“I have loved hearing about it all,” he said. “But somehow—don’t be shocked, father—I can’t feel that Raymond comes into it one atom. We’ve been realising you and my mother and the squalling thing that I was. But I can’t feel Raymond with us then any more than he’s with us now. Let’s keep Italy to ourselves, father. Poor old Raymond!”
That shifting of the topic was skilfully designed and subtly executed. Colin confessed to alienation from Raymond and yet with a touch of affectionate regret. His father was less guarded.
“Raymond’s got nothing to do with Italy,” he said. “There’s not a single touch of your mother in him. We’ve got this to ourselves, Colin. Raymond will have Stanier.”
“Lucky dog!” said Colin.
There was one item connected with the marriage that he might safely ask, and as they went downstairs he put it to his father, watching him very narrowly.
“I feel I know all about my mother now,” he said, “except just one thing.”
Lord Yardley turned quickly to him. “I’ve told you all I can tell you,” he said sharply.
That was precisely what Colin had been waiting for. There was something more, then. But the question which he was ready with was harmless enough.
“I only wanted to know where you were married,” he said. “That’s the one thing you haven’t told me.”
There was no doubt that this was a relief to his father; he had clearly expected something else, not the “where” of the boy’s question, but the “when,” which by now had definitely crystallised in Colin’s mind.