distracted by the papers.’ Easy to do. Everyone got distracted, didn’t they? It didn’t mean anything.
Daisy followed Lady Sherwood into the house. Lady Sherwood was wearing a pair of muted green moleskin trousers and a Fair Isle sweater with the white collar of her shirt sticking up stiffly at her neck. She looked very together, exuding an air of serenity, as if she was never hassled or rushed but glided through life at an even pace. The dogs scampered around Daisy’s legs, tails wagging with the excitement of having a visitor, and Lady Sherwood spoke to them in a calm and patient voice, which they ignored. ‘Now let’s not make a fuss. Daisy’s not the first visitor who’s come to the house, is she? So let’s be polite and not let ourselves down, shall we?’
‘They’re beautiful dogs,’ said Daisy.
‘They are, aren’t they,’ Lady Sherwood agreed. ‘Though Mordy is a terror, running off to the village at every opportunity. He’s the Labrador. Very randy, I’m afraid.’
Daisy laughed. She didn’t think elegant women like Lady Sherwood made remarks like that.
The drawing room was big and square with tall windows and sumptuous heavy curtains that framed them from the ceiling to the floor. There were paintings on faded silk walls and the fabric on the sofas and chairs was faded too, from the sunshine that flooded into the room, no doubt, and age. It looked like a room that hadn’t been decorated all at once, but layered over the years with knick-knacks, photographs in frames, coffee table books and Persian rugs. There was a baby grand piano in the corner, its top cluttered with family photographs, and a tasselled lamp that glowed warmly. Lady Sherwood was clearly a woman of good taste, but also frugality, it seemed, for there was nothing precious or contrived about the room and everything looked a little shabby. A fire glowed hospitably in the grate. Lady Sherwood offered Daisy a chair.
‘Thank you for coming to see me,’ she said, sitting on the sofa opposite. The dogs settled down around her, the Labrador making himself comfortable on the stool in the middle of the room as if it had been put there especially for him. ‘I was very impressed with the drawing you did of Mary’s dog. You captured him beautifully,’ she said. ‘I’d love you to draw mine. All three of them. Can you do that, do you think?’
Daisy noticed that Lady Sherwood had the same green eyes as her son. They were a rare shade of bluey-green and very expressive. ‘I’d love to draw them in pastels,’ she said. ‘As I did with Bernie.’
‘Ah, pastels, was it? Very effective.’
‘Thank you. I like to work with pastels. I start with charcoal and then move on to coloured chalks.’
‘Well, whatever it is you do, you do it extremely well. How do we proceed?’
‘I take photographs of the dogs and spend time with them, so I can get to know them. I need to get a good sense of their personalities. They’re all so individual and I want their characters to shine out of the paper.’
Lady Sherwood smiled then, a wide and girlish smile. ‘Oh, that’s wonderful. They really are very individual. Mordy is mischievous, although he’s now eleven years old, Archie is a little shy, and Bendico, who’s Archie’s brother, is very strong and determined and a bit overenthusiastic. I’d love you to get to know them. I know they’d love that too.’ She patted one of the spaniels at her feet. ‘Won’t you, Archie? You’ll love to get to know Daisy. They’ll do anything for attention,’ she added with a grin.
Daisy noticed how Lady Sherwood became softer and less formidable as she talked about her dogs, so she decided to ask her more questions. Lady Sherwood got up and took a big album down from a glass-fronted bookcase. ‘You must see them as puppies,’ she enthused. ‘They were incredibly sweet. Come and sit beside me, then we can look at them together.’
Daisy did as she was told and Lady Sherwood laid the album across their knees and proceeded to make her way through it, page by page. There were lots of photographs of dogs, and of a younger Taran too. ‘You know my son, don’t you?’ said Lady Sherwood.
‘Not really. We were at school together when we were little, but I only met him properly this Christmas.’
‘He lives in Toronto now. You see, I’m from there so it’s logical that he should feel a connection with the place.