“How long is she staying, my dear?”
“I haven’t any idea.”
“I shouldn’t keep her too long,” Mrs. Windlesham said.
Mona understood the significance of her words. Michael’s aunt was as shrewd at summing up a person as was Char Strathwyn herself. She was just going to say something more when she realised that once again Jarvis Lecker was at her elbow.
“Will you show me the pictures? I’d like to see them.”
“In a moment,” Mona replied shortly. “I must speak to Lynn Archer first.”
“Here is my guardian angel,” Lynn said, introducing Mona to two of the officers she hadn’t met before. “She’s saved the Archer family from starvation.”
“How did she do that?” a young pilot-officer asked.
“She convinced me that a novelist can be a reporter. Before Mona talked to me my plots were personal experiences, now I watch other people commit the crimes!”
“Sounds dull!” a wing-commander commiserated.
“It is,” Lynn answered dolefully. “I shall get fat and uninteresting, I’m afraid. But Mona, your friend Mrs. Strathwyn thrilled me. She told me some quite extraordinary stories about people she had met and I’m mixing them all up into a lurid cocktail and making a sensational romance out of them.”
“Char will want a commission on the book when it’s published,” Jarvis Lecker interposed.
“You’re much more likely to be had up for libel,” Mona suggested.
“If all Mrs. Strathwyn told me is true,” Lynn retorted, “no one would dare to identify themselves with any of the characters, they’d be much too ashamed.”
Lynn, Mona thought drily, was about the only person in the neighbourhood who was pleased to see Char Strathwyn, or who had any use for her. She was aware how much her mother disliked their guest and Michael did not trouble to hide his feelings. After meeting her on two or three occasions, he had been so openly hostile that it was wiser to refuse other invitations to the Park, except for this particular party.
One amusing feature was that Mavis Gunther and Char had hated one another on sight. They had eyed each other like two bantam fighting cocks and then, as if each realised the invincibility of the other, had subsided into a bristling and menacing silence. It was strange how out of place Char could seem, even at a party like this. She was not smart, she was by no means spectacular, and yet she looked like a person from another world among these fresh young girls and the incontrovertible respectability of their elders.
“What about those pictures?” she heard Jarvis Lecker say again, and unwillingly she rose to her feet.
“I’m going to take Mr. Lecker to see the pictures in the Long Gallery,” she told Lynn. “Why don’t you come?”
“Too lazy,” Lynn smiled back at her.
“She means she prefers looking at us,” one of the Air Force officers teased, and they all laughed.
Mona moved away with Jarvis Lecker. She felt annoyed at his insistence, knowing quite well that his interest in the pictures was inspired by a desire to get her away from her friends. Like other clever men, he hated not being the centre of interest. He wanted to talk, to have the undivided attention of his audience and he had no chance of showing off among this gathering of happy, irresponsible young people.
‘If only he would get bored and go,’ Mona thought savagely, but she knew there was no likelihood of this while she remained.
As they turned into the Long Gallery, they met Char and the Vicar coming out.
“Have you finished your tour already?” Mona asked in dismay. “You’ll have to come round again, Vicar, I know so little about the pictures and you can explain them much better to Mr. Lecker than I can.”
Char, however, would not allow this.
“The Vicar’s going to get me a drink first,” she said. “I feel quite thirsty after imbibing so much information. You two go on and we’ll join you later.”
Mona knew just what that meant and she led the way in silence towards the finest portraits in the Merrill collection, which were kept at the end of the gallery. Here they were alone and the sounds of merrymaking came only faintly to their ears.
“Well, tell me about them,” Jarvis Lecker said as they stood before generations of Merrills painted by famous artists, but he looked at her.
“I’m not a very good guide,” Mona admitted nervously. “You ought to have got Michael to tell you about them himself, or the Vicar.”
“I’d much rather listen to you,” Jarvis Lecker replied.
As he spoke, he laid his hands on her bare arm. Swiftly Mona moved away from him.
“Don’t be unkind to me,” he said.
“I’m not,” Mona replied, “but I dislike being touched.”
She spoke coldly.
Jarvis Lecker was quite unaffected by her tone.
“I imagine it depends on who touches you.”
“Perhaps you’re right.”
“You’re a funny girl. Char warned me you might be difficult and I’m beginning to think she spoke the truth.”
“So Char warned you. What did she say?”
Mona sat down on one of the wide window-seats covered with tapestry cushions.
