‘Hullo, is that Linda? It’s Tony Kroesig here. Will you come to lunch next Thursday?’
‘Oh! But I should never be allowed to.’
‘Oh, rot,’ very impatiently, ‘several other girls are coming down from London – bring your cousin if you like.’
‘All right, that will be lovely.’
‘See you then – about one – 7 King Edward Street, I expect you know the rooms. Altringham had them when he was up.’
Linda came away from the telephone trembling, and whispered for me to come quick to the Hons’ cupboard. We were absolutely forbidden to see young men at any hour unchaperoned, and other girls did not count as chaperons. We knew quite well, though such a remote eventuality had never even been mooted at Alconleigh, that we would not be allowed to have luncheon with a young man in his lodgings with any chaperon at all, short of Aunt Sadie herself. The Alconleigh standards of chaperonage were medieval; they did not vary in the slightest degree from those applied to Uncle Matthew’s sister, and to Aunt Sadie in youth. The principle was that one never saw any young man alone, under any circumstances, until one was engaged to him. The only people who could be counted on to enforce this rule were one’s mother or one’s aunts, therefore one must not be allowed beyond the reach of their ever-watchful eyes. The argument, often put forward by Linda, that young men were not very likely to propose to girls they hardly knew, was brushed aside as nonsense. Uncle Matthew had proposed, had he not? to Aunt Sadie, the very first time he ever saw her, by the cage of a two-headed nightingale at an Exhibition at the White City. ‘They respect you all the more.’ It never seemed to dawn upon the Alconleighs that respect is not an attitude of mind indulged in by modern young men, who look for other qualities in their wives than respectability. Aunt Emily, under the enlightened influence of Davey, was far more reasonable, but, of course, when staying with the Radletts, I had to obey the same rules.
In the Hons’ cupboard we talked and talked. There was no question in our minds but that we must go, not to do so would be death for Linda, she would never get over it. But how to escape? There was only one way that we could devise, and it was full of risk. A very dull girl of exactly our age called Lavender Davis lived with her very dull parents about five miles away, and once in a blue moon, Linda, complaining vociferously, was sent over to luncheon with them, driving herself in Aunt Sadie’s little car. We must pretend that we were going to do that, hoping that Aunt Sadie would not see Mrs Davis, that pillar of the Women’s Institute, for months and months, hoping also that Perkins, the chauffeur, would not remark on the fact that we had driven sixty miles and not ten.
As we were going upstairs to bed, Linda said to Aunt Sadie, in what she hoped was an offhand voice, but one which seemed to me vibrant with guilt:
‘That was Lavender ringing up. She wants Fanny and me to lunch there on Thursday.’
‘Oh, duck,’ said Aunt Sadie, ‘you can’t have my car, I’m afraid.’
Linda became very white, and leant against the wall.
‘Oh, please, Mummy, oh please do let me, I do so terribly want to go.’
‘To the Davises,’ said Aunt Sadie in astonishment, ‘but, darling, last time you said you’d never go again as long as you lived – great haunches of cod you said, don’t you remember? Anyhow, I’m sure they’ll have you another day, you know.’
‘Oh, Mummy, you don’t understand. The whole point is, a man is coming who brought up a baby badger, and I do so want to meet him.’
It was known to be one of Linda’s greatest ambitions, to bring up a baby badger.
‘Yes, I see. Well, couldn’t you ride over?’
‘Staggers and ringworm,’ said Linda, her large blue eyes slowly filling with tears.
‘What did you say, darling?’
‘In their stables – staggers and ringworm. You wouldn’t want me to expose Flora to that.’
‘Are you sure? Their horses always look so wonderful.’
‘Ask Josh.’
‘Well, I’ll see. Perhaps I can borrow Fa’s Morris, and if not, perhaps Perkins can take me in the Daimler. It’s a meeting I must go to, though.’
‘Oh, you are kind, you are kind. Oh, do try. I do so long for a badger.’
‘If you go to London for the season you’ll be far too busy to think of a badger. Good night then, ducks.’
‘We must get hold of some powder.’
‘And rouge.’
These commodities were utterly forbidden by Uncle Matthew, who liked to see female complexions in a state of nature, and often pronounced that paint was for whores and not for his daughters.
‘I once read in a book that you can use geranium juice for rouge.’
‘Geraniums aren’t out at this time of year, silly.’
‘We can blue our eyelids out of Jassy’s paint-box.’
‘And sleep in curlers.’
‘I’ll get the verbena soap out of Mummy’s bathroom. If we let it melt in the bath, and soak for hours in it, we shall smell delicious.’
‘I thought you loathed Lavender Davis.’
‘Oh, shut up, Jassy.’
‘Last time you went you said she was a horrible Counter-Hon,
