‘But isn’t she pretty awful?’

‘How?’

‘Nothing you could put your finger on.’

‘Exactly! And it isn’t all her fault. She’s just a bit brought-up and not brought-out.’

‘Barry’ll do his best by her. But I’ve always had the impression Anthea knows exactly where she’s going.’

‘I don’t think she does. She knows what she ought to know, and where she ought to go,’ said Val. Then she added: ‘That won’t stop me giving her a push in what her mother will consider the wrong direction.’

Turning in what was for her the obvious and only possible direction early in life, Val Tulloch was a woman who believed that all others must accept the one way to happiness.

2

Mrs Scudamore was an arranger too, but in her case she had never allowed herself to consider whether she was un happy. There was no reason why anyone should be, no one in Australia at least, if they were well provided for, and of a happy social level. After that, if a person started complaining, she was morbid, or neurotic. Or something. So Mrs Scudamore never allowed herself to complain – unless she had good reason to.

Though she managed to conceal it to a decent extent, her happiness was immense on hearing of Anthea’s invitation for Christmas on the Island. Certainly the Tullochs were lax, intellectual, and in appearance often downright shabby, but they wore the aura which only inherited wealth and station can give. The afternoon the invitation was issued Mrs Scudamore made four telephone calls, one of them to that woman on the Clarion.

‘Of course it will mean I shall have to take a great deal extra on my own shoulders, here, at Christmas,’ Mrs Scudamore did not complain to her daughter. ‘But I am so pleased for you, dear. I am sure you will have lots of fun. The Tullochs belong to such a jolly set. I wonder whether Gilbert Tulloch is as red as they make out. Probably is. Like all those university men. Atheists too. His mother was a Briscoe – property in her own right. I do wonder which of their friends you’ll meet. Minnie Briscoe didn’t always remember hers, but one had to make allowances; she led a very busy life, and her mind gave out before the end. It just occurred to me, Anthea dear – put in your blue. I know summer on the Island is what people call informal now, but one should go prepared for all eventualities. I mean – it is so much more agreeable – don’t you think? – not to get caught out.’

Mrs Scudamore would have been deeply hurt if anyone had suggested she had never paused to consider what her daughter might think. Why, it was too obvious. They were more like two sisters. So, as nobody had ever drawn her attention to the reality of the relationship, Mrs Scudamore continued to think, for Anthea, and everyone. The tempo of life today being what it is, and she married to a leader-writer who kept such odd hours, she was forced to take so much on her own shoulders. As it were.