Angel with Two Faces

sandstorm. She couldn’t see where she was going, missed her footing on one of the steps and started to roll perilously towards the cliff edge, picking up speed as she went.’

‘It was so very nearly heroic,’ Lettice added. ‘Hephzibah was on stage at the time and saw what was happening, and she ran over…’

‘Thundered over,’ corrected Ronnie.

‘All right – thundered over to the woman and fielded her into a gorse bush.’

‘It sounds like she saved a life,’ Josephine said. ‘Surely that is heroic?’

‘Hardly,’ countered Ronnie. ‘There was a perfectly good pillar that would have saved her quite gently. Hephzibah broke the woman’s hip.’

‘She was quite elderly,’ Lettice admitted, as the rest of the table dissolved into laughter, ‘and her family threatened to sue Rowena. She was lucky not to have the whole place closed down. As it was, they had to cancel the rest of the run. Now, they won’t even acknowledge the Dream of ’34 at all.’

‘You’d better be careful, Archie,’ said William, wiping his eyes while Sheila cleared away the main course. ‘Keep away from the edge of the stage, and watch out for any unexpected entrances from the audience.’

‘What’s this?’ Josephine looked questioningly at Archie, who blushed slightly.

‘Hasn’t he told you?’ Ronnie jumped in wickedly. ‘He’s starring in The Jackdaw of Rheims this week.’

‘Really? I didn’t know you were in it.’

‘I’m afraid it’s my fault,’ William admitted. ‘We were one short because of poor Harry, and everyone else was either involved already or too busy on the estate, so I volunteered Archie and we’ve swapped a couple of parts round – Archie’s going to narrate, which leaves Nathaniel – our young curate – free to be the Jackdaw.’ He topped up his nephew’s glass by way of apology. ‘I knew you wouldn’t mind.’

‘You mean you knew I could hardly refuse,’ said Archie drily. ‘Just don’t expect me to do it every year.’ He pointed his fork at Ronnie. ‘And if you even think of trying anything amusing while I’m on stage, I’ll make sure you pay for it afterwards.’

Ronnie held up her hands in a passable impression of innocence and William smiled at Josephine, who was beginning to understand how he had run the estate so successfully for all these years. If Sheila was anything to go by, his staff obviously loved him and she had very little doubt that, in spite of his protestations, Archie would now be persuaded to take part in any Loe estate venture that took place while he was south of the Tamar.

‘They might have chosen something with a bit more potential for costumes,’ Lettice grumbled through a mouthful of lemon tart. ‘There’s nothing very challenging about a monk’s habit and a few old feathers.’

‘Don’t knock it, dear. If it means we have more time for sunbathing, then bring on the cowls – that’s what I say. And we’ll have to get you measured up after dinner,’ she said to Archie, smiling sweetly. ‘We need to make sure that Nathaniel’s old costume will fit you.’

‘I expect it’s a busman’s holiday for you, Josephine,’ William said, ‘but if you’d like to go, you’d be more than welcome to come with me. No obligation, though – see how you feel.’

‘I wouldn’t miss it now I know about the casting,’ she said, surprised to find that she meant it, ‘and it’ll be a joy to go to a play and have absolutely no responsibility for anything that happens.’

‘Splendid. I’ll ask the Snipe to do us a picnic.’ He jumped up from the table. ‘Now, shall we try some of those strong waters you brought down from Scotland with you? We’ll have coffee in the library, Sheila. You don’t mind somewhere a bit less formal, do you?’ he asked Josephine, while the other three excused themselves briefly. ‘The sitting room’s in better nick, but it’s nowhere near as comfortable. We only use it to get rid of people we didn’t want to invite in the first place.’

The library was a large, beautiful room, and Josephine could easily see why William would choose to spend most of his time there. The once fine plasterwork on the ceiling needed some attention, and the enormous chocolate-coloured carpet – covered in shells, palm fronds and garlands of flowers – was worn right through to the floor in places, but there was nothing tired about the browns and golds that shone out from the bookshelves, giving the room a warm, autumnal feel that was belied only by several vases of bright pink tulips. William pulled some well-used armchairs up to the fire, and threw another couple of logs into the grate. ‘It was supposed to be Cerberus guarding the gates of Hades,’ he said, pointing towards an animal’s face which had been cast into the black iron of the fire surround, ‘but my wife had it modelled on her favourite dog of the time – a spaniel without an ounce of aggression in him – so the overall effect is rather tamer than I’d hoped for. Still – that’s probably no bad thing. Make yourself at home and I’ll get us some drinks.’

While he busied himself with opening the whisky, Josephine walked over to the bay window. The dark-green shutters were still folded back against the wall, and she could just make out the edge of the lake in the darkness.

‘Do you take anything with it?’ William waved a generous inch of Dalwhinnie at her.

‘Just a drop of water,’ she said. He nodded approvingly and brought three glasses over to the window, leaving brandies by the fire for Ronnie and Lettice. ‘It’s nice to have you with us,’ he said, raising his glass to her, ‘but I’m sorry that your first day was clouded with a death. It’s not what anyone needs on a holiday, and I gather from the girls that last year was difficult for you.’

‘I certainly wouldn’t want another one like it,’ she said, touched by his concern. ‘People still tell me what a memorable play Richard was, and I suppose I should be pleased, but my memories are so different from theirs that I’d really rather forget the whole thing ever happened. In fact, I wish it hadn’t happened – no matter how much satisfaction it’s given me or anybody else.’

‘Yes, it’s hard to be proud of something when it’s bound up with sadness,’ William said, ‘and I suppose you’re utterly sick of people telling you those deaths weren’t your fault.’ She nodded, glad not to have to repeat a conversation which she had had many times in the last year. ‘You know that the girls had a brother who was killed in the war? Well, I spent a lot of time in London after Teddy’s death – threw myself into the war effort because I couldn’t get over the guilt of having encouraged him to join the navy in the first place.’

‘What did you do?’

‘I was in with the Room 40 lot – cryptography, you know? We did the Zimmermann telegram, among other things.’

‘A lot of people say that turned the war.’

‘Yes, and that’s my point. People expect me to be proud of my involvement with it, but all I know is that while I was engrossed in that, my wife was here alone, dying of grief for our son. I’ll never forgive myself for that, no matter what I achieved elsewhere and how many lives it saved, and of course I’d change it if I could – doing something for the greater good has never been much of a consolation for her loss. Personal sorrow – it’s a very selfish thing, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, but there’s nothing wrong with that. I sometimes think that’s the danger of our age, you know – we’ve become far too abstract about the things that matter, particularly death. We read the newspapers and shake our heads at the numbers, but we’ve lost sight of the horror of it – the horror and the permanence.’ She took a sip of her whisky and thought for a moment. ‘I remember during the last war – and I don’t suppose the one they’re threatening now will be any different – it got to the point where we were almost embarrassed to be angry about our own dead. Perhaps it was a British thing – we instinctively look for someone worse off, don’t we? – but with everyone suffering so much, it was as if we were being selfish to focus on a personal grief rather than a collective one. That always seemed to me to be a betrayal of the people we’d lost. Surely they deserved to be mourned – no, not just mourned, remembered – for who they were rather than why they died? So I don’t blame you for being selfish or for valuing one person more than thousands – if we all did that, we probably wouldn’t be in this mess.’

‘No, I don’t think we would. I stayed away from the estate for a long time after Veronique died, but you can’t run away forever and I think coming back helped in a funny sort of way.’

‘I can understand that – you can see the lives you’re responsible for. Sheila’s happiness matters as much as the League of Nations. Personally, I think that’s as big an achievement as your war work. From what Ronnie told me in the car, you have something very special here – and not just because it’s beautiful.’

‘Yes, you’re right,’ he said. ‘It does heal, I suppose…’

‘Up to a point?’

He smiled. ‘Yes. Up to a point.’