Victoria Connelly - The Rose Girl Read online

  She still couldn’t believe it – two whole days and nights with James. They’d really get a chance to be together without looking at their watches or worrying that they might be spotted together, and goodness only knew that he needed some time away from Samantha. He’d been so stressed recently and she knew that some time out – some time out with her – would do him no end of good. It would also be a good time to talk about their future together, she thought, and make some serious plans about what they were going to do.

  Gertie sighed with contentment and gave herself a little spray of the Penhaligon Gardenia which James had bought her, the summery fragrance making her smile as she awaited the warmth of the heart notes that included rose as well as gardenia.

  As she brushed her hair, she thought of the time when she’d first met James. He and Samantha had moved to Little Eleigh two years ago. It had been after Samantha’s riding accident and they’d bought the barn conversion on the edge of the village and had had it adapted to suit Samantha’s needs. She’d seen him around when she’d driven by but it wasn’t until the village show last summer that they’d actually spoken. Gertie had entered some of the home baking categories and he’d been standing by the table as she’d placed her Victoria sandwich down with consummate attention just before the doors were closed for the judges.

  ‘You’ve done this before, haven’t you?’ he said.

  ‘Once or twice,’ she said.

  ‘And won?’

  ‘Once or twice,’ she said. ‘Are you entering?’

  He laughed. ‘Home baking? You must be joking. But I have a little something in the garden produce.’

  ‘Oh?’

  He nodded to the cucumbers. ‘Second on the left.’

  Gertie gasped. ‘That’s a pretty impressive cucumber!’ she said. They caught one another’s eyes and simultaneously burst into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. One of the judges had had to ask them to leave.

  ‘I’m James,’ he said as they left the hall together.

  ‘Gertie.’

  He’d shaken her hand and held it a moment longer than he really needed to, and their eyes had locked. Right then, Gertie had known that she was lost even though she knew he was a married man and even though she knew his wife was an invalid.

  It sounded awful when you thought about it and she knew exactly how it would look to her sisters and the inhabitants of Little Eleigh if her affair ever became known. But nobody really knew the truth about James and Samantha. He’d told her bits and pieces about their past together and she knew how deeply unhappy he’d been before Samantha’s accident.

  ‘We were going to separate,’ he’d told Gertie. ‘We hadn’t said as much in words but it was understood, and then that accident happened and neither of us broached the subject again. We’ve just been living this awful half-life where we can’t stand each other’s company but don’t know how to escape. And then you came along and life was good again.’

  Gertie smiled as she remembered his words and how much they’d meant to her during her mother’s illness.

  ‘I hadn’t smiled or laughed in months, years!’ he’d told her. ‘But you made me remember that there was goodness and joy in the world and silly jokes about cucumbers.’

  James had been such a comfort to Gertie whilst Penelope had been ill. He understood what it was like to be responsible for somebody who was sick and he made sure that Gertie never forgot how to smile even during the bleakest of times. He’d been so kind and sweet to her and she’d never forget that.

  Gertie got up from her place at the dressing table. She’d packed a tiny overnight bag which she’d have to sneak out of the house without her sisters seeing. Her plan was to ring Evie later that evening and say that she’d met up with an old friend and was staying the night with her. How she’d explain the second night away was less straightforward.

  She walked down the stairs and, sure enough, Evie was in the living room as if waiting to pounce on her.

  ‘I’m off, then,’ Gertie called through casually.

  ‘Back late?’ Evie called back.

  ‘Very late, I imagine.’

  ‘Have a nice time. I hope it all works out.’

  ‘I hope so too,’ Gertie said with a little smile before leaving on her secret assignation.

  After Gertrude had left, Evie walked through to the study where she guessed Celeste would be found. She wasn’t looking forward to seeing her sister, she admitted to herself, because she knew that Celeste would have handed their family’s beloved paintings over by now, and for that she could never forgive her.

  She tapped politely on the door before letting herself in.

  ‘You still working?’ she asked, walking over to where Frinton was sitting and rubbing the soft spot behind his right ear.

  ‘No, not really,’ Celeste said. ‘I can’t concentrate.’

  ‘I see he’s taken the paintings,’ Evie said, nodding towards the bare wall where the rose paintings used to hang and swallowing a hard lump in her throat. Six perfect rectangles of bright flock wallpaper, previously protected from the sun’s fading rays, now drew the eye instead of the artworks.

  ‘Yes,’ Celeste said. ‘He said we could change our minds whenever we wanted to.’

  ‘Did he?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But you won’t, will you?’ Evie said.

  Celeste shook her head. ‘We can’t afford to. You know that, don’t you?’

  Evie looked down into Frinton’s furry face.

  ‘Evie?’

  ‘Yes!’ she blurted. ‘I know that,’ she added in a gentler voice.

  Celeste sighed. ‘You’re not the only one who’s going to miss those paintings, Evie. I am too, you know.’

  ‘Are you?’

  ‘Of course I am,’ she said. ‘Why do you keep making me out to be the bad guy here? I don’t want to sell them. It wasn’t on the top of my list of things I really want to do today but they could make us hundreds of thousands of pounds.’

  Evie took this piece of news in her stride.

  ‘Yes, well, the room looks horrible now,’ she said, looking up from the floor.

  ‘I know,’ Celeste agreed. ‘I feel like I’ve robbed it and that I should apologise or something.’

  ‘And Mum would have hated selling them too,’ Evie said.

  ‘You don’t know that, Evie.’

  ‘Oh, and you do?’

  ‘I just think –’

  ‘After being away so long, you suddenly know what Mum would’ve thought, do you?’

  ‘I’m not saying that,’ Celeste said, trying desperately not to raise her voice and so escalate the argument. ‘I actually think Mum would have been able to make the right decision for the house, just as we’re going to do now.’ She watched as Evie seemed to calm down a little.

  ‘As long as all this saves the house,’ Evie said, and she watched as Celeste bit her lip.

  ‘It might not be enough to do that, I’m afraid,’ Celeste said.

  Evie stood back up to full height. ‘Well, it had better be,’ she said, ‘because I’m not even going to discuss the alternative.’ And she left the room before her sister could say any more.

  12.

  Gertie drove the little white van over the border in to Cambridgeshire. James had texted her the name of the village where she could park and he could pick her up, and his silver BMW was there waiting when she pulled up. She grabbed the little overnight bag she’d managed to sneak out of the house and locked the van.

  ‘I feel like a spy or something,’ she said a moment later as she opened the car door and got in beside James.

  ‘As long as nobody spies us,’ James said, giving her one of his heart-melting smiles and leaning forward to kiss her.

  ‘We’ve crossed into a whole other county now,’ Gertie said. ‘We should be safe, shouldn’t we? Or should I put a baseball cap and sunglasses on?’ She was joking but something inside her couldn’t help shrivelling up with shame because, no matter how many times she just
ified what she was doing, she was still having an affair with a married man.

  ‘Don’t cover yourself up,’ James told her. ‘You look so pretty.’

  Gertie beamed with happiness.

  ‘You know, I wasn’t sure if you’d come,’ he continued.

  ‘Why would you think that?’ she asked.

  He shrugged. ‘I thought you might not want to leave those roses of yours after all.’

  She laughed. ‘You’re far more important to me than my roses!’ she said. ‘You’re my future!’

  He gave her a brief smile.

  ‘And I have this really strong feeling that we’re going to be together one day really soon – together properly. Don’t you?’

  He turned to look at her. ‘Of course I do,’ he said, and Gertie sighed with pleasure as they set off.

  The landscape of the Fens stretched out for miles in every direction, flat and featureless. It was so very different from the gently rolling hills of the Stour Valley yet, in its way, it possessed a sort of bleak beauty, drawing the attention upwards to the enormous sky and the patterns of the clouds. The sky that evening was beautiful, with slashes of lavender and streaks of apricot as the sun slowly set.

  They drove through a little village and then turned left along a tree-lined driveway. The hotel was a large Georgian manor house with enormous sash windows and topiary guarding what looked like an impressive garden.

  ‘James, it’s gorgeous!’ Gertie said, finding it impossible to hide her excitement and play it cool as she’d told herself she would.

  ‘I wanted to treat you,’ he said, taking her hand and kissing it.

  She flashed a smile at him.

  After parking the car, James ushered Gertie across a lawn that led down to a beautiful stretch of river.

  ‘This is really special,’ Gertie said, looking across at the immaculate lawn and the impressive view back to the hotel. ‘I feel thoroughly spoilt.’

  ‘Good,’ he said, enveloping her in a warm embrace. ‘You smell so good.’

  ‘It’s the perfume you bought me.’

  ‘No, it isn’t,’ he said.

  ‘No?’ She looked up at him.

  ‘It’s you! Essence of Gertrude. There’s nothing quite like it in the world.’

  She laughed. ‘So what exactly makes up this “Essence of Gertrude”?’

  James looked thoughtful for a moment. ‘It’s an indescribable blend.’

  ‘Oh,’ Gertie said, unable to hide her disappointment. ‘I’d rather you’d been able to describe it to me.’

  ‘Okay then,’ he said. ‘Let me see. It’s like all the good things in the world, like sunshine and laughter.’

  ‘You can’t smell sunshine and laughter!’ she cried, play-punching him in the ribs.

  ‘Hey!’ he said. ‘This is my description, right?’

  ‘All right,’ she said. ‘Go on.’ She was absolutely loving being the sole centre of his attention.

  ‘Well, we’ve covered the sunshine and laughter bit.’

  ‘Yes. What else?’

  ‘There’s the gardenia perfume, obviously, and the roses. A little bit of the Suffolk countryside with willow trees and barley fields and moats and –’

  ‘I do not want to smell like our moat!’ Gertie protested.

  ‘I’m not talking about the smell exactly,’ he said, ‘but more of a feeling. Do you know what I mean? These are the things I imagine when I’m thinking about you.’

  She grinned up at him. ‘What an old romantic you are.’

  ‘Only around you,’ he said and they kissed.

  They walked back to the hotel and got their bags from the car. When they approached the reception desk, a young woman greeted them with a restrained smile.

  ‘Mr Stanton,’ James announced.

  The receptionist’s long nails tip-tapped on the computer keyboard and she nodded.

  ‘Room eighteen – on the first floor,’ she said.

  Gertie breathed a sigh of relief that it was all so easy and unembarrassing and that James hadn’t announced to the world that she was Mrs Stanton. Or that they were Mr and Mrs Smith.

  James took hold of their bags and they walked up a grand staircase lined with fine portraits and studies of spaniels and pheasants.

  ‘I’ve so been looking forward to this,’ he said as soon as the bedroom door was closed. ‘God, I’ve missed you.’

  Gertie moved towards him and they embraced. ‘I’ve missed you too,’ she said.

  ‘It’s been a hell of a week,’ he told her, kissing the tip of her nose.

  ‘Samantha?’

  He nodded. ‘She’s been so difficult.’

  Gertie looked at him full of sympathy. She knew how awkward Samantha could be. She was like a particularly tenacious climbing rose that makes its mind up on one particular route and cannot be persuaded to take any other. She knew how difficult she made James’s life and how helpless he was to do anything about it because who could possibly walk out on a woman in a wheelchair?

  He sighed and Gertie saw how tense and tired he looked.

  ‘Here,’ she said, taking his jacket off. ‘Let me ease some of that tension away.’ She began to massage his shoulders.

  ‘That’s good,’ he said.

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Oh, yeah,’ he said, turning around a moment later. ‘How wonderful you are.’

  Gertie smiled and they gazed at one another.

  ‘Have you spoken to Samantha?’ Gertie dared to ask him at last.

  James gave a weary sigh. ‘Do we have to talk about that now? I just want to shut it all out and be here with you.’

  Gertie swallowed hard as she looked at him. She was desperate to be with James and he had promised that they would be together one day, but it was impossible to know when that day would be because he never talked about it.

  ‘Samantha has to let you go,’ she told him, gently stroking his face. ‘She can’t keep you a prisoner when you’re so unhappy. It isn’t right. She can’t expect that when she makes life so hard for you.’

  ‘Shush,’ he said, kissing the palm of her hand. ‘I’m banishing her name from this room, okay? For the whole time we’re together. I’m with you now and that’s all that matters.’

  He leaned forward and Gertie allowed herself to be kissed. It was wonderful, of course, but she couldn’t help wishing that that was really all that mattered to her.

  It seemed quiet in the house without Gertie, Celeste thought. The longcase clock had just struck nine and Gertie had rung to explain that she’d met an old friend in Cambridge and that she wouldn’t be coming home.

  ‘Which just leaves me and Evie,’ Celeste said to herself. She didn’t relish the thought. Evie was being decidedly prickly around her. Celeste couldn’t say a single thing to her without upsetting her in some way so she’d decided to give her little sister as wide a berth as possible. She carried a cup of tea into the living room, Frinton trotting at her heels.

  It was as Frinton was settling down on a rug that Celeste noticed something on the coffee table and recognised it instantly. It was an old photograph album and Celeste was quite sure it hadn’t been there that morning. Had Evie been looking through it, she wondered?

  She picked it up and sat down on a sofa next to the enormous fireplace. A photograph album was a rare thing these days, she thought. A real physical one, at least, and not a virtual one you had to click on and which you wouldn’t be able to access if there was a power cut or if your internet connection wasn’t working. How lovely it was to sit and flip through the pages, staring at the images from the past.

  The album was of black leather and was home to hundreds of black and white photographs which Celeste hadn’t seen for years. There was Grandpa Arthur looking so young and handsome in the wilderness of the walled garden before he’d kicked things into shape. And there was Grandma Esme, her long dark hair, which all the Hamilton women had inherited, falling about her shoulders in glossy waves as she leaned against one of the towers, a huge
smile on her face. They must just have moved in, Celeste thought, wondering what that must have been like after their modest terrace house in the north. Just imagine buying a medieval moated manor house. It had been such a crazy thing to do.

  ‘A wonderful crazy thing,’ Celeste said, causing Frinton to raise his head and look at her for a moment.

  She’d forgotten how young her grandparents had been when they’d bought the manor. Esme looked to be no older than Celeste was now and they’d already got two children at that time: Celeste’s Uncle Portland and Aunt Leda. What an adventure it must have been, but a real struggle too, making the old house liveable whilst restoring the garden, starting up the rose business and raising a young family too. It made Celeste realise that the battle they were facing now was nothing out of the ordinary in the history of the house. Each generation had to fight to keep everything together.

  She continued flipping through the pages, delighting in seeing photos of her grandparents working in the garden, the young Portland and Leda dancing around their feet.

  ‘They really loved this place,’ a voice said from the door.

  Celeste jumped and saw Evie standing there watching her.

  ‘Did you leave this out for me?’ Celeste asked.

  Evie didn’t answer the question but walked into the room and sat on the sofa next to Celeste. ‘Look at these ones,’ she said, taking the album from her and turning the pages. ‘That’s the first photo of Mum.’

  Celeste looked at the picture, barely recognising the tiny infant sitting up in a big old-fashioned pram in the garden with the gatehouse turrets towering behind her.

  Evie pointed to another photo of the four Hamilton children, Portland, Leda, Louise and Penelope, all holding hands and looking into the moat, their little figures reflected in the water.

  ‘Oh, that’s lovely!’ Celeste said. ‘We should frame it.’

  ‘I know,’ Evie said. ‘Three generations have lived here now. Isn’t that amazing?’