LITMIR.BIZ

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it’s a secret,’ said Billy with that confident shrug of the shoulders used by Dicky Cruyer to help emphasize the obvious. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t tell.’

      ‘It’s better just to say she’s gone away,’ I said.

      ‘Grandpa said we’re to say Mummy’s in hospital in Switzerland.’

      It was typical of David to invent his own loony deception story and involve my children in it.

      ‘The fact is that Mummy and I have separated,’ I said in a rush. ‘And I’ve asked a lady from my office to come round and see us this afternoon.’

      There was a long silence. Billy looked at Sally and Sally looked at her new shoes.

      ‘Aren’t you going to ask her name?’ I said desperately.

      Sally looked at me with her big blue eyes. ‘Will she be staying?’ she said.

      ‘We don’t need anyone else to live here. You have Nanny to look after you,’ I said, avoiding the question.

      ‘Will she use our bathroom?’ said Sally.

      ‘No. I don’t think so,’ I said. ‘Why?’

      ‘Nanny hates visitors using our bathroom.’

      This was a new insight into Nanny, a quiet plump girl from a Devon village who spoke in whispers, was transfixed by all TV programmes, ate chocolates by the truckload, and never complained. ‘Well, I’ll make sure she uses my bathroom,’ I promised.

      ‘Must she come today?’ said Billy.

      ‘I invited her for tea so that we could all be together,’ I said. ‘Then, when you go to bed, I’m taking her to dinner in a restaurant.’

      ‘I wish we could all go out to dinner in a restaurant,’ said Billy, who had recently acquired a blue blazer and long trousers and wanted to wear them to good effect.

      ‘Which restaurant?’ said Sally.

      ‘The Greek restaurant where Billy had his birthday.’

      ‘The waiters sang “Happy Birthday” for him.’

      ‘So I heard.’

      ‘You were away.’

      ‘I was in Berlin.’

      ‘Why don’t you tell them it’s your girlfriend’s birthday,’ said Sally. ‘They’ll be awfully nice to her, and they’d never find out.’

      ‘She’s not my girlfriend,’ I said. ‘She’s just a friend.’

      ‘She’s his boyfriend,’ said Billy. Sally laughed.

      ‘She’s just a friend,’ I said soberly.

      ‘All my lovers and I are just good friends,’ said Sally, putting on her ‘Hollywood’ voice.

      ‘She heard that in a film,’ Billy explained.

      ‘Her name is Gloria,’ I said.

      ‘We’ve nothing for tea,’ said Sally. ‘Not even biscuits.’

      ‘Nanny will make toast,’ said Billy to reassure me. ‘She always makes toast when there’s nothing for tea. Toast with butter and jam. It’s quite nice really.’

      ‘I believe she will be bringing a cake.’

      ‘Auntie Tessa brings the best cakes,’ said Sally. ‘She gets them from a shop near Harrods.’

      ‘That’s because Auntie Tessa is very rich,’ said Billy. ‘She has a Rolls-Royce.’

      ‘She comes here in a Volkswagen,’ said Sally.

      ‘That’s because she doesn’t want to be flash,’ said Billy. ‘I heard her say that on the phone once.’

      ‘I think she’s very flash,’ said Sally in a voice heavy with admiration. ‘Couldn’t Auntie Tessa be your girlfriend, Daddy?’

      ‘Auntie Tessa is married to Uncle George,’ I said before things got out of hand.

      ‘But Auntie Tessa isn’t faithful to him,’ Sally told Billy. Before I could contradict this uncontradictable fact, Sally after a glance at me added, ‘I heard Daddy tell Mummy that one day when I shouldn’t have been listening.’

      ‘What kind of cake will she bring?’ said Billy.

      ‘Will she bring chocolate layer cake?’ said Sally.

      ‘I like rum babas best,’ said Billy. ‘Especially when they have lots of rum on them.’

      They were still discussing their favourite cakes – a discussion that can go on for a very long time – when the doorbell rang.

      Gloria Zsuzsa Kent was a tall and very beautiful blonde, whose twentieth birthday was soon approaching. She was what the service called an ‘Executive Officer’ which meant in theory that she could be promoted to Director-General. Armed with good marks from school and fluent Hungarian learned from her parents, she joined the Department on the vague promise of being given paid leave to go to university. It probably seemed like a good idea at the time. Dicky Cruyer had got his Army service – and Bret his studies at Oxford – credited towards promotion. Now financial cutbacks made it look as if she was stuck with nothing beyond a second-rate office job.

      She took off her expensive fur-lined suede coat and the children gave whoops of joy on discovering that she’d brought the rum babas and chocolate layer cake that were their favourites.

      ‘You’re a mind reader,’ I said. I kissed her. Under the children’s gaze I made sure it was no more than the sort of peck you get along with the Legion of Honour.

      She smiled as the children gave her a kiss of thanks before they went off to set the table for tea. ‘I adore your children, Bernard.’

      ‘You chose their favourite cakes,’ I said.

      ‘I have two young sisters. I know what children like.’

      She sat down near the fire and warmed her hands. Already the afternoon light was fading and the room was dark. There was just a rim of daylight on her straw-coloured hair and the red glow of the fire’s light on her hands and face.

      Nanny came in and exchanged amiably noisy greetings with Gloria. They had spoken on the phone several times and the similarity in their ages gave them enough in common to allay my fears about Nanny’s reaction to the news that I had a ‘girlfriend’.

      To me Nanny said, ‘The children want to make toast by the fire in here, but I can easily do it in the toaster.’

      ‘Let’s all sit by the fire and have tea,’ I said.

      Nanny looked at me and said nothing.

      ‘What’s wrong, Nanny?’

      ‘It would be better if we eat in the kitchen. The children will make a lot of crumbs and mess on the carpets and Mrs Dias won’t come in again to clean until Tuesday.’

      ‘You’re a fusspot, Nanny,’ I said.

      ‘I’ll tidy up, Doris,’ Gloria told Nanny. Doris! Good grief, those two were getting along too nicely!

      ‘And Mr Samson,’ said Nanny tentatively. ‘The children were invited to spend the evening with one of Billy’s school friends. The Dubois family. They live near Swiss Cottage. I promised to phone them before five.’

      ‘Sure, that’s okay. If the children want to go. Are you going too?’

      ‘Yes, I’d like to. They have Singin’ in the Rain on video, and they’ll serve soup and a snack meal afterwards. Other children will be there. We’d be back rather late, but the children could sleep late tomorrow.’

      ‘Well, drive carefully, Nanny. The town’s full of drunk drivers on a Saturday night.’

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