Margot burst out laughing. ‘Well, of course he was.’
Sally looked puzzled. Margot stroked her arm.
‘Darling, the Kitten Club is no more than an upmarket knocking shop. Didn’t anyone explain what was expected?’
Sally shook her head. ‘No. They trained me to pour drinks and chat and . . . look nice . . .’
‘How much were you being paid?’
‘£35 a week . . .’ Sally said gloomily, wondering how on earth she was going to manage now.
Margot shook her head. ‘You don’t get paid that kind of money for making cocktails.’
‘But they were all so nice. Just . . . normal.’ Sally thought of the customers she had chatted to. They’d been quite interesting and perfectly civilised.
‘You’ve had a lucky escape.’
Sally felt a bit sick. She didn’t feel like going back to London. She felt foolish. Her brothers had warned her, told her she was green and to watch out, and she’d ignored them. She’d thought she was so grown up, able to stand on her own two feet.
‘What are you going to do now?’ asked Alexander.
‘Well . . . my flatmate says there’s a job going at the chemist she works in.’
She supposed that would do for the time being, until she got back on her feet. She would be safe in a chemist.
‘I tell you what.’ Margot leaned forward. Her eyes were glittering, as they always did when she had an idea. ‘I’m looking for someone here. To sort this “bloody hovel” out and to answer my letters. I keep being told off by my publishers for not answering, but I say to them that if I’m tied up answering fan mail, how can I write books? Why don’t you come and work here for a few weeks? You can have one of the bedrooms and you won’t have to pay rent.’
‘We promise to behave,’ said Annie. ‘We did have a housekeeper, but when she found two guests copulating in the drawing room she left on the spot.’
Everyone seemed to find this anecdote hilarious.
Sally looked round at them all, not sure if they were teasing her, or if it was the wine talking. Her stomach fizzed with excitement at the thought of staying here, with these gloriously alive and madcap people.
‘Do you mean it?’ she asked. ‘Really?’
‘Absolutely,’ said Margot. ‘I’ll pay you what the wretched Kitten Club were paying and you don’t have to sleep with anyone, I promise you.’
‘Unless you want to,’ said Alexander.
Sally tried to hide her excitement. They weren’t to know how much she was already itching to restore order. She loved the kitchen, but it was completely filthy and chaotic and it could be lovely, really wonderful, with just a bit of organisation.
‘So – you want me to run the house and be a sort of secretary?’
‘Oh, and can you drive? Only it would be jolly useful to have someone who can pick up Annie from school at weekends.’
‘Yes.’ Sally had learnt to drive the butcher’s van – her brothers had taken it in turn to teach her.
‘Hang on, Mum – you can’t exploit her mercilessly,’ said Alexander. ‘When’s she going to sleep, in between all these duties?’
‘Oh, she’ll have plenty of time off, don’t you worry.’ Margot waved her cigarette around. ‘You can come up to town with me. We’ll go shopping. It won’t all be pushing sheets through the mangle.’
Alexander looked at Sally. ‘Don’t let her take advantage. Give her an inch and she takes a yard.’
Sally laughed. ‘I haven’t said yes yet. What about all my things? And I owe poor Barbara a month’s rent.’
‘I’ll pay that. You can owe me.’
Sally felt a thrill. It was wonderful to feel so wanted after the shock of Friday night. She’d thought she was on the scrap heap.
‘Tell you what,’ said Margot. ‘Give it a month’s trial. If you don’t like us, then you can go.’
‘But what if you don’t like me?’
The whole family stared at her.
‘We adore you. Already,’ said Annie.
‘You’re like Mary Poppins,’ said Phoebe.
‘Only sexier,’ said Alexander, and Sally’s cheeks burned bright with the thought of Alexander having that thought.
‘Then yes,’ she said, because not in a million years could she now go back to that gloomy flat and Barbara’s snoring and the thought of having to trawl through the papers for another job and risk getting herself into some other scrape.
Later that afternoon, Sally was waiting by the front door for Alexander. He was dropping her back to Russell Gardens to pack up all her things, then he was going to fetch her in the morning and drive her back down. They were dropping Annie back at school on the way.
Margot came to see them off.
‘Promise me one thing,’ said Margot.
‘Promise me you won’t fall in love with Beetle.’
‘Of course not,’ said Sally.
‘You say that, but people do. And then he breaks their hearts. He’s an expert at it. He doesn’t mean to, but he does it all the time. Annie says sometimes he breaks three people’s hearts before breakfast.’
Sally laughed. ‘My heart is safe, I promise.’
Never mind falling in love with Alexander, she thought, as she heard him thundering down the stairs. She was in love with all of them: capricious Margot and brooding Dai and exotic Phoebe and intense little Annie.
But most of all, she was in love with Hunter’s Moon.
10
1967
It was early evening by the time they set off back for London. As they left Hunter’s Moon, Sally turned and looked back. Dusk was swooping in, wrapping the house in a pale grey mist, but inside the lights glowed brightly and she didn’t want to leave. She felt a little giddy, from the unaccustomed wine and the sudden turn of events, and the prospect of returning to London felt cold and sobering. But she told herself she would be back the next day.
It was a bit of a squash as the three of them piled into the E-Type. Annie had to sit on Sally’s knee in the passenger seat. She apologised like mad.
‘I know I look like a lump but I’m only seven stone and I’ve got fine bones like Mummy.’
‘Don’t worry. I can’t feel you at all,’ said Sally, not wanting the poor girl to feel self-conscious. It was awful sitting on people’s knees trying to be light.
Alexander started the engine and Sally felt rather than heard the roar.
‘It’s only a half hour drive to Larkford,’ shouted Annie over the noise. ‘You shouldn’t lose all feeling in your legs by then.’
‘Larkford. That sounds nice.’
‘It’s not. It’s awful. It’s progressive.’ She made the word sound faintly obscene.
‘What does that mean?’ Sally was pretty sure Knapford Grammar hadn’t been ‘progressive’.
‘It means we can wear our own clothes and there aren’t really any rules. It’s dreadful. Nothing ever happens. Everyone just sits around all day listening to Jimi Hendrix. And some of them smoke pot. That’s not allowed, obviously, but no one cares.’
Sally looked shocked. ‘That doesn’t sound like school at all.’
‘I know. But Mummy thinks it’s the best place for me. She says she can’t look after me properly at home and nor can Daddy so it’s the perfect compromise as I can weekly board.’
‘It’s not that bad,’ said Alexander. ‘We were all sent to Larkford when Mum hit the big time,’ he explained to Sally. ‘She said it was the one important thing she could invest in, our education.’
‘But that’s the whole point. The education is terrible. No one cares if you don’t do your homework. I hate it. And it didn’t do you two any good. You haven’t got proper jobs.’
Alexander rolled his eyes. ‘Phoebe and I are doing what we want to do. Larkford gives you confidence. And contacts.’
Annie snorted. ‘Do you know, if you haven’t lost The Big V by the time you get to the sixth form, they won’t let you in the common room?’
‘The Big V
?’
‘Your virginity.’ This was delivered in a stage whisper.
For a moment, Sally thought about her own. There hadn’t been time to do anything about it in the past couple of years. She’d had a few incidents at the tennis club, but nothing that inspired her to go all the way. She was horrified by the thought of Annie being under this pressure.
‘How do they know?’ she asked.
‘They just do,’ said Annie darkly.
‘Annie, shut up. No one wants to listen to your drivel.’
Annie twisted her head around like an owl so she was face to face with Sally. ‘Do you think if you’re going to be at home I might be a day girl somewhere?’
‘Don’t put Sally under pressure,’ Alexander chided.
‘But it’s ridiculous. It costs a fortune and I’m not really any bother. I would love to come home for tea every day.’
Sally remembered doing exactly that. Bouncing back into the kitchen with her satchel; doing her homework at the kitchen table while her mother made tea: big fat sausages that burst at the seams. Or liver and onions.
‘Well, I wouldn’t mind. But I don’t suppose it’s up to me.’
Annie sighed. ‘It’s all Daddy’s fault that our family isn’t normal.’
Alexander decided it was time to rein Annie in.
‘No, it’s not. And we are normal.’
‘No, we’re not. No one I know has a mother who makes things up for a living and a father who does nothing.’
‘There must be loads of funny family set-ups at Larkford.’
Annie frowned. ‘Loads of divorces, mostly. But definitely no other conchies. No one would admit to that.’
Sally saw a flicker of annoyance on Alexander’s face. ‘Shut up.’
‘No. She needs to know, if she’s going to work for us.’ She twisted her head round again to face Sally. ‘Daddy was a conchie during the war.’
Sally frowned. ‘A conscientious objector?’
‘Yes. Though he says he was as brave as anyone, because he was on fire watch, going in and out of bombed buildings during the Blitz.’
‘Well, yes, that must have been dangerous.’
‘But people think he’s a coward. And it makes him angry, because he doesn’t understand why not wanting to kill people makes him a coward.’
‘But if everyone thought like Dad, then where would we be?’ Alexander asked. ‘Under German rule, that’s where.’
‘He’s never said that everyone has to think that. But people should respect his right not to want to fight.’
‘Oh dear,’ said Sally, sensing this was an argument that the siblings had been embroiled in before, and not wanting to take sides. She wasn’t sure what she thought, though she did know most people frowned on conscientious objectors. As a butcher, her own father had been in a reserved occupation, forbidden to enlist, and she knew how angry that had made him, how much he had wanted to serve his country, instead of serving out the measly meat rations week by week. He’d tried to do his bit by being an air raid warden, but it hadn’t really appeased his patriotism. And then after the war rationing had hit the business hard—
She didn’t want to think about her father. She thought about Dai instead. From what little she’d seen of him, she could imagine him standing his ground and sticking to his principles no matter what anyone thought. He didn’t seem like a man of compromise.
‘Anyway, it meant he couldn’t get any work after the war. No one wanted to have anything to do with him. He was a Social Outcast.’ Annie looked very serious about this diagnosis. ‘Mummy already had Beetle and she was preggers with Phoebe and they were practically starving. Our grandparents would have nothing to do with them: Daddy’s parents thought he’d let the family down, and Mummy’s parents thought she should have nothing to do with him. They still won’t have anything to do with us, any of them.’
‘Oh dear,’ said Sally.
‘So that’s why Mummy starting writing. And she turned out to be jolly good at it.’
‘So there’s a happy ending after all.’
Annie sighed. ‘Well, I don’t know. No one seems all that happy.’
‘You’re exaggerating,’ said Alexander. ‘Everything’s fine. And you don’t want to put Sally off, remember.’
Sally laughed. ‘It takes a lot to put me off. Don’t worry.’
Nevertheless, she was fascinated by the dynamics of the Willoughby family. Her own family seemed very uncomplicated by comparison, even after everything they had been through. Mostly they got up, went to work and came home. She supposed that having money gave you choice. Maybe that was where the problems started.
The Jag ate up the miles and Annie stopped rattling on and fiddled with the car radio until she found Radio London. Sally had never been in a car with a radio before, and she loved driving along, the three of them singing.
‘You’ll have to come and see the band I’m managing,’ said Alexander. ‘The Lucky Charms. They’re going to be the next Kinks.’
‘I thought you were Phoebe’s manager?’
‘Never keep all your eggs in one basket. Anyway, it’s all linked. Music, fashion. Phoebe makes their clothes. They’ll probably play in the shop when we find one.’ He made it all sound so easy. They made things happen, the Willoughbys. ‘I’ve got them a residency at a club in Soho. Come along one night.’
‘I’d love to.’
She didn’t tell him that, apart from her disastrous brush with the Kitten Club, she’d never been in a nightclub in her life.
‘Can I come?’ asked Annie.
‘Sure,’ said Alexander. ‘We’ll have a family outing.’
Annie clapped and Alexander smiled and Sally sat back in her seat, marvelling at how her life had changed in just one night. Thank goodness she had stopped to help Alexander and not just walked on by.
The driveway up to Larkford was gloomy, flanked with rhododendrons, and the school itself was a towering Gothic building that didn’t look very welcoming. Sally could see why Annie wasn’t keen to go back. But there were lots of youngsters milling around, and they all looked very gregarious and lively, arms around each other. Annie jumped out of the car, kissed Sally and Alexander and ran off into the crowds.
‘Don’t listen to her too much,’ said Alexander. ‘I think she’s inherited Mum’s storytelling capabilities.’
‘Isn’t it true, then?’
‘Yes, but she’s making it all sound much worse than it is. The Afterthought likes attention.’
‘Why do you call her that?’
‘She was their last resort. Mum and Dad’s. She was a marriage saver.’
Sally thought perhaps Annie had been a thought of quite a different kind, given her lack of similarity to either of her parents or her siblings. She had a round, doughy pudding of a face with deep-set eyes, and mousy colouring. Sally would have felt sorry for her, but she was so cheerful and jolly you overlooked her plainness. And she was funny. Funniness went a long way to offsetting a lack of beauty. She was the dearest little thing.
‘It’s such a shame for her to be stuck here if she doesn’t want to be. It sounds awful.’
‘It really isn’t that bad. Me and Phoebe survived and we’re all right. And she drives Mum mad when she’s at home. She’s very demanding.’
‘She seems sweet to me.’
‘She’s not as hard done by as she makes out. And she’s older than she looks.’
‘How old is she?’
‘Sixteen next month.’ He gave a wry smile as Sally looked surprised. ‘I know. It suits her to put on the little girl act because that way she gets what she wants. She’s quite calculating.’
‘What a complicated lot you are,’ said Sally. ‘I’ve got two brothers but I always know where I am with them. They are what they are.’
‘That must make life very easy.’
For a moment Sally fell silent.
‘I suppose so,’ she said, because saying anything else would mean telling him everything, and she wasn’t
ready for that yet.
She wondered what her brothers would think when she told them her new life. Housekeeper. In what they would consider a mansion. In the middle of nowhere. She could imagine their comments:
‘You’ll be at the beck and call of a load of snobs with nowhere to escape to, Sal. They’ll use you.’
She knew if she started to describe the Willoughbys it would do nothing to allay their fears. Even she herself thought she was being rash. Yet something was drawing her in.
‘Do you want to stop off for a drink on the way back?’ asked Alexander.
Sally suddenly felt awkward. Everything had happened rather fast, and now she wasn’t sure where she stood with him. She’d gone from being his guardian angel and now she was . . . staff. Even though he’d asked her to go and see his band, he hadn’t been asking her out as such. She looked at him as he stared at the road ahead, one arm casually slung over the steering wheel.
Was he the reason she’d said yes?
‘I think I’d better get back and sort things out,’ she said. ‘I’ve got washing to do, and packing, and Barbara to placate.’
He didn’t press her, which made her feel a bit deflated. He seemed quiet as they came into London, his ebullience dimming.
He dropped her off outside the flat at Russell Gardens. She didn’t want to ask him in because she knew Barbara would be there and she didn’t want him to see her dismal quarters sober. Nightfall had brought an icy wind and she shivered as she leant in through the window to say goodbye. Their cheeks glanced off each other. He seemed in a hurry to get somewhere.
‘I’ll fetch you tomorrow,’ he said. ‘About ten o’clock?’
She nodded, and he revved up the engine and sped off. She watched his tail lights disappear around the corner and wondered where he was going.
Barbara was very disgruntled when she told her what was happening, even when she gave her the crisp cash Margot had given her for the rent she owed and the two weeks’ notice. ‘Call it an advance, darling,’ she’d said.
‘I’m going to have to find someone else now,’ Barbara complained, pocketing the money. ‘I don’t like change.’
The Forever House: A feel-good summer page-turner Page 7