Mary Killen

Q. A long-standing artist friend, whose work now commands high prices, has sent me out of the blue a present of one of her paintings. She clearly didn’t realise after all these years that, although I have always been immensely fond of her, I have never been a fan of her work. I am grateful and will keep it in my attic but wouldn’t dream of selling it while she is still alive. My friend now lives abroad but is the sort of person who might suddenly turn up in London with no warning and drop in without ringing first. I would hate to hurt her feelings by not having her painting in pride of place were this to happen, but it is large and overpowering and there is simply nowhere in my house where it wouldn’t jar with the existing decor. Any suggestions, Mary?

Q. My cleaner is industrious and trustworthy but she doesn’t have many people to talk to and evidently looks forward to her shifts as social occasions. She loves having a captive audience (my brother and I are currently WFH) and her conversation consists mainly of complaints, so it’s never a fun chat. It’s generally a bit of a downer and lending a sympathetic ear is becoming rather exhausting. I always end up going for a walk during her shift, even though it doesn’t suit me. It has taken me so long to find a half-decent cleaner that I don’t want to let her go. Mary, what should I do? — R.W., London SW7 A. Turn your cleaner’s presence to your advantage.

Q. I live alone, happily and remotely, but many miles from my immediate family. My son’s wife has very kindly taken it on herself to telephone every day to check on my wellbeing. Apparently she feels that, by so doing, she is giving me the chance to have ‘a chat’. I am grateful, of course, but my problem is that she talks for at least ten minutes each time and, unfortunately, what she has to say is not exactly scintillating. I am concerned that if this goes on, she will start to worry that I find her boring, so can you think of a tactful way in which I can discourage her from the lengthy conversation part of these calls? — Name and address withheld A. You shouldn’t discourage the chats. Even the dullness of them is informative.

From Lady Antonia Fraser Q. I enjoy getting readers’ letters, but there is one category I am at a loss how to deal with. These are from readers who inform me that in another life, another incarnation, they were one of my historical characters, their present lives being generally very different. Most striking was the vicar’s wife who wrote to me after reading my King Charles II: ‘I am now the hard-working wife of a clergyman but in another life I was that naughty minx Nell Gwyn.’ Occasionally there has been aggression: ‘How dare you write about my wife, Mary Queen of Scots?’ signed ‘formerly Lord Darnley’. A great many people seem to have once been Marie Antoinette. Should I answer them as they were — or as they are?

Q. My mother-in-law has remarried and now lives in South America. She has a large family with nieces, grandchildren, godchildren, etc. So what she has done is ordered all these different Christmas presents for them to be sent via Amazon to my house for me to individually gift wrap and take to the post office. It is such a tedious and time-consuming job and I suspect she won’t reimburse me either. I need to stop this happening next year but how? — Name and address withheld A. When your mother-in-law thanks you, tell her that it was a pleasure to help. But the really good news is that seeing you faffing with all the parcels has given an idea to one of your friend’s children — a penniless but reliable student.

Q. We have moved into a terraced house in a seaside town. Our joy is confined, however, by the fact that our next-door neighbour has bought a new car but left his old derelict vehicle on his driveway as well. Although he takes great care never to walk on our garden, often his visitors do not and a muddy track is developing. We have asked about the disposal of the old car but he is a lethargic (although delightful) man. How can I cause the derelict car to disappear without starting a feud? — L.C., Hastings A. Contact a local scrap or car dealer and openly explain the position. Would they be interested in purchasing the car — in theory? How much for? They only need the number plate to give a quote. Then ask your lethargic neighbour if he will sell the car to you.

Q. I belong to a fairly intimate private club which is the one reliable oasis of calm and civility that I know of outside my own home. Now an old schoolfriend is pressuring me to propose him for membership (he needs the endorsement of a club member and I am the only one he knows). He is a dear friend who has been kind to me, and I owe him a favour, but he is also extremely jovial and loud and I know he would bring raucous groups of people like himself into the club. This would spoil the atmosphere and end up by making me unpopular with other members. How can I solve this, Mary? — Name withheld, Edinburgh A. Agree to write the proposal and hand it over in person to the club secretary.

Q. We have recently installed security cameras in our remote holiday house in the south of France and I was surprised to be alerted to an intruder in the garden who was easily identifiable as our young female neighbour who owns a farm across the road. She was, armed with a plastic bag, helping herself to walnuts from a tree in the garden. I watched a little affronted because she had never asked permission, and decided to activate the alarm. She ran off and vaulted the wooden gates at the front of the property and ran straight across the road to her home. Later on, we heard that she has been telling neighbours that our alarm seems to be faulty.

Q. My husband has fallen in love with ‘the country’ and retired to Exmoor while I maintain a presence in our Notting Hill residence for work. The problem is he has left his London study, carved from half our ground-floor sitting room, in its traditional disordered condition as if he has only popped out to buy milk — drifts of detritus, newspapers and plastic bags on every surface. I would like to Marie Kondo the study but I don’t dare tidy it as he will accuse me of throwing away even more things he has in fact lost himself. It is also a terrible waste to have half our available reception space reduced to a Tracey Emin-style installation. Your solution please? — R.J., London W11 A. Think Francis Bacon rather than Marie Kondo.

Q. I will shortly be attending a major social gathering in London at which I can look forward to seeing some dear old friends and speaking to them in person for the first time in many months. Therein lies the problem. I will probably not be able to speak to these key people. I can anticipate that, just when I am properly engaging with someone who is normally too busy to talk on the telephone, and with whom I have a lot of ground to cover, a ‘person from Porlock’ will hove into view and bring our intimate chat to a halt. Mary, my question is: how, without being rude, do you get the message across that you would like to exchange small talk with such an acquaintance later — but please don’t disturb us just now? — S.T., Chirton, Wilts A.

Q. Our two daughters often bring friends down for the weekend. These friends are more than welcome; we enjoy their company and most have perfect manners — except they never leave a tip. Our daughters claim that no one of their age group (early twenties) carries cash and that even if they remind their guests to bring some to leave in their room, they are so unused to using cash points that most of them still forget. How should I insist without striking a bullying or inhospitable note? — N.H., Bridport, Dorset A. Make it easier for the guests by casually mentioning that you have been out to a cashpoint and stocked up, so anyone who wants to borrow cash for a tip can come to you.

Q. During lockdown I made good friends with a neighbour who I would never have met otherwise. This man lives so close that he now regularly comes to informal dinners at our house. Unfortunately he has a habit of ‘double dipping’ his used fork into jars of redcurrant jelly, mustard, whatever — even though I always supply saucers and teaspoons. It means I have to throw away half-full jars when he has left. How can I stop this without drawing attention to his table manners and making him feel too shy to come again? I want to introduce this adorable man to other friends but feel I can’t while he has this disgusting habit. — Name withheld, Bath A.

Q. On a train journey the other day I sat opposite someone I found immensely attractive. We struck up a conversation and talked for 40 minutes until he left the train, a few stops before my own destination. I am 90 per cent sure he returned my feelings, but he was rather a shy man and we had talked for just too short a time to merit the exchange of contact details. Mary, I’m in despair but what could I have said, without seeming pushy, to ensure we could meet again? — E.W., Exeter A. When such a promising brief encounter occurs, swiftly taper the conversation to allow you to ask whether the love interest is familiar with… then name the most obscure book you can think of.

Q. An acquaintance suggested organising a celebratory dinner in honour of some mutual friends. He asked my husband and me, along with the other proposed guests, if we would all contribute towards the cost. The evening, in the private room of a top London restaurant, was a huge success and, as agreed, the organiser paid the bill and later sent us all emails with his bank account details to reimburse him. We have now heard that the friends in whose honour the dinner was held are under the impression that the party was paid for solely by the organiser and have been singing his praises ever since. I am not suggesting he misled them, but they may not have been concentrating if or when he explained it was — financially at least — a group effort.

Q. I have recently become a widow. Since my son is away at university, I had the idea of charging a modest rate to informally rent out his bedroom to friends and friends of friends who happen to need a bed in the city for a night. I include dinner and breakfast in the rate but can still make a much-needed profit. My problem is that some charming friends of friends have booked in twice and want to make it a regular thing, but they insist on taking me out for a slap-up dinner at a smart restaurant in lieu of the small payment. I don’t think they are remotely aware of my delicate financial situation. Any ideas about how I can tactfully put the record straight, Mary? I very much enjoy their company but that’s beside the point. I need the cash. — H.W., Edinburgh A.

Q. I never lie about my age but I try not to think — or talk — about it. Now an old school friend, who has been living abroad for many years, has just come back to the UK and is planning to move here permanently. Unlike me, she is letting her hair go grey. Admirable though her authenticity may be, when virtually all the women from her old circle have highlights or full colour she, known to be roughly our age, but three-quarters grey, shows the rest of us up. At a recent wedding, more than one of us was quietly, but tactlessly told, as though it were a compliment, words to the effect of ‘you look decades younger than your exact contemporary’. We know we are shallow but we don’t appreciate our true ages being ‘outed’ like this at social events.

Q. I recently attended a wedding which was (for me) quite ‘grand’, with a church ceremony followed by a reception. I cleared my diary for the weekend. The wedding, in Exeter, was organised by wedding planners who inundated me with pieces of paper and emails about the logistics, but on arriving at the church and speaking to some friends it became apparent that there was a separate evening party to which I had not been invited. The groom is not a close friend, and I was delighted to have been invited just to the wedding and reception, but I was in the difficult position of deflecting the question in order not to seem ungracious. Looking again at the invitation and accompanying materials, there is no hint to be found anywhere that the reception did not last into the evening.

Q. My granddaughter Jane has been asked on a date to the Wolseley by George (both pseudonyms). Although she finds him attractive, and is flattered by the invitation to an institution like the Wolseley, she can’t bring herself to go because of his intensely bad body odour. Mary, how can she accept the invitation while also getting him to promise to wear deodorant? — Name and address withheld A. Deodorant wouldn’t crack the issue. It sounds like George needs a full hose-down — and probably for his trainers to be binned. Let Jane accept the invitation but suggest that they ‘make a night of it’ since you, her grandmother, have given her two vouchers for a Turkish bath treatment in a luxury hammam near the Wolseley: ‘Let’s go there first!