concentration. She couldn’t relax until trees and fields began to replace suburban sprawl. She lowered the window a little, to enjoy the sunlit breeze, and put a cassette of Vivaldi’s Four Seasons into the tape machine, then sat back to savour the remainder of her journey.
An hour later, she turned the car into the gravelled sweep of the drive and saw the familiar red-brick Georgian bulk of the house awaiting her. She drove round to the rear, and parked in the former stables, slotting her Polo in between her father’s Bentley and the sedate estate car her mother preferred.
She sat for a moment, staring in front of her, then, with a smothered sigh, collected her things, and walked down the covered way to the side entrance.
There was a lot of activity already, she saw. A large marquee had been erected on the lawn, and folding tables and chairs were being carried into it. As she watched, a florist’s van drew up in front of the house, and two women dressed in pink overalls got out. Presently, no doubt, the caterers’ vehicles would also be arriving.
Mother will be in her element, Carly thought, her mouth twisting. She’ll be able to use it as a trial run for Susan’s actual wedding. And I’m about as necessary in all this as an extra thumb.
She caught a movement in the large conservatory which flanked the lawn and, smiling a little, trod quietly across the gravel and stood in the doorway watching the tall, grey-haired man who was deftly repotting some plants.
‘Hello, Father.’
He turned with an obvious start, and peered at her. ‘Why, Caroline,’ he said, ‘so you’ve come. Your mother wasn’t sure … Well, this is splendid—splendid.’ He paused, then added another vague, ‘Splendid.’
Carly bit her lip. ‘I did say I was coming,’ she said, quietly. ‘If I’m not expected—if my room’s being used, I can always try the pub.’
‘Certainly not. I’m sure your room’s ready and waiting for you, my dear, although, of course, your mother always handles those arrangements. She’s in the drawing-room, having coffee with your Aunt Grace. I said I’d join them once I’d finished this and washed my hands, but now …’ His voice tailed off expectantly.
‘But now that I’ve arrived, it will let you off the hook,’ Carly supplied drily.
‘Well, all this talk about engagements and weddings,’ he said. ‘Not my sort of thing at all, you know. They’ll start on christenings next, I dare say,’ he added with disfavour.
‘I can imagine.’ Carly slanted a smile at him. ‘Stay with your beloved plants, Dad. I’ll try and ensure you’re not missed.’
As she entered the hall, she could hear Aunt Grace’s authoritative tones issuing from the drawing-room. She pulled a small face. Her mother’s older sister held strong views on everything, from the government in power down to the deplorable attitude of today’s shop assistants. Since her only daughter’s marriage and departure for New Zealand a few years previously, she had lived in Bournemouth, which she rarely left. Carly couldn’t help wishing that she had not decided to make an exception to this excellent rule for Susan’s engagement party.
She resolutely pinned on a smile as she went into the drawing-room. ‘Hello, Mummy, Aunt Grace. How are you both?’
There was an immediate surprised silence. Carly was aware of both pairs of eyes riveted on her, taking in every detail of her appearance. She put down her case, and draped her dress-carrier over the back of a chair.
‘Is that coffee? I’d love some.’
‘Of course, dear.’ Mrs Foxcroft filled the third cup waiting on the tray and proffered it to her younger daughter. ‘Did you have a good drive down?’
‘Marvellous, thank you.’ Carly bent and kissed her mother’s cheek, and, more fleetingly, her aunt’s. ‘You’re both looking very well.’
Her mother smiled awkwardly. ‘And so are you, darling. Positively—radiant. Isn’t she, Grace?’
‘Hm,’ said Mrs Brotherton. ‘Try as I may, Veronica, I still cannot accustom myself … However,’ she turned to Carly, ‘I saw a photograph of you in a magazine at my hairdressers’ last month, Caroline. You were wearing an extraordinary garment in white taffeta, and seemed to be standing in an area of slum clearance.’
‘Oh, the Fabioni. I remember it well.’ Carly laughed. ‘It was incredibly cold that day—the middle of winter, in fact—and we were down by the river. Did you manage to count my goose-pimples?’
‘I find it very odd,’ said Aunt Grace majestically, ‘that a reputable journal should find it necessary to photograph an evening dress outdoors in broad daylight, and inclement weather.’
‘It’s because of publishing schedules,’ Carly told her. ‘Fur coats in August, and bikinis in December. The bane of a model’s life.’ She looked at her mother. ‘Where’s Susan? Resting for the big occasion?’
‘She’s gone with Anthony to look at the house his father is giving them as a wedding present. Apparently it needs a great deal doing to it, and work will have to start almost at once if it’s to be ready for them to move into after the wedding.’
‘Have they set a date yet?’ Carly asked casually. ‘I’ll need to know fairly well in advance.’
‘I believe they’re thinking of October,’ her mother returned. ‘I know Susan wants to talk to you about it,’ she added, after a pause.
‘Oh, good.’ Carly drank some of her coffee, feeling another silence about to press down on them all. She decided to prevent it. ‘How are James and Louise?’ she asked her aunt.
‘They seem happily settled. The farm is not too isolated, fortunately, so Louise can get into the nearby town for shopping, and other essentials. She is expecting another baby in July.’
‘So soon?’ That made three in just over five years, Carly thought, blinking. ‘Maybe Louise should consider spending even more time in town,’ she joked feebly.
‘Caroline, dear,’ her mother said repressively, while Aunt Grace looked more forbidding than ever.
‘I’m sorry.’ Carly drained her cup, and rose to her feet. ‘I’ll go and unpack. Am I in my old room?’
‘Well, actually, dear, I was wondering if you’d mind using the nursery—just this once, of course. Jean and Arthur Lewis found they could come, after all, and as it’s such a long way for them to travel I did offer …’
‘… my room to them.’ Carly completed the hesitant sentence. ‘Of course they must have it. They’re such old friends, after all. I quite understand. Well—I’ll see you both later.’ She paused at the door. ‘If there’s anything I can do to help, you only have to ask.’
‘That’s very sweet of you, dear, but everything’s under control.’
‘Yes,’ Carly said gently, ‘I’m sure it is.’
Susan’s engagement to Anthony Farrar, the son of a local landowner, had been hoped for and planned for over a very long period, she thought with irony as she climbed the broad sweep of stairs. Susan had first met Anthony at a hunt ball when she was eighteen, and had made up her mind there
