Falling by Jane Green

rather pretty boy. And almost certainly gay, she had thought, although, given her mother’s news, clearly incorrectly. As a child she babysat and played with him on the rare occasions he and his parents visited them. He is a cousin of her father’s, whose family is more aristocratic than her mother’s. Hence her mother’s involvement, for she distanced herself from her side of the family, embarrassed by their distinct middle-classness.
    â€œHe’s been going out with the Honorable Henrietta Chapman,” says Emma’s mother, as Emma mentally rolls her eyes. No one but her mother would bother putting in the
Honorable
bit, but of course she has to repeat every title she comes across, as if doing so will somehow elevate her in the eyes of the world.
    â€œThat’s nice,” says Emma.
    â€œIt is nice,” her mother replies. “It’s wonderful, and I have offered to throw them the engagement party here at Brigham Hall.”
    Brigham Hall didn’t used to have a name. It didn’t used to be called anything other than home. But years ago, Emma’s mother decided that every smart family lived in an old stately home with a name, and therefore their own old, not terribly stately home must have one, too. Weeks were spent trying out possibilities. Should it be a Manor? A Farm? A House? The name Brigham appears to have been pulled out of thin air, although Emma’s mother claimed it was from her own mother’sside of the family. Brigham House sounded like an orphanage, they all decided. Brigham Farm was nice, except it wasn’t really a farm; they just had a few acres and a couple of sheds, which didn’t really count. Brigham Manor was very nice, too, thought Emma’s mother, but her husband thought it too grand, too pretentious. So Brigham Hall it became, complete with personalized stationery and an embosser for the envelopes.
    â€œPut it in your diary, darling, because you’re expected to be there.”
    Emma resists a bark of indignant laughter. “Expected to be there? What does that mean?”
    â€œIt means that all the family are coming, and you haven’t been home in over a year. Everyone’s asking for you. Especially George.”
    Emma sputters with laughter. “Why on earth would George be asking for me? I haven’t seen him in years.”
    â€œExactly. That’s the point. He very much wants you to meet the Honorable Henrietta. He still says you’re his favorite cousin.”
    â€œI’m sure that’s not true. He barely knows me. And, Mum, you really don’t have to call her ‘the Honorable’ every time you mention her. I’m not sure it’s really the done thing.”
Ouch.
Emma’s mother has never taken criticism well, but better, thinks Emma, for her mother to hear it from her rather than from anyone else.
    â€œI didn’t . . . I mean, I know you don’t actually use that term. I’m only saying it for you.” Her mother stammers slightly, embarrassed at being caught out.
    â€œNaturally,” says Emma. “I don’t know if I can make it, though. It’s such a long way and it’s not like George and I are close. What’s the date?”
    â€œSeptember fifth,” says her mother. “Not too long. Write it down, and do your best. Darling, I know you have a busy life and I knowit’s far to come, but it would mean a lot to all of us. Especially me and your father. He misses you and he’s not doing so well.”
    Emma’s heart skips a beat. “What do you mean? Is he sick?”
    â€œHe has a touch of gout again, and you know what a bear he is when he’s not feeling well. He’d love to see you, darling. Try to make it. I know you will.”
    Emma sighs. “I really don’t know. Let’s talk nearer the time. I’ll do my best.” She knows she won’t, however, knows already that she will come up with an