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she cried excitedly, ‘Oh my God! I can’t wait to see Aunt Edwina’s face when she finds out he’s involved with Sally Harte. She’s going to be absolutely furious, Grandma. She has such grand ideas about everything. And after all, Sally’s only a generation removed from the working class.’

      ‘And what do you think Edwina is?’

      ‘A countess,’ Emily giggled gleefully, ‘and a Fairley to boot! She’s never been the same since she discovered her father was Sir Edwin Fairley, and a KC, no less. She’s an even bigger snob now than she was before. It’s a pity you ever told her the truth about you and old Edwin, Gran.’

      ‘I’m inclined to agree with you.’

      Emma averted her face, looked out of the window, focused her thoughts on her eldest grandchild, son of her own first-born child. Anthony Standish was the only offspring of Edwina’s marriage with the Earl of Dunvale, and as such he was her whole life. Because Emma had been estranged from Edwina for years, she had not really come to know Anthony until he was eighteen. That was in 1951, when her brother Winston had effected a reconciliation between her and her daughter. More like an armed truce, Emma said inwardly, but at least the boy and I took to each other immediately, and thankfully we have continued to be close. She was extremely fond of Anthony, who, despite his reserved nature and gentle manner, had an inner strength and a toughness of mind that Emma had recognized instantly and privately applauded. Upon his father’s death, he had inherited the latter’s title and lands in Ireland. For the most part, Anthony lived at Clonloughlin, his estate in County Cork, but whenever he had the occasion to be in England he never failed to visit her. It was on one of these trips to Yorkshire, six months ago, that he had become re-acquainted with Sally, Winston’s granddaughter, who was his cousin. According to Anthony they had fallen in love at once. ‘It was a coup de foudre, Grandmother,’ he had confided shyly last night. ‘And as soon as my divorce from Min is final I intend to marry Sally.’ Emma, delighted at this news, had indicated her pleasure, and assured him of her full support.

      Shifting in the chair, Emma glanced at Emily, and said, ‘I wouldn’t worry your head about Anthony. He can take care of himself. I told him not to hide his relationship with Sally any more, from his mother, that is, and to behave naturally at the christening. We might as well get this out in the open once and for all.’

      ‘Edwina will make trouble, Grandma. Big, big trouble,’ Emily warned, rolling her eyes at the ceiling.

      ‘If she knows what’s good for her she won’t,’ Emma replied, her voice murderously soft. ‘Now, on to other things. You said Jim wanted your advice. What about?’

      ‘The gift he’s bought for Paula. It’s a strand of pearls, and he wasn’t sure she’d like them. But they’re beautiful, and I told him she’d be thrilled.’

      ‘That’s nice.’ Emma glanced at her watch, feeling restless. ‘I’ll have another quick cup of coffee, and then I’d better go up and do a little paperwork until Paula arrives.’

      ‘I’ll get the coffee for you,’ Emily volunteered, taking Emma’s cup to the sideboard. Returning with it, she said, ‘I had dinner with T.B. when I was in London on Tuesday. He sends his love.’

      Emma’s face softened considerably. She had always cared for Tony Barkstone, Elizabeth’s first husband and father of Emily and Alexander. They had remained good friends over the years, and she asked, with a warm smile, ‘How is he?’

      ‘In good form. He’s as sweet as always, and he seems happy. No, content might be a better word. Or perhaps accepting is even better. Yes, that’s it. He’s accepting.’ Emily sighed heavily.

      And a little too dramatically, in Emma’s opinion. But then Emily was a romantic girl and Emma knew that she had long harboured the desire for her parents to be reunited. A most unlikely event, as far as Emma was concerned. Looking at Emily thoughtfully, Emma’s brow lifted quizzically, and she murmured, ‘Accepting is a peculiar word to use about your father’s life, isn’t it, dear?’

      ‘Not really. I think T.B. is accepting – of his new family. But I don’t believe my father has been really happy since he split with Mummy. To tell you the truth, Gran, I think he’s still in love with her.’ She confided this in an intense tone, giving Emma a long and knowing look.

      ‘Oh phooey!’

      ‘Well, she was his grand passion, that I know for a fact – because he once told me so. I believe he’s carrying a torch for her.’

      ‘That’s a bit farfetched, Emily, they’ve been divorced for donkey’s years.’

      ‘Even so, he could have remained shackled to her emotionally.’ Emily tilted her blonde head to one side and wrinkled her nose. ‘Unrequited love, and all that. Why are you looking so sceptical, Grandma? Don’t you believe that’s possible?’

      ‘Possible. Not very practical. And I’m quite certain your father has more common sense than to yearn after Elizabeth. He had her pegged years ago.’

      ‘I hope you’re right. I’m sure that being in love with someone who doesn’t care in return is most unsatisfactory, not to mention painful. Very impractical in the long run, as you just said.’ A faraway expression flickered in Emily’s wide green eyes, and she said, almost inaudibly, ‘If only Sarah would recognize that.’

      As quiet as her voice had been Emma had heard her. She put down her coffee cup with a loud clatter and gaped at Emily, frowning. ‘Our Sarah. Is she in love with someone who doesn’t love her?’

      ‘Oh gosh, Gran, I shouldn’t have mentioned Sarah. It’s really none of my business,’ Emily muttered, her face flushing and filling with chagrin. ‘Please don’t say anything to her, will you? She’d be ever so upset.’

      ‘Of course I won’t say anything. I never do, do I? Who’s she carrying a torch for? That’s what you implied, you know.’

      Emily hesitated. She was suddenly tempted to fib. But she had never lied to her grandmother in her whole life. Still, perhaps in this instance she ought to resort to a white lie.

      Emma pressed, ‘Who is it?’

      There was a moment of silence. Emily swallowed, and knowing herself to be trapped, she mumbled, ‘Shane.’

      ‘I’ll be damned.’ Emma leaned back and focused her keen old eyes on her granddaughter, ‘Well, well, well,’ she said, and a slow smile spread across her face.

      Emily shot up in her chair, her eyes flaring open, and she cried, ‘Oh Grandy, don’t look like that! Please don’t look like that!’

      ‘And how am I looking?’

      ‘Gratified. And ever so conspiratorial. I know you and Uncle Blackie have long had hopes that one of us, or one of the Harte girls, would marry Shane O’Neill, and unite our families. But he’s not interested in any of us, except for – ’ Emily bit off the rest of her sentence abruptly, instantly wishing she could also bite off her tongue. This time she really had said far too much. She jumped up and went to the Hepplewhite sideboard, where she hovered over the silver bowl of fruit. ‘I think I’ll have a banana,’ she said, attempting nonchalance. ‘Would you like one too, Gran dear?’

      ‘I certainly wouldn’t, thank you very much.’ Emma swung her head and studied her granddaughter’s back. ‘Except for whom, Emily?’

      ‘No one, Gran.’ Emily wondered how to extricate herself, and adroitly, without arousing her grandmother’s suspicions further. She sauntered back to her chair, flopped down, and attacked the banana with her dessert knife and fork, her head studiously bent.

      Emma watched her, knowing that Emily was avoiding her eyes. And avoiding answering.

      ‘I know you were about to tell me who Shane is interested in, Emily. If anyone knows, it’s you.’ She laughed lightly, endeavouring to be casual. ‘You’ve always been my conduit for information about everyone in the family. And

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