“That’s right, Victoria,” Mrs. Sowerby said, “make quite sure the whole restaurant hears our business.” She turned to Viva. “Mrs. Wetherby is the mother of Rose. The one who is going to be married in India to Captain Chandler. She’s a quite exceptionally beautiful girl.”
“I can’t wait for you to meet her.” Tor was suddenly radiant with happiness. “She is so much fun, and so perfect, everybody falls in love with her—I’ve known her since she was a baby, we went to school together, we rode ponies…”
Viva felt a familiar pang—what a wonderful thing to have a friend who’d known you since you were a baby.
“Victoria,” her mother reproved. The blue feather poised above her eyebrow made her look like a slightly miffed bird. “I’m not sure we need to tell Miss Holloway all this yet. We haven’t quite decided. Where is darling Rose by the way?”
“At the doctor’s.” Mrs. Wetherby looked embarrassed. “You know…” She sipped her coffee and gave Mrs. Sowerby a significant look. “But we had the most exciting morning before I dropped her off,” Mrs. Wetherby continued smoothly. “We bought dresses and tennis rackets, and I’m meeting Rose again in an hour at Beauchamp Place—she’s being fitted for her trousseau. The poor girl will be absolutely dead tonight; I don’t think I’ve ever bought so many clothes in one day. Now, who is this charming young person?”
Viva was introduced to Mrs. Wetherby as “a professional chaperone.” Mrs. Wetherby, who had a sweet smile, put her hand in Viva’s and said it was lovely to meet her.
“I’ve done the interview,” Mrs. Sowerby said to Mrs. Wetherby. “She knows India like the back of her hand, and she’s cleared up the trunk business—she says the Viceroy is the only one.”
“The girls are very sensible,” said Mrs. Wetherby anxiously. “It’s just quite comforting to have someone to keep an eye on things.”
“But I’m afraid we can only offer you fifty pounds for both girls,” said Mrs. Sowerby, “and not a penny more.”
Viva literally heard Tor stop breathing; she saw her mouth twist in childish apprehension, big eyes trained on her while she waited.
She did some quick sums in her head. The single fare from London to Bombay was around eighty pounds. She had one hundred and twenty pounds saved and would need some spending money when she arrived.
“That sounds very reasonable,” she said smoothly, as if this was something she did every day.
Tor exhaled noisily. “Thank God!” she said. “Oh, what bliss!”
Viva shook hands all round and left the restaurant with a new spring in her step; this was going to be a piece of cake: the gawky one with the blue eyes and the mad-looking mother was so clearly desperate to go; her friend, Rose, was about to be married and had no choice.
Her next stop was the Army and Navy Hotel to talk to a woman named Mrs. Bannister about another prospective client: a schoolboy whose parents lived in Assam. She scrabbled in her handbag to check the piece of paper. The boy’s name was Guy Glover.
And now she was sitting with Mrs. Bannister, who turned out to be an irritable, nervy-looking person with buck teeth. Around forty, Viva estimated, although she wasn’t good at guessing the age of old people. Mrs. Bannister ordered them both a lukewarm cup of tea with no biscuits or cake.
Mrs. Bannister said she would come to the point quickly because she had a three-thirty train to catch back to Shrewsbury. Her brother, a tea planter in Assam, and his wife, Gwen, were “slightly on the horns of a dilemma.” Their son, Guy, an only child, had been asked to leave his school rather suddenly. He was sixteen years old.
“He’s been quite a difficult boy, but I’m told he’s very, very kind underneath it all,” his aunt assured Viva. “He’s been at St. Christopher’s for ten years now without going back to India. For various reasons I don’t have time to explain to you we haven’t been able to see him as much as we’d like to, but his parents feel he’ll thrive better in India after all. If you can take him, they’re quite prepared to pay your full fare.”
Viva felt her face flush with jubilation. If her whole fare was paid, and she had the fifty pounds coming from Mrs. Sowerby, she could buy herself a little breathing space in India, thank God for that. It didn’t even cross her mind at that moment to inquire why a boy of