England -- Fiction; Gay men -- Fiction; Italy -- Fiction; Paranormal fiction
“She telephoned this morning,” he said. “So of course I said we should
be delighted. I forget if you know her, Vi.”
He, Violet and Aunt Hester were the only three down yet. The latter
looked up from her well-furnished plate, for Aunt Hester always had a
fine appetite for breakfast, and couldn’t bear the silly rubbish of
those who said they were better without. Whether Violet knew her or not,
it was evident that Aunt Hester knew something about her....
“Pamela Hunt coming here!” she said. “Well, I never!”
Colin turned to her with his most radiant smile.
“What is it that you ‘don’t ever,’ Aunt Hester?” he said.
Lady Hester returned to her plate. She had no desire to make mischief,
but really, the way Pamela Hunt had run after Colin, and his perfect
readiness to be caught!... They were always together: the whole world
noticed it.
“Well, I hope we shall have a fine Sunday,” she said.
Colin, shooting a glance at Violet, saw that her attention had been
aroused. Probably it could not fail to be aroused when Pamela arrived,
but what on earth had that to do with this old Victorian creature, whose
morals, as everybody knew, had been of the most indulgent order in her
own affairs? Her old age and her wit had begun to whitewash her now, but
it was a little too much that she should wish to change her name to Mrs.
Grundy. It wasn’t nearly such a pretty name as Hester Brayton, nor did
she look the part. However, he would deal with that soon.
“I hope so, too,” he said. “We’ll go to church together, Aunt Hester,
and sing ‘A few more years shall roll.’ That’s so encouraging, isn’t it?
Good morning, Uncle Ronald. Your cough’s better, I trust.”
Uncle Ronald presented a rueful appearance. People ought not, thought
Colin, to be allowed to spoil the appearance of a room like this.
Presently Aunt Margaret joined them: all the menagerie was here now
except Grandmamma.... He turned to Aunt Hester again, with all his
sunniest good humour.
“Aunt Hester, you’re got up to kill,” he said. “I never saw anything so
saucy as your hat. Should I look as nice if I wore a hat at breakfast? I
think I shall have breakfast in a bowler. Have you been out already?”
Aunt Hester felt encouraged.... It had been a mistake to make that
ejaculation on the subject of Pamela Hunt, but it had ‘popped out.’ But
Colin bore her no grudge, bless him: such a good-natured boy, he was,
and she felt it would be quite easy to speak to him after breakfast, and
beg him to reconsider the propriety of letting that baggage come down
here. Of course Staniers weren’t saints, and she herself wasn’t a prude,
thank God, but to bring that wench down here with Violet in the house
was a ‘bit thick’ as they said nowadays....
She had finished her breakfast, and got up. Colin immediately followed
her, and they strolled along to the shady end of the terrace.
“And now, my dear, I’m going to talk to you like a mother,” she said.
Colin took her arm.
“Ah, do,” he said. “That’ll be lovely.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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