house to pick up a sweater before resuming the afternoon’s work.
Just inside the small hallway, and almost hidden under the stairwell, was a small open door. May had never noticed it before and was about to look inside when Florence appeared, sliding down the banister, throwing her arms wide and shouting dramatically, “Save me, save me,” as she flung her arms round May’s neck.
Releasing herself from the embrace, Florence slammed the open cupboard door shut with one hand while grabbing May’s with the other.
“Shall we go down to the lake?” she asked, pulling May towards the front door.
“I wish I could, Florence, but I must get back to work,” she said.
Neither of them mentioned the cupboard.
The following Saturday afternoon May was alone in the study at Cuckmere catching up on the filing. She had no time to answer a knock on the door before Mr. Julian came straight in. He appeared unusually nervous, clearing his throat, as he came straight over to her desk. He was standing so close to May that she could smell the smoke from a recently extinguished cigarette clinging to his blue suit jacket.
With her Anglepoise lamp tilted to shine directly onto her papers, she looked up, seeing bright spots dancing in front of her, the light momentarily dazzling her. Mr. Julian had a favour to ask. He began with a confession: he had not yet learned to drive although he had promised himself that after his final exams he would take lessons.
“The thing is, you see, I want to travel around a few of the towns up in the north of the country. I keep reading about these places where so many people are out of work, especially in the mining areas, and I want to see those towns for myself, stop where I want to, look about a bit, not be dependent on taxis or train times, you know?”
May moved the lamp to one side.
Mr. Julian continued. “Quite a few of my friends at Oxford have already been up there to take a look. Not Rupert’s crowd, obviously, but some of the others in my politics year. What I am trying to say is that I am beginning to feel like such a hypocrite. I mean, I keep talking about how awful it must be up there but actually I don’t really know what I am talking about.” The favour was turning into a ramble. “It might sound odd but I am frightened that when I leave Oxford this term, my time won’t be mine anymore. I can see just as many obligations as opportunities, exciting but limiting. Maybe Philip, if he did not need you one day …?”
Mr. Julian paused.
May said nothing. He was leaning on his right hand on the desk. His second and third fingers were stained slightly yellow by tobacco. May stared at them.
“The thing is, perhaps I could see if Charlotte could come too? You could both chaperone me if …” he trailed off.
“Shall I see if Sir Philip can spare me during the Easter recess, Mr. Julian?’ May interrupted.
“Oh would you? Would you really?” he replied, pulling a packet of Woodbines out of his pocket and spilling the contents on the floor. “Oh and please don’t use the ‘Mr.’ bit. I’m Julian. Just Julian.”
Without waiting to hear her answer he bent down, gathered up the cigarettes, stuffed them in his pocket and walked out of the room. May could just hear his tuneless humming as he reached the garden door at the end of the corridor.
Hard as she tried, May found herself incapable of returning to work after her spontaneous suggestion to Julian. What had she been thinking of? Her concentration was all over the place. The beautiful spring weather shone through the window and, getting up from her desk, she went to find Florence. They had taken to spending time together whenever May was not working and Florence was home from school. On the first of these expeditions May had agreed to be introduced to the legendary Mrs. Jenkins, despite Mrs. Cage’s warning about the unpredictability of such a meeting. Florence had dragged a reluctant May through the post office door and up to the counter.
“This is my friend May. Don’t you think she’s beautiful, Mrs. Jenkins? My mother says all the men are cracky about her.”
“And I am not surprised to hear it,” Mrs. Jenkins replied, a severe but harmless-looking middle-aged woman, her hair caught back in a net. She was giving May a thorough once-over