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Mr. de Villiers raised his eyebrows in surprise. “She told you that?” There was actually a touch of embarrassment in his expression. “Ah, well, that’s a long time ago. I was young and—”
“And easily impressed.” I finished the sentence for him. “That’s what my mum said too.”
Mr. George roared with laughter. “Oh, yes, that’s right! I’d quite forgotten. You and Grace Montrose, you made a handsome couple, Falk. If only for three weeks. Then she plastered a slice of cheesecake over your shirtfront at that charity ball in Holland House and said she never wanted to say another word to you.”
“It was a strawberry tart,” said Mr. de Villiers, with a twinkle in his eye. “She really meant to throw it in my face, but I was lucky and she only hit my shirt. The stain never came out. She was jealous of a girl whose name I can’t even remember.”
“Larissa Crofts. She was the chancellor of the exchequer’s daughter,” said Mr. George.
“Really?” Mr. de Villiers seemed genuinely surprised. “The chancellor now or the chancellor then?”
“Then.”
“Was she pretty?”
“Reasonably pretty.”
“Well, anyway, Grace broke my heart, because after that she started going out with another boy from my school. I remember his name all right.”
“Yes, because you broke his nose and his parents nearly sued you for it,” said Mr. George.
“Is that true?” I was absolutely fascinated.
“It was an accident,” said Mr. de Villiers. “We were on the same rugby team.”
“Such revelations, Gwyneth!” Mr. George was still chuckling happily when he opened the door of the Dragon Hall.
“You can say that again.” I stopped when I saw Gideon sitting at the table in the middle of the room. He came toward us, frowning.
Mr. de Villiers gently guided me in. “It was nothing serious,” he said. “Love affairs between the de Villiers and Montrose families never work out. You could say they were doomed to fail from the start.”
“I’d call that an entirely superfluous warning, Uncle Falk,” said Gideon, crossing his arms. “She’s definitely not my type.”
By she he meant me. It was a second or maybe two before the insult sank in. My first instinct was to say something like “Well, thank God for that! I’m not too keen on arrogant show-offs, myself.” But I kept quiet.
Okay, so I wasn’t his type. So what? If I wasn’t, I wasn’t.
As if I cared.
Received exciting news from the future today. The eleventh in the Circle of Twelve, Gideon de Villiers, will elapse to spend three hours a night with us in future. We made up a bed for him in Sir Walter’s office. It is cool and quiet in there, and the boy will be protected to a great extent from curious glances and stupid questions. During his visit today, all the officers on duty looked in “quite by chance.”
And quite by chance, they all had questions to ask about the future.
The boy told us it would be a good idea to buy shares in Apple, whatever that may be.
FROM THE ANNALS OF THE GUARDIANS
4 AUGUST 1953
REPORT: ROBERT PEEL, INNER CIRCLE
TEN
“CLOAK: VENETIAN VELVET, lined with silk taffeta. Gown: printed linen from Germany, trimmed with Devonshire lace, with a bodice made of embroidered silk brocade.” Madame Rossini carefully spread these garments out on the table. After we’d eaten, Mrs. Jenkins had taken me back to the sewing room. I liked this little room better than the formal dining room; there were wonderful fabrics lying around everywhere, and Madame Rossini was probably the only person here whom even my mother couldn’t possibly have distrusted. “The ensemble in mid blue with touches of cream, an elegant afternoon outfit,” she went on. “And matching shoes, silk brocade. More comfortable than they look. Luckily you and the coat ’anger take the same shoe size.” She placed my school uniform aside. “Oh, mon Dieu, the most beautiful girl in the world would look like a scarecrow in this. If they would only shorten the skirt to a fashionable length. Ah, zat ugly yellow! Whoever designed this ’ated schoolgirls. He really ’ated them!”
“Can I keep my own underwear on?”
“Only the panties,” said Madame Rossini. “Wrong for the period, but no one will be looking under your skirt. Or so I ’ope. If they do, you just kick zem good and ’ard. It may not look like it, but these shoes have toes reinforced with iron. ’Ave you been to the toilet? It is more difficult with the dress on.”
