The Flight of Gemma Hardy_ A Novel - Margot Livesey [154]
“You made me a nice lunch. All my favourite things. The school was awful. They treated the working girls—that’s what they called us—worse than servants, but there were a couple of good teachers. Then the school closed down and I went to the Orkneys as an au pair. Now I look after Robin near Aberfeldy.”
“The Orkneys,” said Louise. “Isn’t that where you come from, Audrey?” She and Audrey were sitting at opposite ends of the table; Robin and I were together on the long side. Audrey gave a faint nod.
“You used to tell me stories about the islands,” I continued. “That was one reason I wanted to go there. I worked for someone who knew you at school, Vicky Sinclair. She said how much she admired you,” I embellished.
Almost despite herself Audrey looked pleased. “I’m amazed she remembers me,” she said. “I was eight or nine years older, and she lived in the back of beyond.”
“She runs into your mother in Kirkwall sometimes.”
“You have a mother?” said Louise. “I’ve never heard you mention her.” She was looking on in a jocular fashion, her interest piqued at the notion that her mother’s housekeeper of so many years had secrets.
“We’re not on good terms,” said Audrey. “More tea? How’s the cake, young man?” Another lapwing, I thought, running broken-winged away from her nest.
“Nice,” said Robin, and then, seeing me mouth the words, added, “Thank you.”
“Vicky works for Mr. Sinclair of Blackbird Hall,” I persisted. “Did you know him?” It was the first time I had said his name to another person since Maes Howe. Just this once, I bargained.
Audrey straightened the turquoise cuffs of her pullover. “By sight. I’d have thought Vicky would be married by now. She was a lively girl.”
“You can never tell who’s going to get married,” said Louise. “Mummy was convinced I was a hopeless case until Brian came along.” She raised her hand and I noticed the ring. As she continued to bring the conversation back to what she regarded as its proper focus, I caught Audrey’s glance. If Louise left the room, I thought, there might be more to say. But Louise kept talking, and it was Audrey who at last stood up, saying she must check on my aunt.
“I’d like to say goodbye to her,” I said. “Robin and I need to go soon.”
“At your service.” Louise touched an imaginary cap.
But Audrey returned to report that my aunt was fast asleep. “Talking to you must have tired her,” she said.
“Yes,” said Louise. “What did she want to see you about?”
Her brown eyes quickened, and I was suddenly aware of my power. My aunt’s story was like a smooth stone. If I threw it, it would break open the life of Yew House. “Just something about my parents,” I said. “I’m going to university in the autumn and I needed to get a couple of facts straight.”
“Are you talking about money?” Louise said sharply. “Because if so, you don’t have any claim on Mummy. She did her best by you, but that’s all past now.”
“No, I’ll get a grant. Still you’d be surprised how many forms ask about your parents.”
Audrey started to say something about my present situation, but Louise was moving to pick up Robin’s bag of toys. Quickly, not wanting her to see the book and the magazine, I stepped forward to retrieve it. Then on a page from my notebook I wrote down the MacGillvarys’ address and phone number. “Here,” I said to Audrey, “if you ever need to reach me. Please thank my aunt for me. I’m glad I saw her again.”
We both hesitated, not knowing whether to shake hands or to embrace. Then I reached my arms around her. As I kissed her cheek, I smelled a familiar fragrance: my aunt’s perfume. Looking again at her smart trousers and pullover, I wondered if those too came from my aunt. And why not? No one could possibly be paying her enough for all she was doing, and