The Unseen(41)

‘Thank you. Very kind.’ Mr Durrant smiles again, and Hester mirrors the expression. Indeed, it is hard not to smile at Robin Durrant.

‘I suppose your husband is out and about at his pastoral duties?’ Robin asks, accepting a cup of tea when Hester hands him one some minutes later.

‘Yes, that’s right. He always tries to be at church in the hours before luncheon. It seems to be when parishioners are most at leisure to call in if they have need of him. And if he’s not there he’s ranging all over the parish, visiting …’

‘Tending to his flock, like a good shepherd ought,’ Robin Durrant suggests, raising one eyebrow slightly.

‘Yes, indeed.’ Hester says. ‘And you’re from Reading, I understand?’

‘I am. My mother and father still live there, in the house where I grew up, my brothers and I. Their work has moved them away from the area now, of course. Only I remain so close to the nest.’

‘Oh, I am sure your mother is most pleased to have you nearby,’ Hester says. ‘I understand it’s very hard, for a mother, when all her children finally fly away from her. Metaphorically speaking, of course. Tell me, what is it your brothers do, that takes them away from home?’

‘Well,’ Robin Durrant shifts in his chair, a peculiar expression flitting across his face, ‘my elder brother, William, is in the army. He’s carving himself a most distinguished career as an officer, and has recently been promoted to colonel.’

‘Goodness! He must be very brave! But how worrying for your family … has he been away at war?’

‘He has indeed. In fact, it was an act of the very bravery you mention in Southern Africa that led to him being promoted recently, and indeed to him being decorated for valour.’

Hester’s eyes widen appreciatively. ‘He sounds like a true hero,’ she says.

‘That he is, and quite bullet proof, it would seem. He has been shot three times already, in his career – twice by arrows and once by a rifle shot, and yet he always seems to bounces back, quite unperturbed!’ Robin smiles. ‘It’s become a family joke that he needs to keep his tail down more upon manoeuvres. It was the traditional poacher’s injury he received, on two of the occasions.’

Hester nods slightly, not really understanding him. ‘Shot by arrows! Good heavens, that the world is still populated with such savages!’ she breathes. ‘William must have the heart of a lion.’

‘My younger brother, John, came down from Oxford with a first-class degree in medicine not three years ago. He is currently in Newcastle, where he has perfected a new surgical technique for the removal of … now, let me see. Is it the spleen? It quite escapes me now. Some organ or other, anyway,’ he says, with a careless wave of his hand.

‘My word, what an accomplished family you come from!’ Hester exclaims, admiringly. ‘And is your father a very distinguished man?’

‘Oh, yes. He too was in the army for more than forty years, and was a Governor in India for many of them, until poor heath forced his return to more temperate climes. He is a great man, truly. He has never let any of his sons contemplate failure,’ Robin Durrant says, his expression darkening slightly.

‘Such a man might be hard to … live up to?’ Hester ventures.

Robin takes a deep breath, and seems to consider this; then he shakes his head. ‘Oh, no! He really is an old pussy cat. I only meant to say that he has always taught us to believe in ourselves, to expect the best from ourselves. Such an upbringing makes it easy for a child to excel,’ he says.

Hester colours slightly, embarrassed to have misread him.

‘Well, clearly you yourself are excelling at … theosophy.’ She smiles. ‘I know Albert was very impressed by the lecture you gave …’

‘I fear that my chosen sphere is not one that my father readily understands. And it is not one in which, I think, a person can be said to excel – dealing as it does with the creation of a brotherhood of man, a coming together of equals, and the sacrifice of pride and personal gain,’ Mr Durrant replies, quite solemnly.

‘Indeed, yes, of course.’ Hester nods. In the slight pause, the garden shears squeal and clack. ‘Oh! I think I hear Bertie’s bicycle!’ she cries, with some relief.

*

Albert smiles widely as he shakes hands with Robin Durrant, his face alight with excitement in a way Hester can’t recall seeing before. Certainly not on their wedding day, when he wore an expression of terrified concentration, as if in utter dread of doing or saying the wrong thing. She squeezes his hand fondly when he comes to stand beside her, glad to see him so animated.