walked down to the village shop to spend her 50p. It was a dull, cloudy day; the lake was as black as satin. Every tree was bare now — December naked. On the way home we walked through the churchyard, sucking humbugs and playing hide and seek behind the tombstones.
‘My Aunt Elizabeth’s buried over there,’ said Lucasta, pointing to a new white tombstone under a willow tree.
‘Elizabeth, beloved wife of Ivan Mulholland 1951–1975,’ I read. She’d been so young. Only a year older than me. On the grave somebody, probably Ace, had laid a bunch of freesias. Oh God, why did everything make me cry at the moment?
‘When you die, God lives you and turns you into a fairy,’ said Lucasta.
When we got home we made hot buttered toast in front of the fire and looked at family photographs.
‘There’s Mummy and Daddy’s wedding,’ said Lucasta.
I was surprised that Fay was so pretty. From Maggie’s descriptions, I’d expected her to be an old frump.
‘And there’s my christening. Wasn’t I a sweet little baby?’
It was a picture of Fay holding Lucasta in long white frilly robes, and Jack looking on fondly and proudly. I hoped Maggie didn’t look at these photographs very often. She’d be lacerated with jealousy.
The person I found myself looking at most was Elizabeth, with her cloud of dark hair, and her huge eyes. I noticed how besottedly she smiled up at Ace, and how handsome and young and carefree he’d looked in those days. What wouldn’t I give to make him look happy like that again?
Later Lucasta and I were watching television after supper when Rose arrived with Professor Copeland.
‘Ace won’t be back for hours,’ she whispered, coming into the study, ‘so we’re just going to have a little drink.’
‘I’ll leave you to it, then,’ I said.
‘That’d be kind, darling. James is terrified of catching your cold.’
Wearily I went upstairs. I still had cotton wool legs and felt absolutely knackered. I was appalled how much I was missing Ace. Suddenly I caught sight of my awful hair in the landing mirror. I’d never get him that way.
To a counterpoint of Lucasta’s chatter, I did my nails, plucked my eyebrows, shaved my legs, and had a bath.
‘I really think you ought to go to bed,’ I said feebly.
‘I’m not tired.’
To hell with Ace; I must wash my hair. I could dry it by the time he got back. Oh, the bliss as the dirt streamed out!
The only socket that fitted the plug of my hair-dryer was on the landing under the cuckoo clock. I sat in the passage on a carpet worn almost bare by generations of Mulholland children waiting for the cuckoo to come out. Lucasta wandered off to watch Starsky and Hutch. I’d only just started drying my hair when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I looked round and nearly jumped out of my skin when I saw it was Ace.
‘What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?’ he snapped, ripping the plug out of the socket.
‘Sitting in a nightie with wet hair in howling draught,’ I muttered, and fled into my bedroom. Fortunately Mrs Braddock had lit the fire.
Ace picked up a towel and sat down in the blue velvet chair. ‘Come here,’ he said.
‘It’ll dry all fluffy,’ I grumbled. I thought he’d rub my head off.
‘Now finish it off.’
He sat down on the bed and lit a cigarette. I looked at him under my lashes, as I crouched by the fire. I saw that he was grinning.
‘You’re impossible,’ he said. ‘I only have to leave this place for half a day for complete anarchy to break out. Every light blazing, Lucasta watching the sort of television bound to give her nightmares, and my step-mother and the egregious Professor Copeland drinking gin in the drawing-room.’
‘Did you throw him out?’ I said.
‘Couldn’t be bothered. Rose was so upset last time. Thought I’d be nice to him for a change.’
The kitten emerged from under the bed and teetered towards him. He scooped it up on to his knee.
‘Did you have a nice dinner?’ I said.
‘Bloody boring.’
‘Who was there?’
He reeled off a string of stars.
‘You mustn’t be so blase,’ I said. ‘I’d give anything to meet people like that.’
‘They’re no more exciting than the fishmonger or the postman once you get to know them.’
