Читать книгу In the Lion’s Den - Barbara Taylor Bradford - Страница 10

Esther was delighted when she opened the door and saw the rest of the Falconer family all together, standing on the step at the back.

‘Come in, come in!’ she exclaimed, pulling the door further ajar, a huge smile spreading across her face.

Once they were in the narrow lobby and the door was shut, there were hugs and kisses and greetings exchanged. She couldn’t help thinking how smart her three sons looked, dressed in their best clothes.

Matthew’s wife, Maude, was elegant in a simple cream linen dress which fell to her ankles, decorated with a black cotton rose on her shoulder.

Her granddaughter, Rossi, was likewise decked out in a summer frock, made of pale-blue crepe de Chine. Rossi’s younger brother, Eddie, wore his one and only best suit.

‘Let’s go and see Dad, shall we?’ Matthew announced, taking charge.

‘Yes, come along,’ Esther answered, smiling at her firstborn child. ‘He’s with James up in the conservatory.’

They clustered around Philip in his chair, fussing about him, making him feel well loved.

It was Eddie who pushed his way to the front, and said, ‘I’ve brought a painting for you, Grandpa.’ He handed him the package, and turned to Esther. ‘And one for you too, Grandma.’

He stood and watched as his grandparents opened their gifts and praised his artistic talent; Matthew and Maude smiled with pride at their younger son.

Rossi had also brought gifts for her grandparents. ‘A scarf for each of you.’ She then explained, ‘Silk summer scarves, because sometimes it does get cool in the evening.’

Esther and Philip gave more thanks and complimented their granddaughter. Then Esther turned to Matthew, Harry and George and said, ‘Would you three come downstairs with me to the kitchen, please? Rossi and Maude can entertain Dad for the moment, and you can chat with him shortly. Will you come as well, James?’

The men nodded and followed Esther out of the room. Once they were in the hall, George asked, ‘Is there a problem, Ma?’ Concern echoed in his voice.

‘No, no,’ Esther answered swiftly. ‘Let’s go downstairs so that I can explain something to the three of you.’

Harry said, ‘I’d love to see the kitchen, Mother. I haven’t been in it for ages. And say hello to Cook.’

Esther led them down the back staircase and, once at the bottom, she turned to the others. ‘Look at these stairs, tell me if you think a man with a cast on his leg can come down and go up easily, even with your help.’

‘I don’t believe he can,’ Harry said immediately, then looked at his brothers. ‘What do you think, George, Matthew?’

George shook his head. ‘You’re right. It would be a difficult task, even with each of us holding him on either side. The staircase is steep and narrow, with a turn in it.’

James exclaimed, ‘But Grandpa thinks we’re having supper in the servants’ dining hall. Won’t he be upset if we don’t?’

‘Perhaps,’ Esther replied. ‘However, I don’t think we can let him anywhere near this staircase. In fact, I have already had the table set in the breakfast room. It’s quite large, and we’ll easily fit around the table.’

‘He’s not going to be happy about that,’ Harry announced, staring at his mother. ‘You know he’s had those rules of his for donkey’s years. Staff do not use the family’s living quarters when they are absent. Dad calls it trespassing.’

‘I know that only too well. He only agreed to sit in the conservatory because the Honourable Mister instructed him to. But thank goodness for telegrams. I sent one to Lady Agatha in Monte Carlo, explaining the problem. Her reply was simple. She agreed with my suggestion about the breakfast room.’

‘It’s a good thing you did that, Mother.’ Matthew rested his hand on her shoulder. ‘Once he’s read Lady Agatha’s telegram to you, I doubt there will be any problem.’

‘I just wanted you to know this, because I need you to back me up, if that’s necessary.’

‘Absolutely, Grans,’ James answered at once. Her sons assured her they too were on her side, and that there was no good argument to be otherwise. Their father could not navigate this staircase with a plaster cast up to his knee, even with their help.

‘But how will you manage the stairs to your flat?’ Matthew asked his mother.

‘That’s less of a problem – we can use the main staircase for now, while the family is away. And he does his paperwork in the conservatory.’

Esther thanked them, then added, ‘Let’s go to the kitchen with Harry. He’s dying to see it and talk to Cook for a few minutes.’

They received a cheery welcome from Mrs Holmes, who had been the cook for the Montagues for twenty years. She then said to Harry, ‘I must congratulate you. I’ve heard all about your new restaurant and I’m happy it has taken off so well.’

‘Thank you, Mrs Holmes.’ He grinned at her. ‘I’m glad you don’t mind that I’ve pinched some of your recipes.’

Cook laughed. ‘I enjoyed it when you slipped in to watch me doing my job when you were younger.’

‘I’ve told them about eating in the breakfast room,’ Esther now said, wanting to move on. ‘And they will back me up.’

Cook nodded. ‘It’s a dangerous staircase for Mr Falconer to use. The breakfast room presents no problems, and the food goes up on the dumbwaiter as it does every day when the family is in residence.’

They stood talking to Mrs Holmes about the supper and Harry asked her permission to look at her beautiful copper pots, pans and moulds, admiring them as he did.

After leaving the kitchen, Esther took her sons and grandson to the breakfast room. They agreed that it was ideal for the family supper. The gas lamps were already glowing. The table looked inviting, with a bowl of fresh flowers in the centre.

When they returned to the conservatory, Rossi wanted to know where they had been and what they had been doing. ‘Uncle Harry needed to check the menu, no doubt,’ she said to her mother, grinning.

‘Not really,’ Harry answered. ‘Mrs Holmes is a great cook, as we all know. She has made some lovely dishes for tonight … favourites.’

‘I wanted to show the boys the back staircase,’ Esther cut in swiftly, needing to get the problem out of the way. ‘They agree with me it’s very steep.’ She stared at her husband and said to him, ‘We are having the supper in the breakfast room, which is on this floor—’

‘No, no, we can’t do that, you know the rules,’ Philip interrupted.

‘Yes, we can. I sent a telegram to Lady Agatha.’ Before he could object further, Esther took the telegram out of her skirt pocket and handed it to him.

Philip read it in silence and gave her a faint smile. ‘You win,’ he acknowledged. ‘And you’re right, actually. That staircase would be a problem for me in this plaster cast.’

Esther always enjoyed the Saturday night suppers and, on this particular evening, the gathering of their little clan over a meal was no exception.

As her eyes swept around the circular table in the breakfast room, she saw that everyone was enjoying themselves, and this pleased her.

She looked at her three sons, studying them one by one by one. They were rather handsome in their different ways, and certainly they were well put-together. All three were neat and tidy in their dark ready-made suits, with their discreet silk ties – gifts from her, in fact. Each of them wore a floppy silk handkerchief in the top pocket of their jackets as a finishing touch. There was a flutter of pride behind her smile.

They had done well in their chosen jobs, and because she and Philip had brought them up with high standards, they were decent men, honourable, loyal and full of integrity.

Oddly, they had been rather mischievous, sometimes even naughty boys. They had had their differences, which led to quarrels and rows, occasional fist-fights, as well as heated verbal battles. Their father and she had taught them to sort things out fairly and quietly, not at high voltage. Eventually they had learned to do this.

When they were still quite young, Esther had invented the Saturday night supper, a special meal where they were expected to be on their best behaviour. They enjoyed the delicious meals she concocted and made. It became a ritual the boys loved.

If they had misbehaved earlier in the week, they were banned. This rule brought them up short most of the time. It ensured a better attitude on their parts. None of them wanted to be excluded from the Saturday night get-together. It was a very special treat.

Her gaze settled on Maude, her daughter-in-law, wife to Matthew, mother of James, Rossi and Eddie. She and Philip loved this gentle and caring woman who had created a happy home for her husband and children. Very slender, more so than ever after a bad bout of flu some years before, Maude’s burnished brown hair was shot through with fine threads of silver now, but her deep brown eyes were as expressive as ever and her face as loving.

She welcomed the extra money earned from her clever sewing and had a kind word for everyone. We were lucky yet again, Esther thought, when Maude came strolling into Matthew’s life. She’s added so much love to the family.

If only Harry and George could find lovely women like her. Esther’s spirits dropped slightly when she thought of her two bachelor sons now sitting opposite her. It was her great hope this would soon happen, before they got too set in their ways. She didn’t want them to be lonely, especially in their old age.

It will happen, she decided, and when they least expect it. Some young woman from somewhere will appear, and perhaps they’ll fall in love. She sighed under her breath and pulled herself out of her reverie.

Now Kitty, the senior housemaid, was coming in with a tray which held three soufflés, followed by her two juniors, Fanny and Maureen, also carrying trays of soufflés.

‘Thank you, Kitty,’ Esther said, smiling at her and the other girls. ‘They look wonderful.’

‘Yes, they do indeed,’ Philip added, and the rest of the family nodded in agreement.

‘My mouth is really watering,’ Harry said, wondering what Cook’s secret was. The soufflés had not dropped, were still beautifully risen, even though they had been carried upstairs. Perhaps that was it. They had not been sent up in the dumbwaiter. Rushed up, no doubt, by the maids. Only in a very smart house like this with a cook as talented as Mrs Holmes would they taste something as fancy as a soufflé, and many complimentary comments were made as they ate them. When the roast beef arrived, served with Yorkshire pudding, roast potatoes and Brussels sprouts, the men broke into quiet cheers.

Esther laughed. ‘I’m glad you’re happy,’ she said, looking at her three boys. ‘You all asked if we could have a Sunday lunch on a Saturday night. Cook has obliged.’