him mischievously. ‘And are you a passionate man?’
He was about to reply when he became aware of another voice: it was Rosie’s and she was getting into her stride. ‘And then the princess met the most wonderful man.’
‘How was he wonderful? Was he good-looking?’ Victoria asked.
‘Not especially.’
‘But was he fit?’
‘Well, I suppose he was quite healthy.’
‘No. I mean . . . was he fanciable?’
‘Oh, yes. Definitely.’
‘And
did
she fancy him?’
‘Oh, I think so. She certainly wanted to get to know him a bit better.’
‘And did she?’
‘Well, yes, I suppose she did . . . You see, the princess lived in a country that was very large, and a lot of the working people didn’t have much money. This meant that they didn’t like the princess’s family because they had too many lovely things, like Fabergé eggs and suchlike.’
‘What’s a Fabergé egg?’
Suddenly Nick grasped the drift of their conversation, and sprang up. ‘Rosie!’
‘Yes, darling?’
‘What are you talking about?’
Before she could reply, Victoria said, ‘A princess and a . . . What was he?’
‘A pauper. Well, not exactly a pauper, dear, but certainly a commoner.’
Nick endeavoured to steer her away from what to him were uncharted waters and a possible source of embarrassment. ‘Don’t you think it’s a bit late for stories?’
‘Yes,’ Alex put in. ‘We really must be going.’
‘No – I didn’t mean—’ He looked pleadingly at his grandmother.
She beamed at him innocently. ‘It’s only a quarter to ten – and they are on holiday.’
Alex stood up and slipped on her shoes. ‘No. You’re quite right. It’s way past Victoria’s bedtime. It’s been wonderful, but we really must be going.’
Nick tried to retrieve the situation. ‘Don’t go. It was just that . . .’
‘It’s all right. We’ve had a lovely time. Perhaps we’ll see you again before the end of our holiday. Say goodnight, Victoria, and thank Rosie for a nice evening.’
‘Oh, do we have to? I want to hear the end of the story.’
Alex shot her a look.
‘OK.’ Victoria sounded resigned. ‘Goodnight, Rosie, and thanks for having me.’ She stretched up to give Rosie a peck on the cheek. ‘Goodnight, Nick.’
‘Goodnight, Victoria. Thank you for coming.’ He was embarrassed now. He turned to Alex, but she was collecting Victoria’s jacket from the back of her chair and did not meet his eye.
As they walked down the veranda steps together he tried to make amends. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Oh, never mind.’
‘No. I mean about . . . just then . . .’
‘It’s fine, really. Thank you for a lovely meal.’ She squeezed his arm, then walked round the battered old Ford, let Victoria into the back seat and belted her in. ‘Have a good rest of the week,’ she said, and before he could say any more, the little car slid down the stony track and away into the night.
Nick watched the scarlet tail-lights disappear. How had he managed that? How could a perfectly pleasant evening have soured so quickly? It was only minutes since he and Alex had been sitting on the veranda, enjoying the moment, sizing each other up, and now she had left without . . . well, without anything.
He stormed inside. ‘You promised!’
‘Promised what, sweetheart?’
‘Not to go on about your past.’
‘But I didn’t. I was only telling her about the princess and the pauper.’
‘Oh, yes? A princess who had Fabergé eggs and lived in a large country where the poor people didn’t like the princess’s family.’
‘Well, I was only embellishing it a bit with things I knew.’
‘And look what’s happened! They must think I’m rude and—’
‘Inconsiderate?’
‘Don’t push it, Rosie!’ His voice was raised.
‘Well, you shouldn’t treat me like a child.’
‘Then don’t behave like one. You’ve ruined a perfectly good evening.’
‘I didn’t ruin it. You did. I was just . . .’
‘I know what you were
He was about to reply when he became aware of another voice: it was Rosie’s and she was getting into her stride. ‘And then the princess met the most wonderful man.’
‘How was he wonderful? Was he good-looking?’ Victoria asked.
‘Not especially.’
‘But was he fit?’
‘Well, I suppose he was quite healthy.’
‘No. I mean . . . was he fanciable?’
‘Oh, yes. Definitely.’
‘And
did
she fancy him?’
‘Oh, I think so. She certainly wanted to get to know him a bit better.’
‘And did she?’
‘Well, yes, I suppose she did . . . You see, the princess lived in a country that was very large, and a lot of the working people didn’t have much money. This meant that they didn’t like the princess’s family because they had too many lovely things, like Fabergé eggs and suchlike.’
‘What’s a Fabergé egg?’
Suddenly Nick grasped the drift of their conversation, and sprang up. ‘Rosie!’
‘Yes, darling?’
‘What are you talking about?’
Before she could reply, Victoria said, ‘A princess and a . . . What was he?’
‘A pauper. Well, not exactly a pauper, dear, but certainly a commoner.’
Nick endeavoured to steer her away from what to him were uncharted waters and a possible source of embarrassment. ‘Don’t you think it’s a bit late for stories?’
‘Yes,’ Alex put in. ‘We really must be going.’
‘No – I didn’t mean—’ He looked pleadingly at his grandmother.
She beamed at him innocently. ‘It’s only a quarter to ten – and they are on holiday.’
Alex stood up and slipped on her shoes. ‘No. You’re quite right. It’s way past Victoria’s bedtime. It’s been wonderful, but we really must be going.’
Nick tried to retrieve the situation. ‘Don’t go. It was just that . . .’
‘It’s all right. We’ve had a lovely time. Perhaps we’ll see you again before the end of our holiday. Say goodnight, Victoria, and thank Rosie for a nice evening.’
‘Oh, do we have to? I want to hear the end of the story.’
Alex shot her a look.
‘OK.’ Victoria sounded resigned. ‘Goodnight, Rosie, and thanks for having me.’ She stretched up to give Rosie a peck on the cheek. ‘Goodnight, Nick.’
‘Goodnight, Victoria. Thank you for coming.’ He was embarrassed now. He turned to Alex, but she was collecting Victoria’s jacket from the back of her chair and did not meet his eye.
As they walked down the veranda steps together he tried to make amends. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Oh, never mind.’
‘No. I mean about . . . just then . . .’
‘It’s fine, really. Thank you for a lovely meal.’ She squeezed his arm, then walked round the battered old Ford, let Victoria into the back seat and belted her in. ‘Have a good rest of the week,’ she said, and before he could say any more, the little car slid down the stony track and away into the night.
Nick watched the scarlet tail-lights disappear. How had he managed that? How could a perfectly pleasant evening have soured so quickly? It was only minutes since he and Alex had been sitting on the veranda, enjoying the moment, sizing each other up, and now she had left without . . . well, without anything.
He stormed inside. ‘You promised!’
‘Promised what, sweetheart?’
‘Not to go on about your past.’
‘But I didn’t. I was only telling her about the princess and the pauper.’
‘Oh, yes? A princess who had Fabergé eggs and lived in a large country where the poor people didn’t like the princess’s family.’
‘Well, I was only embellishing it a bit with things I knew.’
‘And look what’s happened! They must think I’m rude and—’
‘Inconsiderate?’
‘Don’t push it, Rosie!’ His voice was raised.
‘Well, you shouldn’t treat me like a child.’
‘Then don’t behave like one. You’ve ruined a perfectly good evening.’
‘I didn’t ruin it. You did. I was just . . .’
‘I know what you were
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