The Forget-Me-Not Sonata(41)

‘Of course, then I’m going to tell Cecil the truth.’

Isla pulled a face as if she doubted her sister had the courage to be so bold. ‘Just Cecil or are you going to tell Mummy and Daddy the truth as well?’

‘Everyone, I’m sick of lying and hiding the way I feel, so is Louis.’

‘Good!’ Isla exclaimed, grinning widely. ‘I can’t wait to watch the ripples.’

‘I feel sorry for Cecil though, you know, he’s a very sweet man. He doesn’t deserve to be treated the way I’ve treated him. I’ve been horrid and careless with his feelings.’

‘Oh, goodness me, Audrey,’ chided Isla. ‘It’s his fault, he shouldn’t have rushed in like that. It was only the first dinner invitation, men aren’t supposed to propose so soon.’ Then she looked at Audrey through narrowed eyes that sparkled with flu and mischief combined. ‘You must have encouraged him to be so impulsive.’ Audrey’s face paled with horror.

‘I did nothing to encourage him,’ she protested firmly, affronted by the accusation. ‘Nothing.’ She folded her arms defensively, recalling with a shudder that she had allowed him to hold her hand.

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to suggest that you had encouraged him on purpose, only that he must have read you wrong.’

‘He certainly read me wrong,’ she replied swiftly, averting her eyes from her sister’s intense scrutiny.

‘You’ll put it right,’ Isla reassured her. ‘Just prepare for the storm.’

Aunt Hilda sat at her dressing table rubbing cold cream into the cracks in her skin. Like many women who lived in hot climates she had allowed her face to be burned too many times by the sun, but no amount of caring now could erase the rough texture of solar damage or the ever-increasing corrosion of bitterness which scorched her features with equal intensity. If youth had once bestowed on her a handsomeness of sorts, age had robbed her of it. There was little that was attractive in her cold, bloodshot eyes and in the thin line of her mouth, which rarely smiled even during the rare moments when she genuinely had something to be happy about. She was incapable of taking pleasure from other people’s good fortune and had settled into the habit of being perpetually disappointed with her own life. To Aunt Hilda her negative world was as dependable as it was reassuringly familiar. When Nelly, her second and least insipid daughter, entered her room with the news that Isla was bedridden with flu, Hilda stopped tormenting her face with cream and remarked that she didn’t believe it for a second. ‘That child runs circles around Rose,’ she sighed. ‘I have good reason to believe that she’s enjoying a secret tryst with that ghastly Louis Forrester. Flu indeed.’

Nelly, who had been raised on an unhealthy diet of her mother’s resentment that her sister’s daughters were more beautiful and charming than hers, enjoyed nothing more than to indulge in long conversations tailored to undermine her cousins’ perfection and make her feel better about herself, albeit temporarily. The fact that she too was sweet on Louis Forrester made her eagerness to criticize all the more intense. ‘What makes you think that?’ Nelly asked, concealing her mortification by feigning disgust. Hilda replaced the lid on the cream then removed the excess from her face with a tissue.

‘It’s perfectly obvious to everyone else, Nelly, except dear Rose and Henry,’ she replied. ‘They’re far too distracted by Audrey’s romance with Cecil. I tell you, they’ll rue the day those two boys descended on Hurlingham.’

‘But how do you know Louis is in love with Isla?’ Nelly persisted impatiently. The thought hadn’t occurred to her. ‘Isla’s too young to be interested in boys, I’m certain of it.’

Her mother scoffed and raised her over-plucked eyebrows into her shiny brow.

‘My dear, Edna agrees with me. Rose even noticed them passing notes to each other, and apparently a lot of horse play goes on between them.’

‘Why would they bother to keep it secret? Isla’s no stranger to trouble. She thrives on it.’

‘That may be so, but she knows the difference between “trouble” and “scandal”. She’s as shrewd as a stoat that one. Thinks she’s pulled the wool over everyone’s eyes. Flu indeed. She’s just feigning being ill so she can enjoy secret rendezvous with Louis. Mark my words.’

‘If it’s true, Louis and Isla are made for one another, they’re both irresponsible,’ said Nelly in order to provoke her mother to expand on the subject. Her ploy worked for Hilda swivelled around on her stool and drew her pink dressing gown across her bony chest.