‘What an extraordinary lead, Sally darling. Are you in your right senses?’
‘Well, in that ghastly little book you made me read it said, “never lead from an ace, queen, never lead from a king, and never lead from a doubleton, it is a rotten lead”. So that’s the only thing for me to do, as far as I can see.’
‘That’s right,’ said Bobby good-naturedly, ‘tell him exactly what you’ve got in your hand; don’t mind me, will you?’
Paul wandered over to the old world inglenook where Amabelle was sitting with Elspeth Paula on her knee.
‘That’s right, darling, have a good gurk,’ she was saying, ‘makes us all feel better, that does. Isn’t she a treasure? Look at those huge goggling eyes. She’s going to be a one with the chaps, she is. Aren’t you, sweetikin. Boo!’
A confused murmur came from the bridge table.
‘Now, Sally, out with it. There’s only one lead you can possibly make.’
‘I don’t see that. I’ve got six cards in my hand and I can lead any of them, can’t I? Oh dear, I wish I knew.’
‘Now, think. There’s only one possible lead. Oh, my God, you are a vile player, Sally. Well, now, that makes it all very O.K. for you, Bobby, game and rub –’
The butler opened the door and announced:
‘Lord Lewes, madam.’
A perfectly stunned silence fell on Amabelle’s drawing-room as Michael Lewes walked into it. Amabelle herself, who hardly ever showed emotion of any sort, turned crimson and nearly dropped the baby; Paul, feeling as he had not felt since, when at Eton, he was caught by the ‘beaks’ in the Slough cinema, made half a movement to escape through the garden door, but decided that this would only make matters far worse and that it would be better to stay and brazen it out; and the Monteaths gave each other long glances, fraught with meaning, over their cards. Bobby alone remained unshaken and went on playing the hand in his usual brisk and businesslike style. Such was the emotion of his adversaries that he made as a result not only four hearts giving him game and rubber, but little slam as well, a fact which he was heard afterwards loudly to lament. (‘You know, Paul, it was monstrous only putting me up one. After all, you had the hearts; you knew I was calling on outside cards, didn’t you? I naturally imagined you had a bare rise and wanted me to go to game. It is too maddening.’)
The silence was broken by a shattering gurk from Elspeth Paula.
‘What savoir faire!’ said Bobby under his breath. ‘Anybody would think I was the father. No more diamonds, Sally? Yes, I thought you had – no, no, that’s O.K. The rest are good on the table, aren’t they? That’s one hundred and twenty below, one hundred overtricks and five hundred for the rubber. Thirteen I make it.’
‘How are you, Michael?’ Amabelle was saying. ‘Ring the bell, will you, Paul? How lovely to see you, my dear. I can’t think why, but I imagined you were still abroad. You know Mr Fotheringay, do you?’
‘Mr Fisher?’ said Lord Lewes.
‘What am I thinking of – Mr Fisher I mean, of course. And Walter and Sally you know, don’t you? And this is the Monteath heiress, Miss Elspeth Paula, who was born at one of my cocktail parties.’
‘Indeed she wasn’t,’ cried Sally indignantly.
‘Well, more nearly than I care to think about; if that taxi hadn’t come when it did –’
‘My dear, she wasn’t born till four in the morning.’
‘What a cheesey time,’ said Bobby. ‘Well, darling, we’ve finished our tiny rubber and I think we’d better be going. See you all tomorrow and thanks so much for having us. Come on, Paul, to horse, to horse!’
‘Where are you off to, Sally?’
‘I think I’d better take baby up to her beddie-bye. Come along then, you sweet precious.’
‘I’m going to see Paul on to his horse,’ said Walter, chuckling. ‘It sounds too good to be missed.’
Amabelle sighed. There was evidently a conspiracy to leave her alone with Lord Lewes.
‘You look very well, my dear,’ she said briskly, as the door shut on Walter and Sally. ‘Did you enjoy yourself in Cairo?’
‘No.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry. I thought it all sounded so nice and interesting. I saw photos, in The Sphere, wasn’t it, of a camp stool four thousand years old (or was it four hundred? I’m so bad at figures). Anyway, a very interesting old camp stool that you had found, and I thought how pleased you would be to find a lovely old camp stool like that,’ said Amabelle desperately, making up the fire until it was a sort of burning fiery furnace.
‘I shall never enjoy anything, and I shall never have a single moment’s happiness in life until I can persuade you to marry me, Amabelle.’
‘Oh dear. I hoped so much – I mean, surely Cairo must be full of lovely girls, isn’t it. One’s always reading about them, anyway. Haven’t you changed your mind at all?’
‘How could you imagine such a thing? No, indeed, I thought of you every moment of the day. I dreamt of you every moment of the night. I saw no beautiful girls, or if I did they looked to me like dolls stuffed with sawdust. Occasionally I came across people who knew you, they would mention your name in passing and it would go through me like a red-hot sword; if I saw in some illustrated paper a photograph of you it would make me even more wretched than I was already, and for days. Anything of beauty or of interest became intolerable because you were not there to share it with me. I tell you, you have made life very sad for me, Amabelle.’
‘Dear Michael,’ said Amabelle, stifling a yawn.
Curious,
