Free Dancing Backwards by Salley Vickers Page B

fault,’ Vi said. ‘I never corrected her at the start. It’s because of Honour. People call me Honour, get confused and then no one gets Violet right.’
    ‘Where did “Honour” come from?’
    ‘She was my mother’s mother. Her father called all his chil-dren after the virtues.’
    ‘Whatever they are!’
    ‘My great-aunts were Mercy, Charity and Prudence.’
    ‘Lucky there wasn’t another girl or she might have been Chastity.’
    ‘I think there was but she died.’
    ‘I hope you are making that up!’
    Vi said she thought not.
    ‘Poor child probably died of prospective shame. People underestimate the power of names. Anyway, do a Bunbury on Viney. Tell her that you have an important editing job.’
    ‘I suppose I do, in a way.’
    ‘Dead right. I need your good ear and shrewd judgement.’
    Even after all this time, Vi, who could not get used to being needed, was still capable of blushing. Edwin went on as if he had not noticed. ‘You’d be useless at research anyhow. You can’t even use the University Library.’
    ‘That’s not fair. You wouldn’t know if I hadn’t said.’
    ‘When has “fair” been anything to do with anything? We are talking about what is the case. Anyway, I loathe writing my thesis.’
    ‘You never write it.’
    ‘That’s principally what I loathe about it. But for reasons of sheer selfishness I want you to stay on here. And, by the way, your Miss Arnold is quite right about Tristram Shandy. ’
    A gust of wind through the open doors of the cabin sent Vi looking for something warm to put on and the interruption led to a feeling that she was in need of tea. If only she had thought to pack her travel kettle as Annie had advised.
    Opening the door of her cabin, she saw Renato, who almost sprinted towards her. ‘Renato, you couldn’t find me a kettle, could you? So I could make tea in my room?’
    ‘I will look for you, Mrs Hetherington. I am sure I can find one.’
    ‘That would be very kind.’
    ‘You need tea now, Mrs Hetherington? I bring you some in your room?’
    ‘No, thank you, Renato. You know, I think I shall go down to the King Edward and watch the dancing.’

11
    The critic, with Kimberley Crane hard on his heels, wandered into the King Edward Lounge as George was announcing, ‘Are we all ready, ladies and gentlemen? Remember the man leads. No women’s lib on the dance floor…’
    ‘Delicious.’ The critic looked about with mild approving eyes. ‘It makes one feel that civilisation has not entirely died.’
    Kimberley Crane was overtaken by a thought. ‘Would you like to dance?’
    ‘So charming of you but, alas, my heart…But let me not stand in your way.’
    ‘No, no,’ said Kimberley hastily. ‘I didn’t want to be a spoil-sport.’
    ‘How could you be?’ asked the critic. ‘Shall we order? While I may be denied the pleasures of dancing there are still cakes and ale.’ He snapped his fingers at Boris who, recognising a fellow whim of iron, stepped over smartly. ‘Some of those exquisite sandwiches and a pot of Ceylon for me, please.’
    Boris turned the blue enquiring gaze on Kimberley Crane. ‘None for me, thanks. Tea gives me a headache. And no sandwiches or cake either. I’m strictly gluten-free.’
    ‘Anything else I could fetch for you, madam?’ Boris made a respectful-seeming bow.
    ‘A brandy.’
    ‘Any special brandy that madam would like?’
    ‘A double, with a dry ginger.’
    ‘And not so much of the ginger?’ murmured the critic, apparently to himself.
    ‘Pardon?’
    ‘A quote,’ said the critic. ‘They drop two a penny from my lips.’
    The band had begun to play ‘Moonlight Becomes You’ when Vi entered and was spotted by the critic who waved at her across the room.
    ‘Come and join us. We are but auditors at the spectacle but you perhaps are an actor if you see cause…?’
    Boris arriving with a tray of tea, two plates of assorted sandwiches, a bottle of ginger ale and a balloon of brandy, set them with