Rupert’s parents for his birthday nearly a year ago and was still sitting in the Cuckmere garage. Rupert had not yet got round to learning to drive it.
“I will ask Hooch to give the engine a once-over and it will suit the two of you beautifully.”
Entrusting May with the new car was the Blunts’ way of expressing how fond of her they had all become. Julian had seen the sympathy that the whole family felt for their young employee with the loss of her mother, and at a time when she and her brother were so far away from their remaining parent. Every one of them, even Bettina and Rupert, had been kindness itself to May. And Joan had put her own grief to one side and concentrated on looking after this motherless young woman.
Julian’s response to May was becoming complicated. He had a tendency to vacillate over his friendships with women, enjoying the challenge of netting a woman and once netted, dropping her. And although this pattern of behaviour shamed him, he had unquestionably been playing with the emotions of the young chauffeuse. May’s huge eyes and unusual olive-toned skin intrigued him; but he was forever reminding himself that everything pointed against pursuing these thoughts further. Firstly there was a professional boundary to respect regarding her employment with the Blunts. Neither Sir Philip nor Lady Joan had actually said anything to caution him about becoming over-friendly with their driver, but Julian did not want to put them in a position where they felt they should comment. Secondly, while Julian had no pretensions to being socially superior to May, given his own parents’ modest start in life, there was no denying his educational advantages. And finally there was the existence, even obstacle, of his steady girlfriend Charlotte. No. There was no question about it. May was hopelessly unsuitable as a romantic proposition. And yet. Despite her sweetness and willingness she sometimes demonstrated a steely confidence in her own opinions that made him like her all the more. She had certainly made him question his glib assumption that the visit to Wigan would deliver the experience and information he sought. Observing her capability at the wheel of Rupert’s spanking motor, her forehead creased in concentration, it had struck him that “deft” was the best possible word to describe her. But deft as she may have been, he could not stop thinking how nice it would be to kiss her.
When Julian had planned the journey around the mining towns between Liverpool and Manchester he had not anticipated that the local mayoral entourage would be in town for a football match and staying in the only halfway decent hotel in Wigan. “Mayoral influence was too big for its boots,” he had spluttered to the receptionist when told that the two single rooms he had reserved were no longer available. It had been getting late and he was on the point of panic when May said she didn’t mind, just for one night, where they ended up.
Relieved by her lack of fuss, Julian had taken May for a pint in the pub to work out what they should do next. They had fallen into a conversation with a man who was sitting at a table sticky with beer rings near the bar. With his short hair, small moustache and direct-gazing eyes, he appeared to be ten years or so older than Julian but looked quite different from any of the other careworn men in the pub. He introduced himself. His name was Peter Grimshaw. He was a professor of social history at London University and they soon discovered that he had read all the same books as Julian. The conversation went straight to politics. Peter told them he had come up to the North a couple of months earlier with a writer friend, Eric Blair, who was researching a book of his own about poverty in the North and had spent a despairing if illuminating (if that was the word) time down the mines. When Eric returned to London Peter had stayed on, gathering information for a paper he planned to deliver to his colleagues and students and eventually to write up and publish.
When Julian explained their predicament about where to stay the night, Peter offered to take them back to his own lodgings.
“Matter of fact, Eric and I both stayed there. They aren’t up to much but the landlady seems to enjoy cramming as many people as possible into her house so maybe