Page 61 of Lessons in Life

‘Invited you…?’ Miss Gray leaned in until Eloise could smell the fish paste from the woman’s lunchtime sandwich on her breath.

‘Oh, just to sit with them every day at lunchtime.’ Eloise gave a little forced laugh. ‘It’s so wonderful to be out in the sunshine and fresh air, don’t you think? Now, you said you might let me try my hand with a few invoices this afternoon.’ Eloise was feeling brave. After all, her family did own the place.

‘As you wish.’ Miss Gray sniffed, reached for a monogrammed handkerchief up her sleeve and led Eloise to a somewhat battered Imperial on a desk at the back of the office. ‘But really, dear, I know for a fact Mr Hudson wouldn’t want you…fraternisingwith the men from the shop floor. But particularly with… you know… our Indian brethren…? Really not the ticket. Not the thing at all.’

20

ROBYN

What should have been a lovely Saturday was marred by Sorrel’s predicament. Was being pregnant a predicament? Hell, yes, if you were fifteen and about to be auditioned for a place at the most prestigious theatre school in the country. An opportunity given to so few, and one that would change a life for ever.

As would being pregnant.

‘Oh, you silly girl, you silly, ridiculous girl.’ I spoke the words out loud as I filled kitchen cupboards and the fridge with my haul from Sainsbury’s, unaware that Fabian had returned from the car with yet another load of stuff both from Jemima’s place in Harrogate and more of my clothes from Mum’s cottage.

‘These things happen, Robyn,’ Fabian said. ‘You, above all others, should know that, dealing with teens as you do.’

‘But the audition, Fabian? All she’s worked for. All she’s ever wanted.’

‘Can she not still go? She’s only a few weeks pregnant, isn’t she?’

‘Probably more, the way she was throwing up.’

‘Not necessarily. I remember one of the young barristers in the London chambers throwing up from day one.’ Fabian placed a paper bag on the kitchen counter. He patted my bum affectionately. ‘Crumpet?’

‘Again?’ I looked up. ‘D’you not think we christened that new bed enough last night? And again, this morning…?’ I trailed off as I saw Fabian reaching for the toaster and butter. ‘Oh? Yum!Actualcrumpet. Ooh and coffee? Please.’ I stood from where I was crouching down to fill a low cupboard, rubbing at my knee where the ACL injury still gave me pain. ‘I suppose she can still go to London. Our trains are booked. But I can’t imagine she’ll be on top form. She’s already sleeping for England and says she feels heavy and clumsy. Not the best way to be feeling when you’ve to give the performance of your life.’

‘And she doesn’t want to… you know… not have it?’

‘Oh Fabian, when I left her after school yesterday, she looked absolutely drained. She just doesn’t know what to do.’

‘Well, shehaddone her maths mock exam in the morning. And history in the afternoon. A couple of two-hour exams are enough to finish anyone off. Never mind doing them in the early weeks of pregnancy.’

‘You seem to know a lot about it?’ I pulled the two plates and mugs I’d filched from Mum’s from the cupboard. ‘D’you want to go shopping this afternoon? We could drive over to John Lewis in Leeds for crockery and the like.’

‘Later on, maybe? They’re open until seven tonight. Then we could go and eat at The Ivy Asia? I’d much rather go and explore those moors above Marsden while the sun’s out.’

‘Really?’ I frowned. ‘I find them a bit desolate.’

‘You’re such a towny,’ Fabian scoffed. ‘It’s after living in Soho – you’ve forgotten to appreciate the beauty of your natural surroundings. And remember, I’m now officially in charge of Boris. I need to walk him. I’ve been desperate to get out on those moors since I viewed them from “The Eyrie”.’

‘That poor dog, he’s been passed from pillar to post. First with your parents, then Jemima and now with you and me. Where is he?’

‘He’s out exploring the garden. Right.’ Fabian expertly caught the two crumpets as they popped up from the toaster. ‘Breakfast, a long walk on the moors and then Leeds.’

* * *

‘So, there’s something I need to tell you.’ Fabian took hold of my hand as we crossed the road leading from Holmfirth, which, as I informed him, stretched out in front of us towards the Isle of Skye. He paused, frowning. ‘The Isle of Skye? We’re not walking all the way to Scotland, are we?’

I laughed at that. ‘We’re heading out to Dovestones. Apparently, so the story goes, an Irish navvy, with a very strong accent, was building this road through the moor. He looked up through the grey mist to see a bit of blue sky and said, “Look, there’s an ’ole in the sky.”’

‘That’s a great Irish accent.’ Fabian grinned down at me. ‘Have you ever thought of going on the stage? Isle of Skye,’ he went on, mulling over the words. ‘That’s what we could call the restaurant.’

‘Not sure about that.’ I pulled at the sleeve of his jacket. ‘So, what did you want to tell me?’

‘My parents are here.’

‘Here?’ I stopped short, turning as if the Lord Chief Justice of England and Wales and his wife were following on behind.

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