‘Don’t take all the blame yourself. It takes two people not to get on.’

‘Stupid thing is, I don’t even know why we didn’t. But I shouldn’t have left like that, if only for my mum’s sake.’

Violet took his hand, wondering how many sons and 38daughters were tangled up like this in the emotions of the season; regrets were always so much greater at this time of year. ‘Do you want to go home for Christmas?’ she asked, feeling suddenly selfish for the relative happiness of her own family.

He shook his head. ‘No, we’ve said we’ll spend it with your parents. They’re expecting us.’

To his credit, he said it without resentment, but perhaps she had assumed too readily that Christmas would be spent at her family table rather than his, and not just because it was so much closer. ‘We can change our minds, if it means that much to you.’

‘But you hate my mother.’

She burst out laughing at his directness, and that brought a smile from him, too. ‘Of course I don’t hate your mother! I’ve only met her twice, and one of those was at your dad’s funeral. I just wish she’d stop treating you like a younger version of your father.’ She remembered how alien she had found those visits to his island home in Cornwall, and hoped with all her heart that he would never want to move back; no matter how much she loved him, she knew she couldn’t be happy there, and just for a moment she feared what their marriage might mean. ‘I’ll never be the sort of wife that your mother was – or my mother, come to that,’ she said firmly, as much to herself as to him. ‘We’ve got our own lives, you and me, and we’ll do things our way, but I don’t want you to cut yourself off from your family. Write to her now and tell her we’re coming.’

He looked at her doubtfully. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Of course I’m sure. I wouldn’t have suggested it if I wasn’t.’ 39

‘All right, but I won’t let her know in advance,’ he said, and Violet wondered if he thought she would change her mind. ‘We’ll go over and surprise her.’

She shrugged. ‘Whatever you think’s best. We’ve got a lot to celebrate this Christmas, you and I. At least we might have if you ever get round to putting this ring on my finger.’

40

6

Archie hesitated outside the Brook Street entrance to Claridge’s. The hotel’s glamour didn’t usually intimidate him, whether he visited for work or for pleasure, but a rendezvous with a Hollywood star was hardly in the line of duty and he had been jittery about it all day, much to the amusement of his colleagues. He pushed through the revolving doors and stood for a moment in the entrance hall, where a chequered marble floor and gracefully sweeping staircase made the space look much bigger than it actually was. Claridge’s gilt mirrors and grand Art Deco arches made it easy to forget that the ground on which he stood had once been the turning circle of a carriage drive, serving nothing but a modest guest house. The foyer was a palace of glass and sparkling lights, and only the fireplace offered some welcome respite from the glacial crispness of the décor.