The Tailor's Girl (25 page)

There was a tap at the door. They both swung around and there stood Benjamin with a bouquet of flowers.

Edie smiled at Ben. ‘Sorry, not open yet.’

‘Let me take you both to dinner,’ he called through the glass.

‘I am no one’s raspberry,’ Madeleine drawled and made Edie suffuse with laughter. ‘What?’

‘It’s gooseberry.’

‘Go on. I can close up. Kiss Tommy for me. Tell him I’m very proud of his walking.’

She kissed Madeleine. ‘Thank you, darling.’ Edie turned to Ben. ‘I’ll just get my coat,’ she called.

‘You’ll need it. It’s the coldest October I remember.’ They walked out arm in arm, and Ben pointed at Sloane Square. ‘Let’s head towards the Star & Garter,’ he suggested.

The streetlamps were already glowing as they walked beneath the endless canopy that stretched out from the deep red brick of the Peter Jones shopfront that soared above them.

‘Do you know, you can walk into this department store now and buy everything from linoleum to a squirrel?’ Edie exclaimed, marvelling at how far down the street the Peter Jones empire now sprawled.

Ben took Edie’s hand and guided her across the broad road, dodging horses pulling their wagonettes and cars rolling slowly behind. ‘How’s the little man?’

‘Tommy’s wonderful. I’m very lucky to have Mrs Miller look after him whenever I need to be alone in the salon. I’ve realised I can do all my design work from home and Mads can run the salon if we have no appointments. And I do the sewing at night and she watches Tommy while he sleeps. It’s a juggle but it works. Oh, I haven’t told you. He’s walking!’

‘Oh! I can’t wait to see that. Now your problems begin, I presume,’ he grinned.

‘I think you’re right. I’ll have to keep making adjustments as he grows. It’s not ideal but for now I’ve got good support and Tommy’s happy.’ She could tell Ben wanted to say something about that final remark and she imagined he would be all too happy to offer his support – financial as much as physical – in a more official capacity, but Edie deliberately swung around to stare at the shops. ‘I really must think about what to get him for his birthday. He never seems to want anything but cardboard boxes and wooden spoons to make noise with.’ She laughed, trying to deflect Ben’s thoughts.

‘I’ve got him a train set.’

‘Oh, Ben, how sweet that you remember!’

‘I can hardly forget holding that boy for the first time last summer. I knew his birthday was close. August 17?’

‘Nineteenth,’ she corrected softly. It was a bittersweet date for her. ‘But a train set? That’s a little extravagant for a one-year-old.’

‘Perhaps. But I wanted a train set for years and years. I think I was ten before I got my first. Who else am I going to spoil if not you two?’

Edie smiled but had to look away. That searching question was not one she wanted to answer. ‘Well, he’s a lucky boy,’ she deflected again, before once more switching subjects. ‘I thought we were going to the pub?’

‘No, you deserve far better than a noisy pub. There’s a new restaurant I’d like to try. Apparently the Dover sole is its star dish.’

‘The flowers are beautiful,’ she said, inhaling from the bouquet and balancing her folder. ‘Perhaps I should have left them at the salon, though.’

‘No, they’re for your new flat.’

‘I love living in Chelsea. And we’re so close to the park.’

‘Well, I love that you’re back in London proper. Means I can see more of you.’

It began to shower and they were instantly scurrying with the rest of London into doorways and shops, and in their case to an early dinner at a dining room that Edie didn’t even catch the name of.

She began shrugging off her lightweight stole, with its fur trim.

‘You look very beautiful, Edie,’ he murmured as he unwrapped it from her shoulders and gave it to the cloakroom assistant.

‘Thank you,’ she said, already knowing the organza and ivory lace handkerchief dress would steal attention. She had a bridal version of this in mind and was trialling the look as a frock first before she invested so much expensive fabric in a gown.

‘Excuse me, Miss. Do you want to leave that here?’ the girl asked, gesturing at Edie’s folder.

Ben glanced at her enquiringly. ‘Go ahead.’

‘No, thank you. Much too precious.’

‘Oh?’ he said, intrigued, casting a smile at the waiter welcoming them. ‘I have a table booked in the name of Levi, please.’

While the man checked his reservations book, Ben looked back at Edie indulgently. ‘Secret salon business?’ he asked, glancing again at the folder.

‘My sketches. My life,’ she said with mock drama in her tone. ‘The competition would love to get its hands on these and make my salon fail before it even opens its doors.’

‘I’m sure it’s safe here, right, young lady?’ Ben said, barely glancing at the cloakroom girl. He quickly moved away to speak with the maitre d’.

The girl was clearly used to being ignored because she didn’t answer Ben and fixed her eyes on Edie. ‘It will only be released with this, I promise,’ she replied, handing Edie a ticket. Edie relented and exchanged the folder for the cloakroom ticket. ‘You don’t have to worry. I will take very good care of it. My name’s Sarah.’

‘Thank you, Sarah.’

The girl smiled and it lit her face. Edie turned back to where Ben stood with the head waiter.

‘Very good, Sir. Please, follow me. We have a lovely table by the window for you.’

After excited chatter about the salon’s opening day, and a main course of Dover sole, Edie licked her lips. ‘I’d forgotten how good butter tastes. It seems like such a treat to be able to buy it whenever I want . . . or sugar, or coffee, or white bread that hasn’t been stretched with coarse grains.’

He smiled. ‘I love watching you eat, Edie. I always have.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Your tiny mouthfuls that seem to incorporate a taste of everything on your plate.’

‘Father’s training. He was always so strict at the table.’

‘I know you miss him.’

‘I do. But the strange thing is, Ben, ever since . . .’ She blinked. ‘I have had to become extremely independent and I’d be lying if I didn’t say I love the freedom that it’s brought.’

‘Actually, I envy you.’

‘Why?’ Edie reached for her glass of wine.

He shrugged. ‘Is it not obvious? I live with my parents! Still do as my father requests, still privately quake at the thought that my mother may tell me off for spilling something on my shirt . . .’

Edie laughed. ‘Then leave home! You’re far too old to be under your parents’ roof.’

Ben looked suddenly energised. ‘Well, I’m excited to tell you that I have been looking at houses. In fact, I think I’ve found one.’

‘Really? Where?’

‘Not far from here, actually. In Chelsea.’

‘Oh . . .’ Edie tried to hide her private dismay at how close he would be by gushing, ‘That’s wonderful.’

‘Yes, now I can walk you home, or take you out more often – both of you, I mean. I’ll have a car permanently in London now.’ Ben’s words were spilling fast and Edie sensed he was selling her on this idea. ‘I’m no longer going to be a man who lives with his parents and nurses a broken heart that still beats for the girl he’s always loved.’

His words silenced her. Edie felt instantly smothered and reminded of past days, but neither was she shocked. She’d felt his proposal coming for weeks. Since allowing him to steal quietly back into her life as the good friends they’d always been, it didn’t seem surprising that he might rekindle his hope for a future together.

He passed what appeared like a nervous, long-fingered hand through coarse black hair. It stayed in place as though made of wire. It gave Ben a luxuriant look. He would never go bald, Edie thought. But then neither would Tom, and she knew whose dark hair she would prefer to feel against her skin. Ben watched her through chocolate-dark eyes carefully. Had he rehearsed this? She felt instantly sorry for him, still as boyish in his looks as his moods; still looking for her approval, still wanting to impress her and yet at the same time own her, control her . . .

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, realising she wasn’t going to fill the awkward silence. ‘Nothing’s changed for me.’ He daringly took her hand, looking concerned at her silence. ‘Forgive me, Edie. I wanted to help you celebrate, not make you feel uncomfortable.’

‘There’s nothing to forgive, Ben. You’ve always been very sweet to me.’

‘Ouch!’ He let go of her, reached for his wine and sank a big gulp. ‘I hate being thought of as sweet. Anyway, now there’s a little boy to worry about. You know how much I enjoy him. He needs a father. I want to —’

‘He has a father.’

‘I mean, your son needs a man in his life. He’s surrounded by women.’

Edie forced herself to breathe despite how suddenly suffocated she felt. ‘His name is Tommy. You never say it.’

‘Tommy,’ he replied.

‘You don’t like it, do you?’

He shrugged but she saw the guilt as he dropped his gaze quickly. ‘You couldn’t blame me for it not being my favourite name. But his middle name I like enormously.’

‘Ben . . .’ He looked up. ‘I hurt you. I loved another. I still do.’ She noticed a different, unreadable expression now ghost across Ben’s usually open face. Edie shook her head. ‘What?’

‘Nothing,’ he said, clearly smiling with an effort. She detected the false note in his bright tone. ‘Sorry, I was just thinking about the old days and how boring I must have seemed. I did so love you, though, Edie, and impossible though it seems, I think I love you even more now. I let you go because I had to. But I don’t have to any more. I need you to know that I don’t care that you were in love with another man.’

‘That I married another man,’ she corrected.

‘Tom’s not coming back, Edie,’ he said carefully, searching her face.

Edie twirled her glass, staring at the sparkles of colour the candlelight cast in the crystal. She made a helpless mental note to remember them for a design using crystal beads that was flitting around the rim of her mind. ‘I’m not dense. I’m just stubborn about accepting it.’ She looked back up at Ben’s earnest expression. ‘I don’t believe he’s dead. I think I would know it in here,’ she said, touching her heart. ‘That’s my problem.’

‘Well, if it’s any consolation, I have long ago accepted that you did love Tom. And there was no room for me once he arrived into your life. But now that Tom’s gone . . .’

She couldn’t respond, refused to join him in this conversation and instead let the silence hang between them.

Ben cleared his throat softly. ‘Yes . . . now he’s gone. And you’re still the same gorgeous Edie I was always in love with, except now there’s Tommy and he needs more. I know you’re lonely even though you have a child and Madeleine and a host of new acquaintances. I know you’re still the same Edie in here,’ he said, touching his chest. ‘You want Tommy to have a brother or sister. You still like the idea of being part of a family. You still believe in marriage.’ He shrugged. ‘You’re still Jewish. No one understands you better than I do, or can offer you what you need more than I can.’

Now she had to correct him. She opened her mouth but he held up a hand.

‘Wait, Edie. Just let me say this. I’ve come to see all that you are, all that you want to be, and I realise I made errors before in underestimating you and your needs, your dreams. I’m different now.’

Are you, Ben?
She didn’t believe him; if anything he was becoming more embedded in the ways of the older generation – his occupation alone pushed him deeper into tradition. Edie suspected the idea that women would very likely win the equal right to vote alongside men in the next decade privately disturbed him. He did have a fascination with Tommy, though – she had sensed that long ago – and his fondness for her child was as hard to dispute as it was to fathom. Of all children to love, why would he fall for the child of the man he loathed? Perhaps because Tommy was captivating in an innocent and helplessly sunny way, or maybe it was just another way to exert control. Tom’s wife, Tom’s child . . . trying to make them both his. And her son was everyone’s friend. He gave his affections with great ease and Ben had obviously been as seduced as Madeleine or Lulu. And he was a boy – that would be important to a traditional man like Ben. Tommy was dark and small. Was Ben convincing himself that Tommy could pass as his son? Edie felt sorrow ripple through her; it didn’t need much imagination to see that if echoes had shapes, then Tommy was an echo of his father and would grow as tall and strong as the next boy.

Ben was still talking. ‘I want children too, but we have time.’

‘I would like Tommy to have a brother or sister . . . or both,’ she sighed and saw his hopes lift. She shouldn’t have shared that.

‘Edie, I can hire the help you might need so that you can have family and career. I know you want to go to New York . . . we can take a transatlantic cruise for our honeymoon.’ His eyes were shining with eagerness in the candlelight and Edie could tell he’d been planning this all carefully. ‘I won’t rush you. Just please say you’ll consider what I’m asking and not ignore the fact that we’re both lonely. I can make you happy, Edie, if you’ll let me.’

‘You forget I’m still married, Ben.’

He shook his head. ‘And you forget I’m a solicitor. There are legal ways to deal with your situation. I can legally adopt Tommy. I can give him my name.’ She tried not to shrink back when he took her hand.
Tommy Levi?
Or would he want that name changed to
Daniel Levi
once they were married? ‘Just think about it, Edie.’

She nodded without commitment but with no intention of Tommy being anything but Valentine. ‘Tell me about Sol,’ Edie said, shifting subject as smoothly as she could.

‘It’s not good. The cancer has spread.’

‘I wish he’d said something to my father.’

Ben shrugged.

‘I’ve been remiss in not seeing him. He was my father’s close friend.’

‘Sol understands.’ He cleared his throat. ‘He’s never fully forgiven himself for Tom’s disappearance.’

‘There’s no blame to be laid. However, perhaps saying it aloud – offering forgiveness – is something I can give him before he passes away. I think I’ll take Tommy on the bus and visit him tomorrow.’