4 Aug. - Wed. evening
Received a reply from Mother in today's post. She really didn't tell me much that I didn't already know about the Boyles. The Major was a hard, dedicated man. Life in his house can hardly have been easy or loving, but then what would ours have been like if Mother hadn't taken us away?
Her P.S., however, was the last thing I needed to read. Maggie and I made the Daily Mail and doubtless the European press will pick it up from there. Of all the people to have told her - Baroness de Bruin! Good old Gerty. Even now I can hear that affected, aristocratic, sanctimonious whine. "Barbara dear... your boy seems to have made a splash in the papers... Nigel Dempster's column, in fact... and from Las Vegas.... How gauche! Certainly living the high life, isn't he? I do hope he's not gambling. Poor thing, I don't suppose he calls you as regularly as he used to. But that's the way of the world for us old birds, isn't it? Quite a lovely pair of young ladies, too. I wonder how much they cost."
She and Sir Edmund could have made a matched pair. Poor Mother. I'll bet she had to endure all the latest news about the Baroness' endless number of grandchildren - mainly what titles they are marrying. I hope they pick titles with money. At least then the old bat can sponge off her own family.
I must warn Maggie, if she doesn't already know. She'll have to recuse herself from Nick's case and we'll have to break it off until Sydney. Christ! What a mess! Sometimes I think I'm cursed when it comes to having a decent relationship - even one that's merely recreational. Verdomme!
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