As Evie stammered, searching for something to say, Veronica Leighton, leaned against the doorpost and drawled, ‘You look like you need a stiff gin, darling. Why don’t I get Benny to mix us some?’ At the top of the stairs she called back to Evie. ‘And remind me to introduce you to that chap I mentioned so he can run you up a few frocks of your own.’ Pausing before she went down, she added pointedly, ‘In the right size, of course.’
Aunty Mimi emerged from the closet, gave Evie an angry look and headed for the door.
‘Aunty Mimi, I’m sorry. Please don’t mention this to Mr Barrington.’
Her humiliation was complete. Apologising to the servants. She’d be a laughing stock if Veronica heard that.
Wishing herself safely back in Hampshire, Evie struggled to rescue the situation. ‘I was just… you see…Mr Barrington… I…we…’ Should she tell Aunty Mimi she was soon to be married to Douglas? Of course she couldn’t. It wasn’t her place to do it and it might only make matters worse. Better to retire wounded and try to recover later once she was established as the new mistress of the house. Meanwhile, she must swallow her pride and pray that the housekeeper would say nothing to Douglas.
Aunty Mimi scowled and said, ‘I no tell Mister. I keep secret. You not come in here again. Is private. Not your room.’ She wagged her finger in the air as if scolding a small child.
Relief flooded through Evie and she fled downstairs to the next ordeal – facing Veronica.
Mrs Leighton was in the drawing room, standing in front of the open French window, looking out onto the garden. She turned round and handed Evie a glass of gin and tonic, ice chinking.
‘Thank you, but isn’t it awfully early in the day to be drinking?’
‘You’re as bad as Arthur.’ Her laugh was false. ‘Anyway you look as if you need one. That’s always a good time to drink. Gin’s positively medicinal, darling.’
Evie took a tentative sip and felt inclined to agree. She sank onto on the sofa. The alcohol went straight to her head, immediately easing her embarrassment. Veronica, with a graceful bending of the knees, lowered herself into a seat opposite, her long slim legs to one side. She sniffed the air. ‘Naughty girl! You’re wearing Felicity’s scent as well. Better make sure you shower it off before Dougie gets back. You don’t want to upset him.’ She shook her head solemnly and Evie felt herself blushing again.
Deciding a change of subject was needed urgently, Evie said, ‘I didn’t think you and Arthur would be in Penang so soon.’
‘The darling boy did so much preparatory work on the voyage out that he was in his boss’s good books and was able to get away earlier than expected.’
‘Was it some kind of project?’
Veronica snorted. ‘Good grief. How would I know? Or care?’ She took another sip of gin. ‘I’ve no idea what Arthur does. Government business is all terribly tedious. Anyway, we travelled up on the train yesterday and this morning ran into Dougie on the quayside at Butterworth, heading the other way. He said he was off to fetch the brat home, so I thought I’d scoot over here and find out how you’re getting on and how you feel about it.’
‘Don’t you like Jasmine? Is she really a brat?’
‘All children are brats. Even pretty little things like Jasmine. If it were me I’d leave her with the nuns. Or even better, send her back to England to boarding school. Best thing for her. And for you.’ She pushed a cigarette into a long ivory holder, lit it, drew and exhaled a cloud of smoke that spiralled up towards the dormant ceiling fan. Having taken an initial puff, Veronica let her cigarette burn away, using the holder instead to make extravagant gestures as if she were conducting an orchestra.
‘I’m hoping that Jasmine and I will get along and that she will stay here with us. It must have been very unsettling for the poor child to lose her mother when she was so young.’
‘So you and Dougie haven’t got cold feet and called the whole thing off?’ Veronica leaned forward, her elbows on her knees. She reminded Evie of a beautiful bird of prey, waiting for the moment to strike.
‘Of course we haven’t.’ Evie knew she sounded snappy, but Veronica was clearly baiting her.
‘Well, well. That’s a surprise. I had a bet with Arthur that once you’d spent twenty-four hours here you’d be on the next ship back to England.’
‘You and Arthur had a bet?’
Veronica laughed her tinkling laugh. ‘Well I made the bet. He didn’t actually comment. You know Artie – he’s like the Sphinx. But do tell, Evie. What was it like when you and Dougie met again?’ She gave her a knowing look. ‘Did celestial choirs sing?’
Evie felt herself starting to perspire again, a damp clammy feeling in her armpits and under her breasts. Veronica’s slender body appeared to be immune to the heat. It was anger and embarrassment that was helping to raise Evie’s body temperature. Veronica seemed to know – or sense – that all was less than perfect between her and Douglas. Perhaps he had even confessed to her that he’d mistaken Evie for another guest at his wedding.
She told herself not to be cowed by the woman. ‘Everything went very well.’ She smoothed a crease from her skirt.
‘Come on, darling. You have to tell me more than that. Was it romantic? …passionate?’ She looked at Evie pointedly. ‘Businesslike?…Or maybe even… awkward?’
Evie’s skin prickled and she shifted in her seat. Veronica was watching her like a hawk. ‘I’d prefer to keep what happens between Douglas and me private.’
Veronica laughed. ‘Of course. I can see you’re being coy. Never mind. I’ll save your blushes. Dougie will spill the beans when I next see him – I’m very good at squirrelling all the dirt out of him.’ She fixed her gaze on Evie again. ‘But don’t worry,
