Guy gave a short laugh. ‘The Bowler Hat’s right,’ Louisa said. ‘You’l be up at the Moulin Rouge every night, hanging out with cancan dancers and drinking absinthe—’

‘I say, when is this?’ Guy said, amused. ‘1890? Is Toulouse Lautrec my best friend?’

Louise looked rather stumped. ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ she said.

‘Where wil you be in ten years, then?’ Guy asked her. ‘Not one of the cancan dancers, I’l bet, Louisa. Not you.’

‘Oh. I don’t know. Where do you think I’l be?’

Guy put his coffee cup down and stared out to sea. ‘I think you’l be in New York, running the UN.’

‘Oh, Guy! Come off it!’ Louisa said. ‘He’s right,’ Frank said. ‘I think you wil .’

‘Yes,’ said Archie. ‘Hundreds of men underneath you. You’d like that, Louisa.’

‘Shut up, Archie, you little pig,’ Louisa said. ‘I didn’t mean—’

‘God, you’re vile, you real y are.’ Guy and Frank watched her, puzzled. She turned her back on Archie and swivel ed round to face Frank. ‘You don’t think that, real y, do you?’

Frank was stil staring at Archie in confusion, but he stopped and wrinkled his nose. ‘Don’t know, but I can imagine it, Louisa. You’re a terribly organised girl. Awful y clever, much more than me. You’re a real go-getter.’

‘Wel , I don’t know if I want to be a go-getter,’ Louisa said archly. She seemed a little disturbed by this. ‘Perhaps I just want to be at home. Have some children, look after them. Be a good wife.’

‘Urgh.’ Cecily made vomiting sounds behind her. ‘Please, Louisa.’

‘You could do both, you know,’ Guy said. Louisa looked at him blankly.

‘What about you?’ she said, gently nudging Frank. ‘Where do you think you’l be in ten years’ time? What wil you be doing?’

‘Oh. Um.’ Frank looked uncomfortable. ‘Don’t know.’ He picked at the embroidered logo on his polo shirt. ‘Sounds rather boring, if you say it out loud.’

‘Say it,’ Guy said quietly. ‘It’s not boring, old man, not if you real y want it.’

Frank stretched his arms above his head, faux-nonchalantly, and said, ‘Wel , it’s not much, real y. Think about having a nice house somewhere.

With a little drive, some hedges.’

‘Hedges?’ Cecily said, almost in disbelief. ‘Why—’ Guy nudged her.

‘And you know – I’d have qualified as a chartered surveyor. Be working at a good company. I’d get the train into town every day. Work with some nice chaps. I suppose, I never thought about it much. And – and wel ,’ he said, getting into his stride. ‘There’d be a . . . a family at home for me when I got back.’

‘You real y are the last of the great romantics, Bowler Hat,’ Cecily said. ‘Who is this family, a load of gypsies you’ve welcomed into your home?’

Frank took Louisa’s hand. ‘No,’ he said, squeezing her fingers. ‘My own family. My wife, and our children.’

There was a silence as the others digested this and Louisa’s eyes shone.

‘If she’s back from work, of course,’ added Frank, breaking in again. ‘Er – she might stil be working, of course. Perhaps we’d even get the train back together,’ he said, real y into his stride now.

Cecily got up. ‘I’l buy you both matching bowler hats for the wedding,’ she said. ‘Goodness, I got you quite wrong, didn’t I?’ She stretched herself out, languorously. ‘What about you, Archie?’

‘Don’t know,’ Archie said simply. His eyes roamed round. ‘Here’s Miranda.’ He cal ed out to his approaching sister, ‘You going for a swim?’

‘I thought so, yes. I’m boiling. Come in?’

‘Sure,’ said Archie. ‘Miranda’s a bril iant swimmer.’

‘She’s pretty amazing, actual y,’ Cecily told Guy. ‘She can do a somersault in the air off the diving board at school. She swims like a fish. It’s—’

She stopped as Miranda reached them.

‘Are you talking about me?’ Miranda said suspiciously. ‘Yes,’ Cecily said. ‘Just saying what a great swimmer you are.’

‘Don’t lie,’ Miranda said. ‘We were! Weren’t we?’ Cecily said, turning to Guy. ‘What about you, Miranda?’ Guy asked. ‘Where do you think you’l be in ten years’ time? What wil you be doing?’

Miranda looked taken aback. ‘I’m going to be running the UN,’ Louisa said. ‘Guy’s going to be living on the Left Bank wearing a beret, Frank’s going to be wearing a bowler hat and going into the City every day and Jeremy, we didn’t do you, or you, Cec.’

‘Oh, I’m boring,’ Jeremy said. ‘I’l be a doctor. I know what I want to be.’

‘That’s wonderful.’ Cecily looked at him with adoration. ‘Archie, what about you?’ Miranda asked her brother quickly.

‘I don’t know,’ said Archie helplessly. ‘I’d like to live in a hotel. You know, Monte Carlo or somewhere. Drive a fast car, see a bit of life.’ He crossed his arms. ‘But I’d be successful. Have my own business, sel ing cars or something. Studying’s a waste of time.’

‘But you’re going to Oxford, I thought,’ Cecily said. ‘No, I’m not.’ Archie shrugged. ‘Don’t see the point. Whole world out there ful of fun and excitement, I’m not going to moulder away in some old building for three years studying things people don’t care about any more.’

‘But—’ Cecily’s mouth dropped open. ‘Did you know that, Miranda?’

‘He can do what he wants,’ Miranda said. ‘But have you told Mummy and Dad?’

‘Cross that bridge when I come to it,’ Archie said, turning his face to the sun and closing his eyes.

‘So that’s the plan,’ Cecily said, nodding at him. She looked at her brother and sister, from one to the other. ‘Right. Wel , it’s none of my business.’

Louisa, ignoring this exchange, said, ‘What about you, Miranda?’

Miranda shrugged her slim shoulders. ‘Never real y thought about it,’ she said, adjusting the rubber strap around her goggles which were on her head.

‘You don’t know what you want to do yet?’ Louisa said. Miranda turned on her, and said vehemently, ‘Oh, shut up, Louisa. Just because you’re perfect and know exactly what’s going on with your stupid boring life. Leave me out of it. I don’t know, I tel you. I’m not good at anything, and that makes it rather hard.’

‘You must be good at something,’ Guy said, not unkindly. ‘Wel , I’m not,’ Miranda said flatly. ‘I’m ugly. I’m too thin, too hairy, too stupid to go to university. The only things I like doing are buying clothes, and sunbathing and swimming, and last time I checked you couldn’t do that as a job. I’m the lame duck of the family, and I know you al despise me. So – so just . . . just fuck off.’

She spat out the last three words and stalked off towards the sea, leaving Archie to run after her.

‘Poor girl,’ Frank said, watching her costume-clad figure as she slid into the blue-green sea.

‘Oh, she’l be fine,’ Cecily said, with a sister’s impatience. ‘She just wants to go to finishing school and learn how to get out of cars properly and she’s furious Mum and Dad won’t let her.’

‘How do you get out of cars properly?’ Guy asked, intrigued. ‘No idea but we’re al doing it wrong apparently,’ Cecily said. ‘She’l learn, and teach us, and then she can marry a rich husband and spend al day in Harrods buying al the dresses she wants. I suppose that might make her happy.’ But she didn’t sound sure.

Jeremy nodded. Louisa was silent. The little group was stil , for a moment, watching the twins as they bobbed in and out of the clear water.

‘What about you?’ Guy asked Cecily. ‘What wil you be doing in ten years?’

‘Thank you for final y asking, Guy.’ Cecily pointed one foot delicately in front of her. ‘Working on the script of the film of my best-sel ing novel about Mary Queen of Scots,’ she said. ‘Living in Hol ywood with Stewart Granger. Buying my second silver Rol s Royce because the first one wil be worn out with driving me to film premieres and parties. And eating al the cream eclairs I want.’ She stood up. ‘OK?’

‘Yes,’ said Guy, taken aback. ‘You’ve worked it out, haven’t you?’

‘Oh, absolutely,’ Cecily said pragmatical y. ‘But I’l have time to go to India with you before, if you want. Come on, let’s swim.’

Chapter Sixteen

That night, at dinner, a party atmosphere set in. Perhaps it was because of the sun but it became clear, when they gathered on the terrace that evening, that there was something in the air. The holiday was real, it was happening. It was theirs to enjoy.

Yes, they were al on good form that evening. Louisa, like Grace Kel y in a blue Grecian dress, shyly touching Frank’s hand; Frank, tal and more assured dressed for dinner in a jacket, shirt and trousers than he ever was in shorts, dutiful y meeting Louisa’s smiles. Miranda, the last one down, eventual y appeared model ing another of her recent purchases, a crisp cotton black and white gingham shift, with a sash tie behind, her hair pushed back with a black silk Alice band.

Her mother stared at her, Frank and Guy swal owed, and Cecily whistled.

‘Wow, you look great, Miranda,’ Jeremy said. He stared at her with admiration. ‘You look like a film star. Doesn’t she, Franty?’

Frances nodded. ‘Absolutely. You’re like a swan, darling.’ Guy whistled. ‘Why, Miss Kapoor, you’re ravishing,’ he said, in a terrible American accent.

‘Thank you so very much, darling,’ Miranda said, in a husky film-star voice. There was a little throb in her throat, almost as if she was nervous.

‘So very kind of you. So kind.’ She accepted a drink from Jeremy. ‘You look lovely tonight, Louisa,’ she said in a loud voice.

Louisa, visibly touched, stil looked startled. ‘Oh, Miranda . . . thank you.’

‘No one has complimented me on my dress,’ said Arvind, who was sitting in a chair on the edge of the terrace, admiring the sunset. ‘No one has said, How nice you look today, Arvind.’

‘Daddy, you look ravishing,’ Miranda said, wanting to bestow compliments on everyone now. ‘Mummy, you too.’

‘Very heartfelt, Miranda,’ Frances said drily. ‘I’m not quite ready for the bath chair and the nursing home yet, you know.’

‘Mother,’ said Miranda, in a wheedling tone. ‘Can I ask you a huge favour, please?’

‘Er—’ Frances said. ‘What is it?’

‘Can we put on the Beatles? Please? Your record player’s so much better than the one upstairs.’

Louisa clapped her hands. ‘Oh, Aunt Frances, please. I think you’d real y like it,’ she said. It was so far the only thing Miranda and Louisa had found they had in common.

‘I know it very wel ,’ Frances said drily. ‘I’ve heard that dratted album wafting down the stairs about ten times a day for the past week. And over Easter. I’m sick of it.’

‘Oh, go on,’ Miranda pleaded. She drank some more of her gin and tonic. ‘Listen to it properly. Please. Please Please Me!’ she said, and Frances laughed, and unbent.

‘Al right,’ she said.

So they ate supper to the strains of ‘Please Please Me’ playing on the old gramophone from the sitting room, and Louisa sang ‘Love Me Do’

softly in Frank’s direction, and even Cecily (who was secretly rather keen on John Lennon), sang along to ‘Twist and Shout’. ‘Because they didn’t write this one,’ she explained, when Miranda looked at her cool y and asked why she was singing, if she hated them so much?

Arvind and Frances were not censorious parents, and they al owed wine at the table, though Cecily was only al owed a glass. This night, perhaps because of the wine, or the heat coming off their sun-kissed skin, or the heady, late summer smel of lavender and sea and sun oil, the wine disappeared faster than it might have done.

‘Another bottle?’ said Mary, when she came in to put down the peach melba.

‘Oh—’ Frances, who had been working in her studio al day, was tired and rather drained. She waved her hand. ‘Yes, a couple more, please,’

she said. ‘My glass is empty.’ She looked around the table. ‘I do feel old,’ she said, to no one in particular.

It was stil very hot outside, humid and stil , and Frances went to bed after supper, pleading a headache, fol owed by Arvind. The younger generation moved out onto the terrace where they sat for a while, too tired to move, not real y saying much. Frank and Louisa stood at the edge of the group, he with one arm round her waist, a glass of wine in the other. He was rather drunk.

‘This time next week, your parents wil be here,’ Cecily said into the silence. She smoothed a hand over her brow, to the scarf she had tied back her hair with, and stood up. ‘I’m going to bed,’ she said, as if realising she was not in the right frame of mind for the party. ‘Goodnight, everyone.’

With her departure, it was as if the spel had been broken, and the party was deflating.

‘I’m actual y quite tired,’ Louisa said, moving Frank’s arm which was creeping up around her waist towards her breast. He drained his glass, and she moved away from him. ‘It must be al that sun.’