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This is a work of fiction.
Names, characters, events and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner.
Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

A Liberal Temptation
Delilah J
Copyright: © 2014 Delilah J
published by: epubli GmbH, Berlin
www.epubli.de
ISBN 978-3-7375-2865-8

www.delilah-jay.com
www.facebook.com/delilahjay

Delilah J
c/o pellybay films GmbH
An der Alster 18
20099 Hamburg-Germany

Layout and Production
2014, by Anita Böning
www.typo-im-fluss.de

Coverlayout
2014, by Nicole Laka
www.nima-typografik.de

Cover photo
Getty Images

Photo Delilah J
Kai Krellenberg
www.kaikrellenberg.de

Used Fonts
Marcelle Script
New Century Schoolbook LT

Printing and Binding
www.esf-print.de

Delilah J
A Liberal Temptation

For Massi and Charlie

Mi par d’udire ancora,

O scosa in mezzo ai fior,

La voce sua talora,

Sospirare l’amor!

I PESCATORI DI PERLE by Georges Bizet – Enrico Caruso

EDDIE

I’m looking out of the black tinted windows of the 4 x 4. We are turning into the estate near Perth in the South of Scotland.

“We’re there!”, my stepbrother Henry shouts.

“Isn’t that fantastic!” I can hear Edwina saying; She’s my stepmother.

We are in February and it is bitterly cold here in Scotland. Even at home in London it was freezing. It feels like spring will be far away. I’m looking forward to seeing my friend Felix from school. He and his mum are coming here tomorrow, to Swanley-on-Tay. Henry and Theodore came with us. My other stepbrother Richard had to go back to boarding school. His half term holidays have already ended. Also Daisy is coming tomorrow with her grandmother Miranda—Edwina’s best friend.

We drive up the long path past the cottage and the fisherman’s house until we finally reach the manor house. My labrador, Biscuit, is totally happy being released from the car after seven hours drive in a cage. For the last two years we have come here in almost every single holiday and I have to go for fishing, shooting. I have to obey to Edwina’s rules because about two years ago my father met her at a dinner party in Queen’s Club, London. I am twelve years old and a bit clumsy; so the others say. I’m very tall for my age. My father Edward IV, is also very tall. He lives in London and in San Francisco and he’s got companies all over the globe. Often he’s travelling for a long time. I stay with Edwina or with one of the many nannies that I’ve had over the past years. They changed more often than I usually changed my underpants—often only after a few days because they say I was so difficult. I still have nannies now mostly chosen and controlled by Edwina.

All of Edwina’s three sons are in boarding school and I will be too after the summer holidays. She thinks that’ll be good for me even though I have difficulties staying overnight at a friends house for a sleepover. I rather stay at home. Yes, home ... where is home?

“Hello, how nice to see you!” Edwina waves to the entrance hall where Maria Clara our Brasilian housekeeper has just appeared on the door step. It’s late afternoon and fog covers the wide meadows and the river Tay. The doorbell rings. Jock, the ghillie, enters the scene.

“Come in quickly, Jock.”
He grabs Edwina, takes her in his arms. They go into one of the living rooms with fire places where Maria Clara already lit the fire.

“Here you are ... finally, Edwina! I missed you!” Jock presses her tight on his chest.

“Be careful—the boys are here,” I can hear Edwina whispering.

“What would you like to drink? I’ll have a glass of champagne ... Maria Clara.”

“A beer for me!” Jock has a round and friendly face. He’ll probably take us for fishing tomorrow. That’s his job basically.

For me it is too cold and the salmon and trout we catch have to be thrown back into the river. We are not allowed to keep them as they are in mating season. But we have to catch them because this is the favourite game over here—for those who can afford it. That’s what we do every single day when we are here and later in the year we go hunting and shoot game. I don’t like doing that at all but I have to so I can be prepared to become a real man—an alpha male—just like my father.

“Let’s empty the car,” Theodore says to me.

I kind of like my stepbrothers but I enjoy much more spending time with my friend Felix. I trot out in the cold

and Theodore, Henry and I take the luggage out of the car. Theodore is almost 20 years old. He just finished his ‘A’- levels and wants to study politics.

I hear a spiky scream from one of the living rooms. Edwina is lying on the floor, Jock leaning over her. An empty bottle of champagne is rolling towards me. Edwina’s legs are spread wide open and I can see her knickers. Jock’s hand is moving inside her shirt touching her flat boobies. I’m shocked and drop everything I hold in my hands. The supermarket shopping falls on the floor. Glass smashes on the hard surface of the tiles. A bottle of wine, a jam jar, the yogurt and the contents all intermingle on the antique Isfahan carpet on which I’m standing right in this moment.

“I’m sorry, so terribly sorry”, I stammer and don’t know how to make unhappen what I just had seen ...

EDWINA

“Miranda, how lovely to hear you! What time will you arrive—you and Daisy? We are all so much looking forward seeing you! I’ll pick you up from the station”. I’m pleased about my very best friend’s call. She’s also bringing her granddaughter, Daisy. They are on their way to visit us in our manor house in Scotland as they have so many times in the past.

She is a real lady in her mid sixties, a former teacher at one of the most prestigious girls-only schools in England for a short time—then she went on long journeys with her husband George, God bless him. He died 20 years ago on a diplomatic mission. She proudly tells her story saying.

“I know the good life big time”, Miranda usually reports of her past day’s glory. “Housekeepers, butlers, gardeners ... you know, Edwina, I still cannot believe how I am able to survive without these privileges in my little doll’s house in Holland Park. It’s just terrible! George left me his far to small pension. We used to have everything we desired, you know. His extraordinary income in the English bank account and don’t forget—for certain missions George was paid in the Cayman Islands. Yes, I had an exciting life with George who went for breakfast with the American ambassador and for lunch he hurried to meet the Royal family. I enjoyed life at home looking after Sofie, well, I was a diplomat’s wife and that’s what I will be forever, my dear.”

She was always by my side and saw in her the mother I always missed. Miranda is a tiny delicate lady who always dresses properly—actually accurately—to the rules of the protocol of course. Being around the Royal family painted her life even though she only lived the glamour second hand. Even George was only the man in the third row watching the play from a distance. Surprisingly enough that he was considered in the end to serve with MI5—the British secret services. Not for long as he was discovered on a secret mission and shot in front of Sofie’s eyes while having his five o’clock tea in the salon of their country house in Oxfordshire. Only Sofie and the trophy deer on the wall—proudly shot by George himself—could have witnessed his death. And as the deer was stuffed and Sofie under shock and distress—nobody really could reconstruct what happened. They both could not be interrogated—not Sofie and not the deer. She was depressed even those days, the poor thing. It was difficult for her coping with the loss of their luxurious standard of living which they used to enjoy in India and China. These days she works in the office of the Liberals in London. She copy prints, files, files and copy prints—another file please; for 1.400 pounds sterling per month.

Life isn’t easy for Miranda’s daughter or for Daisy. My ex husband got her daughter the job. He has got an endless and useful network of contacts.

“Come on boys! Pancakes are ready!” I shout from the entrance hall towards the second floor. No one can hear me.

“Boys!”

No answer. The house is huge with high ceilings and thick walls. I’m sure the boys are wearing headphones.

Jock stands in the doorframe. “Is my breakfast ready, my love?” he asks me.

I freeze. He drove home late last night, mainly because of the boys. His car has not been on our grounds all night long. Did they even realise? “Jock ... how nice. I’m sure you want to pick up the boys for fishing? That’s great, isn’t it, Eddie?”

“Yes, yes ...”, he replies mumbling. Looking at the floor he is searching for words. Oh God, what a relief it will be when he finally goes to boarding school. A two hour drive from London and he will be back home every three weeks. Lots of sports and fresh air will do him good.

The morning fog makes its way over the river. We watch the endless view, the river, the meadows, the on the other side of the river Tay. Here at the end of the world. Here I’ve spent the best years of my life. Alone—while Victor travelled to market his politicians. Alone—while the boys were in boarding school. Most of our friends use their manor houses during the holidays or sometimes at weekends when a bank holiday gives an extra day to relax and the children wouldn’t be at school and nobody goes to the office. Hardly any guests at the dinner parties as we are so far away from London. Four hundred and fifty miles up north which means seven hours by car. And I spent my time alone up here in Scotland instead of being a Sloane Ranger. I could have gone to the theatre with my friends, played tennis in Queen’s Club or be in the party committee of a breast cancer charity.

“Let’s go!” I hear Jock calling the boys.

“Do I really have to ...”, Eddie mumbles.

“Of course, it does you good. Your father will be proud

of you. Come on, hurry up!” I interrupt him.

He is getting so much on my nerves with his stammering, his learning difficulties and his unwillingness for anything. Soon I will be on my way to San Francisco. Finally when all kids are back to boarding schools after this holiday I will be in my future husband’s arms: Edward D. Wilton IV— Eddie’s father!

Like a jester dressed, in a silly gown,

something evil came to town,

at the darkest hour, in the dead of night,

all who'd listen gathered round.

From the uninspired from the tortured sounds …

LADY MACBETH, written by John Lees, Barclay James Harvest

EDWARD D. WILTON IV

“Yes, I’m listening. What did you just say honey? I can’t understand you. Bad line. Sure I’m in the office. Listen, I haven’t got time. I’m gonna be in a meeting in a minute. Let’s catch up later.” I hang up.

My office is close to San Francisco airport. My private jet charter business is booming as never before and my turnover raised about 130 per cent each year since the Taliban attack. It’s been a successful 9/11 for me! I look out the window and inhale the smell of kerosene deep into my lungs. In about an hour I will meet my lawyer for lunch. Oh yeah, soon I will make Edwina become Mrs. Edward D. Wilton IV! But hang on ... I’ll need some time for preparation. Four months until the wedding—that’s not long.

I met Edwina at that dinner party in Queen’s Club in London. She sat next to me at the table. The first question I ask any woman is: “How many doctors do you have?”

“What kind of question is that?” she asked me and laughed. “Two of course, a GP and well you know—one for these women things.” She blushed.

I kind of liked it. Yeah, she was Mrs. Right. She told me about the separation from her husband, about being in the middle of a divorce. She still got on perfectly well with her almost ex husband. Three sons they’ve together and one of them even is Eddie’s age. Edwina is a tiny spindly woman, I would say she almost appears anorexic thin. Not a beauty at all, no definitely not. She rather has the body of a young lad. Small breasts, no butt. She is blond and pale and she has that kind of sad sense of humor that always inspires my sympathy. She often laughs to hide her wish to burst out in tears. Before they got married she was her husband’s PA. Victor made career as a liberal Scottish lobbyist in England while she stayed at home. I liked that! She was used to be left by herself, looking after the children just waiting for her man. She is that kind of woman, satisfied with little: she wouldn’t go for my empire, oh no! Victor and she even shared the same lawyer in the divorce. That sounds loyal to me. I’m 68 years old and far to experienced to be a fool!

“Hello Edward! You made your way to Fillmore Street!”

Anthony taps on my shoulder.

We meet in the SPQR, an Italian restaurant of his choice.

I would have suggested something more common for having lunch with him. The place is very small and the tables are very close to each other. I don’t really like that for the kind of conversations I’m planning to have with my lawyer.

“The food is fantastic! Matthew Accarrino is the best Italian chef in town! The pasta is superb and the exquisite wines come from Italy—not only Nappa Valley!” Anthony laughs. Today is a Saturday and the restaurant is fully booked.

“Anthony, I’ll marry Edwina.” Anthony isn’t enthusiastic about it.

“I don’t believe you! You, Edward, you had more wives than Henry VIII! You found another one saying ‘yes’ to your proposal? How did you do that?” He isn’t joking at all. I know that. Since he rescued me from my marriage with Mary Grace he can’t stand the idea of me being married ever again.

“Edward, you know what another divorce could mean to you. You are wealthy enough for having a mistress in every single country of the world. Come on, why does it have to be a marriage again?”

We both keep silent.

“Have you chosen a starter?’

We stick our noses in the menu.

“She is the right one, Anthony!” I try to rise the subject again.

“They all were, Edward, including Mary Grace. Don’t forget how much it cost you to take your son Eddie away from her. Beware: Edwina might be a fabulous stepmother but he’ll grow up and will be older. Soon he’ll be at boarding school. It’ll be much easier for you. You don’t need a wife, Edward, you need a nanny for him. Or a few nannies. Forget about the marriage—you had more wives by now than you should have had.”

EDWINA

“Leave the dogs outside.”

The boys don’t listen. Biscuit and Jolly, Theodore’s Labrador, run into the house. Both completely wet and dirty they decide to shake the mud off their fury coats. Eddie’s dog Biscuit just doesn’t listen same as Eddie himself. No one obeys in Edward IV’s family. Nobody is educated—not even house trained. This will definitely change, I promise.

I just picked up Miranda and Daisy from the train station in Perth. The phone is ringing. It is Aelita and her son Felix with her new found love Matthew.

“Where are you? Yes, take the big gateway. On your right you will have the river.” I describe the driveway to the manor house.

“I think we arrived. Can you see us?”

“No, you must be at the cottage. We are further up the hill. You will have to go another half a mile. Drive along the river, you will se the fisherman’s house and from there you can see the manor house on the hill.”

For a moment I can only hear Aelita breathing, then she shouts excitedly: “Here we are! I found it!” Aelita, Felix and Matthew arrived.

“This is Miranda, my close friend.” I introduce everyone upon their arrival.

“We’ve met at Eddie’s birthday party, Miranda. And there is Daisy! How are you?” Aelita remembers them all.

“Of course, you were so kind giving me a lift home after Eddie’s party. Do you remember? You dropped us off at my house in Holland Park, Daisy and myself?”

“That’s right. That’s already two years ago, is that possible? Time flies by so quickly. We went for a shopping spree! Where can we bring all the food?” Aelita is asking.

In the meantime Matthew carries wine boxes and baskets full of delicatessen shopping into the house.

“This is fantastic! Would you please bring it over there in the second kitchen. That’s where the cold rooms are. Brilliant! Oh God, what did you bring!” I am totally overwhelmed as I don’t have Maria Clara helping me every day. I must remember to think of saving costs.

The estate has been sold when we went through the divorce. Victor is renting it now and I am allowed to use it when I come up here with the boys while he isn’t around. The kids love it as it used to be their permanent home.

Victor still takes them here and goes with them for fishing and hunting. He is a real Scotsman with a touch of snootiness. He became well known as a lobbyist of the Liberals and he surely made a good living from it. The first man of the country’s Liberals used to work for him many years ago. Today things have changed: they walk together hand in hand along the Houses of Parliament. Victor as a lobbyist of the Liberals made sure Mick Freedom became the number one of his party. Before elections he convinced the members of parliament to sweep off certain subjects. The pharmaceutical industry, the tobacco lobby—they all paid Victor lavish amounts for vanishing delicate issues. So now all our assets have been sold and what remained has been divided between Victor and me. Now I am free for Edward. What was left for me after the divorce wouldn’t pay for my Chelsea and Knightsbridge lifestyle. I just wouldn’t be able to afford the Queen’s Club, the first class travel and no Maria Clara every single day. Moments like these remind me of my parents and the housekeeper I cannot even have for this huge manor house each day.

My parents brought me up by teaching me the magic of thrift. That’s why I am happy flying Easy Jet while Eddie gets his ticket booked in Business Class and Edward would be using a private jet. Each year my mum sends me a Christmas card using a yellow post-it sticker on the inside of the card wishing me a Merry Christmas and a happy New Year. Straight after the festive holidays at a family meeting in the club she would remind me to hand the Christmas card back to her. “So I can give you the card next year again for Christmas, dear Edwina.” Every year she would whisper these magic words in my ear. Yes, I’ve been brought up in stinginess even though I knew how to appreciate a great lifestyle.

“Oh, Miranda, it’s so good that you are here. Edward and I will get married this summer!” I tell my two girlfriends full of joy.

“Wow, that’s fantastic! Will you get married in England or in San Francisco? May I be your bridesmaid?” Aelita is completely happy about achievement.

“I’m so happy for you, Edwina.” Aelita says. “On what place of the Forbes list of the richest men of the United States is Edward currently?” I can feel Miranda’s envy.

“I’m not sure and it actually doesn’t really matter as long as he still is on that list!” We laugh about me and my ultra rich super millionaire, about my luck in life and that he will marry me—he—Edward D. IV.

“Look, this is the engagement ring he gave me!” I pull the sleeve of my blouse up and show my hand almost holding it like expecting a hand kiss.

“Where is the diamond? I can’t see it.” Aelita is asking.

“Look there, three gemstones!” Miranda says with a vibrating voice trying to defend my engagement ring. “You need glasses, my dear.” So she adds sharply in order to punish Aelita who throughs a patronizing look at her.

“Contact lenses, Miranda. Short sighted minus eight diopter plus astigmatism. Very small these gemstones, miniature, yes—indeed.” Aelita replies quick-witted. Her blue eyes transform immediately into two challenging slits almost like sapphires in the shape of cat eyes. Her seductive lips are slightly opened. She is sitting straight up—her breasts bulging like the boobies of a twenty year old.

“Didn’t one of Edward’s older sons just got engaged recently, Edwina?” Aelita sparkles like a ruby capturing everyone in this room.

“Please show us the photo Edward sent you! You know which one I mean, Edwina, the one of the engagement ring his son gave to his fiancé!”

“I would love to see that one as well, Edwina!” Miranda joins in.

I play with my iPhone. Actually I don’t want to show this picture to anyone specially after Aelita’s comment about the miniature gems.

“There it is!” Aelita spots the photo. Her eye sight seems to be better than we thought. Apparently I didn’t flick through the pictures fast enough ...

“Show me ... yes, that’s the ring on her finger.” Miranda takes a deep breath. “A fantastic diamond. On the picture it looks really white not yellowish at all. What size would you guess it is? I think it’s got minimum five carat! I’m sure you are aware that the engagement ring has to be worth four times of the mans monthly income. That’s how American women measure the value of their marriage and the to be expected future lifestyle.” Aelita’s honesty is outrageous.

“The ring doesn’t have such an importance to me, you know.” I try to save the situation.

I can’t see the boys. The day is about to come to an end and we go and sit again in one of the lounges enjoying the open fire.

“Chablis or would you prefer Champagne?” I ask my guests. Matthew is helpful opening both bottles with nonchalance. We enjoy the daily news paper, the wine and the end of the day warming up the cold atmosphere with the heat of the fire.

“I shall cook tonight. What about spaghetti carbonara? That’s a quick one and everybody likes it,” so I suggest.

“Great! I can help you if you like!” Aelita offers herself by suggesting she could be the chef de cuisine all week. We go to the kitchen and I take a the creme fraiche for the carbonara out of the fridge.

“What do you need this for?” Aeltita is asking me giving me an accusing look.

“That’s obviously for the sauce, isn’t it?” I reply expecting an “I—know—it—better—explanation”.

Aelita spent a few years in Italy and she takes the carbonara over for me. We all sip our wine while stirring in pots and cutting vegetable.

“The salad is delicious. Here, you can bring the smoked salmon on the dining table.” In the meantime Matthew is setting up the table followed by Miranda who re-sets each fork and knife in a different position.

“Matthew, we will use the silver cutlery. This one is only for a quick snack in the kitchen. The fork has to be left. You must put the knife facing the cutting edge to the left but to the right of the plate,” Miranda corrects Matthew’s effort. Yes, she is a lady with class!

“I’m left handed,” Matthew let’s us know.

“And we will change the glasses, Edwina, please. Where do you keep the batiste napkins? The children can also help us here. Eddie, go and get some wood from the shed. No, Daisy, you don’t have to do that. That’s a job for the boys,” Miranda adds to the grotesque dinner scene.

“First the adults will help themselves, then the children, Daisy first. Eddie you have to wait until it’s your turn. Be polite.” He just doesn’t have any manners. What do I expect from a boy whose mother is American ... and Edward who was unable to house train biscuit, the Labrador.

The phone rings. It is Mary Grace, Eddie’s mother calling him from San Francisco. I’m sure she is already pissed. Well, it is 11.00 o’ clock in the morning over there, I think.

“Hi mum, I miss you so much.” I can hear Eddie’s winging voice. The door is open.

“When will I see you again, mum?” His voice breaks and he almost starts crying. Felix looks at me almost shocked. “Please come here soon. I need you so much.”

“Eddie, please finish the call. We are having dinner,” I ask him. “She knows exactly that she is not supposed to call at this time. We don’t want to be disturbed by her calls when we are having our dinner.”

“The line was busy all evening before my mum says,”

Eddie mutters. We have a bad mobile phone reception so everyone calls us on the landline.

“Eddie, we have almost finished our dinner. Do you think we should all wait until you are ready before we have pudding?” Miranda criticises Eddie.

“May I please have some more spaghetti? It is really good,” Eddie is asking.

“Leave some for Daisy, Eddie.”

“But she already had two helpings ... sure, that’s ok. Here you go, Daisy, have some more.” Eddie hands the spaghetti bowl over to Daisy. Matthew watches the scene with a sceptical glance.

“Eddie, I haven’t touched my spaghetti carbonara yet. Have it!” Aelita hands her plate over to Eddie. She exchanges rolling eyes with Matthew wearing an arrogant smile.

Aelita is sitting next to Miranda who would love to have a deep conversation with Matthew. Tomorrow I change the dinner seating …

… No one noticed what she'd done,

by the pricking of the thumbs,

something wicked this way comes …

LADY MACBETH, written by John Lees, Barclay James Harvest

EDDIE

“What’s up? Was it your mum on the phone?”

Felix asks me.

“My mom calls me every day. Sometimes we speak only for a few minutes because Edwina observes the conversation. She and my dad don’t wish my mom to be in my life at all. I see her very rarely, you know. And I miss her so much.”

“Of course, I believe that! I find it terrible when I don’t see my mum while I have to be with my dad for just a weekend. Actually, very similar—your mum, my dad. But your mum is lovely! I met her last year, you remember?” Felix tries to comfort me.

He is the only one who understands my feelings. His father also tried to take him away from his mom but she was much stronger than his dad. She fought for Felix like a lioness. Now Felix is supposed to see his father every three weeks and sometimes he has to go to Italy—completely by himself. I couldn’t do that! When I fly to San Francisco someone always has to come with me.

Edwina says that my mother drinks too much alcohol and takes pills, that she is addicted and apparently not healthy that’s why she is not allowed to have me. When I see her I can’t even be with her alone. There is always another person with us to supervise what she is doing or saying to me. Edwina became my official guardian so the court in England ordered. I know for sure that my father only got custody and parental responsibility for me because he is very wealthy. He only won the court case against my mum because he has this lawyer, Anthony, who actually is his best buddy. I don’t trust him at all! He made it all up: that my mom is a drinker and addicted to class A drugs. The judge believed all this nonsense and that’s why I have to live in London with my dad who is anyway travelling most of the time. And that’s when I have to obey to Edwina’s rules and regulations.

Basically everything is controlled: who sits next to who at the dining table, the homework, fishing and shooting in Scotland, yes, my whole life. She often travels with my dad all over the world and I stay with some nanny. Real English nannies, some of them even brought up my stepbrothers Theodore, Henry and Richard. “The correct education and manners are important,” Edwina emphasises. I remember my first visit at Felix’s—that was at a Halloween party a few years ago. This old terrible witch of a nanny brought me there. And she stayed all evening long! First she didn’t know how to get to Barnes and she couldn’t drive the car because it was too big for her. She never drove in Central London, so she said. And she didn’t know how to use the sat nav. Oh God, and then she sat with all the mums at the table like she’d belong with them and mingled into every single conversation they had instead of going with us for trick-or-treat from house to house in the neighborhood. She stopped all the fun! Aelita was really furious about her and asked Edwina never to send a nanny again.

I can go anytime to Felix’s. That’s really great! We jump on the trampoline or watch American Dad or the Cleveland Show. Felix has two super cool dogs. We play with them and they cuddle up on the sofa couch when we are watching tv. Aelita is also totally cool. She really cooks great dinners and lunches and when we’ve finished we can get up and carry on with what we want. We are even allowed to eat in the lounge and nobody shouts or criticises me when I slobber or drop the fork. And when I forget my toothbrush, Aelita would have a new one for me. Pretty cool for her age, Felix’s mum!

Once Felix and I went to the park with a sleigh. That was fun! And when we came home to Felix’ house we built one of paper boxes and slid down the stairs of the house! I’m so happy that Felix came to visit me here in Scotland.

Aelita and Matthew distract Edwina from being rigid and rigorous.

“You play too much on your computer, Eddie,” I hear Edwina telling me all the time. I actually don’t have any toys in London—so what should I be playing? Fun and toys are not allowed in Edwina’s surroundings. They could be lying around. So she should probably consider computer games much better for her environment. She thinks I’m too old to play with Lego. Felix has lots of those and handicraft things, colors, paintbrushes and we can even use them on the walls but only in his rooms, of course. Edwina would never let me do such things in my dad’s house, that’s for sure! She’d be anxious I could do harm to her old fashioned mahogany furniture.

“Can