It was a lie and Harry knew it. The truth was theoretical to Lady Smock, like a science experiment, an idea to float, see how he took it, and then conduct herself on the basis of her theory.
For instance, today she told him she appreciated his making all their holiday arrangements without confirming the details. Yes, yes, they talked, talked, talked about what to do and when to go but he knew she wanted to do it herself. After all, it was her money. He averred she had every right to be upset but as usual she tried to cover her feelings with a theory. In theory, she would accept his decision with grace. In theory.
“Thank you, Harry. I’m tickled pink you chose Guernsey instead of Mont St-Michel! Yes, it would be fun to tour the hedge veg culture on Guernsey. Lovely. Just lovely. Toast and marmite for breakfast is lovely, too. Who wants fresh croissants and local brie with café au lait for breakfast? Yes, you’re right, of course you are. Travel can be so upsetting to the tummy.”
Her wet shoes squeaked as she came up the path returning from her morning beach-walk and Harry knew the truth was going to come out. He and the shoes would be hung out to dry.
(Frankly, I, Windy Mama, would rather go to Guernsey but Lady Smock can be very stubborn. After I read the Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Society, this island is right up there on my list of places to go. However, the question today is where would YOU rather go?)
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