Free The House of Vandekar by Evelyn Anthony Page B

divorcée. The jazzy parties became old-fashioned, like the rattle of cocktail shakers. The little king’s Fort Belvedere was given up to ghosts. Bright and brittle lives had lost their glamour; the country and the Empire were safe from constitutional crisis. There was a new king and his consort, with two small daughters, and Britain felt secure again.
    Mr and Mrs Hugo Vandekar were just as popular with the society columnists. Alice was photographed and written about, her witty sayings were repeated; invitations to Ashton became more and more prized as the splendour of the parties she gave increased.
    The Vandekars were a bright spot in a darkening year, with rumours of Nazi Germany’s build-up of armaments and men. To Alice the talk of possible war was tiresome pessimism. Anyone who mentioned such things and spoiled the fun at Ashton wasn’t asked again. And Hugo didn’t discuss it with her because there was another woman, and he talked to her about everything.
    Fern Alexandra grew up with Nanny in her nursery. She was a happy child. Quiet and a little slow, perhaps, but docile and sweet-natured. Nanny’s love enveloped her; she saw people called Mummy and Daddy but they came so briefly into her life that they had little substance. Daddy played with her and she grew to like the smell and feel of a man. It was reassuring. Mummy came in and out, like a bright sunbeam that vanished moments later. She didn’t know the smell or the feel of her, because she stayed on Nanny’s knee and clung in case Mummy tried to pick her up. There were grannies, who patted her and brought soft cuddly things to play with. She still clung to Nanny in case they tried to separate them. But she was very happy.
    The Munich crisis put an end to one of Alice’s best-planned weekend parties at Ashton. Two cabinet ministers and their wives, long pursued by Hugo and finally netted by Alice, cancelled at the last moment. Hugo had come down from London early on Thursday. The way to manage his enormous interests was by dint of inside information at the highest level. He had courted Chamberlain’s colleagues with that end in view, and because Alice understood his reasons she targeted the wives. She was difficult to resist, even for ladies so highly placed. She was so beautiful and so well known, and, of course, so rich. But above all she could be so charming. Men and women were equally vulnerable and her reputation was untouched by scandal. She flirted and amused, but there were no whispers of a lover. The same was not said of Hugo. Some of her women friends were able to be sorry for her, and that made her even easier to like.
    â€˜What am I to do?’ she demanded. She threw the telegrams down and faced Hugo. ‘We’ve got the Adams and the Reedlands and the Spanish Ambassador – what are they going to think that our two most important guests have cancelled? This is just the damnedest thing to do!’
    Hugo looked at her. She was twenty-seven, mature and lovely as a young woman, but she seemed suddenly no more than a petulant, silly child. Have I done this, he thought, seeing the scowl and the telegrams bunched into little tight balls and thrown on the floor. Have I turned the intelligent, original girl with all her American flair and independence into a spoiled, useless creature who can’t see anything beyond her weekend party? He felt more angry with himself than with her.
    â€˜They’ve cancelled because the Prime Minister has decided to fly to Germany and see Hitler. He’s trying to avert a war. It’s just possible that Charlie and Rachel Adams and the Reedlands and the Spanish Ambassador – who I didn’t want to ask anyway – will understand. I only wish you did too.’
    Alice stared at him. ‘Well, my God! And who’s been baiting the hook for those two old bores for nearly a year? You have! “I want to invite them here,” that’s what you said to me.