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vodka.’
    Then he said, ‘Very egalitarian of you, introducing the serving classes to your guest.’ This sounded odd.
    ‘I am becoming fond of her. She is usually in her chambermaid outfit, though sometimes she waits table. In our mother’s day, Janice would have been called the parlourmaid and expected to do both jobs, maybe even answer the door. Remember how our parlourmaids at Jasper’s Brush came and went?’
    ‘With or without parlourmaids, the house was always a mess,’ Frederick said.
    Edith pinned her brother. ‘You and she know each other.’
    He smiled, holding up his hands in surrender. ‘Yes, Janice is in the Party. We’re friends.’ He then broke eye contact and looked at the wall, finishing his sherry.
    She fiddled with her drink. ‘Why didn’t you say?’
    ‘We observe the niceties of the work situation, when it’s required – on the rare occasions I visit this posh place. Anyhow, we were joking around. And now you’re in on the joke.’ He put his glass down on the table. ‘I would’ve told you.’
    So. This Janice was the friend. And what did this Janice observe as she had come and gone from their rooms over the months? This would not make Ambrose happy. Although Ambrose was not supposed to take files and cables from the office, he did. What about her own correspondence to people such as John Latham? To her UNO friends in Flushing Meadow? She was not happy. The orbit of the planets had been further disturbed.
    This was a new dilemma, to be put to one side.
    ‘Why do you wear that dreadful suit?’
    He looked down at himself. ‘I try to blend with the workforce.’ He smiled. ‘The suit is from Prague and, I suspect, doesn’t blend at all.’
    He added, ‘I suppose I try to set an example. Somehow. Not –’ He hesitated – ‘not sartorially.’ He grinned at the word. ‘I try to set an example in hut hygiene. I set an example about drinking on the job. I urge them to respect each other’s property. I urge them not to pilfer. We have undesirables turning up.’
    ‘Undesirables?’
    ‘Urgers – bludgers – scroungers.’
    He said these words in a voice she had not heard before. A tough, moralistic voice.
    ‘My morning callisthenics programme was a flop.’ He laughed. ‘Only because I couldn’t keep it up.’ He was being self-deprecating. ‘And I try to get a discussion of world affairs going at the weekend, but only two or three give a damn.’
    ‘Father sent you to Newington – why didn’t you go to university?’
    ‘Took me five years to get rid of the Newington accent.’
    ‘You failed. Do they rib you about your accent?’
    ‘Sometimes.’
    ‘It’s not a bad accent.’
    He gave their family short laugh. ‘You have a bit of a foreign accent.’
    ‘How do you mean?’
    ‘The French language has sandpapered it up a bit.’
    ‘I was so long abroad, I don’t notice it.’
    ‘It’s there alright. But so is Jasper’s Brush. Jasper’s Brush is still there in your voice.’
    ‘I’m glad. What’s a Jasper’s Brush accent?’
    He thought. ‘Not an accent, I suppose. At Jasper’s Brush we had words for things. I remember we used to say “dressed out” – as in “she was all dressed out”. Or “the town was all dressed out” – say, for a parade.’
    She found it interesting that he remembered such things.
    They chattered about Jasper’s Brush days, while waiting for the food. Edith said, ‘Remember when I would address the trees? I would say to an ironbark, “Good morning, Iron Bark,” and to the wattle, “Good morning, Yellow Alice.” I used to say that the trees were my friends, but I have to be honest, I never felt they were my friends. Secretly, I was even disloyal to the Australian trees. I preferred the trees in the Girls’ Own Annual – oaks, elms, chestnuts and birches. That was when I was trying to be poetical. When I decided to be a scientist, I learned their Latin botanical names and I would say, “Good morning, Acacia pycnantha.