Sense & Sensibility by Joanna Trollope

Author:Joanna Trollope [Joanna Trollope]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3, mobi
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2013-10-22T16:00:00+00:00

10

‘Nonsense,’ Mrs Jennings said, ‘you’ve got time for a cup of coffee.’

Bill Brandon looked at his watch. ‘Well, I—’

Mrs Jennings took his arm. ‘We don’t see you for weeks, dear, weeks, and then I just run into you like this, coming out of the Underground …’ She paused and looked at him. ‘Bond Street Underground, Central Line. Where have you been?’

Bill Brandon sighed, as if courtesy compelled him to give information he would have preferred to keep private. ‘Mile End,’ he said.

‘Mile End? What on earth were you doing at Mile End?’

‘Visiting the hospital,’ Bill Brandon said patiently. ‘The specialist addiction unit.’

‘Ah!’ Mrs Jennings cried, as if a penny had dropped. ‘Ah! For your Delaford people!’

Bill Brandon gave a non-committal smile. He tried to extract his arm. He said, ‘And now I’ve got to get back.’

‘Where?’

‘To Delaford.’

‘But not before’, Mrs Jennings said firmly, ‘you’ve had a cup of coffee with me.’ She leaned closer. ‘I have a lot to tell you.’

He glanced down at her, as if seeing her for the first time. ‘Oh?’ he said.

She smiled and nodded. ‘Yes, dear,’ she said, ‘I have. Guess who I’ve got staying with me?’

‘I can’t—’

She let his arm go at last, and then she said, in a tone that implied she knew she’d finally caught his full attention, ‘Marianne!’ she said.

Settled in Dolly’s café in Selfridges, Mrs Jennings was very disappointed by Bill Brandon’s choice of only a cup of black coffee.

‘Have some carrot cake, dear,’ she said. ‘It isn’t called heavenly for nothing. Or the walnut and coffee. Come on, Bill, you’re too thin and too thin isn’t good on a man, trust me.’

He closed his eyes, briefly. ‘Just coffee, thank you.’

‘But—’

‘Just coffee.’

‘Jonno would get you to eat cake.’

‘Jonno isn’t here.’

‘Bill,’ Mrs Jennings said, suddenly picking up a spoon to stir her large chocolate-dusted cappuccino, ‘you’re quite right. Let’s get down to business. I have Marianne Dashwood moping in my spare bedroom and she’s quite a worry to me.’

Bill said quietly, not looking at her, ‘I heard she was in London.’

‘From whom? Oh, Jonno, I suppose.’

‘Yes.’

‘Then why’, Abigail Jennings demanded, putting her spoon down decisively, ‘haven’t you been to see us? You know you’re always welcome, you know.’

‘I’ve been a bit tied up.’

‘With what?’

Bill Brandon glanced up at her. He smiled tiredly. ‘None of your business, Abigail.’

‘Delaford?’

‘Maybe.’

‘Or this mystery daughter of yours?’

Bill picked up his coffee cup. ‘She doesn’t exist.’

‘Now then—’

‘Abigail,’ Bill Brandon said, ‘can we get back to Marianne?’

‘Aha! I knew you’d take my bait!’

‘Well, I have,’ he said patiently. ‘And I want to know how she is.’

‘Pathetic,’ Mrs Jennings said, ‘unhappy. Just – oh, Bill dear, you know, moody and miserable. I thought I’d take her shopping, to cheer her up, and so we headed for Bond Street – show me a girl on this planet, Bill, who isn’t cheered up by Bond Street – and at first I thought she had actually perked up a little and then I realised – I think we were in Fenwick’s –

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