Page 60 of The Sun Sister

‘Hello,’ he said as he reached her. ‘May I enquire to whom I am speaking?’

‘I’m Cecily Huntley-Morgan.’

‘Are you now? And what exactly are you doing here?’

‘Oh, my mother and Lady Woodhead are old friends and I’m staying here for a few days before I travel on to Kenya.’ Cecily put a hand to her décolletage, feeling exposed in the flimsy robe she had put on after her bath.

‘Africa, is it?’ the man said with a smile. ‘Well, well. I’m Julius Woodhead.’ He offered her a hand. ‘Pleased to make your acquaintance.’

‘Likewise.’ Cecily took the proffered hand and felt an odd sensation, not unlike an electric shock, judder up her arm.

‘See you at dinner,’ he called as he sauntered past her. ‘It’s apparently pheasant yet again, just be careful of the shot.’

‘I...okay, I will be,’ she replied, not having a clue what he meant.

Julius disappeared into a bedroom just along the corridor. With a trembling hand, she opened the door to her own room, then shut it behind her and went to sit beside the fire.

‘Julius Woodhead...’ she whispered. ‘Surely, he can’t be one of Audrey’s children?’ For starters, she wasn’t aware Audrey had any. For seconds, he had been wearing an old woollen sweater with holes the size of her father’s signet ring.

‘Oh my,’ she said, fanning herself, suddenly feeling flushed. She stood up to head over to her lingerie drawer, and decided she would ask Doris to style her hair for dinner after all.

‘Welcome, my dear,’ said Audrey as Cecily entered the vast drawing room, which made the one in her parents’ home look like a doll’s house version. ‘Come, stand by the fire.’ Audrey drew her towards it, taking a cocktail from a tray held by a stationary manservant and handing it to her. ‘Glad to see you’re in velvet – far warmer than satin or silk. We’re having central heating put in next month – I told Edgar I simply refused to spend another winter in this house unless he did.’

‘I’m just fine, Audrey. And it’s awful nice of you to host me here.’

‘Yes, well...’ Audrey waved an arm vaguely around the room at the guests. ‘Sadly, the beginning of February is not the height of the social season here. Most people are away in warmer climes or skiing in St Moritz. And dear Edgar is up in London all week so you won’t meet him, but I did what I could. Now, let me introduce you to some of my friends and neighbours.’

Cecily did the rounds with Audrey, nodding and smiling at the assembled company. Disappointingly, only the vicar’s son – Tristan Somebody-or-other – was of a similar age to her. He told her he was on a brief visit to see his parents who lived in the local village, while training at somewhere called Sandhurst as an officer for the British army.

‘Do you think there will be a war?’ Cecily asked him.

‘I bally well hope so, Miss Huntley-Morgan. It’s pointless training for something that never happens.’

‘You actuallywantthere to be a war?’

‘I doubt there’s a person in England who doesn’t think that Herr Hitler needs a jolly good kicking. And I for one am eager to help.’

Feeling faintly queasy, whether due to the two cocktails she’d drunk or the long day of travel, Cecily eventually managed to extricate herself from Tristan and walked back towards the fire.

‘Good evening, Miss Huntley-Morgan. Glad to see you’ve put your clothes on for dinner.’

Cecily swung round to see Julius – looking utterly divine in black tie – grinning at her in undisguised amusement.

‘Why, I’d just come from the bathroom!’

‘Really? I thought that perhaps you were sneaking along the corridor from your lover’s room.’

‘I...’ Cecily felt a blush rising up her neck into her face.

‘Only teasing,’ Julius smiled. ‘I must say, you look spiffing in that dress. It matches your eyes.’

‘But my dress is purple!’

‘Oh yes, well,’ Julius shrugged, ‘isn’t that the kind of thing gentlemen say to ladies all the time?’

‘When appropriate, yes.’

‘Well, that’s me all over; inappropriate should be my middle name. Forgive me. I hear that good old Aunt Audrey has laid on this little bash all for you. You’re the guest of honour apparently.’