Page 94 of Lessons in Life

‘Mrs Howard.’

Kamran shook his head. ‘Means nothing.’

‘Why would it? I wouldn’t have thought she’d ever have had anything to do with her family’s mill workers.’ Lisa laughed. ‘She’s very upmarket.’

‘And you’re saying I’m not?’ Kamran grinned, shooting the cuff of his expensive shirt as if to prove a point.

‘You know exactly what I’m saying.’ Lisa smiled. ‘Eloise Howard looks like Grace Kelly. Tall, beautiful and very posh.’

‘Eloise?’ Kamran stared.

‘Yes. Eloise. Eloise Howard. ShewasEloise Hudson. Lived at Hudson House as a child, apparently.’

‘Well, well, well.’ Kamran sat back in his chair. ‘Well—’ he gave a bark of laughter ‘—who’d have guessed?’

‘Guessed?’

‘Nothing, nothing.’ He shook his head, obviously lost in thought.

‘It’s clearly something,’ Lisa said encouragingly, but Kamran shook his head.

‘Just some family business that wouldn’t interest you.’ He smiled then, taking her hand, before saying, ‘Listen, I thought you and Jess realised.’

‘Realised? Realised what?’

Kamran smiled again, obviously willing Lisa to understand his intentions for the care home. ‘I’m planning on turning Hudson House into a fabulous restaurant.’

30

AUGUST 1968

Eloise

‘Unlike formal coming-out balls, Eloise,’ Muriel said crossly, ‘which are always held during the social season in spring or summer, one’s individual coming-out party may, according to social convention, be held at any time of the year. So please do not contradict me when I tell you yours is at the end of August.’

‘Coming-out balls?’ Michael, drowning a bowl of cornflakes in a pint of milk, sniggered. ‘I don’t have to get my knackers out at this do, do I?’

Muriel, reaching for a copy of theMidhope Examiner, slapped Michael around the head with the Classifieds section while Maude Hudson, who’d arrived uninvited in the kitchen, made her way past Eloise to the kettle, patting her granddaughter’s arm as she did so.

‘What’s wrong with the kettle in the gardener’s hut?’ Muriel snapped, eyeing Maude’s muddy boots with distaste. ‘And d’you think you could leave the mud where it belongs, in the vegetable patch?’

‘Blown a fuse,’ Maude said unapologetically. ‘Can’t prune the lavender or sow the annuals without tea and a smoke.’ She went to sit by Eloise, reaching for her tobacco tin.

‘Donotlight up in here, Maude,’ Muriel instructed, glaring in her mother-in-law’s direction. ‘And, Michael, stop stuffing food down your throat at a rate of knots. And elbows off the table…’

‘I hear the Yorkshire Debs’ Ball at The Queen’s in Leeds is off?’ Maude winked conspiratorially across the table at Eloise.

‘Not definitely,’ Muriel said huffily. ‘We’ve time yet to up the numbers. And, if it doesn’t go ahead, all the more reason for Eloise’s coming-out party here at the end of the month. Invitations have gone out and there’s a wonderful take up forthat.’

‘People round here won’t turn down a pint and a pie and mushy pea supper.’ Maude winked again at Eloise and this time, despite feeling utterly miserable at the thought of being flaunted in front of the cream of Yorkshire’s society, Eloise laughed out loud.

‘Pie and peas, for heaven’s sake.’ Muriel’s neck turned an unflattering shade of turkey red and she dabbed at her face with the tea towel she was holding.

‘Menopause, Muriel?’ Maude’s tone was nothing but sympathetic.

‘Are you in that already, Ma?’ Michael looked up with interest from his cereal.

‘Excuse me!’ Muriel snapped. ‘Would you mind your language, Maude, in front of Michael? And, I’ll have you know, the Veuve Clicquot is already ordered while a very expensive and tasteful supper will be prepared and presented by the chefs from The George hotel.’

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