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recently, and I won’t getback to normal life while I’m here in the same house where
Maman
died. I needn’t stay there long, but I would like to go to Paris.’
    She encountered Grandfather’s severest frown. ‘I said it’s out of the question, Madeleine. I agree that you need a change, and we can maybe look at a trip away for you and Grandmama. Or you could take up a secretarial post locally. It would give you something to do. Both Grandmama and myself agree that you should have some occupation.’
    Madeleine armed herself, and continued. Force came from somewhere, maybe from Paris, and her voice came stronger. ‘You know I don’t need your permission to go, don’t you? I just don’t have any money, that’s all. But if necessary I could sell
Maman
’s jewellery to pay for my ticket.’
    There was an astonished silence. Then the storm really broke, lashing at her across the table. What on earth did she think she was going to get up to in Paris? She was nearly twenty-two years old. It was about time she thought about settling down, not gadding about. She was ungrateful. How could she even think of selling her mother’s jewellery? Such a terrible thing to think of doing.
    Madeleine sat tight through the storm, finding it all surprisingly easy. She could hear Robert’s voice, very calm and positive, and it pushed her grandfather’s rantings into their proper place. Her own voice when it came was equally calm. ‘All right,’ she answered them. ‘Then I’ll go to London first and stay with Cicely or Uncle, and work to raise my fare. I’m very sorry, but you can’t stop me.’
    And still the storm raged. That girl Cicely! Fast and cheap, that’s what she was. What kind of people did Madeleine think she would meet in her company?
    ‘I don’t know!’ Madeleine spat the words, no longer calm. ‘That’s the point! I don’t know any other company than the people I meet here. I’m twenty-one and have no experience of life at all. I wear tweeds and flat shoes, and the world is passing me by. You
lived
when you were young. You didn’t think
Tante
Louise was unsuitable then. You seemed to spend most of your lives in Paris.’ Madeleine shivered involuntarily, shaken by her own anger, and deliberately paused, calmed herself. ‘It’s my turn. I want some life, and I’m going to stay with
Tante
Louise – with my own family. What could be more normal?’
    There was silence then, which was eventually broken by Grandmama. Her voice was surprisingly gentle.
    ‘So much heat, Madeleine! It’s been such a short time since your poor mother passed away. You are not yourself, and I can fully understand that you want a change of scene. You must miss her so much – we all do. Leave us now, and we’ll discuss it some more. There’s no need to be hasty.’
    Madeleine looked across at Grandmama and tried to speak, but her throat constricted and no sound came. She brushed tears from her eyes and walked blindly out of the room, out of the house, onto the small patch of lawn in front of the house. There she stopped, the cold March wind whipping the tears from her eyes, chilling her wet cheeks. She took deep breaths, gulping the coldair, feeling it cooling her throat, opening her lungs, expelling the dead, suffocated air of the dining room. She walked through the trees to the little stream which ran to the side of the house, and followed the path to the bridge, and to the road. The trees were bare of leaves, hard and angular, and their barrenness suited her mood. As she reached the bridge, the deep chill of the air by the stream was wonderful, crisp, unsullied. She walked down to the stream, and bent to wash her face. The icy water hit her cheeks and she laughed out loud, for the first time in months. She crossed the bridge and walked briskly down the road, heading for the open fields, every step a liberation, and skipped like a child as she looked up at the leaden sky, allowing the wind to tousle her hair and blow around