The Tailor's Girl (26 page)

‘I’d come with you but I have to drive my parents to Brighton.’

‘No need,’ she said before smiling, remembering it was every late August that a most important birthday occurred. ‘Great Aunt Esther?’

He nodded. ‘You see, you do belong in our family. Her ninety-second. Mother says she’ll live forever.’

She could almost hear the cogs in his brain turning and before he could offer up the inevitable invitation, she gave a small, embarrassed yawn. ‘Wish her well from me. Now, I’d better go,’ she said, taking out the cloakroom ticket from her clutch bag. ‘I said I’d pick Tommy up by seven. Thank you for a most lovely evening. Actually, can you get this for me?’ she said, handing him the ticket. ‘I’ll just powder my nose.’ She rose from her seat, glad to make her escape.

When Edie returned Ben was already at the doorway with her coat and folder. He hailed her a taxi and after the expected expressions of good luck for her long-awaited debut, he surprised Edie by placing a gentle but perhaps overly familiar kiss, aimed deliberately for her mouth. ‘Think about what I said,’ he murmured into her shock. ‘Not for a day since November 1919 have I ever stopped being in love with you.’

‘Ben, I don’t —’

‘Nonsense,’ he said with such confidence it felt like a reprimand. ‘We were so in love before you lost Daniel, before Tom came along. You’ve just forgotten.’ He grinned and banged the top of the taxi. ‘See you very soon. My love to Tommy.’

Edie felt lost for words at his condescension and knew her expression must have looked equally as blank. She dug deep for a smile but came up wanting and instead forced herself to nod, not sure what other gesture to give. And as the taxi eased away from the kerb, Edie was highly aware that Ben’s kiss felt as awkward now on her lips as it always had.

It was Saturday and Alex trailed after his mother in the orangery, holding a small basket she’d thrust into his hands fifteen minutes earlier. It was now filling with dead leaves that her sharp garden snips and equally sharp gaze had dealt with.

‘Mother?’

‘I heard you, Lex.’

‘Well?’

She straightened and eyed him. ‘What do you want me to say?’

‘That you approve, perhaps.’

‘I suppose I do.’

‘But?’

She sighed, pulled off her gloves and threw them into the basket with the snips. ‘Put that down. Let’s have some coffee. It’s too cold for this today anyway.’

Cecily led her son into the morning room, where comfy armchairs hugged a small but merrily dancing fire. She pulled on a long tapestry ribbon that rang a bell in the bowels of Larksfell and told the staff that the Wynters were ready for their coffee to be served.

‘Well?’ he said.

‘Let’s wait for our refreshments. How’s everything? I haven’t seen you in what must be a fortnight. Bramson said you’d been up north? I swear you’re avoiding me.’

He shook his head. ‘I was checking out our investments in the steelworks at Newcastle. Shipping of the passenger kind is the future.’

‘Really, darling, you should know your father’s business dealings didn’t hold an iota of interest for me and yours don’t either. Is that rude?’

He laughed. ‘Your candour is.’

‘Oh dear, and I thought that was what my Wynter men liked best about me.’

He leaned in to give her a kiss as he helped her to her seat. ‘It is, Mother. To answer your question,
everything
is fine.’

They made some small talk about the family; whether or not Phelps was indeed the best match for Charlotte, the fact that Fern was coming around more often again and that Rupe needed distraction of the work – rather than social – kind. They both agreed to go ahead with the scholarship in his father’s name that one of the universities was hunting and to make a large donation to King’s for its new library.

The coffee tray duly arrived and Bramson supervised as a maid laid out the cups on saucers and a tall pot.

‘I’ve warmed the milk as you like, Ma’am. Would you like me to pour for you?’

‘No, that’s fine, thank you, Elsie. My son enjoys waiting on his mother,’ she said and the shy girl grinned back before she left.

Bramson nodded at them both and left. Alex poured the coffee, enjoying inhaling the aroma of the infusion from the African beans his mother had roasted to her specifications in Hove. But with the intoxicating smell came a memory of yearning.

‘I think I would have run across no-man’s-land naked for a cup of real coffee in my darkest days.’ At his mother’s unhappy expression, he added: ‘I can’t help it. The most simple experiences can trigger a memory,’ Alex said.

‘You must try not to remember, darling,’ Cecily said, surprising him. ‘We all know it must have been awful but everyone is looking to the future now.’

‘The future isn’t easy, Mother. The boom following the war has been short-lived and stocks are crashing all over Europe. It hasn’t affected us Wynters, for reasons I shan’t risk boring you with, but people are doing it very tough out there in the real world . . . people like Elsie.’

‘I think we look after our staff rather well,’ Cecily said, accepting her coffee. ‘Better than the Favershams treat theirs, for instance.’

‘I used Elsie simply as a metaphor for all the working families of Britain. Times are going to stay hard for most of the population. Unrest will be next, as the workers begin to get rankled at conditions, lack of pay rises, the usual problems, and after all the suffering they feel they have a right to expect more from employers.’

‘Alexander, I could reel off a dozen fine families to you right now who have all lost two or more male members of their family. I think our level of society paid just as high a price as Elsie’s lot, as our men felt obliged to head off to war and lead.’

‘I know, I know, Mother. I was one of them, remember?’ He gave her a soft look of apology. ‘This wasn’t what I wanted to talk to you about. It’s about Pen.’

‘Hmm, Pretty Penny,’ she said and sipped at her coffee. ‘Ah, that’s hitting the spot.’

Alex frowned, his gaze drifting to the flames.

‘Lex?’

He seemed not to hear her.

‘Alex, are you all right?’

‘Forgive me,’ he said, sounding worried. ‘Something you said . . . it . . .’

‘What did I say? We were talking about Penelope Aubrey-Finch, weren’t we?’

It was gone, whatever it was. ‘Yes . . . um, yes, we were.’

‘Darling, are you sure about this?’ his mother asked, sounding tired. ‘Is she really right for you?’

‘Do you mean her age?’

‘Her age, her history with us . . .’

‘Except she’s not a blood relative, Mother. And I would have thought her family, pedigree, everything about her, in fact, would suit the Wynter aspirations perfectly. She’s young, I agree, but she’s surprisingly composed.’

‘I do know what you mean,’ Cecily admitted. ‘And I would be lying if I didn’t also tell you that I have more time for Penelope than I do for most young women I meet. But are you ready for marriage? Ready to really settle down? Perhaps you need more time . . .’

‘I find her utterly charming and if I refuse her now . . . I may hurt her enough to lose her.’ He drained his coffee. ‘She told me last night that if I choose not to marry her – and she’s fully accepting that I may not – then she’s going off on a transatlantic voyage and then a grand European tour. She may even choose to live in America permanently.’

‘Good grief,’ she said with appropriate shock, but then skewered her son with a look. ‘Do you really care?’

‘What an odd remark.’

‘I don’t think so. A mother knows her child. You can trick the world but you can’t trick me.’

Alex now inhaled visibly with exasperation. ‘What do I have to do? Burst into song? Do a tap dance?’

‘Be quiet, Lex. Now listen to me. When I asked you to engage with life and take up social opportunities, I did not mean for you to marry the first girl who caught your eye.’ She held up a finger to stop him. ‘Hear me out. Penny is a favourite of mine, and your father loved her like a daughter, so you can be confident nothing would have made him happier than to see the two of you walk down the aisle together. But!’ She leaned forward, placing her cup and saucer on the table beside her but not allowing him to wriggle off the skewer she had him on. ‘She deserves so much more than being a convenient means to an end for you.’

‘That’s grossly unfair.’

‘Is it? You don’t love her, Lex, do you?’

He lifted a guilty shoulder and looked at his hands. ‘She’s waited a long time, Mother, carried a torch around for me when most would have given up. She’s proved her love. I can learn to love her, can’t I?’

Cecily’s lips tightened.

‘I will be very attentive.’

‘But absent.’

‘No. I’ll make a promise to you now that if —’

‘I mean in here,’ his mother said, covering her heart.

Alex took a long, deep breath that was full of sadness. He shook his head. ‘I can’t let it go. I’ve tried throwing myself into work – thinking distraction would help. I’ve tried attending all of Pen’s social engagements but I loathe them. I went fishing in Scotland – hoping isolation and silence would open up my mind. And I just felt lonely. I’ve even taken up gardening – have you noticed?’

‘Clarrie showed me your new roses.’

‘I don’t know why but I see old roses in my mind and I thought maybe planting new ones and cutting their blooms might trigger something. But nothing’s coming. I’m now of the belief that I have to start from scratch. It’s not the life I yearn for but then I don’t know what it is I’m yearning for. So I shall build a new life and make that work, or I might as well be dead in the trenches with the rest of the Tommies.’

‘Don’t say that.’

‘I’m dead in here, Mother,’ he revealed, echoing her gesture by covering his heart, and could see her grimace at his honesty. ‘I can’t explain it. I don’t love Pen as I imagine I’m supposed to but I am terribly fond of her and I know I can bring her happiness if I agree to what she wants. And she is extremely determined to be my wife. I have no defence against her. To say anything but yes is to hurt her deeply and I have no alternative. So why not? I can make it work.’

‘You could also ruin her life.’

He shrugged. The gesture looked helpless rather than heartless.

‘What greater insult is there to a woman than unrequited love?’

‘What do you want me to do?’ he snapped suddenly, standing and moving to lean on the mantelpiece, glowering at her. ‘I’m trying to please everyone. Marrying Pen gives some structure – a framework to build upon. I have to start somewhere.’

‘And not please yourself,’ she said in a terse voice.

‘I can’t please myself because I don’t know how to. This pain has got to stop.’ Alex withdrew from his pocket the red handkerchief.

Cecily frowned. ‘What’s this?’

‘This is what I’m reaching for. But don’t ask me what it means.’

His mother blinked at the red square with a heart shape cut out of its middle. ‘It could mean nothing.’

He nodded and sighed. ‘Or everything.’

‘But no one has come forward in the past two years.’

‘Exactly! That’s why I’ve let Pen get close.’

Cecily pulled a face of resignation.

‘I suppose I’ve reached the conclusion that I could spend the next few years wondering about that lost chunk of my life,’ he said, his finger tracing the shape of the heart, ‘or I could just get on with living. Penelope offers me that chance.’

‘You make it sound so clinical.’

‘But with Pen it doesn’t feel that way. We’re good together.’

‘I suppose you want my blessing?’ she asked.

He leaned over and kissed his mother’s cheek. ‘How does a May wedding suit you?’

She smiled and he hated that she looked as sad as he privately felt. ‘Well, darling, I suppose Larksfell always does look its best in spring.’

_______________

Tommy sat on Edie’s lap as they rode the bus.

‘Hello, gorgeous,’ the conductor said to Edie as he ruffled Tommy’s hair. ‘You sure you’re not meant to be taking a taxi?’

She smiled, realising she probably did look conspicuous, but this was conservative dressing for her. At least the styling was; perhaps the tangerine of her otherwise plain dress was loud enough to attract attention, and clashing it with a fuchsia ribbon on her summer hat certainly didn’t reduce its bright effect. ‘Golders Green, please.’

‘Great day to be up here,’ he said, looking around the empty top deck. ‘Bit early for most, though, on a Sunday.’

She smiled politely and took their tickets. ‘Yes, I thought Tommy would enjoy it.’

Finally new people stepped aboard. ‘Have a great day, you two,’ he winked.

She nodded, hugging Tommy closer. ‘Everything all right with you?’ she whispered, kissing his warm, plump cheek.

He nodded happily. Tommy was not a great talker but she’d accustomed herself to his quiet way. Perhaps he takes after his father’s side, she sometimes wondered.

She put her cheek alongside his and stared at what Tommy seemed mesmerised by: the buses and cars grinding alongside. ‘Horsey.’ He pointed.

‘Big, isn’t he? And strong like you,’ she said, losing count of the tiny teeth he could now smile widely with. He was growing so fast.

Tommy nodded. He turned around on her lap to follow the progress of the horse and she stared at his bright, open expression and experienced a familiar sense of melting, a cleaving of hearts.
I wish you could see him, Tom
, she said silently. ‘You know something, Tommy? You make me want to be better at everything.’ He didn’t understand and he was straining to catch a final glimpse of the horse. His breath smelled of sugar from the three jelly babies she’d allowed him to choose and put in his pocket, encouraging him to say the colours aloud as he’d selected them with focused precision. Red, green and yellow, which he’d pronounced ‘Lello’. That was what she was going to call the canary she planned to give him for his birthday. Next year, maybe a puppy.

‘Are you looking forward to your party?’

He nodded shyly, and surprised her by planting a long, wet kiss on her nose that she was sure tasted of jelly baby.

She felt a sting of happy tears.
And so much more enjoyable than a kiss from Ben,
she thought privately.

_______________

Edie was aware that an old grief had her in its maw as she watched the dying man sleep. Sol’s complexion looked grey and he’d withered to half the person she recalled. He lay in the bed looking frighteningly small and if not for the weak, laboured rise of his chest, she could believe his spirit had already fled.

‘Wake him,’ Irena had urged. ‘He would want to know you’re both here. I’ll make some coffee. Come on, darling, you come with Aunty Irena.’ Sol’s wife had gestured for Edie to proceed into the bedroom as she steered the little boy into the kitchen, but it wasn’t awkwardness she was feeling; it was fear. Fear of being reminded of her previous life – the one she’d worked hard to distance herself from.

She needed to find the courage, though. ‘Sol . . .’ she whispered. Edie moved closer and took his hand. It was dry and his skin looked as thin as onion skin. ‘Sol, it’s me, Edie. Edie Valentine.’

He stirred. ‘Edie?’ he croaked and his eyelids fluttered.

‘Yes, I’m here.’

Sol turned. ‘I thought I was dreaming. Hello, beautiful.’

She smiled at the affectionate nickname, and the inevitable tears fell for a good man and old friend.

‘No crying for me, Edie. It’s not so bad, love. No pain.’

‘Oh, Sol. I’m so sorry I haven’t been to —’

‘Hush now. You’ve made my day.’ He frowned. ‘Is it day?’

She gave a watery laugh, glancing at the windows that had their heavy curtains drawn. ‘Yes.’

‘The light hurts my eyes. Shame. I’d prefer to go looking out at the sky.’

‘Don’t, Sol,’ she murmured.

‘Irena told me all about how you’re getting on. You’ll make us all proud.’