didnât appreciate, especially since the old man was short of money. He would have preferred to buy his own desk and not be milked for loans in later years that were never going to be repaid.
Eileen went upstairs to the top floor. There was a little white painted gate, secured by a safety latch. Its purpose was to keep Lucy from toddling to the stairs and falling down them, but it always seemed to Eileen as if it were meant to keep her out.
She opened the nursery door and went in. It was a pink and white room, overdecorated and clinically neat. Toys were ranged along one wall, repeating the colour scheme; pink and white fairies danced in friezes round the room. The nanny was sitting down, sewing. When she saw Eileen she got up, smiling and distant, as if she were welcoming a visitor.
âOh, good evening, Mrs Field. Did you have a good journey â we werenât expecting you back so soon.â
âNo, it seemed pointless to stay on. I could have been there for ages. Whereâs Lucy?â
âSheâs asleep,â the nanny said.
Eileen walked to the night nursery door and opened it. She didnât look at the older woman or say anything. She went inside.
âPlease, Mrs Field,â she heard the voice behind her. âDonât wake the child. Surely in the morning â¦â
âSheâs not asleep,â Eileen said. âClose the door please, Nanny.â
She switched on the light and the little girl sitting up in the pink and white bed held out her arms.
Eileen was in her room unpacking when there was a knock on the door.
âMadam! There you are now, Iâm sorry I was out!â
Bridget Haganâs family had worked at Meath for generations. Her father was Eileenâs groom when she was a child. She was a sturdy, cheerful girl of twenty-six, and she had worked for Eileen for five years.
âYouâre looking tired,â she said. âDid you have a horrible journey? Let me do that, Madam; Iâll put everything away.â
âIt was tiring, Biddy. And I donât like flying anyway. Todayâs your day off, isnât it?â
âSure and thereâs the Prince of Wales waiting to take me out tonight! I can go off any time. Shall I get some tea for you?â
âNo thanks. Biddy, Iâm going to need your help. Iâm giving Nanny notice tomorrow morning.â
Bridgetâs face cracked into a huge smile.
âThank God for that! Wait till Mario and Marianna hear about it! The old hag â wonât she be mad?â
âBiddy, will you help me look after Lucy? Iâm not going to get anyone like her again. I want the baby to myself.â
âHigh time too, Madam,â the girl agreed. âWhat about Mr Field â whatâll he say?â
Eileen hesitated.
âHeâs very busy in Iran at the moment. I havenât bothered him about it.â
âDonât you worry,â Bridget said. âIâll do everything I can for Lucy. Iâve always wanted to get me hands on her and the old gorgon wouldnât even let me in the nursery!â She smiled at Eileen and started unpacking and hanging up her clothes.
She didnât feel hungry, but Bridget fussed over her, bringing a tray into the library. It was a small, comfortable room, with an air of casual elegance that costs so much money to achieve. There were photographs of herself and Lucy and a big portrait study of Logan, which was often reproduced in newspapers. Seven years of marriage to a man who had become a stranger. He had another woman now, a woman who could share his passion for business and stand on equal terms with him. Eileen had never been his equal or his partner; she had come low on his list of priorities and accepted it; she wasnât sure how high even Lucy rated when it came to Imperial Oil. He could never have said, like James, âIf you need me, Iâll come back.â
It would have been easy to cable, to call the
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