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The children looked out of place in here. Their humanity, their zest, was not in accord with the atmosphere of this monument to good taste.
Robin and Tracy exchanged silent glances. Donna moved nearer to Emma and clutched her hand tightly.
Leon Daumaury looked down at their expressive faces, and gave a very wry little smile. 'I'll take you to see the rest of the house quickly,' he said.
It was all much the same—a house meant for adults leading elegant adult lives. The furniture was frail, highly polished, beautiful. Every finger-mark would show at once. Tables and chairs were dainty, thin-legged, finely balanced. The children shrank from them instinctively.
'You don't like it,' said their grandfather flatly.
'Is there a room for children?' asked Robin with an effort at politeness.
Leon Daumaury smiled that wry smile. 'The nurseries? On the top floor. The attics, now. They haven't been used since…' He broke off.
Since his son was a child? thought Emma. She wondered about the children's father—was he an archaeologist because his life in this elegant box of a house had made him the sort of man who could patiently disinter ancient lives?
They mounted to the top of the house. On this floor the carpets vanished. The floorboards were varnished a dark brown, polished and shiny. The doors were varnished, too, and the only light came from a skylight in the roof.
They opened the door and the children went forward slowly into a long, narrow room with strange, uneven ceilings, many odd corners and sloping walls.
'Oh!' breathed Robin in delight, then he ran forward. In the middle of the room, on a very worn piece of carpet, stood an old rocking horse, his mane thinned out by clasping hands, his colours dim and faded but his eyes as bright as ever.
Robin was on his back in a flash. Donna cried, 'Me too!'
Emma lifted her on to the horse, and she clutched Robin round the waist while he ecstatically rocked away. Tracy gazed round the room, staring at the bookshelves loaded with well-read children's books, the toy cupboard left open so that a dogeared teddy bear peered out at them, the table and chairs, the quaint old nursery pictures of lambs with ribbons round their necks and little girls in summery hats.
She went to the window and looked out over the park. Emma heard her sigh. 'It's nice up here. The nicest place we've seen.'
Leon Daumaury watched them in silence. Emma suspected that he was moved to tears, but the light was fast fading and she could not be sure.
'It's raining,' Tracy said suddenly. 'How dark it's getting! Is it a storm, Emma?'
Emma anxiously joined her. The sky was black and clouded. 'I'm afraid it does look very stormy. We must hurry back to our lunch.'
'Have it here,' Leon Daumaury said gruffly.
Emma shook her head. 'Thank you, but no. It's ready for us at the cottage.'
She had popped it into the oven before they left—a nice warming casserole. It would be spoiled if they did not go back soon.
Robin was reluctant to part with his new friend the rocking horse. He gave him a last loving pat as he was borne away. Donna cried, too, and was cross with Emma for a few moments before she forgot all about it.
'I'll send you back in the car,' the old man said as they made their way down the shining staircase to the marble-floored hall.
'Thank you,' said Emma. She would have preferred to walk, but it would take too long. They would have to get back quickly.
Mr Daumaury stood on the steps, waving to them, as the car drew away. The children waved back as long as he was in their view, then leaned back to enjoy the luxury of the sleek, purring limousine.
'A great car, isn't it?' Robin commented to Emma.
/> She smiled and nodded.
'I don't like that house,' Tracy said in her flattest, most disapproving voice.
Robin looked at her, his rosy round cheeks and bright eyes a contrast to her pale face. 'You're only saying that because you think Mummy will be cross we went there,' he said, with his customary shrewdness.
'I'm not, clever,' Tracy snapped.
'I want a big horse too,' Donna commented softly, snuggling up to Emma. 'A horse that rocks backwards and forwards.' To emphasise her point she began to rock vigorously, her thumb in her mouth like the stopper in a bottle.
