A Delicate Truth A Novel

car? You fetch your things, I’ll show you up to your room. And darling, you’ll rustle up some boys’ supper for us, will you? The fellow must be starving after his travels. One of Mrs Marlow’s pies will do him a power.’
     
    *
     
    The main staircase was work in progress, so they were using the old servants’ staircase. The paint on the wall should be dry, but best not touch it, Kit said. The women haddisappeared. From a scullery, sounds of Sheba getting her wash.
    ‘Em’s a medic,’ Kit volunteered as they climbed, his voice echoing up and down the stairwell. ‘Qualified at Bart’s. Top of her year, bless her. Tends the poor and needy of the East End, lucky devils. Dicky floorboard here, so watch your step.’
    They had reached a landing with a row of doors. Kit threw open the middle one. Dormer windows gave on to a walled garden. A single bed was neatly turned down. On a writing table lay foolscap paper and ballpoint pens.
    ‘Scotch in the library as soon as you’ve powdered your nose,’ Kit announced from the doorway. ‘Stroll before supper if you’re up for it. Easier to talk when the girls aren’t around,’ he added awkwardly. ‘And watch out for the shower: it’s a bit of a hot number.’
    Entering the bathroom and about to undress, Toby was startled to hear a blare of angry voices coming through the door. He stepped back into the bedroom to see Emily in tracksuit and sneakers, balancing a remote control in her hand, standing over the television, running through the channels.
    ‘I thought I’d better check that it worked,’ she explained over her shoulder, making no effort to lower the sound. ‘We’re in a foreign posting here. Nobody’s allowed to hear what anyone is saying to anyone else. Plus walls have ears and we haven’t got any carpets.’
    The television still blaring, she came a stride closer.
    ‘Are you here instead of Jeb ?’ she demanded, straight into his face.
    ‘Who?’
    ‘ Jeb . J–E–B.’
    ‘No. No, I’m not.’
    ‘Do you know Jeb?’
    ‘No. I don’t.’
    ‘Well, Dad does. It’s his big secret. Except Jeb calls him Paul.He was supposed to be here last Wednesday. He didn’t show. You’re in his bed, actually,’ she added, still regarding him with her brown gaze.
    On the television, a quiz-show host was whipping up a furore.
    ‘I don’t know a Jeb, and I’ve never met a Jeb in my life,’ Toby replied in a carefully measured voice. ‘I’m Toby Bell, and I’m Foreign Office.’ And as a calculated afterthought, ‘But I’m also a private person, whatever that means.’
    ‘So which are you being now?’
    ‘A private person. Your family’s guest.’
    ‘But you still don’t know Jeb?’
    ‘Not as a private person, nor as a Foreign Service official do I know a Jeb. I thought I made that clear.’
    ‘So why’ve you come?’
    ‘Your father needs to talk to me. He hasn’t yet said why.’
    Her tone eased, but only a little:
    ‘My mother’s discreet unto death. She’s also ill and doesn’t respond well to stress, which is unfortunate because there’s a lot of it about. So what I’m wondering is, are you here to make things worse or better? Or don’t you know that either?’
    ‘I’m afraid I don’t.’
    ‘Does the Foreign Office know you’re here?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘But on Monday, it will.’
    ‘I don’t think you should presume that at all.’
    ‘Why not?’
    ‘Because first I need to listen to your father.’
    Howls of jubilation from the television set as somebody wins a million pounds.
    ‘You talk to my father tonight and leave in the morning. Is that the plan?’
    ‘Assuming we’ve done our business by then.’
    ‘It’s St Pirran’s turn for Matins. My parents will be on churchparade at ten. Dad’s a sidesman or a beadle or something. If you say your goodbyes before they leave for church, you could stay behind and we could compare notes.’
    ‘So far as we can, I’d be happy to.’
    ‘What does that mean?’
    ‘If your father wants to talk confidentially, then I have to respect his confidence.’
    ‘What about if I want to talk confidentially?’
    ‘Then I would respect your confidence too.’
    ‘Ten o’clock then.’
    ‘Ten o’clock.’
    Kit was standing in the hall, clutching a spare anorak:
    ‘Mind if we do whisky later? Spot of weather coming up.’
     
    *
     
    They tramped through the drenched walled garden, Kit flourishing an old ash walking stick, Sheba at his heels and Toby struggling after them