Page 2 of Annabel and Her Sisters

‘I know, isn’t it simply marvellous?’ She turned to me with a dazzling smile. ‘I’ve been hinting for years that the house is too much for her, and now she’s agreed to sell it!’

‘Yes, and I agree, we all do, it is too much. But Ginnie, not scaling down? Not buying anything smaller, a flat or something?’

‘I know– even better! Honestly, it’s the answer to all mine and Hugo’s prayers– and yours too, surely.

That house, albeit in a state of absolute decrepitude, is practically St John’s Wood– and a hundred per cent Primrose Hill.

It must be worth a bomb! It is worth a bomb, actually, I’ve obviously checked on Zoopla.

And split three ways– I mean ka-ching!’

‘And where’s she supposed to live?’

‘Surely she’s told you?’ Ginnie swung round from spooning Nescafé into the mugs. ‘She’s dividing her time between the three of us, which will be lovely for her. And us. I adore having her here. Much less lonely for her.’

‘She’s not lonely. She’s got Aunt Joan round the corner and she’s still got friends in London.’

Ginnie made a face. ‘Aunt Joan? And what friends? About five. Most of them are dead.’

‘Yes, but she could get a little flat, in a block near me maybe, for assisted living. Where Silvia is, perhaps, in World’s End. It would be perfect! Pull cords in every room to call for help, a concierge– and they’re not all ancient in there, either; it’s for over-fifty-fives.’

‘And do you know how much those flats are? Almost half the value of the house, Annabel. No, no, this way is much better. And she’d hate it, anyway.

She says a lot of them are people she used to do meals on wheels for, even though they’re younger than her– she’s still doing it locally, by the way, which is amazing, isn’t it? She is amazing, for eighty-two.’

‘Yes, but for how much longer? Every year takes its toll. Think long term, Gin. What about when she’s ninety-two? Living with us?’

‘Oh, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,’ she said airily. ‘Speaking of which,’ she said, suddenly looking deadly serious as she turned from the Aga with the mugs, ‘we need her to live another seven years, you realize that? It’s to do with property tax or something. Hugo told me.’

‘Inheritance tax,’ Hugo said distractedly, coming into the room reading a letter.

He carried on reading. I loved my brother-in-law, but he never greeted anyone until he’d finished what he was doing: it was always far too important.

Best not to take it personally. And anyway, I was still bristling from Ginnie’s last remark: it gave me a moment to resist slapping her.

He finally folded the letter and glanced up.

‘Oh, hi, Annabel.’ He came round the island and hugged me fondly, with his man boobs, as my daughter, Polly, would say.

Hugo had been very good-looking, but he was distinctly less trim these days.

‘Yes, seven years, then we don’t have to pay tax on any money she gives us after the sale.

Bloody nice of her handing it all over, just when I thought we’d have to take out another overdraft for the roof.

I even went to the bank, who told me I’m too old! Flaming cheek.’

‘Yes, but Hugo, don’t you think she needs a smaller place of her own? A flat, some sort of base, instead of drifting between the three of us like a nomad?’

‘Well, Ginnie said she thinks she’ll mostly be with you. She loves London and–’

‘Oh no, no, I most definitively did not!’ my sister cut in hastily, giving me her most sparkling smile. ‘I simply said London is her natural milieu, but she’ll love it here too, and at Clarissa’s up the road. After all, she grew up in the country!’

‘I knew it,’ I seethed. ‘You want her to live with me, full-time, and visit you occasionally.’

‘Absolutely not! Honestly, Hugo, you simply don’t listen. I merely said–’

‘And what about all the dogs? Seven at the last count.’

‘Well, plenty of space for them here, and at Clarissa’s, and you love dogs, Annabel. Maybe she could be encouraged to part with a couple, though… those really ancient ones are pretty revolting, so smelly.’

‘Oh right– so what, put the Fluz and Toto down? Break her heart?’

‘Golly, you are getting melodramatic this morning– are you having a hot flush? No, simply rehouse them, I thought. Or– ah, Minty, I was just coming to find you.’ The swivel-eyed woman with the wild hair had marched in furiously, flinging the door wide.

‘She’s got table runners as well, and quilted mats, in exactly the same colour way as mine. And she’s got silk scarves with elephant motifs. I’ve told her and she called me a very rude word.’

‘Oh?’ Hugo looked up from his post, interested. ‘Do tell.’

Minty glanced around the room to check no one else was listening. ‘She called me the C-word,’ she whispered.

Hugo cheered up enormously. ‘She didn’t!’

‘Yes. Common.’ Minty clutched her pearls and reared back in horror, her chin disappearing into her neck. ‘Because I once stole her gardener, apparently. Twenty odd years ago. Fancy bringing that up!’

‘Ah.’ Hugo looked disappointed and continued rifling through his post. ‘Thought things were hotting up. I’d disappear, Annabel, if I were you; this is the worst day of the entire year in this house.

Middle-aged women wafting red-hot hormones everywhere, and all the ones who might have been captains of industry had they not been educated in terrible convents forty years ago leading the charge.

Frankly, I think you have a point, incidentally.

Your mother needs a base of some sort, but your sisters are determined, and I’m afraid it was Lea’s idea. ’

Ginnie had already disappeared, seized by the wrist by Minty to fight her corner. She did pop her head back around the door, though. ‘And don’t think you’ll get anywhere with Clarissa– she’s already spent her share on a tractor.’

‘Dear God– the house hasn’t even been sold!’ I put my coffee down in alarm. ‘A tractor , for heaven’s sake!’

‘Well, you were the one who once told me to think of her as our brother,’ she countered triumphantly. ‘Boys with their toys!’

‘At least Clarissa’s got room for the dogs,’ Hugo said calmly as his wife disappeared. ‘Although I do rather agree with my wife for once. Seven is pretty excessive and eccentric.’

‘Which is what she is,’ I said, feeling my cheeks flush. ‘Excessive and eccentric, and which, because she is also extremely kind and generous, and only thinks about her three girls, we should one hundred per cent indulge!’

‘Oh yes, absolutely, for sure,’ Hugo agreed, alarmed at my rare flash of temper. ‘I get that completely, Annabel. Your ma’s entourage must stay intact. And you can be sure that as long as she’s here, I’ll make certain of it.’

Our eyes went to the open door as we heard Ginnie soothingly tell Minty that Anastasia’s elephants were totally different, their trunks were up, not down, and the motif was a completely different shade of pink, so she was sure the two could coexist as long as one was in the dining room– Anastasia– and one in the billiard room– Minty.

‘But the billiard room is upstairs and has no footfall– it’s the last room in the house!’ Minty cried despairingly.

‘And I’ll make sure Ginnie keeps her word, too,’ Hugo said firmly. ‘She always keeps her promises, you know that.’

‘You promised , Ginnie!’ Minty wailed. Hugo blanched, alarmed.

I gave him a knowing look. ‘ And Aunt Joan, whenever she wants to bring her,’ I reminded him, while he was on the back foot. He blinked: looked rattled.

‘Annabel, with the best will in the world, even you draw the line at Aunt Joan.’

I tried to look defiant. Failed. Aunt Joan was my mother’s sister, an unmarried artist who liked to sit around in her underwear doing the Telegraph crossword.

One day, whilst so doing, she’d announced: ‘I’ve got thrush.

’ We’d all gasped, horrified. ‘The tailless hurry to find a bird,’ she told us triumphantly. Somehow it didn’t help.

Yes, even I drew the line at Aunt Joan.