Death is a Word by Hazel Holt Read Free Book Online Page B

everything in. He’s very good at summing people up.’
    ‘Do we know what he thought about Donald? I imagine Eva introduced him to both of them. How did they get on?’
    ‘Eva seemed pleased,’ Rosemary said. ‘I gather it was all quite easy and casual.’
    ‘Did Dan know how much they’d been seeing each other?’
    ‘Oh, I think so.’
    ‘So everything’s fine? I mean, if Dan approves.’
    ‘I suppose so.’
    ‘And Patrick?’
    ‘I think he said something vague and impersonal.’
    ‘Well, that’s all right, then.’
    ‘Yes, of course it is,’ Rosemary said. ‘I’m sorry Sheila – I’ve been a bore about this Donald thing.’ She thought for a moment and then went on, ‘I think I was jealous. You know, when Eva came back down here it was lovely to see her again and I suppose I rather took over her life – well, she is family – and I sort of resented it when Donald suddenly became such a part of it. Then Mother kept going on about how short a time it was since Alan died. Of course
she
was jealous because Donald wasn’t paying as much attention to her. All absolutely ridiculous!’
    ‘Eva’s a big girl now,’ I said. ‘And she hasn’t exactly led a sheltered life.’
    ‘I know. I’m an idiot.’
    ‘I can see how you felt – she really is a rather special person.’
     
    For a town house, Brunswick Lodge has quite a big garden. Sheltered by high brick walls, it’s been lovingly planted and cared for by a team of passionate gardeners and, once a year, they grudgingly allow us to have a garden party. Like everything else, this is the source of considerable friction, the gardeners’ committee placing every obstacle they can think of in the way of the general committee’s plans. Naturally Anthea tries to pull rank (‘Enid Williams has absolutely no idea of organisation – if things were left to her the whole thing would be a complete shambles!’), but Enid is equally strong-minded. She knows that just once a year she has the upper hand.
    ‘Of course we have to have the little tables on the lawn,’ Anthea said. ‘It’s ridiculous to say they will damage the grass. Anyone with a grain of common sense would realise that there’s no way they could go on the paths.’
    ‘No,’ I agreed, ‘the paths are much too uneven and, anyway, if the tables were there people would have to walk about on the grass much more.’
    ‘Exactly!’ Anthea said triumphantly. ‘Now then, do we have tablecloths on them? Last year, if you remember, it was very windy and the cloths kept blowing about. No,’ she went on, answering her own question as she frequently did, ‘better not; besides, people tend to spill things on them and then there are all the laundry costs.’
    ‘What are we doing about the urn?’ Maureen Philips broke in. ‘If it rains like last year I don’t want to have to carry it in – it was really quite dangerous and if Derek hadn’t lent me a hand I don’t know how we would have managed.’
    ‘No, no,’ Anthea said impatiently. ‘You remember we said we’d have iced tea and iced coffee and have it all done in the kitchen.’
    ‘I still think,’ Maureen replied stubbornly, ‘that a lot of people would like a nice cup of tea.’
    ‘Well, if they actually
ask
for one,’ Anthea said irritably, ‘Sheila can make them one in the kitchen.’
    I had resigned myself to spending a lot of the garden party in the kitchen since I’d rashly offered to make the iced tea from a splendid recipe given to me by an American friend. I wasn’t entirely sorry because the garden party often took place in unsuitable weather and it was no small thing, at such a time, to be warm and dry.
    Unusually, the day dawned to bright sunshine andshowed every sign of being A Perfect Day For It, as everyone said as they crowded out into the garden. There was no peace, however, in the kitchen as Anthea kept putting her head round the door with new instructions and comments.
    ‘Was it really necessary to