Page 65 of The Sun Sister
‘Yeah, though I’m not sure I’d call it a town. Haslemere has shops and the flicks, which is where me and Betty are off to tonight. We’re seeingThe Adventures of Robin Hoodwith Errol Flynn. Now, if you don’t need anything else, I’ll tell Ellen to fetch up your supper at seven.’
‘Have a nice evening, Doris.’
‘Oh, I will, miss, and you get better soon.’
Once Doris had left, Cecily tookThe Great Gatsby– which, with her head being everywhere these past few weeks, she had still not managed to finish – and sat down to read by the fire. She wouldnotthink about Julius somewhere close by in the house, she wouldnot...
At seven o’clock prompt, there was a knock on her door and Ellen appeared with the promised tray. There was more soup, a boiled egg and thin slices of buttered bread. Even if she’d had an appetite, the food looked uninviting. She tapped the egg suspiciously. It felt as solid as a rock. She was just taking a mouthful of lukewarm soup when there was another knock at her door. Before she could say enter, it was opened.
‘Good evening, Cecily. I heard you were eating in your room and as I was about to do the same, I thought we should join forces to moan about Cook’s lack of prowess in the kitchen.’
And there was Julius, holding a tray identical to hers.
‘Do you mind awfully if I join you?’
‘I...no, of course not.’
‘Good-oh,’ he said as he placed his tray on the small table in front of the fire and sat down opposite her. ‘Now then, having heard you have a chill and seeing as our supper is almost certainly inedible, I’ve brought a little something to warm the cockles of our hearts.’
With that, Julius produced a bottle of what looked like bourbon from one pocket and a tooth mug from the other.
‘We’ll have to share, but life’s all about improvisation, isn’t it?’ he smiled at her as he poured a hefty amount of liquor into the mug before offering it to her. ‘Ladies first. For medicinal purposes only, of course.’
‘Really, I—’
‘Right, I’ll go first then,’ he said, then took a deep gulp. ‘Ah, that’s better. Nothing like a dash of whisky to keep out the cold.’
Cecily’s heart was fluttering all over the place and she needed something to calm her. ‘Maybe a small sip won’t do me any harm.’
‘No, it won’t, and a larger one may actually do you good,’ Julius encouraged her as she tipped the mug tentatively between her lips.
‘Right, now for the egg,’ he said. Cecily watched him take his teaspoon, tap the top thoroughly, then slice it off with a knife. ‘Hardboiled as always,’ he sighed. ‘I have spoken to my aunt about the standard of fare in the house and the dubious qualifications of the woman who provides it, but it seems to fall on deaf ears.’ He sat back in his chair. ‘Inedible. So, all that is left to do is drink. Cheers.’ He picked up the tooth mug and drained the rest of the contents. ‘So, tell me about your life in New York,’ he said as he refilled the mug and handed it back to her. ‘I’ve never been myself, but everyone tells me it’s a wonderful city.’
‘It is. The skyscrapers go up and up towards the heavens, yet there are big wide-open spaces so you never feel claustrophobic. Our house overlooks Central Park and you can walk for what feels like miles and rarely see another human being. It’s the best of both worlds, I guess. It’s my home,’ she shrugged, ‘and I love it.’
‘Pray tell me, if you love it so much, why are you scuttling off into the African Bush in a few days’ time?’
‘Because...my godmother invited me.’
‘Did she now?’ Julius’s piercing brown eyes bored into hers. ‘Given the fact that Europe is currently in such a muddle and Kenya may well be drawn into any coming war, I’d surmise there’s more to the story than that.’
‘I...was going to get married and, well, it didn’t work out.’
‘I see. So,’ Julius said, having taken a further swig from the shared tooth mug, ‘in short, you’re running away.’
‘I rather hope I’m runningtosomething actually. It’s a wonderful chance to be somewhere completely different and I decided to take it.’
‘Good for you, and I like your positive frame of mind. Anywhere has to be better than Woodhead Hall in the depths of winter,’ Julius sighed. ‘But that is my lot. Unless of course there is war in Europe, then I shall without a doubt be travelling to distant lands in a uniform to face certain death. So, one must seize the moment, mustn’t one?’ he added as he refilled the tooth mug again. ‘Perhaps I can become the Rupert Brooke of the new war, though I rather hope I don’t end my days on a battlefield in Gallipoli.’
‘I’m real sorry, but I don’t know who you’re talking about.’
‘Good grief, Miss Huntley-Morgan, did you receive an education?’
‘Why yes, I went to Vassar, one of the best women’s colleges in America!’ she replied, wounded.
‘Then your English Literature professor has failed you miserably. Rupert Brooke was a genius and the most famous war poet of all time. I shall furnish you with a book of his poems forthwith.’
‘Literature wasn’t ever my thing, although I enjoy reading for pleasure.’ Cecily shrugged, feeling much more relaxed after the whisky. ‘As I told you, I’m far better at arithmetic.’
