soft West Country voice, carrying Miranda. Keeping an eye on her charges, Nurse Gilpin brought up the rear with the empty pushchair, a newfangled contraption she had fought tooth and nail until it was made plain to her that Daisy’s brother-in-law,
Lord
John, had had it specially designed and built for the twins. Nurse Gilpin was a snob.
Belinda looked up to see where Nana had gone. Of course, Oliver promptly sat down. He opened his mouth to yell but stopped when Bel picked him up, the burden making her lookskinnier than ever. She had been a thin child as long as Daisy had known her, and since going back to boarding school after the summer hols, she seemed to have grown an inch without putting on an ounce. Daisy hoped she was getting enough to eat. She didn’t seem to have any trouble carrying the baby, though, and gave him up reluctantly to Daisy when they met.
Alec relieved the nursemaid of Miranda and sat her on his shoulders, wincing as she buried her little hands in his dark, springy hair.
“Hold on tight, Daddy. She doesn’t understand she mustn’t let go.”
“Da-da,” Miranda observed with satisfaction.
With a smug smile at Daisy, Alec said, “Da-da before Ma-ma.”
“It’s just babbling at this age, isn’t it, Mrs. Gilpin?”
“I’m sure I can’t say, madam. In the old days, I’d’ve said so, but what with all these modern notions, who can tell?” The nurse had reluctantly given in to Daisy’s “modern notions” about parents actually being allowed free access to their children, but she didn’t pretend to approve. Now and then, she managed to get in a dig on the subject.
An elderly man came down the hill towards them. He walked stiffly, with the aid of a stick, and was dressed in tweed knickerbockers, like a country squire out to view his estate. He had a pair of binoculars dangling on a cord around his neck and a pair of fat spaniels waddling at his heels. Nana rushed to meet the dogs.
“You’d better put her on the lead, Bel,” said Alec.
The man heard him. “It’s all right, they know one another. Nana, isn’t it? They met in the garden when your maid let her out one morning.” Pale, washed-out eyes scrutinized them from under bushy eyebrows. “You’ll be the new people at number six. My sister and I are at number ten. Bennett’s the name, two
t
’s. Settling in all right, eh?”
“Yes, thank you,” said Daisy. “I’m Mrs. Fletcher. My husband. Our daughter Belinda.”
“And who was the young fellow I saw leaving this morning with bag and baggage, eh?”
“A guest,” Alec said repressively.
“A guest, eh? We thought he might be a relative, the way he’s been popping in and out the last couple of weeks, before you moved in. Or a decorator. You’ve spent a fortune having the place done up nicely, I expect?”
“Nothing terribly exciting,” said Daisy. “We’ve kept it quite simple.”
“Haven’t you even bought new furniture? We haven’t seen a furniture van pull up, only Pickford’s moving van.”
“We’ve kept it simple,” Daisy repeated. Feeling Alec seething beside her—he was more accustomed to interrogating than to being interrogated—she went on: “I hope you’ll excuse us, Mr. Bennett. We must get on home before the little ones catch a chill.”
Mr. Bennett peered at the babies. “Twins, eh? Not identical, though!” he said disagreeably.
Oliver’s face crumpled, preparatory to a yell, but as the old man stumped off, he decided to blow a raspberry instead, a skill he had recently mastered.
“Why did he ask so many questions, Daddy?” Belinda whispered.
Alec grunted.
Daisy said diplomatically, “It’s natural to be interested when new people move in nearby.”
“Which doesn’t mean you have to answer any questions he may ask you, Bel,” said her father.
“Certainly not,” Daisy agreed. “But try not to be rude.”
“Like you, Mummy. You didn’t really tell him anything, but you were perfectly polite. I don’t
Lord
John, had had it specially designed and built for the twins. Nurse Gilpin was a snob.
Belinda looked up to see where Nana had gone. Of course, Oliver promptly sat down. He opened his mouth to yell but stopped when Bel picked him up, the burden making her lookskinnier than ever. She had been a thin child as long as Daisy had known her, and since going back to boarding school after the summer hols, she seemed to have grown an inch without putting on an ounce. Daisy hoped she was getting enough to eat. She didn’t seem to have any trouble carrying the baby, though, and gave him up reluctantly to Daisy when they met.
Alec relieved the nursemaid of Miranda and sat her on his shoulders, wincing as she buried her little hands in his dark, springy hair.
“Hold on tight, Daddy. She doesn’t understand she mustn’t let go.”
“Da-da,” Miranda observed with satisfaction.
With a smug smile at Daisy, Alec said, “Da-da before Ma-ma.”
“It’s just babbling at this age, isn’t it, Mrs. Gilpin?”
“I’m sure I can’t say, madam. In the old days, I’d’ve said so, but what with all these modern notions, who can tell?” The nurse had reluctantly given in to Daisy’s “modern notions” about parents actually being allowed free access to their children, but she didn’t pretend to approve. Now and then, she managed to get in a dig on the subject.
An elderly man came down the hill towards them. He walked stiffly, with the aid of a stick, and was dressed in tweed knickerbockers, like a country squire out to view his estate. He had a pair of binoculars dangling on a cord around his neck and a pair of fat spaniels waddling at his heels. Nana rushed to meet the dogs.
“You’d better put her on the lead, Bel,” said Alec.
The man heard him. “It’s all right, they know one another. Nana, isn’t it? They met in the garden when your maid let her out one morning.” Pale, washed-out eyes scrutinized them from under bushy eyebrows. “You’ll be the new people at number six. My sister and I are at number ten. Bennett’s the name, two
t
’s. Settling in all right, eh?”
“Yes, thank you,” said Daisy. “I’m Mrs. Fletcher. My husband. Our daughter Belinda.”
“And who was the young fellow I saw leaving this morning with bag and baggage, eh?”
“A guest,” Alec said repressively.
“A guest, eh? We thought he might be a relative, the way he’s been popping in and out the last couple of weeks, before you moved in. Or a decorator. You’ve spent a fortune having the place done up nicely, I expect?”
“Nothing terribly exciting,” said Daisy. “We’ve kept it quite simple.”
“Haven’t you even bought new furniture? We haven’t seen a furniture van pull up, only Pickford’s moving van.”
“We’ve kept it simple,” Daisy repeated. Feeling Alec seething beside her—he was more accustomed to interrogating than to being interrogated—she went on: “I hope you’ll excuse us, Mr. Bennett. We must get on home before the little ones catch a chill.”
Mr. Bennett peered at the babies. “Twins, eh? Not identical, though!” he said disagreeably.
Oliver’s face crumpled, preparatory to a yell, but as the old man stumped off, he decided to blow a raspberry instead, a skill he had recently mastered.
“Why did he ask so many questions, Daddy?” Belinda whispered.
Alec grunted.
Daisy said diplomatically, “It’s natural to be interested when new people move in nearby.”
“Which doesn’t mean you have to answer any questions he may ask you, Bel,” said her father.
“Certainly not,” Daisy agreed. “But try not to be rude.”
“Like you, Mummy. You didn’t really tell him anything, but you were perfectly polite. I don’t
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