Read [Revolutions 03] The Newton Letter for Free Online

already at the front door, we heard their imperious
knock and then voices in the hall.
    “I’ll be going,” I said.
    “No you don’t.” He reached out a hand to grab
me, draining his glass at the same time. “Family, interesting,
come on, meet,” and with a hanged man’s grimace
thrust me before him down the hall.
    They were in the drawing-room, a youngish
woman in grey and a fat man of fifty, and two pale little
girls, twins, with long blonde candle-curls and white
socks.
    “This is Bunny,” Edward said, “my sister, and
Tom, Tom Mittler; Dolores, here, and Alice.”
    One twin pointed a thumb at the other. “ She’s Alice.”
    Tom Mittler, fingering his cravat, nodded to me
and mumbled something, with a fat little laugh, and
then performed the curious trick of fading instantly on
the spot. His wife looked me up and down with cool
attention. Her skirt was severely cut, and the padded
shoulders of her jacket sloped upward, like a pair of trim
little wings. An impossible pillbox hat was pinned at an
angle to her tight yellow curls. It was hard to tell if her
outfit were the latest thing, but it gave her an antiquated
look that was oddly sinister. Her mouth was carefully
outlined with vermilion glaze, and looked as if a small
tropical insect had settled on her face. Her eyes were
blue, like Edward’s, but harder. “My name is Diana,”
she said. Edward laughed. She ignored him. “So you’re
the lodger?”
    “I’m staying in the lodge, yes,” I said.
    “Comfy there?” and that little red insect lifted its
wing-tips a fraction. She turned away. “Is there any chance
of a cup of tea, Charlotte? Or is it too much trouble?”
    Charlotte, poised outside our little circle, suddenly
stirred herself. “Yes, yes, I’m sorry—”
    “I’ll get it,” Ottilie said, and slouched out, making
a face at me as she went past.
    Bunny looked around, bestowing her painted smile
on each of us in turn. “Well!” she said, “this is nice,” and
extracted from her hat its long steel pin. “But where’s
the birthday boy?”
    “Hiding,” Edward murmured, and winked at me.
    “Full of fun today,” his sister said. She looked at
the hurley stick still in his hand. “Are you coming from
a game, or going to one?”
    He waggled the weapon at her playfully. “Game’s
just starting, old girl.”
    “Haw!” Tom Mittler said, and vanished again instantly.
    There was a small commotion as Ottilie brought
in the tea on a rickety trolley. Michael came after her,
solemnly bearing the teapot like a ciborium. At the sight
of him Bunny gave a little cry and the twins narrowed
their eyes and advanced; their father made a brief appearance
to hand him his present, a five-pound note in
a brown envelope. Bunny shrugged apologetically: “We
didn’t have time to shop. Ottilie, this is lovely. Cake
and all! Shall I be mother?” The visitors disposed themselves around the empty fireplace and ate with gusto,
while the tenants of the house hovered uncertainly, temporarily
dispossessed. Edward muttered something and
went out. Bunny watched the door closing behind him
and then turned eagerly to Charlotte. “How is he?” eyes
alight, dying to know, tell me tell me.
    There was a moment’s silence.
    “Oh,” Charlotte said, “not . . . I mean . . . all right,
you know.”
    Bunny put down her cup and sat, a study in sorrow
and sympathy, shaking her head. “You poor thing; you poor thing.” She looked up at me. “I suppose you know
about . . . ?”
    “ No ,” Charlotte said swiftly.
    Bunny put a hand to her mouth. “Oops, sorry.”
    Edward came back bearing the whiskey bottle.
“Here we are: now, who’s for a snort?” He paused,
catching something in the silence. Then he shrugged.
“Well I am,” he said, “for one. Tom: you? And I know you will.” He poured Mittler and me a measure each.
Tom Mittler said: “Thanky voo.” Edward lifted his
glass. “What will we drink