524

When she went through later to wee, Eleanor went into her study and took down the worn, very old red volume of Who’s Who.  She opened it at the index and ran her finger down the names. 

“So that’s it.  I thought so,” she said under her breath.  “Well, their secret is safe with me.  I suppose they want to be anonymous, but … would it matter to any of us?”

She went back into the sitting room and poured herself another glass of champagne. 

Well, well, Kitty Maloona, she thought serenely, as she sipped it.  How interesting!

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523

Lucasta sat down in one of the armchairs near the fire. 

“My legs won’t let me stand too long my knees you know so creaky and old I sometimes wonder at the Divinity letting us go through all this decay and falling off quite horrid sometimes really though I don’t know whether Canon Green would approve of my sentiments dear man.”

Esmé sat cross-legged on the floor on her right, Keith followed suit on her left.  Graeme and Eleanor took the sofa and Jason leant negligently against the mantelpiece. 

“Will you go for a while to live in France after you’ve graduated, my dear?” Lucasta’s glance at Esmé was direct.

“I’d love to.  It always seemed magical to me.  That’s why I studied French.”

“Oh my dear so different and so elegant but they treat cats badly poor things all these starving creatures slinking about with all their ribs showing I used to feel so sorry for them when I went there but such a beautiful country and somehow so much grander than England the countryside I mean though not Scotland which is very impressive and almost wild sometimes which I always loved when I used to go and visit Lillibet at …”  She stopped, and cast a look of mute apology to Jason.

“Lillibet?” asked Esmé, puzzled, feeling that she ought to know who all these people were, and feeling inadequate as she often did.

“Yes well the Queen you know whom I’ve known for years.”  There was no boastfulness about it; on the contrary, almost a shamed regret that she had to mention it.  And a lack of blether which was quite revealing.  Jason was staring at his grandmother, his brow creased.

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522

Graeme wondered Esmé fitted in. Although Jason hadn’t mentioned it, it did rather look as if he were bisexual. In fact, there was a sexual charge between all three of them: Jason, Esmé and Keith. Jason and Keith were clearly lovers.  They had the body language. Comfortable in each other's space.   But Keith and Esmé were also obviously connected, too.  Graeme thought back to his own six years of marriage and wondered how these three would sort things out among themselves.  Some of the older people he mixed with were always saying that the young were stuffy and conservative, but these three seemed to be free spirits, unfazed by society’s strictures and diktats.

And the two old ladies!  What an amazing pair.  So placidly revolutionary.  What was it Dorothy Sayers said in one of her novels?    He grinned, remembering. 

“Why are you smiling?” asked Eleanor, unable to stop her own lips quirking up.

“Oh, I was thinking of what Dorothy Sayers said.  ‘You can tame an advanced young woman, but an advanced old woman is uncontrollable.’[1]  Something like that.  It’s from ‘Clouds of Witness” I think.”

“Oh, I think women often change over their life, you know.  Because when we are young we are constrained.  We must behave, don’t you know.  But as we get older, all those strictures and customs come to seem merely silly.  Sayers also said:

 ‘As I grow older and older,

 And totter toward the tomb,

 I find that I care less and less,

 Who goes to bed with whom.’”

Graeme laughed. 

“It’s easy to remember,” Eleanor said, smiling too, “because it rhymes.”

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[1]

 “Time and trouble will tame an advanced young woman, but an advanced old woman is uncontrollable by any earthly force.”

521

Keith coloured.  He cast a quick look at Lucasta.  She smiled back benignly.

“Sao ya had a nanny, did ya?” Keith dug at Jason, annoyed at being embarrassed in front of Lucasta whom he rather admired.

“Yeah.  And I learnt French from her.  Dialect.  When I go and stay with her they think I’m a local.”

“Oi never had the chance to learn French,” said Keith mutinously.

“I’m teaching him,” said Esmé, linking her arm through his.

“You learnt something better,” said Jason, “you learnt to survive and yet keep your compassion and love of mankind.”  Ignoring Keith’s discomfited glower, he went on, talking to the others, “You should see him when we get trouble in the bar.  It’s never—hardly ever—bad trouble, but somebody gets a bit overactive sometimes and then Keith gets them back in line.  Amazing.  Just with words.  And a little sarcasm.  Well, sometimes quite a lot of sarcasm.  He hardly ever has to bring out the cricket bat.”

“Oi’ll bring out the cricket bat on you, sunshoin!” said Keith, embarrassed but smiling, too.

 

“Promises, promises.”  Jason leered at him.

“You must ignore these reprobates, Graeme,” said Esmé.  “They’re just showing off!”

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520

Aubeterre

Jason handed Eleanor and Graeme a glass of champagne and gave Keith a glass of red from the bottle he’d brought.

“Cheers!  Thank you for coming, Graeme.  It’s good to see you again.”

“You too, Jason.  And I’m glad to meet so many fans.  Of both my authorships!”

“We’re very pleased to have you here.  Did you have to come far?” asked Eleanor.

“Oh, no, I’m practically a neighbour.  Just 3 or 4 tram stops along.”

“Melbourne so civilised with trams and pavement cafés I approve so European,” said Lucasta, sipping her champagne.

“When I first came here it struck me as a southern European city with the plane trees and the boulevards and pavement cafés and everywhere Greeks and Italians and Lebanese.  I love it.”  Jason glanced at his grandmother, wondering if she got the subtext.

“And,” she said,” putting her hand on his arm, “you’ve been happy here.”

Oh.  Yes, she understood.

“Better than I would have been anywhere else.  Except perhaps Aubeterre.”

“Where?”  asked Esmé.

“Aubeterre.”  In the south of France.  South-ish.  Not too far from Bordeaux.  It where my former nanny lives.  She’s French.  But, although they’re very accepting there I don’t know that I’d’ve made friends as quickly as I have here.  And yeah, I think about Brent a lot and I miss him like stink but having you two helps me better than anything.”  On impulse he leaned over and kissed Esmé’s cheek and then Keith’s.  Esmé smelled nice of a scent he didn’t recognise and Keith smelled of Keith.  He started to get a fatty but was surprised when he realised that he wasn’t sure whether it was because of Keith or Esmé.  Or both.

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519

“Key, Eleanor—this is Graeme, alias Amantha Masterton and “—he gave Graeme a sly grin— “Endeavour Lambano.  Graeme, you know Keith, and Eleanor is my landlady and friend.”

“Honoured to meet the creator of Lord Balincourt,” exclaimed Eleanor, and Keith gave Graeme a huge smile and said, “Awesome!”

“Would you care for a glass of champagne, Graeme?”

“I’d love some.”

“I put your wine on the sideboard, Key,” said Jason.  “Looks rather nice.”

“I purloined it from The Lord Grey.  Tom won’t mind.”

“What do you write under your Endeavour Lambano pseudonym, Graeme?” asked Eleanor.

Graeme cast a desperate look at Jason, and said, “Um, I write …”

Jason cut across him.  “Scintillating hot gay novels.”

“Romantic, too,” observed Keith.

“So you’re at heart a romantic, Graeme?” asked Eleanor, placidly.

“Yes, I think so.  I believe in love.”

“Me too,” said Eleanor.  “And kindness.  They’re the most important things.”

“Yes,” said Keith.  “Exactly.”  They smiled at each other in perfect understanding.

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518

Thomas de Grey

When Graeme arrived 20 minutes later, the sitting room was already loud with chatter and laughter.

“My dear, so beautiful, and such warm people I always thought and I did love the climate having drinks on the terrace and listening to the servants talking so melodious.”

“I think my mother’s Italian is dialect,” said Esmé.  “I don’t know.”

“You should ask her,” said Lucasta.

“Oh … I …we don’t talk any more.”  Esmé’s dismissive comment was tinged with sorrow. 

Jason brought Graeme over and introduced him.

“Graeme, my grandmother Lucasta Ellesmere, and my friend Esmé Kovac who are both fans of your writing.  Grandam, Ezz: may I present to you Graeme alias Amantha Masterton.”  Jason bowed like an impresario.

“So delighted to meet you Graeme I am a great fan of your stories so insightful and such fun.”

“You’ve enlivened many an unhappy hour,” said Esmé.  “Dreams of handsome princes and romantic castles and buxom beauties swept off their feet.  This ninny”—she gestured at Jason—“didn’t mention who you were when we met last time.”

Jason stuck his tongue out at her.  Graeme laughed. 

“As I said to Jason, it’s a job.  I admit, I make what the inimitable Jane calls ‘a modest competence’ from dear Lord Balencourt’s amorous and pugilistic adventures.”

“Your swordfights are very realistic.”

“I did some genuine training for a while.  Just so’s I could get it right.”

“You have more fans over there,” observed Jason, gesturing to the other corner of the room where Keith and Eleanor were chatting.  “Let me introduce you.”

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