All Change: Cazalet Chronicles (29 page)

Jemima also was nervous. She consulted Hugh about the menu, and they settled upon potted shrimps (only the toast to do), followed by
poulet a la crime,
a dish she had found in Elizabeth David, one she knew she did very well, and ending with
tarte tatin.

‘I do think, Mummy, it isn’t fair when you have party food that I should just have fish fingers,’ Laura said, as she sat in front of her early supper. She had been watching the preparations all afternoon: the laying of the dining-room table, which was used only for parties, the candles, the arrangement of yellow and white freesias, a cluster of Dad’s best glasses on the right-hand side of each plate, napkins as white as toothpaste, she thought, and masses of knives and forks and spoons arranged in military rows, much of this reflected in the beautiful shiny table made of walnut, Dad’s favourite wood. She had helped to lay the table, and Mummy had told her how to do it, but she’d had to start again twice . . . ‘After all my helping,’ she said tragically, ‘you would think that that would make a difference.’ Her arm was out of plaster, but she still hobbled about with the cast on her leg and had become astonishingly agile with her crutch.

‘Darling, I promise you shall have chicken tomorrow for lunch.’

‘And shrimps? And the upside-down tart?’

‘Only if you eat your supper now, quickly, because I’ve got to change.’

Mercifully, Hugh arrived at this point. ‘Go and have a lovely hot bath, and I’ll see to Miss Horrible.’

Laura adored it when he called her names. ‘How horrible am I?’

‘Absolutely horrible – all over. Speaking when your mouth’s full shows that.’

‘I have to speak sometimes and I’ve been told to eat. That’s two things at once.’

‘Well, you eat and I’ll tell you how horrible you are.’

She smiled contentedly, and began to demolish her fish fingers.

He had just had time to make Martinis when their guests arrived. They had the drinks in the drawing room, which had not been changed since Sybil’s day: the same Morris wallpaper, the same chintzy loose covers, and curtains to match the honeysuckle on the walls.

Jemima heard Hugh greeting the guests in the hall as she stood trying to get warm by the fire she had lit too late. She felt unreasonably nervous and, when Edward and Diana came into the room, realised she was not alone in that. All three of them looked as though they were going to the dentist, she thought. Edward greeted her with a kiss, and then said, ‘This is Diana.’

‘Hello, Diana, I’m so glad you could come,’ and Diana smiled and said how nice it was for them to be asked.

Hugh was quickly pouring what turned out to be particularly strong Martinis; cigarettes were lit, conversations started uneasily about current news. Diana said what a pity it was that the Queen was abolishing presentations at Court for debutantes, and then asked Jemima if she had ‘gone through all that’?

‘Oh, no. I’ve never been quite sure what was involved, but in any case it sounds too expensive. My family could never have afforded it, even if they had wanted to. But I’m sure that for some girls it must have been fun,’ she added, in case Diana had been one of those girls, and would think her rude. ‘I’m off to make the toast.’

‘Here comes the other half,’ Hugh said.

‘I must say, old boy, you do make a powerful Martini.’

‘I’ve never liked weak drinks. I knew someone at my club who used to dip his finger in gin, run it round the rim of a glass, fill it up with tonic water and give it to his mother.’

‘What a horrible trick! I’m sure neither of you would ever have done that to the Duchy!’

The brothers exchanged their first affectionate glance.

‘No, we wouldn’t. She liked her gin with Dubonnet.’

‘But only one. She was very sparing about food and drink – for herself.’ Hugh turned to Diana. ‘What do you think about this plan to reform the Lords? Admitting women, and doing away with hereditary peers?’

‘Well,’ she needed time to think, ‘I’m all for women having more say, but I don’t know much about the other part. You aren’t necessarily bad at a job because you were born to it. What do you think, darling?’

‘I’m a Tory, darling. Not keen on change of any kind.’

‘Yes, you are, Ed. You know you are. Look at the firm!’

At this point, Jemima called from below to say that dinner was ready, which was a relief for all.

‘Let’s not talk shop tonight,’ Edward muttered to Hugh, as they were going downstairs.

‘I hear you’ve found a lovely house in Hawkhurst,’ Hugh said, as he was pouring the wine, after he had settled Diana in her chair.

‘Yes. It really is rather a dream home, and you love it too, don’t you, darling?’

‘I do indeed. Bit of a commute, but you can’t have everything. Diana’s a great gardener.’

‘I wouldn’t say that. I do simply adore it, though.’ She turned to Jemima. ‘Are you a gardener?’

‘Not really. I try to keep our little patch at the back tidy, but I don’t seem to have much time for more. Although,’ she added, ‘I suppose if I loved it I would find the time. It’s a bit like people saying they don’t have time to read. When, really, they simply don’t want to.’

‘Laura takes up a huge amount of time even though she goes to school,’ Hugh said. ‘And then there are the twins in the holidays.’

‘Oh, I know what you mean. Poor Mrs Atkinson gets absolutely worn out producing huge meals for my boys. And then there’s Susan and Jamie. Fortunately, the big boys are hardly ever with us – they prefer Scottish gambols with their grandparents.’ There was a slight pause: Jemima took the shrimp plates and went to serve the chicken.

‘Jem does all the cooking,’ Hugh said. He was trying desperately not to disapprove of Diana, whose attitude to her older children had shocked him. ‘Ed, could you deal with the wine? I’m just going to give Jem a hand.’

Edward walked round the table filling glasses; when he reached Diana, he gave her a kiss on the back of her neck. Her
decollete
produced in him a twinge both of lust and anxiety: it was more suited to an unquiet evening at home than the present occasion.

‘How am I doing?’

‘Fine. You’re doing fine. Not so difficult, though, is it? Jem is a sweetie.’

In the kitchen Jemima ladled out the chicken and Hugh added vegetables: they looked at each other, Jemima anxious and Hugh reassuring. Nothing they wanted to say to each other could be said. They carried two plates each through to the dining room.

The chicken was a success; Diana praised it extravagantly. She had become aware that anything nice she said about Jemima seemed to please Hugh. They all drank a lot, and gradually the atmosphere became less charged. Hugh admired Diana’s necklace, and the women talked about the various boarding schools that Jemima’s twins and Diana’s two youngest, Jamie and Susan, attended. Hugh interrupted at that point by saying that they were not going to send Laura away anywhere – he didn’t approve of boarding schools for girls. ‘I’m not sure that I think they’re a good thing for anyone,’ he ended.

‘I think the boys are quite happy at their school,’ Jemima said, ‘but of course I agree with you about girls. I should hate Laura to board.’

‘Susan couldn’t wait to go,’ Diana said. ‘And, of course, Jamie simply loves Eton.’

‘He was pretty homesick his first year.’ Edward, who had loathed all of his schooling, had secretly sympathised with the sobbing telephone calls on Sunday evenings, leaving Diana to cope with them.

‘Oh, but, darling, they all go through that stage. It doesn’t last. They get used to it.’

‘I can’t say I did. Nor did you, Hugh, did you?’

‘No. That’s what I mean. Most men I know didn’t at all find school the best days of their lives. Most of them said they had a bloody awful time, so why are they – I suppose I must say we, since Simon went – so keen on exposing their sons to the same misery?’ He turned to Jemima, who had begun collecting their plates. ‘It’s fine with the twins, I know: they’ve got each other. Edward and I didn’t go to the same school. And we certainly weren’t allowed to telephone home. We were left to the bracing uncertainty of matrons. You had a particularly horrible one, didn’t you, Ed?’

‘She smelt of pear drops and had rocky false teeth. I bit her and she was extra horrible to me after that.’

‘I’m not surprised!’ Diana, Hugh could see, was shocked.

‘I had a boil on my neck and she squeezed and squeezed until it hurt like hell,’ Edward explained.

‘My marvellous resident chef has made you a
tarte tatin
.’

Jemima had brought in the pudding and set it on the table. ‘I’m afraid I burned it. So it’s lemon tart instead. I’ve cut it up, but I thought you might like to help yourselves.’

They did, and Hugh uncorked a half-bottle of Beaumes de Venise. ‘It’s all I’ve got left of it, I’m afraid. There’s Calvados, though.’

‘I hear you’re having a bit of trouble with the roof at Home Place,’ Edward said.

‘Who told you that?’

‘Rupert, I think.’

‘The trouble was that Rachel employed Brownlow’s because the Brig had always used them, but I think old Brownlow has got too past it to go scampering over roofs. We’ve had to find new builders, get a new estimate. You know how long it all takes. It’s going to turn out rather expensive, I’m afraid.’

‘And who is paying for it?’

‘Well, Rachel and I will be paying some of it, and Rupe, I hope, but the rest will be paid for by the firm. After all, it is Cazalets’ property. It’s part of the firm’s assets.’

‘Not a very profitable one, it would seem.’

‘Ed, I really don’t see why you should beef about it. After all, you got out of it.’

‘Not if the firm is paying the major part. I’m still a member of the firm, and you know what I think about these so-called assets we have. We’re losing money on all of them.’

‘Not on the hardwood veneers. And Southampton will pay its way. We simply gave Teddy too much responsibility too soon.’

‘Edward, darling, I really think we should be getting back: it’s quite a long drive.’

Both women had stopped trying to talk to one another, and the atmosphere had become distinctly uncomfortable. Everybody got up from the table and Hugh led the way upstairs, where Diana collected her fur jacket. She was profuse in her thanks to her hosts for ‘a most delicious dinner’ and told Hugh how much she looked forward to them coming to Hawkhurst. Edward said he was sorry about talking shop, and Hugh said it didn’t matter, which clearly it did.

‘Oh, Lord!’ Jemima, having given a final wave, shut the front door.

Hugh put his arms round her. ‘You did awfully well. What did you think of Diana?’

‘Well – I ended up feeling sorry for her.’

‘What about Ed?’

‘I felt sorry for him as well.’

They had begun to go downstairs. ‘Don’t let’s clear up tonight. Let’s go to bed.’

‘I just have to blow out the candles and put the food away.’

Later, when they were in bed, Hugh said, ‘Why are you sorry for them?’

‘Oh. They have such a dull relationship. It felt sort of unreal. As though they were putting up with each other. Disappointment, I suppose. She has very ugly hands,’ Jemima added.

‘I didn’t notice them.’

‘Too taken up with her enormous breasts. I felt quite jealous of them.’

‘I kept wondering if they’d fall out. Like that woman dining at the Berkeley – a waiter popping them back, and the head waiter reproving him, “Here we use a slightly warmed tablespoon.”’

‘Is that true?’

‘I haven’t the slightest idea. She just made me think of it. Anyway, I much prefer yours.’

‘Do you really?’

Some time later, Hugh said, ‘It was good to see Ed, but I can’t understand why he got so worked up about Home Place.’

‘Perhaps he thought that Diana wouldn’t like to be jammed together with all the family.’

‘More likely that they wouldn’t get on with her.’

‘She did say to me that their new house was the first real home she’d had.’

‘Nonsense. They had that huge house in West Hampstead. Also, she’s been married before. She must have had homes then.’

‘All right. You don’t like her much, but she is married to your brother, and you do love him.’

‘So?’