Here Caroline pounced. Did Netty mean Mr Ramsay had been in love with Mother?

Netty was torn between her natural discretion and the equally natural desire to tell what she knew. Well, there had been those that said as much.

So that was why he was always around our house! And why he had taken so much care of Mother when Father had to be away on war business. He was heart-broken but faithful. Caroline had never heard of anything so romantic. She thought Mr Ramsay was sweet.

This word affected Netty and me in different ways. Old Buggerlugs sweet! I laughed much louder and longer than I would have done if I had not had two glasses of Burgundy. But Netty snorted with disdain, and there was that in her burning eyes that showed what she thought of such sweetness.

“Oh, but you’d never admit any man was attractive except Daddy,” said Caroline. She even leaned over and put her hand on Netty’s wrist.

What did Caroline mean by that, she demanded.

“It sticks out a mile. You adore him.”

Netty said she hoped she knew her place. It was a simple remark, but extremely old-fashioned for 1942, and if ever I have seen a woman ruffled and shaken, it was Netty as she said it.

Caroline let things simmer down. Of course everybody adored Daddy. It was inescapable. He was so handsome, and attractive, and clever, and wonderful in every way that no woman could resist him. Didn’t Netty think so?

Netty guessed that was about the size of it.

Later Caroline brought up another theme. Wasn’t it extraordinary that Mother had taken that chill, when everybody knew it was the worst possible thing for her? How could those windows have been open on such a miserable day?

Netty thought nobody would ever know.

Did Netty mean Mother had opened them herself, asked Caroline, all innocence. But—she laid down her knife and fork—that would be suicide! And suicide was a mortal sin! Everybody at Bishop Cairncross’s—yes, and at St Simon Zelotes, where we went to church—was certain of that. If Mother had committed a mortal sin, were we to think that now—? That would be horrible! I swear that Caroline’s eyes filled with tears.

Netty was rattled. No, of course she meant nothing of the kind. Anyway that about mortal sins was just Anglican guff and she had never held with it. Never.

But then, how did Mother’s windows come to be open?

Somebody must have opened them by mistake, said Netty. We’d never know. There was no sense going on about it. But her baby girl wasn’t to think about awful things like suicide.

Caroline said she couldn’t bear it, because it wasn’t just Anglican guff, and everybody knew suicides went straight to Hell. And to think of Mummy—!

Netty never wept, that I know of. But there was, on very rare occasions, a look of distress on her face which in another woman would have been accompanied by tears. This was such a time.