The Second-last Woman in England (39 page)

But Harriet was cross. Had been cross for days. More than cross, truth be told. Downright unpleasant. Cecil poured himself a cup of tea, but he could feel her eyes on him.

‘Betrays!’ announced Julius and everyone stared at him. ‘Twelve across, seven letters.
“A gamble on some sunshine is treacherous”:
bet-rays.
Betrays
.’

The crossword completed, he tossed
The Times
aside and set to work on a piece of toast. Mrs Thompson had prepared kippers for breakfast and she placed the steaming plate on the sideboard with some ceremony.

‘I thought kippers for today,’ she announced proudly, as though a plate of copper-coloured, steaming kippers was the ultimate tribute to the Coronation. She had also prepared a mountain of toast, which stood stacked two-deep in the silver toast rack in the centre of the table, cooling rapidly.

‘Marvellous,’ replied Cecil, smiling at her in a way that, he hoped, acknowledged the extra effort she had put in on this auspicious occasion. ‘I trust you have prepared enough kippers for yourself too, Mrs Thompson?’ he added, on a sudden wave of bonhomie.

‘Oh, I can’t abide them,’ said Mrs Thompson airily. ‘Nasty, slippery things they are,’ and she sailed out of the room.

‘I don’t like kippers either,’ announced Anne solemnly from the far end of the table. She laid her knife and fork down on either side of her plate and regarded her parents silently as though she had been asked to do something heinous. As she had happily tucked into a kipper the last time they had been served, Cecil felt a flicker of annoyance but Harriet got in before him.

‘Don’t eat one, then,’ she replied crisply and Anne scowled down at her plate.

There was a brief silence.

‘Well, I find a kipper is a very satisfying and nourishing way to start the day,’ announced Cecil, going over to the silver dish on the sideboard and placing two of the offending items onto his plate. ‘And Mrs Thompson is a dab hand at preparing them,’ he added.

‘And yet she never eats them herself,’ observed Julius darkly.

Cecil experienced a second flicker of annoyance—actually, this time it was more a flash than a flicker, and he was glad he had his back to the table. Why were they harping on about kippers on this most special of mornings?

‘Mummy, may I go and watch the Coronation with Brigit Myles?’ said Anne. ‘Her family have a flat with a balcony that overlooks Hyde Park. They are having ever such a grand party and Brigit said she asked her mother and her mother said I could go.’

‘As her mother has not seen fit to ask your father or myself whether it is acceptable,’ replied Harriet, ‘I do not think it appropriate. And we do not announce such invitations at the last moment, Anne. It is impolite.’

Anne’s face turned a mottled red and she glared defiantly at her empty plate.

‘I want to go! It’s not
fair
!’

‘Nanny, did you know anything about this?’

Nanny looked up, wide-eyed, from the slice of toast she was nibbling, a rabbit caught in the headlights of a speeding lorry.

‘Well, I said Anne ought to ask you …’ she replied slowly, with a glance at Anne.

‘Nanny said I could go!’ wailed Anne and Nanny looked horrified.

‘I most certainly did not! I said it wasn’t up to me at all. I said to ask.’

‘You said I could go!’

That one of them was lying was apparent to Cecil. And that that person was, in all likelihood, Anne made it no easier to accept. All children lied, of course—it was a natural part of growing up … Not that he had ever lied to his own father, never. Except about enjoying things. But that was different—it was expected that one would lie about enjoying oneself.

‘This is a family day, Anne,’ he observed calmly as he returned to the table and seated himself. ‘An occasion for spending time with one’s family. I’m sure Brigit and her mother will understand.’

Anne fell mutinously silent. He was aware that Harriet was watching him as he reached for a slice of toast and began to spread butter on it. There was so much toast that taking a single slice made no noticeable inroad into the stack. This was not how he had imagined their Coronation breakfast to be. But there were the mugs; he had intended some kind of ceremony, a few words. A presentation.

‘Nanny hasn’t eaten any breakfast,’ said Anne sullenly, as though she was determined to get the girl into trouble. And indeed Nanny’s plate was empty. The girl flushed a deep scarlet.

She was an odd one, that girl.

‘Anne, we do not make personal comments,’ said Harriet coldly.

‘That’s not a personal comment. I was just saying—’

‘I said
no
,’ said Harriet, and Anne assumed a look of outraged silence.

‘Well,’ said Julius, having dispatched a kipper, and placing his napkin on his plate, ‘I’m afraid I must dash. Mind if I leave the table?’

‘Actually, I’d be obliged if you would stay a moment longer, old man,’ said Cecil quickly, and something flashed across the boy’s face.

‘Of course. Anything you say, old boy.’

‘I wanted to say a few words, that’s all.’ Cecil spoke lightly, cheerily. After all, this was a celebration, wasn’t it?

Julius looked down at his plate and something twitched at the side of this mouth. Anne sniffed sulkily and Harriet sat very still. Nanny, who had unfortunately chosen that moment to reach for a second slice of toast, now dropped her hand back onto her lap and stared at her plate in obvious mortification. She, the nanny—alone amongst them all?—understood the gravity, the import of the occasion. He addressed the nanny.

‘This is an important day,’ he began. No, that wasn’t right. ‘This may be the most important, the most special, the most historic day of our lives!’

‘What about the war ending?’ said Anne.

Cecil ignored this interruption.

‘Today heralds the start of a new era in the History of Our Nation. A new Elizabethan Age, and we are all privileged to witness it.’

No one said anything. They appeared to be waiting for him to go on—or to finish?

‘And I, for one, am delighted to be able to celebrate such a momentous event with my family. And I trust that in later years, when we are all older, when some of us—God forbid—are no longer here, that we may look back on this day with pleasure. With fondness.’

He paused. Was Harriet even listening? Nanny was listening. He wished he had bought the nanny a Coronation mug.

‘And to that end, to mark this occasion and this special breakfast at the start of this historic day, I would like to present Julius and Anne with these,’ and he went over to the sideboard and picked up the two packages and walked around and handed one to Julius and one to Anne. Then he resumed his seat.

There was a slight pause.

‘Oh. Thanks,’ said Julius, a trifle awkwardly.

‘What is it?’ said Anne.

Cecil sat down and poured himself a cup of coffee. Harriet hadn’t touched the coffee. He didn’t usually drink coffee himself before eleven o’clock, but the pot was there, full and steaming gently, and Mrs Thompson had gone to some trouble to make it.

Both children unwrapped the white tissue paper and simultaneously revealed the creamy Coronation mugs.

‘Oh. I’ve already got one. We got given these at school,’ said Anne, putting it down on the table. Julius said nothing.

‘Well, now you have two,’ said Cecil with a bright smile. ‘Perhaps you can present one to your own children in time, as a memento?’

Anne didn’t reply to this suggestion.

Julius stifled a yawn.

‘Well. This has all been thoroughly entertaining, of course, but I have lots to do, so if no one objects I shall push off.’

‘We don’t “push off ”, Julius. We leave the table,’ Cecil snapped and Julius froze, half off his chair.

‘Then I shall leave the table, if I may?’

‘Of course.’

Anne left too. Only the nanny stayed behind to pick up the discarded tissue paper and the two mugs. Cecil watched her over his coffee.

‘Why don’t you take one, Nanny?’ he suggested, wishing for some reason that Nanny had not just witnessed this absurd charade.

Nanny looked up.

‘Oh no, they belong to the children,’ she said, and left the room.

A car drove past the window below, tooting its horn excitedly. People had begun to celebrate already. There had been talk of a street party in Athelstan Gardens, but most of the households had purchased a television and wanted to watch it at home. Friends, family, neighbours were already beginning to arrive, or to go somewhere else if they had made other arrangements.

‘Well, that was a ridiculous little scene,’ observed Harriet.

They were alone now, the children, the nanny, Mrs Thompson gone. The coldness of her words, the contempt, froze the blood in his veins. It was the first thing she had said to him since the horrid little scene last night.

Was no one going to eat all this toast?

‘Uncle Leo and Aunt Felicity are here!’ called Anne excitedly from upstairs. Her bad temper from breakfast was, it seemed, now all but forgotten. Oh, for the simplicity, the short memory of youth, thought Cecil as he straightened his tie for the third time before the mirror. Leo and Felicity were here. The day had begun.

‘Hello! Happy Coronation Day, one and all!’ called Leo from the hallway.

‘Hello, Uncle Leo—have you brought us anything? Hello, Aunt Felicity.’

‘Hello, Anne. My, don’t you look pretty in your lovely dress!’

‘Here you are, kids, Coronation mugs. Keep ’em safe. Could be worth a fortune one day.’

‘Smashing. We shall be able to set up a stall in Portobello Road soon,’ said Julius.

‘Harriet! How the devil are you? Looking a little peaky—or is that just the excitement of the occasion?’

‘Hello, Leo. Good of you to come. Felicity.’

And perhaps it was indicative of the mounting excitement that Harriet went straight to Felicity and clasped both her hands and went to kiss her. But Felicity, who never appeared entirely at ease at the best of times, now positively turned to ice and she twisted her head at the last moment so that the kiss ended in mid-air. Then she gave her sister-in-law the most fleeting of smiles, dropped her hands and moved away, and it occurred to Cecil that, in April, Harriet had told him Felicity was pregnant. Yet here she was, two months later, and she and Leo had said nothing, and clearly Felicity was nothing of the sort.

It had been a lie, then, to force him to help Freddie.

‘Uncle Leo, is Archie with you?’ said Julius, peering past his uncle into the hallway.

‘Yes, he’s bringing up the rear—got his own car now, you know.

And some dolly bird.’

‘Don’t, Leo,’ said Felicity.

‘What? I didn’t say a thing!’

It was time to go downstairs.

He ran into the nanny as soon as he left his room. Blast.

‘Oh, Miss Corbett. I must apologise—’

‘Mr and Mrs Mumford are here,’ she said, and it seemed to Cecil that the girl had deliberately cut him off.

‘Yes, indeed. You’ll be joining us, will you? For the broadcast? Might be the last time we’re all together.’

There was a silence.

‘My wife did explain to you that Anne has been accepted into Wellbeck College—my sister’s old school? It’s a very good place, and needless to say we’re delighted. There was some possibility—her reports from St Lydwina’s have not always been … Well, needless to say, it’s a relief. So we won’t be requiring your services much longer, then. And as we leave for the south of France at the end of June—’

He paused. Why didn’t the girl say something?

‘My wife did explain …?’

‘No, I don’t believe Mrs Wallis mentioned it at all.’

‘Oh.’ Blast Harriet for putting him in this awkward spot. ‘Well, I daresay it won’t inconvenience you too substantially? Plenty of households crying out for a nanny. Of course, references won’t be a problem. Mrs Wallis will take care of all that …’

‘No,’ replied the Nanny, ‘I don’t believe it will inconvenience me.’

‘Good. Splendid. And you’ll be joining us to watch the broadcast?’