Page 13 of The Gathering Storm (Morland Dynasty #36)

She would tell Mrs Dyer when she got back to the kitchen that ‘they were spooning again’. She and the cook had both had to get used to it. It was nice in its way, to see how fond they were of each other, but that sort of thing was not done in the best houses.

Molly’s sharp eyes travelled from Basil’s face to the suitcase in his hand. ‘You’re in trouble again,’ she said. ‘What is it this time?’

‘Not my fault,’ he said automatically, then summoned his charm. He leaned forward to kiss her cheek and said, ‘Hello, Aunty Molly. You’re looking very well. That colour really suits you.’

‘Don’t flannel me,’ Molly said, trying not to smile – Basil out to charm was hard to resist, and she was fond of him anyway. ‘What have you done?’

‘I lost my job, and I’ve had to move out of my lodgings,’ he said.

‘So I was hoping you’d take me in for a little while.

Otherwise,’ he added pathetically, ‘I’ll have to sleep under a railway bridge, in the cold and the rain.

And that will be so bad for my consumption. ’ He coughed hollowly into a fist.

‘Oh, stop it,’ she laughed. ‘Of course you can stay here. But tell me you haven’t done anything really bad, or I shall feel obliged to tell your mother and father.’

‘No, I’m not wicked, just rather put-upon and stray-dog-ish,’ he said meekly. ‘And awfully hungry.’

‘Dinner will be an hour,’ Molly said. ‘Vivian’s not home yet. I’ll tell them in the kitchen to lay an extra place. Can you last until then, or should I ask them to bring you something to tide you over?’

‘Just a mouldy crust, or the scraps set aside for the dog will do – anything you can spare,’ he said, with deep pathos.

‘I’ll see what there is,’ she said. ‘Go on into the drawing-room, by the fire. You can leave your suitcase here. We’ll take it to the spare room later.’

In the drawing-room he found Charlotte sitting in an armchair by the fire.

On the hearthrug, gazing up soulfully, was a loose-limbed young man in shirtsleeves and a Fair Isle sleeveless pullover, with dark hair flopping over his forehead.

From these clues Basil divined that he was one of Aunt Molly’s pet poets.

Her husband’s publishing house, Dolphin Books, published poetry, and Molly took it on herself occasionally to offer sympathy and basic nourishment to the tortured souls who produced it.

‘Otherwise they forget to eat, bless them,’ she had sometimes said.

Charlotte, who worked as an editorial assistant with Dolphin, was another ‘sort-of’ cousin – in fact, she was ‘Uncle’ Oliver’s niece, and sister to Richard, who had got Basil his first job after leaving school, driving motor-cars for Nevinson’s.

She looked up as Basil came in, and said, ‘This is a nice surprise. Molly didn’t say you were coming.’

‘I wasn’t expected,’ Basil said, approaching the fire. It was getting quite cold outside now the sun had gone down. He looked enquiringly at the flop-haired boy.

‘Oh, this is Leo Cust. Leo, Basil Compton. He’s a sort of cousin, works for the Bugle .’

The young man looked interested at this connection – the Bugle was known for its literary reviews – and began to scramble to his feet, but Basil waved him back down and said ‘Don’t get up. Not worth your while. I was sacked today.’

‘Oh, Basil !’ Charlotte exclaimed. ‘What did you do?’

‘Nothing for your ears,’ Basil said. He looked at Cust. ‘Poet?’

Cust blushed. ‘I try. It’s what I want to do most in the world. And Mrs Blake says – she’s so kind – and Miss Howard—’

‘Mr Cust is working towards his first collection,’ Charlotte said briskly. ‘His poems are rather good. But, Basil, what are you going to do?’

‘Aunt Molly said I could stay here for a bit. I suppose I shall have to get another job of some sort. It’s either that, or go home to the Aged Ps.’

‘What’s wrong with that?’ Charlotte asked.

‘Pained silences and reproachful looks,’ said Basil. ‘Mother mentally comparing me with Dad and seeing how far short I fall. You don’t know what it’s like, having an übermensch for a father.’

‘I don’t have a father of any sort,’ Charlotte said.

‘Oh – sorry, Charley. I forgot,’ Basil said, trying to look contrite.

‘Anyway, I think Uncle Jack is a perfect pet,’ Charlotte said warmly.

‘That’s the trouble, everyone does,’ said Basil.

Leo Cust spoke up. ‘I know what you mean, though. My pater is good at everything. He always knows exactly what to say to everyone, and everyone admires him. And I’m such a clumsy fool, I’m always tongue-tied in company, and the only thing I’m any good at is poetry and the pater thinks it’s an awful bust and that I should go into politics or something. ’

‘Leo’s father is Lord Haverfordwest,’ Charlotte explained.

‘He got a double first at Cambridge,’ Cust said gloomily. ‘And he was a first-class cricketer. He made sixty-two at The Oval opening with Jack Hobbs in a Players-and-Gentlemen match for charity.’

Basil patted the poet on the shoulder. ‘I always feel it’s best to find what you’re good at and stick to it.’

Cust got to his feet. ‘I really do have to go. The parents are having a Thing tonight that I have to dress for.’ He made his farewells and drifted out.

Charlotte said to Basil, ‘Alternatively, you could just get the sort of job anyone can do and jolly well stick at it. Parents tend to forgive you for being a blithering ass if you show that you try.’

‘I don’t know what you think you know about it, Miss Howard,’ Basil said, ‘given that nobody expects anything of girls – honestly, your sex has the easiest run of it! – but if you think it’s that easy to get a job, why don’t you get me one?’

‘I will,’ she said promptly.

Molly came in with a tray. ‘I looked in the dog’s bowl, but all the scraps had gone,’ she told Basil, ‘so I’m afraid you’ll have to make do with some cheese and biscuits. The biscuits aren’t stale and the cheese isn’t even mouldy.’

‘I’ll try not to get above my station,’ Basil said, giving her his most fascinating smile.

‘Molly,’ Charlotte said, with a clear, innocent look, ‘Basil needs a job. Couldn’t you take him on to help in the warehouse? We’re short-handed anyway, and there’s going to be a lot more work once we start making the move to Acton.’

Horrified, Basil hastened to deflect his aunt. ‘Oh, is the move coming up? I didn’t realise your new premises were ready.’

‘They’re not,’ Molly said, ‘but it won’t be long. The builder expects it to be finished by the middle of May. It’s all very exciting.’

Dolphin Books had been working out of a tiny office above a grocer’s shop in Theobalds Road, with the warehousing operating from the crypt of a church round the corner in Gray’s Inn.

Now that the company was making profits, they had decided to incorporate all the activities in a single new building a little further out of Town, where there was more room and the traffic was easier.

‘Shall I show you the plans?’ Molly went on. There was nothing she liked better than talking about the new headquarters.

Charlotte intervened: ‘Let’s fix about this job for Basil first. It’s perfect for him. He’s young and strong, so the physical work won’t bother him, and he’s family, so it won’t matter that it’s so dirty and cold down in the crypt.’ Basil made an exquisite face at her, out of Molly’s line of sight.

‘Oh dear,’ said Molly, ‘you’re not making it sound very attractive. But it’s true we are short-handed.’

‘Yes, and once we start packing, there’ll be masses to do. And I was thinking, if he proves himself by sticking it out, there might possibly be something better for him after we’ve moved.’

‘Well, there’s always a place for an intelligent, ambitious sort of chap in our business,’ said Molly.

‘Yes, and Basil really doesn’t want to bother his mother and father over having lost his job, so he needs to get something to do straight away,’ said Charlotte sweetly.

‘May I make it clear, Aunty, that I didn’t actually ask for a job?’

‘Still, we could certainly do with another hand,’ said Molly.

‘I shan’t be able to pay you much, but you can live here, and that will keep your expenses down, so I’m sure you’ll be able to manage.

And if you’re working hard and giving satisfaction, I won’t feel I have to tell your mother anything.

I can leave it to you to decide when you want to tell her you’ve changed jobs. ’

It was blackmail, plain and simple, Basil thought, observing Charlotte’s grin.

But it did solve his immediate problem, and he had never lacked ability when it came to being idle while appearing to be busy.

And it wouldn’t be for long, anyway, because Gloria would forgive him and take him back.

He pinned his faith on her missing him too much to stay angry.

‘Thank you, Aunty,’ he said, eyes cast down modestly. ‘I’ll take the job. It’s very kind of you to look after me.’

‘That’s what aunts are for,’ Molly said, wondering what Basil was up to. She didn’t trust that meek, compliant look. But he really couldn’t do much harm down in the crypt, moving boxes of books around.

Just at that moment, Vivian arrived home, and Nana appeared at the same moment bringing the bathed and pyjama’d children in to see their papa and say goodnight to everyone.

Their faces lit when they saw Basil, who was a huge favourite with Esmond and Angelica, and watching him talking to them, Molly thought that there was a lot of good in that boy, if only he let it be seen.