Last Voyage of the Valentina(25)

At this point Margo interjected, “Lavender, he’s Alba’s friend.”

“Ah,” she said, raising her chin. “Alba’s friend.” She turned to Alba. “You’re back again! How nice.” Alba remained seated. No one spoke. They all waited for the old woman to settle into the reading chair. “Are you married, Fitzroy?” Margo tried once again to intervene. It was most embarrassing.

“No,” Fitz replied coolly.

“Jolly good! You can marry Caroline, or Miranda. You look like a good sort.”

Alba took his hand in hers and inhaled sharply. “If he marries anyone it shall be me,” she stated emphatically, clipping her consonants like Viv did.

“And who are you?” Lavender repeated, this time to Alba.

“For goodness’ sake, Grandma, I’m Alba and I need a cigarette!” She got up and marched out of the room.

“I’d like a cigarette too,” said Fitz and hurried after Alba.

Once they had left the room the old woman blinked in bewilderment. “Was it something I said?”

“Mother, it’s really not on that you fail to recognize your own granddaughter,” Thomas complained, handing her a brandy.

“Oh yes, the dark one,” she said quietly and her voice trailed off as she tried to work out why the girl was so dark when all the Arbuckles were fair. “I’m most confused.” She turned to Margo. “Is she yours?”

“She’s ours. Lavender, really!” Margo replied, now in a fluster. It had all been going so well before Thomas’s dotty old mother appeared.

“Beautiful girl,” she said, oblivious that she had offended her daughter-in-law.

Then Thomas spoke, barely audibly. “Her mother died when she was born. Surely you remember?”

Lavender’s jaw dropped and she let out a deep groan. “Oh, yes. Valentina,” she whispered as if afraid to mention the name. As if it were somehow sacred. “I quite forgot. What a fool I am.” Her eyes suddenly glistened and her gray cheeks took on a purple hue. “You must forgive me. Dear girl,” Lavender shook her head. “What a business. A ghastly, ghastly business.”

“I think we should eat,” said Thomas, straightening up. “Miranda, go and tell Cook that we are ready. If you can find Alba, tell her too. Let’s go into the dining room.”

Miranda left the room and Margo gave Lavender her hand. Like most old people who refuse to accept that they are fading, she shrugged it off and pushed herself up with a great deal of effort. “Nothing wrong with me, I assure you,” she mumbled and hobbled into the hall. As she made her way to the dining room she was enveloped by a most delicious smell, warm, succulent, and foreign. She let it fill her senses with pleasure. “Figs,” she gasped with a sigh. “I haven’t had a fig in years!”

“She’s getting worse,” Margo muttered to her husband. Thomas shrugged. “It’s most embarrassing. What will Fitz think? Of all the questions to ask!”

“Alba’s very keen on him, isn’t she?” said Thomas. “It’s a good thing.”

“It’s a tremendously good thing, Thomas. I hope Lavender hasn’t frightened him off.”

“He’s made of stronger stuff than you give him credit for, Margo. Mark my words. He’s keen on Alba too.” Margo crossed her fingers, showing them to her husband.

“Let’s just pray,” she said and walked out into the hall, her little dogs trotting after her.

Margo made sure that Lavender was placed between Thomas and Miranda, putting Fitz and Alba next to herself. Cook served delicious lamb with roast potatoes and beans as a special treat because Alba had brought her new boyfriend. Lavender was chastened and picked at her food in silence but barely took her eyes off Alba. She didn’t stare in the same way that people on the bus stared, but with a mixture of curiosity and sympathy. Alba tried not to mind; after all, her grandmother was old. Once she had been lucid and had told wonderful stories of the people who had come into her life. Rainbows, she had called them. “If it weren’t for my friends, my life would be like a dull, empty sky,” she had often said. Then exclaimed heartily, “God forbid!” Alba wondered whether there were any rainbows left or whether she now existed in the empty sky that she had so dreaded.

Fitz continued to charm her father and stepmother with his elaborate lies and boyish smile. Once or twice he forgot himself and the odd truth escaped to contradict the lies he had sown earlier, but he smoothed it over by stammering in that very English way and feigning vagueness, which was charming in itself. No one was any the wiser. Alba watched him with growing affection. He had followed her out onto the porch after her grandmother’s tactless remarks and they had shared a cigarette. If it hadn’t been for him she might very well have jumped into the car and driven back up to London. She never bothered to stick around when a situation upset her. Fitz had talked it over, made it into a joke. She had agreed to double-blink at him each time Lavender said something outrageous and rude. Now she waited, but Lavender said nothing.