22 Britannia Road - Amanda Hodgkinson [129]
The old lady lays her cards on the table. Silvana picks up another card. For once luck is on her side. She almost laughs out loud. She can’t lose this time. Not with a hand like this. She lays her cards in front of her and looks at Moira.
‘I’ve won.’
Moira clears her throat, gathers up the cards, sits back in her chair and begins to shuffle them. ‘We’ll play another, shall we?’
She deals the cards, picks up her own and studies them.
‘Marriages are awkward things, my dear, but one must stick at them. Has Tony talked to you about the summer holiday?’
Silvana hesitates. She says nothing and Moira doesn’t seem to notice. The old lady carries on talking.
‘We have relatives in Sidmouth. Normally Tony drives us down there for a fortnight. Peter adores the West Country.’
Silvana tries to remember if Tony has mentioned this before. If he did, she can’t remember it.
‘I know all about the summer holiday,’ she says.
Moira puts her cards down and smiles at Silvana.
‘Do you? Then you’ll know that Tony says he can’t come with us this year. Apparently he is too busy.’
Silvana picks up a card. A queen. She studies Moira’s face, the sharp grey eyes, the neat mouth. If only she hadn’t answered the door. If only she had hidden and waited for the woman to leave.
Moira continues. ‘Of course, I would have thought that selling his pet shop would mean Tony has more time on his hands, not less. Wouldn’t you agree?’
Silvana says nothing. She waits for the old woman to make her move, but Moira folds her cards into the pack and reaches across the table for her hat.
‘I think I’m a little tired now. I have to get the train back to Ipswich and I can’t stand catching the six o’clock. There are always far too many people.’
In the hallway, Silvana sees the bag of sweets is still there. She hopes Aurek is not making nests in the last bales of cotton sheets Tony has stored in the kitchen. When Tony gets back, she will tell him the sooner they move to London the better. She opens the front door and steps outside, letting Moira walk past her.
The afternoon light is golden and the heated air carries the drifting scent of drying seaweed. Bareheaded girls and freckled boys run across the sands, turning cartwheels, tightrope-walking along the narrow wooden groynes of the beach, avoiding the war defences that are still there, the jumbled rolls of barbed wire heaped in rusting mounds. Silvana watches the scene for a few moments.
‘Lucy always loved the sea,’ Moira says, as if remembering some specific day.
She turns to face Silvana. ‘I hope Tony manages to come to Devon with us. It would be such a shame if he didn’t get to spend some time with his son this summer. Quite unforgivable.’
‘I don’t know,’ says Silvana. She will not be bullied by Moira, and she is tired of these conversations. ‘Perhaps you need to speak to him yourself. I’m only the housekeeper here, after all.’
‘Yes. That’s true. You are just a housekeeper. Perhaps I was mistaken.’
Moira steps onto the pavement and looks up and down the road.
‘By the way,’ she says. ‘The way you wear that blouse with the silk skirt? It’s not very pleasant to see another woman in Lucy’s clothes, but I have to concede that they suit you. You’re about the same size as she was.’
She gives the road another sweeping glance and steps off the pavement.
‘I can see why Tony likes you. You do resemble her in a way.’
Silvana feels a chill run through her. Even with the sun beating down on her, she shivers. She follows the old woman.
‘What did you say?’
‘The blouse with the skirt. Lucy never wore them together.’
‘I think you’ve made a mistake,’ Silvana says coldly. She has had enough of Moira and her haughty ways. ‘These are my clothes. Tony bought them for me.’
‘Really, I knew I had to come. This has gone far enough. You are wearing my daughter’s clothes. But you know very well. Must you act so stupid? Has he given you the mink? I do hope not. It was a present from us.