‘I think that means it’s time for food,’ Frances said. Miranda turned away from her siblings. She put her hand gently on Guy’s arm. ‘Guy, would you like to go in to dinner?’ she said in a husky voice.

Guy turned. ‘Oh, hel o, Miranda,’ he said. ‘Yes, I’d love to. Shal we?’ he said, turning to Arvind.

‘Wel , if we don’t,’ Arvind said, patting him on the back, ‘it’l go cold. Dinner, my friends. Let us eat.’

‘So, you’ve got two weeks,’ said Frances. ‘Is there anything you’d like to do while you’re here? Beyond relaxing and having a holiday, of course.’

Guy paused in the action of handing the salad bowl to Miranda and looked down the table at his brother, who was seated next to Frances.

‘We don’t real y have any plans,’ Frank said, staring ner vously into Frances’s amused green eyes. ‘We’d like to go to the beach. Obviously!’

He laughed, a little too loudly. Cecily, next to him, watched him in amazement. ‘Um—’ He looked at his brother for help. He was nervous, he wished it would go away. Across the table, Louisa smiled gently at him, and he looked rueful y at her. I’m not normally this much of an idiot. He had hardly said a word since he’d arrived. He’d never been anywhere like Summercove before.

The windows were open, the curtains drawn, and it was a stil night. Occasional y they could hear an owl hooting in the woods behind the house.

‘I’d like to go to the Minack Theatre,’ Guy said. ‘I’ve always wanted to.’

‘Wel , if we can get tickets,’ Louisa said, looking at Frank to see if he registered any interest in this activity. ‘But it’s often booked up.’

Frances waved her hand. ‘That’s fine. I know them. I’m sure if we motor over tomorrow there wil be some available. Terrific!’ She looked pleased. ‘I love the Minack, Guy, I hope you wil too. It’s such a wonderful setting. So dramatic. You feel as if at any moment the whole thing could be swept away into the sea.’

‘Is it very dangerous, the sea around here?’ Frank said. ‘We’ve lived here for eight years, if you count when it was just our holiday home,’ said Archie sagely. ‘We’re al pretty used to the sea.’

‘The rocks can be treacherous,’ Frances said, staring at her nails. ‘But you just have to be careful. Sensible.’

Yes, be careful. Be sensible. Don’t rock the boat. She smiled, her teeth gritted together behind her lips.

‘Wel , I’d like a picnic on the beach,’ Frank said suddenly. ‘With food.’

‘Yes,’ Jeremy said, pleased. ‘We thought we’d do that. At night, if that’s al right with you, Aunt Frances?’ He turned to his aunt, next to him.

‘Don’t want to leave you high and dry without company for the evening.’

‘So we’re not invited to the picnic on the beach, I take it?’ she asked him, amused.

‘Oh,’ said Jeremy, flustered. ‘Of course, if you’d like to – if you’d want to. How rude of me . . . I just thought, when Mother and Father arrive, you’d want to . . .’

‘I’d rather be on the beach,’ Arvind said.

Archie jumped in. ‘I say, Guy, Frank, have you been fol owing the Ward trial?’ he said. ‘Pretty juicy, isn’t it?’

‘Oh, yes,’ said Guy. ‘I can’t believe they’re serving it up like this, every day.’

‘Profumo lied to Parliament, he deserves everything he gets,’ Guy said. He drummed his fingers on the table. ‘The times are changing. You can’t have this Establishment covering everything up as it suits them any more.’

Archie nodded, pleased. ‘What do you think, Frank?’ Frances asked the silent man next to her.

‘I’m afraid I don’t real y care much,’ Frank said, his handsome face set in a frown. ‘It’s just jol y entertaining, that’s al .’ He looked around, shamefaced. ‘Expect that’s an awful thing to say.’

‘I think that’s what we al feel,’ Guy said. ‘It’s terrible, but I want to read it.’ He turned to Miranda. ‘Do you read Private Eye?’

‘Oh, yes,’ Miranda said. ‘We sneak it in to school, I think it’s awful y funny.’

‘That’s rub—’ Cecily began, but bit her lip suddenly as Archie, next to her, kicked her.

‘Seems to me it’s the only paper or magazine tel ing the truth. There’s so much hypocrisy out there, in public life, it’s disgusting.’ Guy’s quiet face was animated. ‘L-look at the Argyl divorce case, it made me absolutely sick. We scrabble around to feast on the bones of these people, just so we can say how decadent and awful they are over our breakfast cereal, and then we bow and scrape when a lord or lady comes into the room.’

His voice rose as he came to an abrupt halt.

Silence fel as they al nodded politely, awkwardly. Frances looked at her nails again, and Guy sank back into his chair, embarrassed. Mary appeared in the doorway. ‘Shal I clear away?’ she asked. ‘Ooh, there’s not much left of it, is there?’

‘Thank you, Mary,’ Frances said. ‘That was delicious.’ The others murmured their approval, smiling, and Mary looked pleased. ‘You can go up afterwards, if you like. We can make the coffee.’

‘Behold, the symbol of our bourgeois repressive regime,’ Arvind said to Guy, after Mary had gone into the kitchen. ‘Mary. She cooks Beef Wel ington and cleans for us and we give her money.’

‘Sir, I didn’t mean –’ Guy began, looking mortified. ‘Please don’t—’

Arvind waved his hand. ‘Please. I was making a joke. You are quite right, young man,’ he said. ‘Things are changing, and we are wise to recognise it. Only I don’t think any of us knows how they wil change, not yet.’ He looked around the table, at his son Archie staring into space, at Louisa gazing at Frank, at Miranda watching them with a curious fury, at Guy, methodical y eating his cheese, at Cecily, careful y peeling a grape and looking across at Jeremy under her eyelashes, and final y at his wife. She nodded back at him, but a little frown creased her brow.

They retired one by one that night; Arvind went early, fol owed by Cecily then Jeremy. The others stayed up, sitting outside on the terrace, talking quietly over coffee. Guy was next to go up. He said he was tired, and he was fol owed by Archie soon after. Frances, Miranda, Louisa and Frank were left, until Frances took the hint and got up, with a look at Louisa and Frank and at her daughter.

Frank leapt to his feet. ‘Goodnight, Mrs . . . Mrs Kapoor.’

She held her hand in his, smiling at him playful y. She’d forgotten how touching these boys could be. How bloody pompous, too. ‘Goodnight, Frank. And please. Cal me Frances. It’s like Frank. Not too hard to remember.’

He gazed at her nervously. ‘Yes . . . yes, of course.’

She turned to Miranda, and her gaze flicked lightly back to Frank and Louisa, who was gazing shyly down at the flagstones.

‘You leaving these two to it, then, Miranda dear? See you tomorrow.’

Miranda, defeated, shot her mother a furious look. She got up from where she’d been artful y sitting on the ground. ‘Yes, I’m off too. Night, you two. Don’t be too long. It’s dangerous for the rest of us, you leaving the front door open,’ she said, somewhat obscurely.

Miranda didn’t come up immediately. Cecily was kneeling up in bed when she final y appeared, her diary beside her, and she was looking out of the window.

‘Are you peeping?’ Miranda said. ‘Watching what’s going on with the young lovers? Are they stil down there?’

‘No,’ Cecily blushed, and shut the window hurriedly. ‘Oh, you smel ,’ she said. ‘Is that where you went? Have you been . . . smoking? Urgh.’

‘Oh, shut up, you baby,’ said Miranda, flinging herself on the brass bedstead. ‘I’m eighteen, for God’s sake, I’m a bloody grown-up.’ She stared at the wal . ‘Not that anyone like Mummy seems to appreciate that fact.’

‘That’s because you don’t behave like a grown-up,’ Cecily said automatical y. ‘You don’t have a plan, unlike Archie.’ Miranda ignored her, and began unzipping her dress. Her younger sister watched her. ‘What are you going to do now? Do you know?’

‘I don’t know,’ Miranda said. ‘So leave me alone.’

‘You must have some idea,’ Cecily said, but her sister held up a hand.

‘Don’t start on me, please, Cecily. I’m not in the mood. Archie’s an idiot sometimes. A swot, with his ideas about making money and al of that rot. It’s so boring of him. I’l be fine. I’l work something out.’

‘Miranda,’ Cecily began. ‘Can I ask you something?’

‘As long as it’s not about me.’ Miranda was struggling with the zip of her dress.

‘It’s not.’ Cecily leaned forward and tugged it down. ‘Thanks. Go on.’

‘Do you think it’s bad, if people . . .’ Cecily stopped. ‘A man and a woman. Do they—’ She flopped back against her pil ows. ‘Oh, never mind.

Forget it.’

‘A man and a woman?’ Miranda was intrigued. ‘What?’ she said. ‘Are you trying to spice up your diary? What?’

‘Nothing,’ Cecily said firmly. ‘I’m going to sleep now. Goodnight, Miranda.’

Chapter Fifteen

The next day, at breakfast, when Frank appeared at the table, tal and handsome in shorts and a slightly crumpled polo shirt, Louisa pursed her lips and looked down at her toast.

Frank cleared his throat. ‘Hel o, Louisa,’ he said.

Louisa blushed, ignored this and turned to Guy. ‘What do you want to do today, Guy?’ She popped a strawberry into her mouth and smiled at him.

Miranda sat down at the table, shooting a sideways glance at Cecily, who was bright red and munching her toast furiously, as if it had done something to offend her. So that was what had been troubling Cecily last night. She smiled.

‘Yes, Guy,’ she said, also ignoring the hapless Frank, who clutched his plate and sat down. ‘What do you want to do?’

Guy put down his knife. ‘I thought perhaps the beach? I don’t know, real y. Whatever anyone else wants.’ He looked at Cecily. ‘What do you like doing when you’re down here, Cecily?’

‘Me?’ Cecily looked astonished that anyone should ask her opinion. ‘Um – I like swimming in the sea, and playing card games and reading my book.’ She stretched out her legs. ‘And not having to pose for Mum, which I don’t have to do today, thank goodness.’

‘She’s painting you?’

‘Yes.’ Cecily glanced around, to make sure Frances wasn’t near the breakfast room. ‘It’s pretty dul ,’ she confided.

‘Your mother’s a wonderful painter,’ Guy said. ‘Who knows, one day you could be hanging in the National Portrait Gal ery.’

‘That’d be nice,’ Cecily admitted. ‘I just can’t see anyone wanting to gawp at me, that’s al .’

‘Nonsense, Cec,’ Jeremy said, walking behind her. He patted her head. ‘You’re a looker, isn’t she, Frank?’

As Cecily glowed, Frank, stil watching Louisa, said, ‘Oh – ah. Of course. Yes.’

‘Frank . . . Franty, your name is just like Mummy’s,’ Cecily said, flushing with exhilaration. ‘I think we should just cal you Bowler Hat from now on. To avoid any confusion.’

‘Yes,’ Louisa said, looking up suddenly, giving a thin smile. ‘Bowler Hat’s the perfect name. Because I’ve been thinking about it and Cecily’s right. You do look as if you should be wearing a bowler hat. Shorts real y don’t suit you. Your knees are awfully thin.’

Into the silence that fol owed this statement came Mary. ‘Now, does anyone want some more coffee?’ she said, wiping her hands on her apron.

‘Eggs? Frank, how about you?’

‘No – no, thanks,’ Frank said. He smoothed his hands nervously along his muscular arms. He looked too big for the smal seat, the cosy dining room.

‘We’re cal ing him Bowler Hat now, Mary,’ Louisa said. She pushed her chair back from the table and stood up, her long legs clad in a pristine pair of shorts, this time pale blue. She languidly stretched her arms above her head. ‘Not Frank. It’s too confusing.’

‘Bowler Hat, eh?’ said Mary, col ecting up the empty scrambled egg dish. ‘Right you are.’

When Miranda and Cecily were cleaning their teeth in the little sink in their room after breakfast, Miranda said carelessly, ‘So, was Frank asking Louisa something a bit . . . rude, last night, Cec? Is that what you overheard?’

Cecily’s mouth was ful of toothpaste. She stopped, toothbrush in hand.

‘Wha’?’ she said. ‘Something about sex.’ Miranda mouthed the last word. ‘Something she didn’t want to do.’

Cecily bent over the sink and spat, and when she stood up again her smal face was red.

‘I wasn’t eavesdropping. Honestly. I wasn’t.’

‘I know you weren’t,’ Miranda said. ‘I don’t think the Bowler Hat’s very nice,’ Cecily said. ‘What did he do?’

‘Wel .’ Cecily spoke in a whisper, and turned the square tap so the water was running. ‘I was watching them, because I heard them say my name. I had the windows open ’cause I couldn’t sleep. They were sitting on the floor, and he . . .’ She paused. ‘Oh, my goodness.’