Casting Off: Cazalet Chronicles Book 4 Read Free

telling me what they want, but they don’t talk to each other about it. So you do see . . .’
    ‘Couldn’t they just go back to what they did before the war? Keep both houses and then the Duchy could be in the country as much as she liked.’
    ‘No, I don’t think they could. Eileen really wouldn’t be up to the stairs in London any more, and the Brig has promised the cottage over the garage to Mrs Cripps and Tonbridge when they’re married – it seems unfair to move them. Chester Terrace would need at least three servants, and I’m told that it’s almost impossible to get anyone reliable. The agencies say that girls simply aren’t going into service any more.’ She stopped and then said, ‘Oh dear! I do hope I’m not spoiling your soup – it looks so delicious.’
    ‘Like to try it?’ Sid held out a spoonful.
    ‘Oh, no, thank you, darling. If I have any soup, I wouldn’t have room for anything else.’
    ‘What would you like to do?’
    ‘Good question,’ Sid said at once.
    Rachel looked nonplussed. ‘I hadn’t thought. Whatever would make them happiest, I suppose.’
    ‘He wasn’t asking you that. He was asking you what you would like.’
    ‘Wouldn’t you like to be in London?’
    ‘Well, in some ways it would be rather nice.’
    While the soup plates were being removed and the main course brought and served Rachel explained that it would be easier for her to do a third day in the office if she was in London. She could not really keep up with the work in the two days she was now working. By the time she had listened to everybody’s troubles . . . and she was off with the latest hard luck story: Wilson, whose wife had to go into hospital – no grandparents to look after the children, and they’d been bombed out, lived in two damp basement rooms, and his sister – who might have taken the children, was being divorced – her husband, shortly to come out of the Navy, wanted to marry a girl he’d met in Malta . . . anyway, she was so upset that she was in no state to look after anyone . . .
    Her omelette was congealing on the plate.
    ‘Oh dear,’ she said, taking a tiny mouthful, ‘I’m boring you both with my silly office troubles . . .’
    But they weren’t her troubles, he thought, they were other people’s. He wondered, for a moment, what on earth the staff had done before she joined the firm. Officially, her job had been to deal with salaries, insurances and holiday dates for the staff, together with petty-cash accounts and office supplies. In fact, she had become the person to whom everyone went with their problems – either in the office or out – and she now knew far more about everyone who worked for the Cazalets than he or his brothers had ever done.
    Sid said, ‘But none of this has anything to do with what you would like to do.’ There was an edge to her voice, Hugh thought; she sounded almost accusing.
    ‘Well, of course it would be nice in other ways, but one can’t make this sort of decision for purely selfish reasons.’
    ‘Why not?’ There was a short, charged silence and then Sid repeated: ‘Why on earth not? Why are everybody’s feelings more important than yours?’
    It was almost as though she was talking about her feelings, he thought – he was beginning to feel out of his depth somehow, and certainly rather uncomfortable. Poor Rach! She simply wanted everything to be right for everyone; it wasn’t fair to bully her about it. She had gone rather pale, he noticed, and had given up even a pretence of eating her omelette.
    ‘Well,’ he said, ‘it seems to me that Chester Terrace should go. It’s far too big, and it would be better to sell the lease while there’s a reasonable amount of it left, and then they won’t be liable for the repairs. So what about keeping Home Place and getting a flat for you and the Brig when he wants to be in London? Then the Duchy could stay in the country. You’d only need one servant and a daily to run a flat, wouldn’t