Lavinia sighs and looks out at the bay. ‘No. But it’s long in the past.’
Margot has never known her aunt to have a love interest. She can’t recall her parents ever talking about it.
‘I’d like to know,’ she says.
‘I prefer not to revisit the past,’ Lavinia says. ‘There’s no point in it.’
Margot isn’t going to push. Even though the conversation is a diversion from the subject that really dominates the household: their funds running out. The cash made from the sale of the furniture has only lasted so long.
Despite that, Margot has invited Stephen to dinner this evening, as she feels the need to offer him some of the same kindness he has shown her. With her limited budget she’s going to do the best she can.
Not long after the table is set and everything is ready – and Lavinia’s vowed she wishes to remain in her room and not disturb them – Margot hears Stephen’s knock on the door and her heart beats faster in a way she has only read about in books.
He greets her with a kiss on one cheek and holds out a bottle of wine, which seems extravagant for the simple meal she has made, of coq au vin and some vegetables.
‘Delicious,’ he pronounces after only one bite.
Margot is sure he’s lying, but she’s thrilled nonetheless.
‘Has Lavinia had some of this for her dinner?’ he asks.
‘I offered.’ Margot shrugs. ‘She wanted cheese on toast.’
He looks surprised. ‘I see. Well, she’s missing out.’
They eat in silence for a minute or so as Margot thinks about what is really on her mind: perhaps the biggest change she could make.
‘I would like to ask your opinion about something,’ she says, and he looks pleased.
‘Yes?’
‘I think I need to sell the house.’ She says it quickly, almost as if she wants him to misunderstand.
His brows knit. ‘For what reason?’
‘Lavinia’s accident made me realise she won’t be able to manage the stairs to the street for much longer.’
And we need the money.She doesn’t have to tell him that, though, since he’s probably guessed given the sale of the furniture.
‘Could you make some modifications to the stairs instead?’ he suggests, and she thinks that perhaps he actually doesn’t understand that she needs funds.
‘No,’ she says. She picks up her glass of wine and takes a sip. It is time to be honest with him, she supposes. He has shown himself to be trustworthy.
‘I can’t afford to make changes to the house,’ she continues. ‘I can’t afford …’
This is where her dignity rears its head and makes her want to obfuscate. She can’t bear to admit that she lives in penury. That she’s wasted everything her parents left her, other than the house, because she was too foolish to realise that it wouldn’t last forever.
Stephen reaches across the table and takes her hand. ‘I understand,’ he says.
Tears prick at her eyes and she doesn’t want to let them spill, but spill they do.
He takes her other hand. ‘Dear Margot, I feel you have struggled alone long enough.’
She nods, more tears spill, and he squeezes her hands.
‘Will you let me help you?’ he asks softly.
‘You already have!’ Her cheeks are wet now.