her backing. The money will go to her family, as it should.’
‘Do you really think along those lines?’
‘Fiona thinks
‘Eat up your chicken, Millament,’ said Rupert, transferring his attention to his daughter. ‘You’re messing about with it.’
‘I like chicken alive, not dead,’ said Millament. ‘Can’t I have some more of those little sausages?’
‘They’re made from dead pigs,’ said Quentin. ‘Dead pigs with maggots in them.’
‘Be quiet, Quentin! Don’t be disgusting,’ said his mother from further down the table.
‘Oh, Lord!’ said Ruby. ‘Bloody kids!’
‘Black is beautiful,’ said Gamaliel. ‘Maggots are not.’
‘Has anyone noticed that we are thirteen at table?’ asked Parsifal, desperately changing the subject. Everybody except Maria and Fiona, both of whom already knew the score, took a hasty glance around.
‘Dear me!’ said Romula. ‘These superstitions! Only the weak-minded would pay any heed to them. Well, they can clear now and the men can have their port while we repair to the withdrawing-room.’ She made as though to rise.
Gamaliel seized her arm. ‘Not you!’ he said. ‘Let somebody else be first!’
Ruby skipped along to Barnaby. ‘
‘Not just now, Ruby,’ said Romula. ‘Mr Orme-Head has to get home.’
‘Oh, yes, rather!’ agreed Barnaby, who had done full justice to the dinner and the wine. ‘I had better be moving.’
‘Well, you have your port,’ said Romula kindly, ‘and then pop in for some coffee if you would like it. You have a long journey and will be doing some of it after dark as it is. I am never very happy about motor cycles at the best of times and after dark they are extremely dangerous. You have to get to the outskirts of London, I believe.’
‘Well, not exactly, no. I’m staying with a friend in Exeter.’
‘Well, have your glass of port and then we will say goodbye to you for the present. The withdrawing-room, Ruby.’
Ruby pouted, but followed the other women out of the dining-room.
‘Really, mother!’ said Maria, when they were seated and the maid had served coffee. ‘That was rather cool of you, wasn’t it?’
‘Yes, it was worse than cool; it was very uncivil of me,’ Romula agreed, ‘but if I had not made myself plain he would have stayed on. There is family business to attend to when the men join us. You, Diana, had better run your children home. It must be past their bedtime. Rupert can tell you what is said.’
‘Rupert needs the car as much as I and the children do. At what time shall I return and pick him up?’
‘Oh, whenever you like, of course.’
‘Better still, if
The children were not anxious to leave, as it was clear that Gamaliel was to stay for coffee, but Diana, accepting dismissal, ushered them out. Gamaliel, who had opened the door for her, returned to the room and seated himself on the floor at Romula’s feet. As though she were unaware of what she was doing, she grasped a handful of his springy hair and rubbed it gently through her fingers. Gamaliel leaned back so that he was resting half against her chair and half against her knee. Fiona said: ‘You’re rather a big boy to be sitting on the floor.’
‘St Paul sat at the feet of Gamaliel,’ said the black youth. ‘Now Gamaliel sits at the feet of his great grandmother.’
‘I hope she feels complimented,’ said Fiona, laughing. Romula gave Gamaliel’s thick hair an affectionate little tug before she took her hand away.
‘It may surprise you to know that I
‘I am very pleased to hear it, grandmamma,’ said Bluebell. ‘Well, it is getting late.’
‘Oh, Lunn will drive you home,’ said Maria, as the men came in. ‘Mother said she had family business to discuss, so you must stay a little longer.’
‘I thought I had,’ said Romula, taking up another handful of Gamaliel’s hair, ‘but I believe I am too tired and, in any case, it is more than time this young man was in bed. He may be of heroic stature, but he is still at the stage of growth. Goodnight, Gamaliel. Goodnight to the rest of you.’
Gamaliel rose to his feet in a fluid, effortless movement and stood to face her.‘ Goodnight, dear old lady,’ he said. He made the appropriate gestures as he concluded. ‘My hand, my head, and my heart at your feet.’
‘Well!’ said Maria that night at bedtime to Fiona, pausing with her fingers on the handle of her bedroom door. ‘This is a nice state of affairs, I must say! Not a word of her intentions and that black boy literally the nigger in the woodpile! Besides, what on earth induced you to call her bluff about putting Rupert up for the night? She had to agree, but she won’t forgive you for that. No wonder she changed her mind about making any disclosures!’
‘If he had not been asked to stay the night, Diana would have had to come back for him. I had no ulterior motive in getting him to stay,’ protested Fiona.
Maria made no comment on this obvious lie.