A Girl’s Guide to Kissing Frogs. Victoria Clayton

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СКАЧАТЬ course we all know what a kind daughter you are.’ My father stood up, brushing toast crumbs from his trousers. ‘When did you last visit? Was it at Christmas when your mother went down with flu? Oh, no, you were too busy. When was it? Let me see … perhaps two years ago when your grandmother was dying and your mother had to drive fifty miles each way to the hospital to see her? And of course the funeral wasn’t sufficiently important to stop you going to New York—’

      ‘I admit I’m a selfish beast. But that’s no reason why you should be so nasty—’

      ‘Please!’ Dimpsie clasped a slotted spoon to her bosom and looked agitated. ‘Don’t let’s quarrel on Marigold’s first morning home. Love and peace, that’s what matters.’

      ‘I’m going to make a couple of house calls.’ Tom went to the back door, took his scarf from a peg and wound it round his neck, smoothing the ends across his chest before putting on his overcoat. ‘Surgery’s at ten. Don’t be late.’

      ‘Oh!’ Dimpsie looked anxious. ‘But I made an appointment for Mrs Giddy at half-past nine. And Mr Honeybun at a quarter to. Yesterday you said you were starting at nine thirty—’

      ‘They can wait.’ Tom checked his appearance in the mirror, pulling back his lips to examine his teeth. I knew that women found my father peculiarly attractive, though he was not handsome, not to my eyes anyway. Perhaps it was his unassailable confidence they liked. ‘There’s nothing wrong with that ghastly woman that a little less gin won’t cure. As for Honeybun, he’s a ridiculous creature, puffed up with self-importance. And last week he refused to increase my overdraft. It’ll serve him right to have to kick his heels in the waiting room and be coughed over by the pestilence-ridden until I’m ready to see him.’ He grinned at his own reflection and went out, allowing the door to bang behind him.

      I looked at Dimpsie. ‘I’m sorry. I ought to have come home more. I ought to have been more help to you.’

      ‘Nonsense, darling. You’ve got your own life. Your father likes to tease. He’s devoted to all of us, really.’

      I frowned, finding this impossible to believe.

      ‘Tell you what, ‘Dimpsie’s face brightened. ‘Let’s have some hot chocolate. That was always your favourite, wasn’t it?’ I nodded to please her, though in fact I was already feeling full from the eggs and toast. ‘And I know! Let’s see how this evening’s going to turn out.’ From the shelf by the Aga she fetched a book and three two-pence pieces. ‘We’ll cast the I Ching.’

      ‘Made it!’ breathed Dimpsie.

      It was our third attempt to get up the hill. The lights of Shottestone Manor glittered on the thick ice resulting from the falling temperature. Someone opened the passenger door.

      ‘Marigold! You’re an angel to come!’ I recognized Isobel’s voice, though in the darkness I had only an impression of a pale face and an arm half inside the car. ‘Hello, Dimpsie. Sweet of you to bring her. I’ll get someone to drive her home.’

      ‘Oh, it’s all right. I don’t mind turning out—’

      ‘Don’t argue. I’m freezing to death.’ She laughed, a sound I hadn’t heard for years. But it was so familiar that my skin tingled faintly with the pleasure of recognition. ‘I’m practically naked to the waist. Buck up, Marigold, or I’ll shatter into a thousand pieces.’

      ‘You go in. I can’t hurry because of my leg.’

      But Isobel insisted on helping me. By the time we had reached the hall door she was shuddering with cold, though I had hobbled as quickly as the cast allowed and had nearly fallen over twice.

      ‘For God’s sake, don’t break the other one. Not before you’ve had dinner, anyway. I asked for Charlotte Malakoff for pud, specially for you. It always used to be your favourite.’

      ‘You didn’t? Not really? But how truly kind! Fancy you remembering that.’

      ‘It was thoughtful of me, wasn’t it! Now stop a minute and stand under the light and let me look at you.’

      The hall was still the brilliant shade of Chinese Emperor yellow I had always admired. Isobel and I paused beneath the brass lantern and stared at each other. I was quite as curious as she. Isobel was taller than me by four inches and her frame was much bigger than mine. She was not fat but curvy, with a pronounced bosom I envied. Her movements were sinuous, so the overall impression was one of litheness, like a well-fed cat. Her thick fair hair was bobbed at her shoulders and framed a long Grecian nose, delicately arched brows and slanting grey eyes. It was a lovely face. She used to complain that her lips were too thin and her chin too small. As her face was rarely still, these defects, if they existed, were insignificant. This particular evening she was looking tremendously chic in a strapless dress of dark green moiré. Round her neck was a string of green stones cut into large cubes and linked by gold threads. I felt suddenly conscious that my dress was second-hand and mended, my pearls fake and my leg wrapped in plaster.

      ‘You delicious little creature!’ She seized my earlobe and pinched it hard. ‘I’ve a good mind to send you straight home. Everyone’s going to be looking at you instead of me.’

      She took my crutches from me and rested them against the massive hall table. I got that tingling feeling again when I saw it. Once Isobel and I had pretended to feed jam tarts to the lions that propped up the marble top, and there had been a row as apparently the table was by someone important called William Sussex. Or was it William Kent? Apparently it had taken Evelyn two hours and a packet of cotton buds to remove the jam.

      ‘Where did you get this gorgeous coat?’ Isobel helped me out of it. The hall was chilly despite a log fire. It had never been possible to heat Shottestone Manor adequately. I tried not to shiver too obviously.

      ‘I borrowed it from a friend. You’re looking wonderful.’

      ‘Oh, this old thing. It does for Mummy’s dreary dinners. But really, Marigold, it’s too annoying. How dare you make your old friends feel shabby by dropping down among us, wearing something that makes you look a spirit briefly visiting earth? Honestly, is that a fair return for my unselfishness about the pudding? You know I hate black cherries.’

      ‘Do you really think it will do? It’s only an old thing from Wardrobe. I had to steep the bits under the arms in Omo to get the sweat stains out.’

      This was true. But I heard the old placatory tone in my voice.

      ‘It’s perfect. Come into the drawing room and meet the others.’ She lowered her voice as she handed back the crutches. ‘Did Dimpsie tell you about Rafe?’

      I nodded.

      ‘He’s been so good. You’d hardly know he’s been through unimaginable hell. He was completely deaf for a while but thank God his hearing’s come back. Don’t mention wars or people dying if you can help it. He’s as brave as a lion but anyone would be knocked off their perch by something like that.’

      ‘Of course.’

      ‘As for Daddy, just smile and pretend everything’s fine. Oh Lord, it doesn’t sound as if it’s going to be much fun, does it? And the others are such bores … Never mind, we’ll be able to have a good talk while the men are sitting over their port. I’ve got masses to tell you. Come on.’

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