“Oh, no,” I say earnestly. “Why should young women be left out of such conversations? After all, Vicar, we’re the ones who must become mothers ourselves, if the human race is to continue at all. It’s in the Bible, isn’t it? Be fruitful and multiply and all that.” I wave my hand airily. “So, you must agree that to keep young women in ignorance when it comes to acts of sexual congress is nothing less than irresponsible.”

“Acts of sexual congress!” the vicar’s wife whispers, as Mother sways in her chair.

“Exactly.” I smile at the whole table, showing off my teeth. “I couldn’t have put it better myself. Wonderful dinner this evening, Mother; I must pass on my compliments to Cook.” I spear a carrot neatly on my fork and pop it in my mouth as the roar of disapproval finally breaks around me.

Chapter Three

CHAPTER THREE

“I don’t think it went that badly at all.”

My pronouncement is met by a groan from Mother, who lies prone on the chaise-longue.

The dinner party has limped miserably to its polite conclusion, salvaged only by Mother’s over-bright chatter. After she kicked me under the table, I became mutinously silent. Once the obligatory after-dinner brandy had been drunk by the men, and the ladies had forced icy, polite conversation in the parlour, the guests all made rather hasty exits into the night and Father disappeared to his study to smoke cigars “in peace”.

“Copulation,” Mother moans, one arm flung across her forehead. The word hangs so dramatically in the air that I have to smother a laugh, turning it into a cough. “You said copulation in front of the vicar. I’ll never hear the end of it. He’ll work this into Sunday’s sermon and everyone will know why, and somehow it shall be all my fault that you behave outrageously and talk so improperly. Honestly, Beatrice, how could you? It’s completely inappropriate for a young woman to discuss those … those sorts of things. Especially in polite society.”

“Oh, well, it’s not as if the vicar doesn’t know what the word means, for goodness’ sake,” I say stoutly. “He and that horrible wife of his have two equally horrible children, so they must have done it at least twice.”

“Beatrice!” Her horrified tones come from between the sofa cushions.

“And it was in an educational context,” I continue. “I was simply trying to explain…”