house in silence. Freddie walked behind her on the narrow climb and she wondered what he was thinking but didn’t dare turn round to glance at him. Could he tell just by looking at her how she really felt, how she’d always felt about him? She knew he didn’t feel the same way. He never had done.
‘We have a couple of hours before dinner.’ She turned towards him as they both made their way inside the gothic porch. He was so close he almost bumped into her as she turned round. Her first instinct was always now to defend herself and, flinching, she put her hands up. But she was in no danger of an attack from Freddie. She knew that. Her hands were still on the thick wool of Freddie’s coat and he glanced down at her touch against his chest. She cursed herself for waiting a fraction too long before letting her hands fall. They stood under the arch, shielded from any possible onlookers. As he moved his hand a fraction, Veronica half-thought he might be reaching for hers, but he let it fall by his side and neither of them spoke. The expression on his face had softened. She wanted to pour her heart out. Even if he was long past caring now – even if he had never cared – she wanted to apologise for the way things had ended. There was nothing she could say that would undo the damage she’d caused.
She tried desperately to recover herself and recall what it was she’d originally turned to say to him. Eventually she remembered.
‘You’ll need to change for dinner, I’m afraid. Have you brought suitable things?’
‘Oh, good lord, Bertie still doesn’t go in for all that bother, does he? Is he not even marginally aware the world is drastically changing around him?’
‘He thinks if we uphold the old traditions then nothing will change.’
Freddie laughed and threw his hands up. ‘The house is being requisitioned. Everything is changing.’
Veronica hushed him. ‘Freddie, please,’ she begged. ‘You don’t know what he’s like. Don’t let him hear you.’
‘Fine, fine.’ Freddie looked down at his crumpled trousers and conceded defeat. ‘I’ll change.’
‘We have drinks at six and dinner at seven, precisely. Please don’t be late. Bertie doesn’t like it,’ Veronica said.
As she turned towards the front steps, she thought she saw Freddie roll his eyes.
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