'Forgotten what?'

'It's the second Sunday in the month tomorrow. You're supposed to be doing the flowers for the church today.'

I gazed at her. My mouth opened. Oh G.o.d, I had completely forgotten. 'Oh gosh, Lavinia, I'd totally forgotten. Could I possibly do them tomorrow?' And then remembering I was supposed to be cosily ensconced in a sumptuous four-poster sipping my morning tea, added quickly, 'I mean, at lunchtime, or something?'

She laughed. 'Don't be silly, they've got to be ready for eight-thirty in the morning! For Holy Communion. No no, they have to be done today.'

'Do they? Oh G.o.d, it's just well, I've promised to take the boys out today.'

'Do them tonight then, that's fine. It only takes about three hours.'

'Three hours!'

'Well, by the time you've picked them all and sorted out the foliage, and got them to the church and chucked the old ones away and cleaned out the vases and arranged them yes, it does. Takes a while.'

'd.a.m.n.' I bit my lip, aware that Jack was watching me under his hat. 'No, well, I certainly can't do it tonight, I'm going out. Oh look, Lavinia, I couldn't do it next week, could I? Would you be an angel and step in for me?'

'Well, normally I would, of course, but I'm off out for lunch today!' She beamed and did a twirl, and it occurred to me that the reason she looked so strikingly 1950s schoolgirl, was the stripy blue and white summer dress. All she needed was the ankle socks to go with it. She smoothed it down. 'Like it?'

'Love it,' I lied.

'Roddy's taking me to Brown's,' she said proudly. 'Roddy?'

'Roddy Taylor. Met him at the Rochester-Clarkes' the other night. Sweet, actually.'

'Ah. Bit of a rectory?'

She giggled. 'Sadly not. In fact, desperately Mock Tudor, and on the edge of a golf course, but,' her face softened, 'he's terribly nice. Seems rather fond of me too, actually,' she said with some surprise. 'Said he'd been wanting to ask me out for ages, but hadn't got the nerve.' She went a bit pink. 'He's an accountant.'

'Oh Lavinia, that's great' I was genuinely pleased for her. I had a sudden vision of her waving her hubby off to work at the door of her suburban house, pinny on, feather duster in hand, beaming away. Could be the making of her. 'Right,' I said resignedly, 'well, of course you can't do it, so that's that then. I'll do the flowers, of course I will, it's just oh dear. The boys are going to be so disappointed.'

'About what?' Ben appeared at my elbow.

I licked my lips. 'Darling, I've made the most ghastly boo-boo. I completely forgot, I promised to do the flowers for the church today.'

He stared. 'What, so we're not going?'

'Well, Ben, how can I? I promised you see, so-''Yeah, and you promised us too!'

'I know, Ben, but it's not so bad you could help me. We'll pick the flowers here, together. I'm sure Granny won't mind, and then we can have a picnic in the b.u.t.tercup field like we did when we first came, and then take the flowers up to the church. You can help me arrange them.'

'Oh great, a poxy flower-arranging day instead of a boat on the river. No thanks!' he said angrily.

With that he turned and ran back towards the barn, the lights on his trainers flashing as he went.

'Oh Lucy, I'm so sorry,' said Lavinia, touching my arm, as I turned to watch him go.

I shook my head. 'No, it's fine. Don't worry. It's my fault. And it's just well. I don't think he's all that happy at the moment.' I bit my lip anxiously as I watched him dash across the bridge, forge on up the hill, throw open the garden gate, charge up the path and dart inside. A moment later his curtains drew upstairs, and I knew he was sitting on his bed in the dark, a Walkman clamped to his head. It occurred to me that not so long ago a voice behind me might have said, 'Look, don't worry, Luce, I'll take them. I'll take them on the boat.' Ridiculously, I even waited a moment, wondering if he'd say it. Not that I'd have taken him up on it of course, heavens no, too invidious for words, but none the less... Silence. Still gazing resolutely towards the barn, I cleared my throat.

'And anyway, the thing is,' I declared to Lavinia, or anyone else who was interested, 'children do have to accept disappointment occasionally. It's all part of growing up. They have to realise that adults have certain commitments and that they must fit in with their plans. Particularly when it's something like this,' I added piously. 'Particularly when it's the church.'

I couldn't resist glancing round to see how this little homily had gone down, but the steamer chair was empty. Jack had departed, leaving his hat on the seat, but taking his book with him.

I took a deep breath and swallowed. Ah, right. Well. No matter. I raised my chin. I didn't need an audience to tell me that I was right. That some things simply had to come first. I held my head high and swept off down the lawn, full of the righteousness of my commitment which would keep me from entertaining my children, and forgetting, conveniently, the gaudiness of the other commitment, which prevented me from being in church, later on.

Chapter Twenty-three.

In the event, Max and I picked the flowers. Ben stuck to his guns, and to his bedroom, and didn't appear, but his brother and I were given a cool nod by Granny and told that yes, we could gather from her garden, as long as we picked carefully and sensibly and didn't decimate an entire plant. But on no account, she eyed me sternly as I quaked before her, was I to go anywhere near the hot bed. I flushed, as a creaking four-poster immediately sprang to mind. I scuttled away from my audience with her in panic. What did she mean? Did she have an inkling?

'What's the hot bed?' I muttered to Lavinia as she quickly showed us where to pick before going on her date.

'Oh, it's over there behind the shrubbery. Everything in it is red or orange. You know, flaming azaleas, red asters, that type of thing.'

'Oh!'

That was a relief, and my guilty conscience sank below the water line again, but the creaking bed image was replaced by one of d.a.m.nation and h.e.l.lfire. I cringed. How like Rose to have a little piece of h.e.l.l behind the shrubbery, I thought nervously, all ready for lost souls like me to blunder into, whirling through the deepening circles of red-hot pokers to the inferno below.

'Keep away from there then, Max,' I warned him in a low voice. 'Just the herbaceous border and the walled garden for us. No, darling, nice long stalks like this.' I showed him as he pulled a rose off by its head.

Lavinia scuttled away to meet her man, but promised that her friend Mimsy would be at the church to show us the ropes. She'd rung her and she wasn't doing anything.

'Oh thanks, Lavinia,' I breathed. 'That'll be a great help'

I wandered off to the potting shed to get a trug, a plastic sheet to put everything on, and some secateurs. When I got back, I concentrated on the herbaceous border to the left of the lawn, trying not to pick too many bright colours, and trying to keep it tasteful, with plenty of white and, oh a bit of foliage, I thought, grabbing a handful, remembering Lavinia's instruction. I picked some long, feathery ferns too, heaps of them, and then, straightening up, wondered idly how Max was getting on. I gazed around. Probably picking a coat of many colours in the kitchen garden, fistfuls of marigolds and nasturtiums, but never mind, I thought indulgently. I could find him a separate vase, tuck it away in the vestry somewhere. I shaded my eyes against the sun, anxious now. G.o.d, I couldn't see him anywhere. Well, he wasn't in the hot bed, that was a relief, I could see that from here, but was that him ...? I strained my eyes up to the house. Yes, that was him, coming out of the French windows, carrying armfuls of... oh dear G.o.d ... oh Jesus. No!

I dropped my secateurs and ran towards him. He wa.s.struggling across the terrace, puffing and panting, and dragging ten, maybe fifteen even, of Rose's two foot tall, majestic, rare Amaryllis plants.

'Max!' I gasped, leaping up the crumbling steps. 'Max, what have you done!'

'I found them growing in the conservatory.' He beamed proudly. 'I picked all of them, Mum, except one which I thought was a bit manky. They're wicked, aren't they? And there's loads more lying on the floor inside.'

'Oh Max,' I groaned, clutching my head and gazing horrorstruck at the carnage; at the beautiful, rosy, trumpet flowers on truncated stalks as thick as leeks, lying in state on the York stone. 'Oh darling, not inside the house, just the garden!'

'But Granny didn't say that,' he insisted. 'She never said that! And anyway, I thought you'd like them' Tears welled.

'Oh I do, I do,' I said, meeting David Mortimer's horrified eye as he came out of the study onto the terrace to see what was going on.

'But so did Granny,' he finished grimly, eyeing the huge plants, snapped off in their prime. 'Nurtured them for the best part of three years. Pride and joy, as it were'

'Oh David, she'll go insane,' I whispered fearfully.

'Just a bit' He took off his Panama and scratched his head. 'What made you pick them, Max?'

'Mummy's doing the flowers, and I thought they'd look nice in the church,' he said defiantly.

'There's no disputing that.'

'Oh G.o.d David, what are we going to do!' I wailed, wringing my hands.

'Come clean, I suppose' He put his hat back on. Gave the crown a smart tap. 'All we can do.'

'We?' I yelped hopefully.

He grinned. 'Well, she'll flay you alive, that's for sure, and I don't necessarily fancy my chances either, but on balance, I think they'll be better than yours. Come on, young Max.'

He was right. Interesting though, that he should know. That he should be aware I was persona non grata.

'But - you think Max should go?' I glanced anxiously at my son, who, far from quaking in his boots as Ben would have done, was sticking his chin out and still declaring defiantly, 'But they're lovely, Mum. Look at them, they'll be perfect.'

'I think one representative from your family might be a good idea, don't you?' said David with a wry smile. And so saying, he gripped Max's shoulder, turned him firmly around and marched him off, back through the French windows, and off to the morning room.

I gulped and watched them go. Thank goodness for David, I thought, lowering my bottom gingerly onto a wrought-iron chair. He was a good sort, no doubt about that. A good man to have in a crisis. I gazed, horrified, at the carnage at my feet. Suddenly I jumped up and hopped through the French windows into the study. I didn't, actually, want to be too close to those plants, too a.s.sociated with them when Rose came out to inspect. Instead I slipped behind the heavy green curtains and chewed my nail, not exactly hiding, you understand, but, well ... skulking.

I chewed my nail for ages, feeling about fourteen, and waited for David to come back. Finally I heard footsteps. I peeped around but - oh h.e.l.l, no, wrong direction - and it was Jack. Striding across the gravel, past the fountain, towards thestable yard where the cars were kept. I ducked back, and when I was sure he'd gone past, peered round again. His back was to me now, and he looked all set to go somewhere. A leather bag was packed, a linen jacket slung through the handles. Heading back to London, perhaps, to see his publishers? Or Pascale, maybe? Or was he leaving Netherby entirely? That would be a relief, not to have him breathing down my neck, watching my every move but ridiculously, I felt something like regret wash over me, too. I bit my lip as I watched his tall, erect figure, russet curls gleaming, stride confidently towards a car in the yard. As I leaned against the gla.s.s, wondering why on earth I should feel unsettled, the French windows flew open with my weight. Jack turned, just in time to see me stumble out. I hopped back in again, behind the curtain, and huddled in the silk lining, blushing furiously. Oh G.o.d, Oh G.o.d. Of course I should step out now, explain why I was sneaking around in curtains, but . .

When I finally did emerge, he'd gone. I stepped onto the terrace and gazed at the empty s.p.a.ce in the yard where his car had been, feeling foolish. A moment later, David appeared with Max, the latter looking perhaps a little less defiant, the former, relieved.

'Not too bad,' he said, loosening his tie. 'I mean, hysterical, naturally, ranted and raved and tore hair for a bit and all that, but seeing as it was Max, well ...' He grinned and settled into a chair with evident relief. 'It seems your boys can do no wrong.'

'Oh, thank G.o.d.' I ran a hand through my hair. 'Whilst I, of course, can do no right,' I added soberly, perching opposite him. 'Still, I'd be pretty livid if someone smashed all my Asiatic Pheasant plates. It was good of her to take it on the chin, if she has. D'you think I should go and speak to her now?'

'Er, no,' he said nervously. 'Perhaps not. Leave it a bit.' 'Ah, right.' I swallowed. 'Well, thanks so much, David, for bailing us out. You didn't have to.'

Not for the first time it occurred to me to wonder what David saw in this family. It had always baffled Ned, who couldn't understand why he'd latched onto them. But then again, with no family of his own, perhaps he relished these little dramas. The ups and downs of family life.

He grinned and stretched out his legs. 'Pleasure. It's not the first bit of "bailing" I've done for the Fellowes today, either.' 'Oh?'

'I was accosted by Violet in the village, on my way over here. She ran up to me outside the post office in a terrible state. Hair standing on end, black bra flashing, cow s.h.i.t on trousers, the usual fashion statement . .

I giggled. 'Of course.'

'And told me in breathless tones that she was being pestered by all the men in the neighbourhood. All the men in the local garages, apparently, can't stop bothering her, won't leave her alone. Keep ringing her up.'

'Men in garages? Ringing Violet? But why?'

'Well, I rang one local dealer and asked him what the story was, and he said the fact was she'd ordered and paid for a car, and he was simply trying to deliver it. Then I rang the rest, and they all had the same story. It seems that Violet, having pranged the Escort, has ordered a staggering total of eight identical Toyota Roadsters - that's a rather groovy jeep model,incidentally, usually driven by budding pop stars and hairdressers - from as many different garages'

'Good G.o.d! But has she paid for them?'

'Oh yes. Evidently all the cheques had cleared, and all the cars were sitting on forecourts, waiting to be driven away. I spent much of the morning retrieving at least seven of the cheques. The dealers were all very understanding. Charming, in fact.'

'But how on earth did she get the money?'

'Oh, the aunts are rolling in it. Never dipped into their trust funds set up by Archie's father, you see. They've got that Scrooge mentality. Unlike the rest of the gang,' he added darkly. 'At the rate Pinkie and Lavinia are going, they'll have to be very careful.' He winked. 'Might even end up having to get jobs. As for Rose, rocketing through Archie's share,' he broke off, jingled some change in his pockets and looked genuinely worried. 'Well. I shouldn't wonder if the banks aren't going to close in on her soon, and of course Archie has no idea. She holds the purse strings and he's hopeless with money.' He frowned down at his trousers.

'But - how d'you know all this?'

'Hmm?' He glanced up. 'Oh dear, have I been frightfully indiscreet?'

'No no, I just wondered.'

'Well, Jack's mother's a trustee. Old friend of mine, too, as it happens. And Jack wouldn't gossip, of course not, not like him, but - well, he was quietly voicing a few concerns to me the other day over a whisky and soda. Concerns that had come via his ma.'

Jack's mother. Of course. Archie's sister. I waited. Would have liked a bit more, but had a feeling David wasn't a gossip either. Had a feeling he felt he'd said too much already. I stood up. Smiled. 'Well, David, thank you again. I really don't know what we'd have done without you this morning. What d'you say, Max?' I gripped him by the shoulders.

'Thank you,' he muttered sulkily, kicking at the stones.

'Pleasure. But don't waste them now, will you, those huge great triffids. Now you've got them, may as well put them in the church'

'Oh, d'you think?' I gazed down doubtfully.

'Why not? At least that way Rose will get something out of it. Imagine, the whole village will think she's kindly donated three dozen Amaryllis, grown especially for the church. I'm sure that's the spin she'll put on it, whilst quietly gnashing her teeth and forcing a smile in the front pew. Oh, I think the eleven o'clock service tomorrow is a must, don't you? Not to be missed! Come on, I'll give you a hand.' And so saying, he bent down and scooped up an armful. Grinning hugely, he made his way purposefully towards the courtyard, to put them in the back of my car. I gazed after him for a moment, then oh what the h.e.l.l. I grabbed another armful and followed suit.

Half an hour later I was hurtling down to the church in a car that looked like a hea.r.s.e it was so jam-packed with flowers. I'd been unsuccessful in my attempts to get the boys to accompany me, but in view of my shot nerves and increasingly skippy excitement about this evening, it was probably just as well. As I mentally scurried through my itinerary, I reached for my mobile to ring Jess. It had suddenly occurred to me that it would be just like Rose to flaming well ring and check I was there. Catch me out.'Jess? Hi, it's me.'

'Lucy! How's things?'

'Fine, and listen Jess, I've been meaning to ring and ask about Henry, but-'

'Oh he's fine, so much better,' she gushed. 'Yes, no, completely over it, thanks. He's lovely at the moment actually. It's such a sweet age.'

'Oh! Good.' Not a hideously demanding two year old then. Blimey, she sounded chipper. 'And, um, Jamie?' I asked tentatively. Still away? I wondered. Still a b.a.s.t.a.r.d? It had to be gone through though, this ritual. She had to get some ranting off her chest.

'Divine,' she purred very uncharacteristically.

'What?' I frowned into the phone. 'Not a two-timing love-rat, then?'

'No, no, completely yummy actually. We're madly in love.' 'Jess!'

'I know,' she giggled. 'Spooky, isn't it?'

'But how come?'

'Oh G.o.d, long story, and embarra.s.sing actually, because I don't come out of it too well, but oh h.e.l.l, all right. Since it's you'

'Too right, since it's me! What?'

'Well, I overheard him talking on the phone the other day. He was upstairs and didn't know I'd come in, but he was talking to Phil you know, his mate from work and pouring his heart out in a most unJamie-like way. I'd just come back from Tesco's and I could hear all this impa.s.sioned stuff going on upstairs, so I quietly put the bags on the doormat, crept up, and listened outside the door. Well it was absurd, Lucy, totally ludicrous. He was banging on and on about how he thought I was having an affair, because I was so cold and funny towards him can you imagine? The prat! Where would I find the time, or more to the point the inclination!'

'And the reason you were all cold and funny,' I sighed, 'was because you thought he was the one having an affair. You're the prat, Jess.'

'I know,' she agreed. 'I told you I didn't come out of it well. But his fault too, a bit. Just think, all that time we'd been circling each other like suspicious sharks, checking each other's pockets for stray telephone numbers, searching each other's wallets for restaurant bills, and if I hadn't heard him on the phone, it would never have come out. We don't communicate, you see, that's our problem. Don't say what's on our minds. Too proud, I suppose, but oh boy, are we making up for lost time now! Honestly Lucy, it's so good. I can actually remember why I married the guy, why I fell in love with him in the first place!'