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Sport 14: Autumn 1995

[section]

Mrs Papadopoulos is talking about Lucinda. ‘Is she not wonderful?’ the older woman enthuses. ‘The young men can scarcely take their eyes from her! It is not surprising. They are lost in admiration of her grace and confidence, her flawless and bewitching beauty. Which are, of course, inherited from her aristocratic father, while her stupendous wealth comes from her mother.

‘Her mother’s name, you know, is Remington-Smythe.’

Amanda gasps. ‘Remington!’ she exclaims. ‘Surely not—not the typewriter manufacturers!’

Mrs Papadopoulos gives a delighted smile.

‘Indeed! Lucinda is heiress to a typewriter fortune! Ah, what a catch she will make for the young man fortunate enough to win her hand!’ She sighs. In a low whisper she adds, ‘It is well. There will always be a demand for office equipment.’

Mrs Papadopoulos speaks of Lucinda as warmly, Amanda thinks, as if Lucinda were already her daughter-in-law.

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‘Where is her ancestral home?’ Amanda asks, faintly.

Mrs Papadopoulos shrugs her shoulders.

‘Some cold country, full of snow and forests.’

How could Mrs Papadopoulos guess that each of her words is like a tiny sliver of ice, thrust determinedly into the vulnerable spaces of Amanda’s heart?

She gives Amanda’s arm an affectionate squeeze.

‘You are a good girl, Amanda,’ she says. ‘It is kind of you to listen so patiently to an old woman. I hope that you will attend the shipboard dance tonight. It is good for young people to enjoy themselves.’