Ph.D—D.Phil, that sort of thing," said Jilly dismissively.
"What's your thesis on, David?"
"The development of the bastides in the 12th and 13th centuries." It sounded as stupid as it really was when he said it out loud. Damn Thompson!
Lexy's mouth contracted involuntarily, the generous lips puckering into an interrogative b for bastides—
Suddenly, Roche had her pinned down in his memory, from yesterday in the plane and from last night in the train, before sleep had claimed him— from Kipling's Stalky, which Wimpy had given him in that farewell parcel beside the Lodge at Immingham: not an overblown English rose, and not a prize chrysanthemum either, but Mary Yeo, the tall daughter of Devon, the county of easy kisses, fair haired, blue-eyed, apple-cheeked, with a bowl of cream in her hands—
Pretty lips— sweeter than— cherry or plum, Seem to say— Come away, Kissy!— come, come!
"No, Lexy." Jilly shook her page-boy curls wearily. "Not dummy5
'bastards'— ' bastides' . Remember when Mike and David took us to that place at Monpazier, under the arcades? That was a bastide—the whole village."
Roche's heart went out to the big girl, so confident and aristocratic—Do you hunt? Are you a hussar?—and yet so vulnerable and amiable and utterly inoffensive at the same time. He wanted to get her down on her back and make love to her, but failing that just to cuddle her protectively and not take advantage of her.
"They're the fortified towns—or mostly villages now—built round here by the English and the French in the old days, Lady Alexandra," he hastened to explain before Jilly could put her down again. "Sort of custom-built places to mark the frontier, where the inhabitants could trade and farm by day, and sleep safely at night behind their walls, do you see?"
"She knows," said Jilly. "She's been told all about it by David Audley— she knows . . . She's not stupid, she only pretends to be, to get the edge on the rest of us. Don't be deceived by her
—she knows perfectly well. And her old Mum was talking about her, what's more—not us, David. You'd better remember that from now on." She put out her tongue at Lady Alexandra. "So just you watch it, Lexy—if you want us to help you."
Lady Alexandra answered with an even longer tongue. "And the same to you, Miss Clever-Baker—"
"Ladies! Ladies!" Meriel Stephanides interposed pacifically.
"David— where are you staying tonight? And afterwards?"
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Duty recalled Roche to the colours. "Well. . . not anywhere exactly, at the moment. I've got a tent in the car, with my things—I was going to look around, sort of. . ."
Lexy perked up. "Well—you can pitch your tent in our garden
—"
No he can't!" snapped Jilly. "Don't be an idiot, Lexy—
Madame would kill us if she discovered another man walking around the premises at dawn, and well you know it—you of all people." She turned back to Roche apologetically. "Sorry, David, but much as we'd like you to ... there's this Madame Peyrony who rents us this cottage, and she lives right next door."
“And she conceives it her duty to keep her eye on her jeunes demoiselles anglaises—Jilly's quite right. She's a bit of a dragon, is Madame Peyrony," agreed Meriel.
"She's an old bag!" growled Lexy.
"Old bag she may be. Nevertheless, she's got my boss's address—he's the only one who got us the place, David,"
explained Jilly. "And he believes that emancipation has already gone too far ... and she's already threatened to write to him, after having chanced upon Lexy's inamorato— one of the many—swanning around in his underpants—"
That's a slander!" said Lexy.
"Sue me any time you like, Lexy dear."
It wasn't fair, anyway."
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"It certainly wasn't fair! He was one of yours—and it's my address she's got! So I had to beg for mercy."
"I gave her Father's address too, darn it!"
" 'House of Lords, Palace of Westminster, London Wl',"
murmured Meriel. "And he'd probably be overjoyed to hear that you were courting a fate worse than death, getting yourself into trouble, with those little sisters of yours still on his hands."
"I haven't got myself into trouble!" protested Lexy.
"No—only Jilly, very nearly," said Meriel.
"Mind you ..." began Jilly thoughtfully, her eye flicking for a fraction of a second at Roche before settling on Lexy again
". . . mind you—you could do a lot worse than get yourself into trouble with David Audley, you know."
"I wouldn't have David if he was the last man on earth!"
exclaimed Lexy hotly. "And he wouldn't have me, either."
"Oh, he'd do the decent thing if he had to. And you shouldn't judge him by the bachelor squalor he lives in with those friends of his, Lexy dear. There's no shortage of the ready there—he could certainly support you at the standard of living God and your father have accustomed you," Jilly nodded wisely.
" That's it!" burst out Meriel. "Why didn't we think of it before?"
"Think of what, Steffy?" inquired Jilly.
"The Tower—David Audley!" Meriel pointed at Roche. "If dummy5
Lexy asks him nicely, he'll put up this David for as long as he likes. There's room in the Tower, because they don't sleep there—they sleep in the cottage alongside, and only use that for their orgies."
"Good thinking, Steffy!" Jilly beamed at her friend.
"Of course I'll ask him," said Lexy. "He's bound to say yes, David." She grinned at Roche. "David is, I mean—the other David."
"Of course he's bound to," said Meriel. "It's one historian doing a good turn for another."
Roche decided that it was again time for him to show some interest in his fate. "David who?"
"David Audley. He lives just up the road from us," said Jilly.
"He's a historian, like you. Only he's more or less a full-time one, sort of. He's got money, we think."
So did other people. Roche wondered how Major Stocker was progressing on the track of it.
"He's also Lexy's boyfriend—"
"—sort of, also," cut in Meriel-Steffy. "David the Dragoon—
ex-dragoon, actually. He was in the tanks during the war, with Lexy's father. That's how we got to know him—it wasn't a casual pick-up."
"He wasn't actually with Daddy. I mean . . . he's not old," said Lexy loyally. "But he was sort of with Daddy, just after D-Day, you know ..." she trailed off vaguely again.
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"What she means, David, is that her daddy was a sort-of general in command of a brigade or something, and David Audley was a sort-of second lieutenant inside a tank," said Steffy. "But he was in her daddy's old regiment, so he counts as family."
"Anyway, he's frightfully nice, and you'll like him," said Lexy defiantly.
" 'Nice' is absolutely the last word that would come into my mind to describe David Audley," said Steffy. "'Frightfully'
might be applicable— like 'frightfully clever', or even
'frightfully drunk' on occasion."
"He was frightfully brave, Daddy said," Lexy regarded Steffy with disapproval. "They could never get him to shut the lid of his tank, he was always poking his head out of it, Daddy said."
" 'Frightfully inquisitive', that sounds like," said Steffy.
It sounded more like frightfully stupid, thought Roche. But in the meantime, Steffy either didn't approve of Audley—or envied Lexy's inamorata role?
"Anyway—we were thinking of introducing you to him before
—it was your idea, Steffy," said Jilly. "Remember?"
Steffy frowned. "I thought it was yours?"