Heâs the original sleeping dog who should be let lie.â
She said it with a smile, so that the boys should not feel abashed. Colin had not finished with questions.
âWhen I said our name was Bellingham yesterday, you said something funnyâI donât remember what, but something about your fate. What did you mean?â
Lydia gave a gesture of dismissal with her hand and smiled charmingly.
âOh, just one of my silly ideas. One of my ancestors was Spencer Perceval, He was the Prime Minister during the Napoleonic Wars, and he was assassinated in the lobby of the House of Commons by a man called Bellingham.â
âWhy?â
âHe was a bankrupt who blamed the government. Actually he was probably mentally deranged, but they hanged him.â
âWell, weâre not mentally deranged,â said Ted, smiling. âYou neednât fear weâll assassinate you.â
âI donât!â said Lydia.
âWeâre very ordinary really,â Ted went on apologetically, as if he sensed that somehow they had aroused excessive expectations. âWe go to a very ordinary schoolâdo nice safe things like cycling and playing cricket.â
âOhâsafety,â said Lydia dismissively. âSafety isnât something to live your life byâyouâll find that out as you grow older. Anyway Iâm not sure itâs so very safe playing cricket. One of our heirs to the throne got killed by a cricket ball.â
âReally?â said the boys together. âWho?â
âFrederick, Prince of Wales, son of George II.â She ventured on a joke that Gavin and Maurice had always enjoyed. âHis father died on the lavatory seat, and he died playing cricket. Which shows the Hanoverians gradually becoming less Germanic and more English.â
The boys laughed unrestrainedly, Lydia with them. The concession to schoolboy humour had gone down well. She pressed more cake on them andfelt a great wave of happiness surge through her. Her life was coming back into kilter again.
â¢Â â¢Â â¢
Trudging up the hill from Bly with a ream of paper under his arm, Andy Hoddleâs eye was caught by two cyclists at the top. They seemed to be coming out of Lydiaâs gate. As they got on their cycles he saw them wave. They passed him cycling on their brakes down the hill, and he recognised the two boys he had seen at North Radley High. He smiled at them, and they smiled back in a rather off-hand way. But then why should they pay him any attention? A balding man in late middle-age, running to fat, shabbily dressed. He wouldnât pay him any attention himself.
When Lydia answered his ring on the doorbell he sensed that she was flurried, and that she was reluctant to ask him in. Still, she could hardly leave him on the doorstep while she fetched the money for the paper: Lydia always did the right thing.
âWell, you have had a party,â he said, in what he hoped was a neutral voice, as they stepped into the sitting room. âLooks like a prep school tea.â
âJust two young friends. But theyâre older than prep school age.â
âYes they are.â
Lydia busied herself with her purse to ease the silence.
âHow much was it?â
âJust two ninety-five, I got the duplicating paperâyou say it serves its purpose, and itâs so much cheaper.â
âQuite right. Oh dearâIâve only got a ten pound note and some small change. Have you got change?â
âOnly small stuff. Never mind. Itâll do when I see you next time.â
âNo, Andrew, I couldnât think of it. Iâll raid the piggy bank. You know Iâve had one ever since . . . since the boys used to come up. And Iâve never opened it.â
âMost of the coins will have ceased to be legal currency,â said Andy brutally. âDonât worry about it, Lydia. Thereâs no urgency. Iâve got a