shudder.”
“They’re not.” Siddy drew hard on her cigarette, and her face was set. “I don’t suppose there’s any way of making you believe, but I’ve seen them filing through the streets from the camp to the factory, like walking skeletons, and the guards . . .” She trailed off. “I’m a communist, but that doesn’t matter anything like as much as being opposed to all of that. The worst of it is that the Left don’t understand people like Pa any more than Pa understands what it’s like to be a miner. I don’t care about the economic side of things, except that it obviously isn’t fair that Rosie should spend on one dress what would keep a family of eight in Bolton for a year.”
“It wouldn’t matter if they all had enough,” I said. “If the family in Bolton had enough to keep them as well as Rosie having the dress.”
“Maybe in theory, but it never works out that way,” Siddy said. “In reality there are always more needy people than spare money for Dior dresses.”
“Why did you call me?” I asked.
She blew out smoke. “I saw you on stage,” she said.
“What was it?” I asked.
“I think it was called Creatures of the Summer Heat. ”
“Oh, that silly thing.” I was embarrassed. “I don’t know why you hit on that one. It hardly ran.”
“I thought you were jolly good.” She stubbed out her cigarette and reached for the packet.
“No, have one of mine,” I said, and offered my case.
She took one and turned it in her fingers a moment. “Players. I have the theater cigarettes and you have the workers.”
“Siddy, will you for God’s sake tell me what this is about, or I swear I’ll walk out of here and never see you again.”
She looked at me a moment. “I can’t. I can’t trust you that much, and I can’t trust myself to explain it to you so it makes sense. I thought I’d be able to talk to you but I can’t. It ought to be Uncle Phil.”
“Uncle Phil?” I echoed, idiotically. Uncle Phil, better known to the wider world as crazy old Scotty, was my godfather. He’d been in Parliament, in Government even, in the Churchill period, and now he sat sulking in the House of Lords, or at home in Coltham Court, pontificating loudly about how terribly the current generation were messing things up. “What does this have to do with him?”
Siddy shrugged, and lit the cigarette. “Everything. Nothing. Look, I don’t think I can possibly explain. Come down to Coltham for lunch tomorrow.”
“I have to learn a part,” I said, automatically. “I have to know it by Monday.” Then it hit me. “You have inviting privileges at Coltham?”
“Not usually.” Siddy smiled. “But just at the moment I do.”
“You’re seeing Boo?” It was the only explanation. Siddy had been married twice, to Tommy Bailey and then to Geoff Russell, and was presently divorced. It was no secret that Uncle Phil’s son Benjamin had once been in love with our oldest sister, Olivia, and devastated when she’d married James Thirkie. He had cried at her wedding. Mamma had thought it terribly bad form. Siddy looked quite a bit like Olivia, though without her poise. Olivia always had poise, whereas Siddy replaced it with intensity. I wasn’t sure where Boo was in the marriage stakes at the moment, and while he was quite a lot older than Siddy it would actually have been a better match than most of her romances.
Siddy shook her head, laid down her cigarette, and took a forkful of her pie. “Horrid,” she said, setting the fork down again. “Will you come to Coltham for lunch?”
“I can’t possibly, not tomorrow. In any case, how would I get there? I don’t have a car.” I don’t know why I relented even that much.
“There’s a good train, from Charing Cross. Someone could meet you at the station. There are frequent trains. You could be back in London for dinner. Uncle Phil will explain everything, or if he can’t, I promise I will.”
“Then why not explain now?”
“I
“They’re not.” Siddy drew hard on her cigarette, and her face was set. “I don’t suppose there’s any way of making you believe, but I’ve seen them filing through the streets from the camp to the factory, like walking skeletons, and the guards . . .” She trailed off. “I’m a communist, but that doesn’t matter anything like as much as being opposed to all of that. The worst of it is that the Left don’t understand people like Pa any more than Pa understands what it’s like to be a miner. I don’t care about the economic side of things, except that it obviously isn’t fair that Rosie should spend on one dress what would keep a family of eight in Bolton for a year.”
“It wouldn’t matter if they all had enough,” I said. “If the family in Bolton had enough to keep them as well as Rosie having the dress.”
“Maybe in theory, but it never works out that way,” Siddy said. “In reality there are always more needy people than spare money for Dior dresses.”
“Why did you call me?” I asked.
She blew out smoke. “I saw you on stage,” she said.
“What was it?” I asked.
“I think it was called Creatures of the Summer Heat. ”
“Oh, that silly thing.” I was embarrassed. “I don’t know why you hit on that one. It hardly ran.”
“I thought you were jolly good.” She stubbed out her cigarette and reached for the packet.
“No, have one of mine,” I said, and offered my case.
She took one and turned it in her fingers a moment. “Players. I have the theater cigarettes and you have the workers.”
“Siddy, will you for God’s sake tell me what this is about, or I swear I’ll walk out of here and never see you again.”
She looked at me a moment. “I can’t. I can’t trust you that much, and I can’t trust myself to explain it to you so it makes sense. I thought I’d be able to talk to you but I can’t. It ought to be Uncle Phil.”
“Uncle Phil?” I echoed, idiotically. Uncle Phil, better known to the wider world as crazy old Scotty, was my godfather. He’d been in Parliament, in Government even, in the Churchill period, and now he sat sulking in the House of Lords, or at home in Coltham Court, pontificating loudly about how terribly the current generation were messing things up. “What does this have to do with him?”
Siddy shrugged, and lit the cigarette. “Everything. Nothing. Look, I don’t think I can possibly explain. Come down to Coltham for lunch tomorrow.”
“I have to learn a part,” I said, automatically. “I have to know it by Monday.” Then it hit me. “You have inviting privileges at Coltham?”
“Not usually.” Siddy smiled. “But just at the moment I do.”
“You’re seeing Boo?” It was the only explanation. Siddy had been married twice, to Tommy Bailey and then to Geoff Russell, and was presently divorced. It was no secret that Uncle Phil’s son Benjamin had once been in love with our oldest sister, Olivia, and devastated when she’d married James Thirkie. He had cried at her wedding. Mamma had thought it terribly bad form. Siddy looked quite a bit like Olivia, though without her poise. Olivia always had poise, whereas Siddy replaced it with intensity. I wasn’t sure where Boo was in the marriage stakes at the moment, and while he was quite a lot older than Siddy it would actually have been a better match than most of her romances.
Siddy shook her head, laid down her cigarette, and took a forkful of her pie. “Horrid,” she said, setting the fork down again. “Will you come to Coltham for lunch?”
“I can’t possibly, not tomorrow. In any case, how would I get there? I don’t have a car.” I don’t know why I relented even that much.
“There’s a good train, from Charing Cross. Someone could meet you at the station. There are frequent trains. You could be back in London for dinner. Uncle Phil will explain everything, or if he can’t, I promise I will.”
“Then why not explain now?”
“I
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