eyes on the chocolate, Vincent gasped.

‘Is that a Fry’s Triple-Layer Chocolate Bar with Cinder Crunch Topping?’ he asked breathlessly. There was nothing Vincent didn’t know about Fry’s chocolate. Before the war he’d got into the habit of saving his pocket money (tuppence a week when times were good, a penny when they weren’t – I know it doesn’t sound like much but these were the days when a penny would buy you four enormous toffee chews that could prevent speech for hours and once pulled out one of my uncle’s molars) and investing in a chocolate bar that he ate immensely slowly, sometimes over a period of several weeks.

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The Diary 7

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Raining. Dark. It’s summer in England all right. We are doing what is known as weather cover. This is when you are supposed to be shooting something in glorious sunlight or even just plain old daylight and there turns out to be neither of those things available and you have to go indoors and shoot something else. It’s a bit like wet playtime. I rehearsed with the jackdaws this morning, which was bliss. They really are very clever. They haven’t seen me for a while and yet remember everything. I think it will be possible to shoot most of the scenes with me and one of them in a Two-Shot (see Glossary) and then Pick Up (see Glossary) what we don’t get afterwards with Singles (see Glossary). Olly, one of our Props Artists (see Glossary), has just walked by carrying four white Foam Piglets (see Glossary – sorry, lots of Glossary, but there we are). Not a sight you see very often. The chickens have proved a little disappointing today. Instead of skittering about as the car arrives, they seem to just stand there as if stapled to the ground. The fact is, of course, that they are indeed pegged to a bit of wood, which is then covered with mud to hide it. Prevents them from escaping, see. Oh dear, this weather. Everyone’s damp and exuding a warm animal smell. It’s like being in a wet stable. Anyway. Back to Cyril and his chocolate bar.

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The Story 7

Vincent, eyes out on chapel-hooks, trotted up to Cyril to get a closer look at the confectionery.

‘Since you ask,’ drawled Cyril, draping himself elegantly over the shiny bonnet of the Rolls, ‘it is a Fry’s Triple-Layer Chocolate Bar with Cinder Crunch Topping. Would you like some?’

His vocal chords paralysed with desire, Vincent could only nod so hard that his head nearly came off.

‘Thought so,’ said Cyril, airily popping the last square into his mouth and dropping the empty wrapper into Vincent’s upturned palms.

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‘Pity there’s none left,’ he added, sauntering round to look at Megsie and Norman, who had been watching the exchange with horror.

‘That was rotten,’ hissed Megsie, and, let’s face it, she was right.

I suppose I’d better explain a little bit about Celia and Cyril before you begin to hate them too much. What you have to bear in mind is that their parents were useless. Lord Gray (the person Prunella had made the beeline for at the Garden Party) was always being Very Important in the War Office and had never once been a normal dad at home. He’d also never recovered from being detested by his wife and had taken refuge in work virtually day and night. He even had a little camp bed in a broom cupboard at the War Office, which he slept in whenever he couldn’t face being ignored in his own home. Prunella we know too well already. Disgusted by her choice of husband, she spent her days making purchase after purchase in London’s most expensive shops. She was so well known to the staff at Harrods that red carpet was laid down for her entrances and exits and champagne served upon her arrival in each department. Only the really top staff were allowed to look at her. Everyone else had to keep their eyes lowered and remain silent unless addressed. Poor woman. She really hadn’t turned out well at all.

As for being a mother – you can imagine what a disaster that was.

This was a woman who changed her outfit five times a day, thus:

Breakfast – silken flowing robes, matching turbans and monogrammed slippers.

Elevenses – brocaded jackets and skirts, jaunty little hats with feather trim.

Lunch – exquisitely tailored suits with matching coats, shoes, gloves and handbags.

Afternoon tea – tea gowns in taffeta and tulle, delicately stitched soft shoes in complementary shades