“So what have you been doing with yourself?” she asked.

“How is your char lady business going?”

“It’s not a char lady business, Belinda. It is a domestic service agency. I prepare people’s London houses for their arrival. I don’t scrub floors or anything like that.”

“And the relatives at the palace still haven’t found out about it?”

“No, thank God. But in answer to your first question, it’s not going at all. I haven’t had a job in weeks.”

“Well, you wouldn’t, would you?” Belinda stretched out her long legs. “Nobody comes to London in the summer. Anybody who can escape from it does so.”

I nodded. “I’ve begun to feel that I’m the only person still here. Even my grandfather has gone to Clacton-on-Sea on an outing.”

“So how have you been surviving?”

“Not very well,” I said. “I’m pretty much down to tea and toast. I’ll have to do something soon, or I’ll be joining the lines at the soup kitchens.”

“Don’t be silly, darling. You could get yourself invited to any number of country houses if you wanted to. You probably are the most eligible spinster in the country, you know.”

“I don’t know people the way you do, Belinda. And I wouldn’t know how to invite myself to someone’s house.”

“I’ll do the inviting, if you like.”

I smiled at her. “The fact is that I just don’t enjoy sponging off people.”

“Well, you could always go home to Castle Rannoch.”

“I considered that, which shows you how desperate I’ve been feeling. But if it was a choice between Fig and starvation, then I think starvation would win.”

She looked at me with concern. “My poor, sweet Georgie: no work, no friends and no sex. No wonder you’re looking gloomy. We must cheer you up. You’ll get a good meal tonight, of course, and tomorrow you can come with me to Croydon.”

“Croydon? That’s supposed to cheer me up?”

“The aerodrome, darling. I’m going to see Paolo’s new plane. He may even take us up.”

Having seen the reckless abandon with which Paolo drove a motorcycle, I wasn’t too keen to go up in his plane, but I managed a smile. “Spiffing,” I said. At least it would be better than sitting at home.

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Rannoch House
August 13, 1932
Weather still muggy.

At ten o’clock the next morning Belinda showed up on my doorstep, looking fresh and stunning in white linen trousers and a black-and-white-striped blouse. The ensemble was topped off with a jaunty little black pillbox hat. One would never have guessed that she had probably been out all night.

“Ready?” she asked, casting a critical eye over my summer dress and the cloche, from which most of the mud had been removed. “Are you sure that outfit will be suitable for flying upside down?”