The Girl Below(36)

In different circumstances, I would have taken hours to find the sunglasses, handling as many gowns as possible along the way. But with Madeline watching, my hands were paddles, swiping blindly at things and sending piles of necklaces and garter belts flying in all directions. I was so flustered that after a time I wasn’t even sure what I was looking for, and had displaced so many of Peggy’s things that it looked like the dresser had been savaged by a dog. Finally, I saw a pair of ridiculous sunglasses—huge and round, like dinner plates—poking out from the top drawer, and I grabbed them in my shaking hands and fled.

Out in the hallway afterward, my reaction at seeing Madeline seemed about as credible as being strangled by a psychotic feather boa, and I recovered almost as soon as the door was shut. I’d had a panic attack; that was all.

“You took your time,” said Peggy when I returned. “But I suppose a little snooping won’t hurt anyone.”

Pippa laughed. “She wasn’t snooping—have you seen the state of your room? I’m surprised she found anything in there. I’m surprised you can even find the bed.”

Their sniping sounded gentler than it had when I’d left, and I guessed a truce between them had been reached. Either that or they’d worn each other out. I handed Peggy her sunglasses, which obscured most of her face and made an indentation on her papery cheeks. She looked glamorous though too, a skeletal version of Jackie O in her Greek phase.

“You look ready for our bon voyage now,” said Pippa.

“I don’t know why you’re so excited,” said Peggy, looking out over the top of her sunglasses. “It’s one of the lesser Greek islands.”

“Which means it’s unspoiled.” Pippa wiped a dribble of tea from her mother’s chin. “You’ll absolutely love it. Ari’s family can’t wait to make a fuss over you.”

“What makes you think they won’t put me to work in the taverna like the rest of you?”

“We’ll only be working some of the time,” said Pippa. “The rest is a holiday.”

“And what if I get sick again?” Peggy’s mouth turned down at the corners. “I don’t suppose they have proper medical facilities.”

“Don’t be so morbid. It’s the middle of summer.” Pippa wiped a finger of dust off the windowsill. “It’ll do you good to get away from your museum.”

“Harold will look after me. I’ll ring him tonight in Australia.”

“Canada, Mother. He lives in Toronto, remember?”

“Well, they’re both part of the Commonwealth,” said Peggy. “And there’s no need to shout.” She tried to take a sip from her cup, but it slid out of her hand and smashed on the floor in a pool of milky tea. At the calamity, Peggy started, and Pippa put out a hand to steady her.

“Have you heard from him lately?” she said, more gently.

Peggy didn’t answer, but I saw, as Pippa knelt and carefully gathered up the pieces of broken china, that her jaw was clenched.

“Well, neither have I,” said Pippa, when she’d finished picking up the crockery. “Suki, would you mind getting a tea towel from the kitchen?”

I was still rifling in the cupboards looking for one when Pippa came in to throw out the broken cup.

“Is she well enough to go to Greece?” I said.

“It was her idea,” said Pippa. “She campaigned with her doctor to be allowed to go. But she enjoys being difficult. If we changed our minds and said she had to stay here, she’d want to go with us.” She pulled out a tea towel from perilously close to the moonshine flour bin and handed it to me. “Did you enjoy Mummy’s fantasy wall?”

At first, I didn’t catch on. “You mean the photographs? She told me she was an actress.”

“She was an understudy in a couple of plays,” said Pippa. “Eventually she became a theater publicist—a very good one too. That’s why she has got so many autographed photos, and why she isn’t in any of them.”

“Except for the one in the headdress,” I said.

“Costume party,” said Pippa. “She had plenty of those.”

“That’s what I remember most about her—the amazing clothes,” I said, feeling a rush of sadness and sympathy for Peggy’s failed ambitions. Perhaps it didn’t matter that she’d only acted the part of an actress. Flouncing around in Kabuki gowns had been a kind of performance. Who cared if it hadn’t been on a stage?

Pippa settled on a stool by the window, and didn’t look like she was in a hurry to go back to the drawing room. “I wish she’d let go of all that,” she said. “She hangs on to all those bloody gowns and some of them are worth a fortune. Soon they’ll be so ruined they won’t be worth a thing.”