‘I’ve kept a few, in my time.’
‘I’m afraid I can’t give you the details, and the work that our people do is never made public, but I give you my word that I will be acting in this country’s best interests.’
‘So youarea secret agent. How perfectly thrilling. My lips are sealed.’
Five minutes later Oxana throws her cabin bag onto her bed. She’s sharing her room with two other students, Georgie and Charlotte.
‘So what’s it like to be back here?’ Georgie asks, fixing Oxana with inquisitive, nut-brown eyes.
‘Actually, I did my original training in London,’ Oxana says. ‘Somewhere much less posh than this.’ The story that she’s agreed with Miss Honeyball is that she is a certified nanny who has come to Ruffley for a refresher course. ‘But my first job went… well, it went wrong.’
‘What happened?’ asks Charlotte, who’s pale and red-haired. Like Georgie, she’s wearing a lilac skirt and a dark blue cardigan embroidered with the school’s crest.
‘The husband,’ Oxana murmurs. ‘He… well, he was an actor, a film star, and he took a liking to me, and?—’
‘Go on,’ whispers Georgie.
‘And… he told me he was in love with me?—’
‘Oh my God,’ breathes Charlotte.
‘And I… I believed him, and his wife caught us, and—’ Oxana’s head slumps forwards and her shoulders twitch. ‘There was a terrible scene, and I had to leave.’
Georgie and Charlotte stare at her, riveted. An invisible signal seems to pass between them.
‘Can we ask… who it was?’ Georgie asks.
Oxana bites her lip and looks away. ‘I had to sign a legal form swearing never to say, but it’s definitely someone you’d recognise. A big star.’
‘And are you still…?’ Charlotte leans forward.
‘In love with him? I… I think I’ll probably always—’ A single tear runs down her cheek.
‘Oh, you poor thing.’ Georgie sighs. ‘Men, honestly.’
Charlotte looks at Oxana hesitantly. ‘If I was to show you pics of actors on my phone, would you like nod, if…’
‘I really can’t say anything,’ Oxana murmurs. She touches a tissue to her eyes. ‘But I suppose nodding’s not the same as saying.’
‘No,’ Charlotte says soothingly, busying herself with her phone. ‘It’s not the same thingat all. He’s British, right?’
Oxana nods, and a very few minutes later, glances at the screen and nods again.
‘Him?’ Charlotte says, her eyes widening. ‘Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh myGod.’
Georgie gazes open-mouthed at Charlotte’s phone. ‘What was itlike? I mean?—’
‘Like, in detail?’ Oxana asks.
Georgie and Charlotte nod wordlessly.
‘Well,’ Oxana looks at them in turn, and settles herself more comfortably on the bed. ‘It all started one evening. I’d put the children to bed…’
6
Eve’s room is in the attic, at the top of two flights of narrow, near-vertical stairs. As she lies in bed, turning the day’s events over in her mind, she can hear the house creak and shift. Nothing’s quite square. There’s a definite tilt to the bedroom floor, with its thick elm planking, and the dusty leaded windows seem to be set at a slight incline. The house is over 400 years old, according to Philippa, and Eve can well believe it.
They’ve agreed the terms on which Eve is to stay there. Bed, breakfast and evening meal for £420 a week, cash very much appreciated. Philippa waves away Eve’s protests that this is too little, and says that she can help with the food shopping if she feels like it.