I was cursed with daughters,” she said sadly, “and yet I always wanted a son.
A son-in-law will do at a push—so long as he’s suitable.
You know: polite, thoughtful, considerate, well behaved.
He is all of those things, isn’t he, this project of yours, Eleanor?
A well-dressed man? Well spoken?
You know I’ve always tried to impress upon you how appropriate it is to talk properly and look the part.
He seems very nice, Mummy,” I said. “Very suitable.
Handsome and talented and successful. Glamorous!” I said, warming to my theme.
Obviously, I knew next to nothing about him,
so I was embellishing the scant information I’d gleaned about Johnnie Lomond from my research.
It was quite fun. Her tone was dismissive, with an undercurrent of menace. The default tone.
“Oh God, I’m bored now. I’m bored of this conversation,
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