The Swallow and the Hummingbird(41)

‘Poor thing. What a shame,’ she simpered. ‘She must have been quite a beauty once.’

‘She’s called Susan Robertson,’ said Mrs Bullingdon with an air of authority. ‘I spoke to her on arrival.’

‘What’s she like?’ Miranda asked, licking her lips. George was sickened.

‘With such an unfortunate face she was in no position to be arrogant,’ sniffed Mrs Bullingdon. ‘She was most unpleasant with a tongue that could slice through marble.’

‘Oh dear. What sort of life must she lead, poor woman? Fate has been so unkind.’ Miranda’s words were disingenuous. George could tell from the cold glint in her eye that she took great pleasure from Susan’s disfigurement.

‘You see, looks, like class, will never diminish in importance,’ Mr Linton-Harleigh stated heavily. ‘Anyone who says they don’t matter doesn’t know what they’re talking about.’ His wife nodded enthusiastically.

‘Isn’t it lucky our Miranda’s so pretty and charming?’ she said, pulling a saccharine smile.

When George felt pressure on his ankle he assumed there must be a dog under the table. When it persisted he realized to his horror that it was Miranda’s foot nudging his. He looked at her to find her discussing Susan with Mrs Bullingdon, relishing all the details that the elder lady was expressing with delight. For a moment he thought he must be mistaken, she appeared too engrossed in her conversation. But it couldn’t be Mrs Linton-Harleigh’s foot, for she was sitting next to him, and surely not that of the brigadier’s wife. The foot crept up his leg and rubbed against his shin. Pretending to drop his napkin, he bent down and poked his head beneath the tablecloth. To his relief the foot belonged to the girl. He was vaguely amused to think that her parents no doubt considered her a paragon of virtue. Hastily he tied the napkin around her ankle and attached it to the leg of the table. Then he pushed out his chair and got up.

‘Surely you’re not leaving us, George,’ Mrs Bullingdon exclaimed, put out. ‘You haven’t had any breakfast.’

‘I’m afraid I am.’

‘Lady friend?’ the brigadier asked, one bushy eyebrow shuffling off into his hairline.

George smiled bashfully. ‘How right you are, Brigadier. A very beautiful and classy one at that.’

Mr Linton-Harleigh sniggered. ‘Now, here’s a lad who knows what’s good for him.’

Miranda pouted.

‘Bring her with you to dinner?’ Mrs Bullingdon suggested. Then she turned to her friends. ‘He was a bit of a loner before I found him.’

George turned on his heel and stopped at Susan’s table. She looked up and smiled at him. ‘Do you need rescuing?’ she asked.

He shook his head in exasperation. ‘May I join you?’

‘Please do.’ George pulled out the chair and sat with his back to Mrs Bullingdon’s table. ‘You seem to have caused a bit of a commotion by leaving them to breakfast with me.’

‘Good. They’re possibly the most unpleasant bunch of people I’ve ever met.’

‘You were better off on your own.’

‘I was. But they jumped on me in the bar.’

‘I know the sort. Leeches. Once they’ve met you they want to suck you dry.’

‘Well, I’m backing out before I’m totally depleted. How are you this morning?’

She took a sip of her coffee. She was beautifully dressed in an ivory-coloured skirt and blouse, a simple pearl necklace around her neck. Her nails were perfectly manicured and her makeup carefully applied. Her hair shone with health and vitality. Only her eyes betrayed a certain weariness of spirit.

‘I enjoyed last night,’ she said, much to George’s surprise. ‘Oh, close your mouth before something flies in. It was nice to talk to someone.’

‘It was nice for me too. Shame we didn’t meet earlier.’

She lowered her eyes. For a fleeting moment she looked like a young girl and George suddenly felt protective of her. He poured himself a cup of coffee and ordered some more toast from the waiter.

‘Two breakfasts! Isn’t that a little greedy even for a growing boy?’ she teased.

‘They put me off my food,’ he replied, buttering a piece of toast. ‘I’m suddenly very hungry.’

‘I think you’ve upset that rather sour-looking child,’ she said, referring to Miranda. ‘She hasn’t taken her eyes off you once.’

‘She’s far more curious about you.’

‘You think?’

‘Just a hunch.’

‘I imagine she’s wondering how a good-looking young man could possibly prefer the company of a disfigured old maid to hers.’