A Brief History of Montmaray by Michelle Cooper Page A

his wise words? Or perhaps Spain as Laocoön and Louis the Fourteenth as the snakes, or even Queen Anne as Apollo and the Duke of Marlborough as–’
    ‘Maybe he just thought Laocoön’s sea serpents would go nicely with our sea monster,’ I said hastily, because Veronica was getting that far-away look she gets whenever she starts theorising about history. ‘Anyway, don’t you think Montmaray should be doing something now? Taking part in these non-intervention talks, for example? Shouldn’t we have some sort of diplomatic presence in London?’
    ‘Toby, you mean?’ she said quizzically.
    ‘Er, yes,’ I said. ‘Toby. Yes.’
    Veronica looked thoughtful. ‘Well, it would be wonderful if Toby started to take more of an interest in ... oh, not now, of course, he has his studies to concentrate on, but in a year or two...’
    ‘I expect he’d need a lot of help from you,’ I said. ‘I don’t think he has much of a clue at the moment, but if you were there...’
    ‘There?’ said Veronica, her gaze suddenly sharpening. ‘In England, you mean?’
    ‘Well...’ But there was no point equivocating. Veronica’s too clever and knows me too well. I put down the hairbrush and slid onto the rug so I could peer into her face. ‘Oh, Veronica, wouldn’t you love to visit London? Imagine, all that history! Westminster Abbey, the Tower of London, the Houses of Parliament, all those libraries and museums and newspapers and, and...’ I desperately tried to recall the rest of Simon’s list.
    ‘I can’t,’ she said. ‘You know I can’t. Someone needs to stay here and look after things. What about Henry? And Father? And making sure Rebecca actually does some work instead of sitting by Father’s bedside all day? Besides, there’s the Brief History –’
    ‘But wouldn’t there be all sorts of information – about Queen Elizabeth and the Armada, for example, or that British Foreign Secretary in 1710, Henry What’shis-name – that you could only find in England?’
    Veronica looked almost wistful at that, but she shook her head. ‘Aunt Charlotte won’t pay for me to go over there and spend all my time digging through archives,’ she pointed out. ‘I’d be hopeless at what she does want – being decorative and charming – and I’ve no interest in finding a husband. Really, Sophie, it makes more sense that she should spend all her money on you. And you know you’d love all that dressing up and–’
    ‘Not without you there!’ I burst out. I stared down at my suddenly blurry skirt and blinked furiously for a moment. ‘Wouldn’t you ... wouldn’t you miss me a bit if I wasn’t here with you?’ I whispered.
    ‘Oh, Sophie,’ she cried, grasping my shoulders. ‘Of course I would! I’d miss you terribly! But I’d be happy that you were getting the chance to do all the things you enjoy. And we could write lots of letters. Remember when you were in quarantine with measles and we had to write each other letters instead of being able to talk to each other? Your letters were always so entertaining, you had Toby and me in fits. Even when there really wasn’t much new to write about, you were so clever and funny...’
    ‘No, I wasn’t,’ I mumbled. ‘You’re the writer in this family, not me.’
    ‘Stop that,’ she said firmly, tipping my chin up. ‘What about that diary of yours? I saw you yesterday, scribbling away with the most intense look on your face–’
    I felt myself starting to blush – that had probably been when I was writing about Simon.
    ‘–and I think it’s a wonderful idea that you’re writing about Montmaray now, all your observations and memories and thoughts, before you go off and have lovely new experiences in England.’
    Is that what I’m doing? Recording my last months here for posterity? Perhaps I am. Not that I’m certain I want to leave, but...
    ‘Veronica!’ I said. ‘Wait, what about Aunt Charlotte? She expects both of us to go to England.’
    ‘Oh, don’t