On Her Majesty's Frightfully Secret Service (Her Royal Spyness #11)(14)

I could hardly say that my brother was sweet but clueless. Diplomacy won out. “I expect it’s because I’m rather footloose at the moment and have nobody depending on me,” I said.

This pleased her. “Ah yes. Of course. She wants to make sure you’re given some sort of useful employment rather than mooning around in other people’s houses.”

While she was feeling pleased with herself I thought I might ask, “I don’t suppose you have a maid to spare, do you? The queen was quite upset that I’d be traveling without a maid.”

“A maid to spare?” she demanded, her voice now shrill. “My dear girl, have you seen the dire straits in which we are now living? I have had to put coal on a fire by myself!”

“Sorry,” I said. “Silly of me. I’m sure I’ll manage.”

“There are domestic agencies,” Fig said. “I’m sure they’d have a girl on the books who would love the chance to travel to Italy.”

“Rather out of my budget, I’m afraid,” I said.

“I don’t know how you will staff a household when you marry. I gather the O’Mara fellow is as penniless as you are.”

“We have the castle in Ireland where we are welcome,” I said. “I expect we’ll make do with a little flat in London.”

“A little flat?” She looked horrified.

“Or, failing that, go to live with my grandfather,” I said, knowing that always got a rise out of her.

“Your grandfather? The ex-policeman in Essex?”

“He’s the only living grandfather I have, and he has told me I’d always be welcome with him.”

“But Georgiana . . .” She was spluttering now. “A member of the royal family, living in Essex of all places. Think of the scandal. Think of the shame.”

“But I won’t be a member of the royal family when I marry,” I said. “I’ll be like any other Essex housewife. You can come and visit and I’ll serve fish and chips from the corner shop.” I looked at her face and added, in case she was about to have a stroke, “I am just joking, Fig. Just joking.”

I did, however, think it wise not to add that I was planning to take him as my valet to Italy.

? ? ?

THE NEXT MORNING I went out after breakfast and caught the District Line out to Essex and my grandfather’s neat little semidetached house in Hornchurch. The weather had brightened up, spring was in the air and I felt quite cheerful and hopeful as I walked up the hill from Upminster Bridge Station. It was always like a tonic to see my grandfather. If I ever had a proper home of my own I would invite him to live with us, I thought. I pictured him playing with my children—all remarkably good-looking with dark curly hair, naturally.

I already had a big smile on my face as I rang the doorbell. The smile vanished as it was opened by his neighbor, Mrs. Huggins. She was wearing a flowery pinny over a bright green jumper and her hair was tied up in a scarf with curlers poking out from it. Hardly the most welcoming sight. I took an involuntary step back.

“Oh, hello, Mrs. Huggins,” I said. “Is my grandfather all right?”

“Right as rain, ducks,” she said, giving me a broad grin. “Come on in and take a load off your feet. You’ll cheer the old geezer up no end. Talks about you all the time, he does. Ever so proud.”

As I stepped into the tiny front hall she yelled, “Albert! Get down ’ere and take a butcher’s hook at what the wind just blew in.”

I heard footsteps across the landing and my grandfather came down the stairs, cautiously, one step at a time. He was wearing his dressing gown and slippers, but his face lit up when he saw me.

“Lord love a duck,” he said. “What a sight for sore eyes, eh, Hettie? We was just talking about you and wondering if you was still at that castle in Ireland. What an adventure, eh? We read all about it in the papers. Make us a cup of tea, Hettie, love, and we’ll go through to the parlor.”

The parlor was something new. Usually when I visited him we sat in his tiny kitchen and chatted. But today a fire was burning in the front room and it looked as if it had been newly polished and spruced up.

“So how are you?” I asked. “I see you’re still in your nightclothes. I hope you haven’t been ill again.”

“Just a spot of the usual,” he said. “Chest ain’t too good, you know. But can’t complain. I’ll be seventy-five next birthday. Already passed my allotted threescore years and ten.”

“Don’t say that,” I said. “You have to be around for a long time, to play with my children.”

He gave a sort of tired smile. “We’ll have to see about that, ducks. Ain’t for me to decide, is it?”

“Let’s not talk like that, Granddad. Anyway I’m here because I’ve come up with a super idea for you. How would you like to go to Italy? I’m going there in a few days and I think the Italian sunshine would do you a world of good. I could pay your fare and we’d be staying in a village on a lake. Good food and mountain air. What do you say?”

He was not looking as enthusiastic as I thought he would. “Dear, oh, deary me,” he said. “I can’t say I’m not tempted. Especially spending time with you, but . . .”

“Then let yourself be tempted. Come with me,” I said. “I’m not traveling with my maid and I’d love a strong male to keep an eye on me.”