“That sounds excellent. I do have some letters to post too.” It was important, whatever else there was to distract her, that the letters found their way home.
“Gosh, darling, you must’ve been up with the lark to write those.”
“I think it was before the lark, actually.” Evelyn smiled thinly. “I had a bad dream and couldn’t sleep.”
“Oh, you poor thing! You must tell me about it.”
“You don’t stop, do you, Lilian?” James shook his head. “I can take your letters with me and post them near my office, Evelyn. That way, you needn’t worry.”
“Thank you, that’s very kind of you.” Evelyn hoped she and Lilian would still be able to leave the house later. It would be rather frustrating to be in London and stay inside all day.
“No trouble at all. When you go out, you don’t need to add a trip to the post office. Lilian, why don’t you just go for a stroll across the park and show Evelyn the palace. That way, you don’t need a cab and you can take tea at the Park Lane.”
“What a smashing idea, James. That’s what we’ll do! You’ll love the Park Lane, Evie—it’s quite a new place and so very stylish.”
Evelyn found she was not particularly interested in where they would take tea and far more interested in the sightseeing James proposed. “The palace?” she asked James.
“Yes. Buckingham Palace. It’s only about ten minutes’ walk through Green Park from here.” James said.
“Oh, I’ve wanted to see it so much. A cousin of my mother’s once sent a postcard from London with a photograph of the palace on it. I stared and stared at it and tried to make it come to life. I always knew I wanted to come to London one day, just to see the palace, if nothing else!” Evelyn said. She realised as she concluded that her disclosure had probably revealed something of her naiveté. Yet James and Lilian were both smiling and not apparently sitting in judgement.
“Then it looks like you’re in for a wonderful day. I must go to work now, girls, so enjoy yourselves.” James drained the last of his tea and left the kitchen. Evelyn sipped her own tea and helped herself to another slice of bread, even though she was suddenly so excited all hunger was gone.
Chapter Eight
In what was, apparently, an attempt to cement the intimacy of their growing friendship, Lilian suggested, after breakfast, that she and Evelyn could settle down and get to know each other better in Lilian’s bedroom. Uncomfortable with the notion of sharing such a personal space with someone she barely knew, she was pleased to find that Lilian’s bedroom, on the top floor of the house, was actually a very substantial part of the building. At one side was a large bed with a rumpled yellow bedspread and white pillows; along the wall opposite the doorway were several dark wardrobes, a chest of drawers, and a dressing table. Near the window and away from the bed, but under the sloping ceiling which revealed that the room was actually in the roof space of the house, was a small sitting area with two armchairs and a small coffee table.
When Evelyn followed Lilian into the room, she paused, surprised to find such a large room. She was also rather taken aback to find several shelves of books, for Lilian had not seemed remotely like a woman who would enjoy reading. Perhaps she had misjudged her. She began to think that a few hours getting to know Lilian might actually be quite an interesting experience.
“I think they intended this room as the nursery, you know,” Lilian said. She picked up an indigo scarf from the seat of one of the armchairs and draped it over the chest of drawers. There were scarves and items of jewellery all over the room, so much so that every surface seemed to twinkle. Lilian did not seem to be untidy—she’d not left her dress on the floor or discarded her stockings over the coffee table—rather the sheer amount of decoration, jewellery, and ornament she owned was spilling out of every drawer and wardrobe and taking over the room. It added a mystical, oriental air to the room, Evelyn thought, only made more so by the presence of two large Venetian mirrors, both with modern geometric frames, which reflected the decorative chaos of Lilian’s room and bounced the light from the window onto hidden jewels and strings of pearls.
“The nursery?” Evelyn refocused on what Lilian was saying.
“Yes, there’s a small room next door which I’m fairly sure was for Nanny. Lord, when I think of our Nanny O’Neill, I wonder what she would think of me now. She was always so keen for me to grow up to be proper and act like a lady. I think I’d rather enjoy seeing her expression if she were to meet me now. What fun it is to be a glorious disappointment!”
Evelyn settled herself in one of the armchairs, from which she could see the rooftops outside the window. Lilian slouched in the other and looked thoughtfully at Evelyn. “You know, my parents don’t approve of me in the slightest,” she said. “They’re happier with James, of course. But they don’t really approve of anything modern. They only like James because he’s such a dreadful stick-in-the-mud.”
Evelyn listened to Lilian speak, unwilling to pass comment on Lilian’s relationship with her parents or give an opinion of James. The potential for offence just seemed too great.
“They were fine until the war, of course. But then I was very young. And my wanting to help the war effort was patriotic, then. Funny how what a woman could do when we’re at war is so different from what she is expected to do when the war ends, don’t you think?”
“I suppose,” said Evelyn. “I’ve read about the surplus women, of course. But I’ve never thought about it in quite that way.”
“You’ve never really thought about your place as
