Chapter Five
CHAPTER
FIVE
Felicity didn’t wait up for her mother to return from the theatre, but wrote her a little note instead. Apart from not wanting to be questioned about the party in Violet’s flat (she knew her mother would guess that something had gone on, even though it had all happened at the top of the house), she wanted time to think about the evening, and how lovely it had been.
It was just as well, she realised in the morning, because somehow there was mud on the clothes she had been wearing: that would have taken a lot of explaining.
‘Morning, Mummy,’ she said when she emerged into the dining room the following day. ‘Did you enjoy the play?’
The table was set for breakfast with coffee in a jug, a matching jug with hot milk and a rack full of toast. Marmalade and butter were in little dishes. Felicity hoped she would learn to like marmalade.
Whether her mother, dressed in a glorious silk peignoir worn over an equally glorious silk nightdress, saw the use of the English form of her name by Felicity for what it was – a way of getting into her good books – was hard to tell. She grunted faintly and picked up her coffee cup.
‘Did you get up so you could have breakfast with me?’ Felicity went on. ‘There is no need. You look a little tired.’ (She was glad she added the ‘little’ – she didn’t want her mother going into a depression because her daughter appeared to have called her ‘old’.)
‘It’s all right, darling. I must do my duty to my only daughter.’
Felicity couldn’t hold back a little squeak of shock. This was a woman who had left her children to go and live in a foreign country when they were very small.
‘I am quite grown up now,’ Felicity said. ‘I can have breakfast on my own. At home I often get breakfast for my brothers and sister.’
Lucinda nodded. ‘I am glad you are so independent, but I had to get up today anyway. I have a hair appointment.’ She took a sip of the coffee that Felicity knew to be very strong.
Felicity poured some coffee for herself. ‘I met Violet, our upstairs neighbour, last night. We were both posting letters.’
Lucinda nodded, in approval or disapproval, Felicity couldn’t tell. She ploughed on. ‘She invited me upstairs to have a drink. She had a friend there. A young man. He was very charming. I wonder if I might invite him to tea sometime?’
Lucinda frowned and drank more coffee. ‘He’s a friend of Violet’s?’
‘Yes. Very respectable.’ Felicity trusted Oliver to be as good with mothers as he said he was; she hoped not mistakenly.
‘How will you get in touch with him? Did he give you his telephone number?’
‘Violet has it. I thought we should invite Violet too?’
Lucinda nodded. ‘Very well. I don’t suppose any harm could come of it, whoever he is. I’ll look at my diary and see when I’m available. Anna can make us little cakes. She’s very good at that.’
Cheered by the prospect of seeing Oliver again, Felicity resolved to make more effort with the girls on her course. When she arrived, she smiled at the girl sitting next to her as she took her place in the classroom, fountain pen at the ready for a shorthand lesson.
‘Hello, my name is Felicity.’
‘Why do you have a French accent?’ said the girl.
‘Because I’m half French and I was brought up in France.’
‘I suppose that would explain it.’
‘Why are you so unfriendly?’ asked Felicity, aware it was not English to be so frank.
‘I’m here to learn, not to make friends,’ said the girl. ‘I have plenty of friends already.’
‘OK,’ said Felicity, settling herself in her seat. She felt she’d tried. From now on she’d just learn shorthand and typing and office skills and not bother to talk to anyone.
As that day and the following continued, Felicity discovered that not everyone on her course was as unfriendly as the girl who sat next to her for shorthand, but beyond exchanging smiles, nothing had come of it. Maybe girls who learned to be secretaries weren’t as friendly as those who wanted to cook. She resolved to tell Alexandra in case she wondered why she didn’t already have a close circle of ‘chums’, as the school stories had described them. But she did have a potential boyfriend in Oliver, which felt far more important.
An entire week had passed since Felicity’s first encounter with Oliver before the tea party was arranged.
‘Anna? As you know, I have a friend coming for tea tomorrow,’ Felicity said. ‘Would you like me to make some cakes and sandwiches or would you prefer to do it yourself?’
Anna seemed a little startled to be consulted. ‘I have a special chocolate cake that comes from home that I am planning to make. It is traditional and very delicious.’
Aware that her mother was always thinking about her figure, she knew that Lucinda wouldn’t like a Hungarian delicacy, however delicious, if it involved chocolate. But she felt strongly that if Anna wanted to make it, she should be allowed. ‘Then I’ll make some madeleines for people who don’t like chocolate cake.’ She paused. She could only guess how difficult Anna’s chocolate cake would be to bake but her instincts told her it would not be quick. ‘I’ll help you with the sandwiches as well.’
Her mother was writing a letter in the drawing room when Felicity found her. ‘Anna wants to make a special Hungarian chocolate cake for tomorrow. I’ll make some sandwiches and madeleines.’
‘I’d better invite Gerald then,’ said her mother. ‘He loves sweet things.’ She turned back to her letter and Felicity returned to her bedroom, pleased. A little later, when she’d heard Violet return, she ran upstairs and tapped on her door.
‘I know you’ve only just got home but I want to tell you about tomorrow,’ said Felicity. She realised almost instantly that it was quite obvious that, really, she just wanted to talk about Oliver.
Violet smiled. ‘Come in. I was just about to make myself some tea. Join me?’
‘Not if you’re tired.’ Felicity had learnt that her mother was quite often tired and wondered if it was an English thing.
‘Goodness me no. I hardly do anything at work at the moment. My boss is away and so I just potter about looking at old books and papers.’
‘It doesn’t sound very exciting,’ said Felicity.
‘I do quite like old books and papers, which is just as well. Tell me about tomorrow.’
‘Anna is going to make a traditional Hungarian chocolate cake.’
‘Sounds delicious!’
‘Yes, although my mother isn’t that keen on sweet things, so I’ll make some plain madeleines and will help Anna with the sandwiches.’
‘I’m sure Oliver will love the cake.’
Felicity sank down on to the sofa. ‘Do you think so?’
‘Yes. And he’s very smitten by you, Felicity, so you really don’t need to worry.’
‘He has to get my mother’s approval.’
‘I believe him when he says he’s good at mothers,’ said Violet, having warmed a small teapot. ‘All you need to do is look beautiful, which, I have to say, isn’t hard for you.’
Felicity felt herself go pink. She was aware she was pretty but she came from a family of good-looking people and hadn’t been encouraged to pay too much attention to compliments. ‘It’s what’s inside that counts,’ she said a little stiffly.
Violet laughed. ‘Of course that’s true, which is why people keep saying it, but your inside is pretty good too, as far as I can tell.’
‘What about Oliver’s inside?’ Felicity stopped trying to pretend it wasn’t him she wanted to talk about.
‘I don’t know him well enough to be able to tell.’
‘But I told my mother he is a friend of yours!’ Felicity was stricken. ‘Supposing my mother finds out that you don’t really know him?’
‘She won’t. We don’t have to pretend that Oliver and I have known each other for years, just that I know him. And I do. He’s eaten in my flat. That must count for something.’
Felicity exhaled. ‘I’m sorry. It’s because I’m not used to living with my mother. At home in France there are always people appearing for meals that we don’t know very well. C’est normal ,’ she added as a gesture to her French life.
‘Have you thought about what you might wear?’ asked Violet.
Felicity laughed ruefully. ‘I’ve thought a lot about what I might wear. Do you think I could wear jeans?’
Violet shrugged. ‘What would your mother say about that?’
‘She’d say it was quite unsuitable to wear trousers for tea. I’m not sure if she would think it was permissible to wear trousers at any time.’
‘Then don’t wear them. Once your mother has accepted Oliver as a suitable friend for you, then you can wear what you like. For this first time wear an outfit your mother would approve of. And not too sophisticated.’
Felicity swallowed. ‘You’re absolutely right. I just wish I was more like my stepmother. She wears exactly what she likes and doesn’t care what people think. But she grew up without parents. Maybe that made it easier.’