The Lily-White Boys Read Online Free Page A

‘We’re not teenagers, George,’ she’d said. ‘We’ve waited this long, a year or two more won’t make any difference.’ But the ‘year or two’ showed signs of stretching indefinitely. When Humphrey Tovey had died, George wondered briefly if the two old ladies might be company for each other, thus freeing their offspring to marry. But that hope was stillborn when they took an instant and mutual dislike to each other. Understandably, perhaps, since Maude Tovey, though not many years younger, was still an attractive and fashionable woman with a wide circle of friends. Ethel seemed decades older, with her inward-looking, sour view of life.
    So he and Monica continued their long-drawn-out engagement, managing discreet weekends away now and then and generally seeing as much of each other as their busy lives allowed. Occasionally, and to his shame, George found himself resenting her patience, suspecting it meant she was not as anxious as he to marry. If that were so, he thought he understood why: he had suspected almost from the time he met her that Monica was in love with her brother-in-law.
    What he was not sure of was whether she recognized the fact.
    There were ten at the dinner-party. Harry and Claudia Marlow were there, George, of course, and both the Teal boys, together with Jeremy’s live-in girlfriend. Monica was not impressed by the latter, whom she’d met before. A tall, willowy blonde, she had a permanently bored expression which marred her lovely face, and was given to draping herself against the furniture to display her admittedly perfect figure. Her name was Primrose, which Monica conceded was no fault of her own.
    Come to that, Monica wished she could be fonder of her nephews. Outwardly they were a credit to their parents – tall, good-looking, well-groomed and with perfect manners; the sort of young men, in fact, who postured self-consciously in sportswear advertisements, accompanied by appropriately dressed females and golden retrievers. But behind their ready smiles and smooth faces, she had no idea what they were thinking. Even more uncomfortably, she didn’t quite trust them.
    Summoned, perhaps, by her musings, Theo came over and took the seat next to hers. ‘A very elegant dress, Aunt, if I may say so. From the Spring Collections?’
    She looked at him sharply but his face, as always, was bland. ‘Just a little thing I ran up.’
    He laughed. ‘I must say it’s gratifying to have such glamorous relations. Mother looks a picture, doesn’t she?’
    Monica acknowledged that she did. Her sister not only possessed the family dress sense in full measure, she had the knack of investing any garment she wore with her own stamp, just as her large, horn-rimmed spectacles had over the years become a personal fashion accessory. Taller and fairer than Monica, she wore her silver-blonde hair in a sleek, chin-length bob which perfectly complimented her oval face and round grey eyes. Tonight the green chiffon dress she wore, swathed over narrow hips, needed only the simplest gold chain by way of adornment.
    Yes, they were a good-looking family, Monica thought complacently. It was no wonder Justin preferred to entertain customers at home. Yet, even with the backing of her catering team, there were times when Eloise was not prepared to play hostess. Monica tried not to doubt the veracity of the migraines which frequently laid her low when less interesting guests were due. On such occasions Justin had no course but to resort to restaurants, and not infrequently invited herself to be his hostess. Her fluency in French and Italian, painstakingly perfected to ease her way at the Collections, was a particular asset with his continental suppliers.
    Monica watched her sister chatting animatedly with Harry Marlow. She really didn’t see why she should feel embarrassed when they were together, since obviously neither they nor their spouses did.