Fallen Skies by Philippa Gregory

Author:Philippa Gregory
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Touchstone

22

THE NEXT DAY MARKED THE START of a new routine for Lily and the household which now revolved around her work—as before it had revolved around Stephen alone.

Breakfast was still at eight thirty sharp for Mr. Stephen but now the house had to go on tiptoe until ten thirty, when Browning would take a pot of tea and two slices of toast to the young Mrs. Winters’s bedroom. Only after eleven could noisy housework commence. The young Mrs. Winters had to have her sleep.

Stephen took to coming home for lunch to be with Lily before she went to the theatre so Cook had to be warned that the skimpy little omelettes and reheated left-overs, which had sufficed for the women lunching alone, now had to be expanded to suit the man of the house. Cook managed by the inventive strategy of exchanging dinner menus with luncheon menus so that poor Lily’s hated parade of oversalted soups, overcooked meat and damp vegetables was now served at midday, and she went to the afternoon matinée with the weight of Cook’s cuisine heavy in her stomach. The food seemed even more indigestible at noon, with the sunshine beating through the dining room windows, and Lily wilted in the heat before her well-stocked plate.

Muriel ate lunch with them and then took her dinner at the usual time of seven, when she was served Cook’s lighter offerings of a boiled egg, soufflé, omelettes, veal and ham pie, or overcooked fish. Stephen and Lily, late home after the theatre, would have soup left hot for them, or sandwiches or a limp salad. As often as not, as the weeks went on and Stephen and Lily adapted to the new freedom, they went out to dinner after the theatre, sometimes with other members of the cast.

Even Charlie joined them in the second week of the run. He had barely spoken to Lily for a week, but when she included him in the general invitation to dinner he had looked up and given her a grim little smile. “Yes, I’ll come,” he said.

There had been eight of them, a jolly rowdy party in the respectable Southsea restaurant. But much could be forgiven to actors; and when Lily consented to sing a song and Charlie sat at the piano and accompanied her, there was a round of applause from the other diners. They knew of Lily’s name, she had been praised in the Portsmouth paper and even one of the national papers had named her as a young singer of promise. Stephen glowed at the praise for his wife and kept a proprietary arm along the back of her chair.

He watched Charlie narrowly for any signs of jealousy. He had not forgotten him, lounging in the stage door at the start of the Midsummer Madness tour, making sure that Lily was back on time. But the man was no threat, Stephen decided. Lily barely looked twice at him and he was relaxed and friendly with everyone at the table. If anything, he was attentive to Madge.

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