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time they got a proper cook.
    In fact, the more she thought about it, the more convenient it seemed to have yet another reason to make frequent trips back to Ipford. She would tell George that there was a first-rate agency there where one could hire a really good cook. She rather thought that he’d been becoming a little suspicious of her Ipford jaunts of late and couldn’t afford to have him find out what she really got up to there. Clarissa smiled to herself at the thought of her usual suite at the Black Bull.
    In fact, she decided, she ought to make another trip there very soon, in order to check Uncle Harold into the Last Post and to make absolutely sure Mrs Wilt’s husband was prepared to tutor Edward. It would actually be doubly beneficial if the presence of an educated man about the house made George less irritable. She’d have to warn Mr Wilt – what was his first name? Henry? – to keep off the subjects of taxation andpolitics at any cost, though. Forewarned was forearmed, after all.
    On this cheerful note she went back into the Hall to get the key of the vacant cottage in which she intended to house Wilt and Eva. She would walk down there, to check that it was relatively clean and not harbouring any bats or other unwelcome intruders. To be on the safe side she took a notebook with her, so as to write down anything she may need to buy. But the place was in good shape and only required a spring clean. She presumed the children could all share one bedroom. Eva had spoken of their having teenage girls. Clarissa only hoped they wouldn’t prove to be too much of a distraction for Edward. Not that he had showed much sign of being interested in girls so far.
    The truth was he hadn’t actually showed much sign of being interested in anything on his brief visits home from school. Apart from a rather alarming tendency to throw stones at anything that moved, that was. Nothing, be it small animal or small child, was entirely safe when Edward was around. There had been a couple of unfortunate run ins with some of the townsfolk, who seemed not to accept the argument that if their children would trespass on the Estate then they only had themselves to blame. A lot of silly fuss about nothing really. After all, what were a few stitches here and there? And it wasn’t as if the child was good-looking in the first place.
    Lady Clarissa sighed as she walked back to the house, reflecting that if only George would take more of an interest in Edward – include him in a bit of hunting or fishing – all of this inconvenience might have been avoided. After wandering into the drawing room, she helped herself to two large dry martinis and decided to spend the rest of the day in bed, knowing her husband would be back late as usual. Thank goodness he slept in a separate room and was too old to take any interest in her sexually.
    At 35 Oakhurst Avenue lived someone who shared her views on the desirability of separate bedrooms: Henry Wilt. For one thing it put a stop to Eva’s spasmodic and thoroughly undesirable attempts to arouse him for sex by what she termed ‘manual stimulation’. Wilt had frequently feigned sleep in the face of that, though without much success. Eva had once consulted Mavis Mottram, who had advised that the use of scrotal pressure was a sure way of waking him.
    ‘I always use it when I want Patrick,’ she’d said. ‘I’ve never found it to fail.’
    Wilt had. He called it the ‘nutcracker method’ and, on the few occasions when Eva used both hands, had leapt out of bed with a yell, demanding to know if she was trying to castrate him.
    ‘If you want to prove you’re bloody strong, try using two blasted walnuts!’ he’d squawked one night, hobbling downstairs to fetch a bowl of the things.His reaction had had the desired effect from his point of view, if not from Eva’s.
    His screams inevitably woke the quads when they were at home from boarding school, and all too often they’d surge out of their two