The Butterfly Room

by Lucinda Riley

  ‘I’ll make it. Cheese and ham suit you?’

  ‘Totally. Thanks Nick. The coffee’s over there. Help yourself. I just need to finish this mood board for the shoot and send it off to the magazine.’

  Nick pottered around the kitchen drinking strong coffee and collecting ingredients for the omelette. He looked out onto the small garden at the back of the house and saw the gorgeous colours of the leaves of the copper beech tree gleaming in the bright September sun. And was immediately reminded of Tammy’s incredible hair.

  ‘Done,’ said Jane, shutting her laptop.

  ‘So’s the omelette,’ Nick replied, using a spatula to place it on two plates.

  ‘What a treat,’ Jane said as Nick put a bowl of green salad in the centre of the table. ‘Maybe you could teach my husband to crack an egg at some point.’

  ‘He’s always had you there to cook for him, whereas I’ve been on my tod.’

  ‘True. And this is delicious. So, you enjoyed last night?’

  ‘Yes, though to be honest, I didn’t get to speak to the other guests.’

  ‘No, so I noticed.’ Jane eyed him as she forked some salad from the bowl. ‘Tammy is usually stand-offish with men, for obvious reasons. She really warmed to you.’

  ‘Thanks. She is remarkably beautiful. She must get hit on all the time.’

  ‘She certainly did as a young model. As you know, it’s an unsavoury world, with a lot of predatory men circling. She became an ice queen to protect herself, but underneath, she’s an utter sweetie and very vulnerable.’

  ‘Did she, um, have many boyfriends?’

  ‘A few, yes. There was a childhood boyfriend hanging around for most of her career, but he went west three years ago or so. As far as I know, she hasn’t seen anyone seriously since.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘So, will you give her a call?’

  ‘I . . . maybe. If you’ll pass on her number.’

  ‘I will, on the understanding that you don’t break her heart.’

  ‘Why would I do that?’ Nick frowned.

  ‘You told me only last night you were a confirmed bachelor. I don’t want Tammy to be just another notch on your bedpost, Nick. Tammy’s worth far more than that. She wears her heart on her sleeve and is surprisingly naive when it comes to men.’

  ‘I hear you, Jane, and I promise, I’m not up for a fling. I have far too much to do just now. And actually, I would like to see her again. There was definitely something there.’

  ‘I know. The whole table noticed it.’ Jane smiled. ‘I have to run to a meeting but I’ll text you her number.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  After Nick had cleared up lunch, he heard a ping on his mobile and pulled it from his jean pocket.

  Hi, here’s Tammy’s no. C u tonite. J x

  Nick added it to his address book, then wandered upstairs to his bedroom. He hadn’t told Jane of course, but last night, when he’d eventually fallen asleep, he’d dreamt of Tammy. Pacing the room, he thought he should give it a couple of days before he called her or he might look too ‘predatory’, as Jane had put it.

  Could he wait two days . . .?

  No. He wanted to see her now, to look into those incredible green eyes, touch that amazing hair . . . he missed her.

  Christ, Nick, what has she done to you?

  Whatever it was, a few minutes later, Nick pulled out his mobile and dialled the number Jane had given him.

  Chapter 6

  The bell which indicated a customer had entered the gallery tinkled in the back office. Posy left the computer and walked through to the showroom.

  ‘May I help you?’ she said automatically as she did so, to make sure the person wouldn’t think the shop was empty and make off with a painting.

  ‘Yes you may. Hello, Posy.’

  She stopped short, her heart rate speeding up. She saw him standing in the centre of the showroom, staring at her.

  ‘I . . .’ Posy put a hand to her throat to cover the blush that must surely be spreading up to her face. ‘How did you find me?’

  ‘Well now,’ he said, taking a couple of steps towards her, ‘I wouldn’t say that I had to employ a private detective. The first person I asked knew exactly where you worked. You’re rather well known in Southwold, as I’m sure you realise.’

  ‘Hardly,’ Posy defended herself.

  ‘Well, no matter, here you are.’

  ‘Yes. So, what do you want?’

  ‘I just . . . well, I suppose I just wanted to say hello properly after our rather strange meeting on the boat.’

  ‘I see.’ She averted her eyes from him, wanting to look anywhere else. He’d been incredibly good-looking in his early twenties, but now, just a couple of years older than her, he was without doubt the most handsome male she’d laid eyes on in decades. And she didn’t want her brain to be hijacked by another reaction of her body.

  ‘How long has it been, Posy? Not far shy of fifty years?’

  ‘Around that, I suppose, yes.’

  ‘Yes,’ he replied, and they both stood in silence for a while. ‘You still look exactly the same, you know.’

  ‘Of course I don’t, Freddie! I’m an old woman.’

  ‘And I’m an old man,’ he said with a shrug.

  There was another uncomfortable silence which Posy refused to end.

  ‘Look, I was wondering whether you would let me take you out for lunch one day? I’d like to explain.’

  ‘Explain what?’

  ‘Why I . . . well, why I left you.’

  ‘Really, there’s no need. It’s ancient history,’ Posy said firmly.

  ‘And I’m sure you’d forgotten all about me until I popped up out of the blue on the boat, but at least let me take you out to lunch so we can catch up on all the intervening years. Please say yes, Posy. I’ve only been back in Suffolk a couple of months – I retired last year, you see – and I don’t know many people here yet.’

  ‘All right, yes,’ Posy agreed before she could stop herself. Mostly because she wanted him out of here as soon as possible – she knew she hardly looked her best, having raced straight to the gallery from sweeping up leaves in the garden.

  ‘Thank you. Any preference for where?’

  ‘You choose.’

  ‘The Swan, then. It’s all I know that’s good. Can you make Thursday? It’s my day off from the boat.’

  ‘Yes, I can.’

  ‘Does one o’clock suit?’

  ‘Yes, that would be perfect.’

  ‘Right-oh. I’ll see you on Thursday at one. Goodbye, Posy.’

  Freddie left, and Posy retreated back into the office to sit down and recover her composure.

  ‘What are you doing, you stupid old woman?! He broke your heart last time, remember?’

  Yet, despite the seriousness of Freddie Lennox walking like a ghost back into her life, Posy chuckled.

  ‘Golly, that was even more awkward than when he arrived by mistake in your bedroom and you were naked!’

  Posy felt ashamed of the effort she made to prepare for her lunch with Freddie. He was, after all, someone she had not seen for almost fifty years, but most importantly, he was not a distant memory, as he’d presumed. Their relationship and the abrupt ending of it had left an indelible stain on her heart. And in many ways, had shaped the path of her life.

  Still, as she looked through her wardrobe and realised she hadn’t bought a new piece of clothing for years, she realised that the lunch date was providing her with the proverbial kick up the backside she needed.

  ‘You’ve let yourself go, Posy,’ she said sternly to herself. ‘You need a makeover, as those television shows call it.’

  So the following day, she took herself off into Southwold. She had a trim and some gentle highlights which painted over the grey that had sprouted onto her scalp in the past ten years. After that she went into the boutique which was having its end of season sale.

  Having tried on most of the things in her size – still a twelve, she was pr
oud to note – everything seemed too frumpy or too young.

  ‘Mrs Montague, how about you try these? They’ve just come in, so I’m afraid they’re not in the sale.’

  The assistant was holding out a pair of black jeans.

  ‘Surely they’re for teenagers?’

  ‘You have a fantastic pair of legs, Mrs Montague, so why not show them off? I also thought this might go nicely with them.’

  Posy took the cornflower-blue cotton shirt and the jeans into the changing room. Five minutes later, she stood in front of the mirror, surprised at her reflection. The jeans did indeed show off her long legs – still firm from all her hours in the garden – and the shirt not only suited her complexion but was loose enough to cover that worryingly saggy skin around her midriff.

  ‘A new bra too,’ she told herself as she undressed and saw the shapeless grey one covering her breasts.

  Posy eventually emerged with two shopping bags. She’d bought two pairs of jeans, three new shirts, a bra and a pair of shiny black boots that stopped just below her knees.

  ‘I hope I haven’t fallen foul of the mutton dressed as lamb rule,’ she muttered to herself as she headed for her car. Then she thought of Freddie in his chinos, blazer and jaunty trilby, and decided she hadn’t.

  ‘My goodness, Posy, you look a treat,’ said Freddie as he stood up to welcome her to the table the next day.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said as she sat down in the chair he’d pulled out opposite him. ‘You don’t look so bad yourself.’

  ‘I took the liberty of ordering us a bottle of chardonnay. I remember you drinking white wine back in the day. When we weren’t on the gin, that is,’ he smiled.

  ‘Yes, a glass would go down rather nicely.’

  Freddie poured some wine into her glass, then lifted his own. ‘To your health.’

  ‘And to yours.’ Posy took a sip.

  ‘It is rather strange, isn’t it, that after all these years, fate should conspire for us to meet again?’ he said.

  ‘Well, we both come from Suffolk originally, if you remember, Freddie.’

  ‘Of course I do. How long have you been back?’

  ‘Well over thirty years now. I brought up my family here.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘At my childhood home, just outside Southwold.’

  ‘Right.’ Freddie took a sip of his wine. Posy watched him pause before he continued, ‘And was it a good home for your family? No bad memories?’

  ‘Not at all, why should there have been? I loved it there as a young child.’

  ‘Quite,’ said Freddie.

  ‘Is something wrong?’ Posy asked him, studying the all-too-familiar eyes. He’d always looked like he did now if there was a problem.

  ‘Not at all, dear girl, not at all. I’m very glad you moved back there and were happy.’

  ‘Am happy, actually. I still live there.’

  ‘Do you indeed? Well, well.’

  ‘You seem surprised. Why?’

  ‘I . . . don’t know really. I suppose I always imagined you flying off intrepidly around the world, searching out rare flora and fauna. Now.’ Freddie handed her a menu. ‘Shall we order?’

  Whilst Freddie read his menu, Posy studied him covertly over the top of hers, wondering what it was about her return to live at Admiral House that seemed to have rattled him.

  ‘I’m having the catch of the day. You?’ he asked.

  ‘I’ll have the same, thank you.’

  Freddie called over a waitress and once he had placed their order, Posy took another sip of her wine. ‘So, tell me about you, Freddie. What have you been up to over the years?’

  ‘My life has been pretty standard, to be honest. You might remember I’d already realised that a life dreaming of fame wasn’t for me, so I went to Bar School and became a barrister. I married a solicitor in my thirties and we had a good life together. Sadly, she died two years ago, just after we bought a cottage here in Southwold. We were going to retire to it together, spend our sunset years pottering about on boats and travelling.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Freddie. You were married a long time. It must have been a horrible shock to suddenly be alone.’

  ‘It was, especially as Elspeth and I had never had children. She didn’t want them, you see, was far too interested in ploughing her way up to the glass ceiling with intent to shatter it. In retrospect, I don’t think I could ever see Elspeth “pottering”. She was driven and ambitious, so it was probably for the best that she died whilst she was still at the top of her game. I’ve always liked strong women, as you know.’

  Posy ignored the remark. ‘So where is your house?’

  ‘At the end of a narrow lane right in the centre of the town. Even if I would have enjoyed a sea view and a larger garden, one has to be pragmatic as one gets older and be within easy reach of the facilities. It’s an old hophouse with an adjacent cottage where the original owners lived. I’ve almost finished renovating both, and intend to let the Hophouse out eventually,’ he said as their fish arrived. ‘This looks excellent, I must say.’

  As they ate, Posy couldn’t help but glance surreptitiously at Freddie and wonder at their reunion. He hadn’t changed a jot, the law student with the artistic soul whom she had once loved . . . the thought they were sitting here together after all this time made her feel quite emotional.

  ‘So, Posy, what about you?’ Freddie smiled at her across the table as the waitress cleared their plates. ‘You’ve already said you have a husband and children.’

  ‘Golly no! Well, at least, not a husband. Jonny died over thirty years ago. I’ve been a widow ever since.’

  ‘I am sorry to hear that. I presume your children were very young at the time? It must have been hard for you.’

  ‘It was, but one gets through. I actually have some wonderful memories of the time when my boys were small. It was the three of us together against the world. They kept me sane and focused.’

  ‘I’m surprised you never married again, Posy. A woman like you . . .’

  ‘No one ever took my fancy.’

  ‘Although you must have had suitors?’

  ‘I had a few over the years, yes. Now, are you up for pudding or shall we go straight to coffee?’

  Over coffee, Posy continued to fill Freddie in on the story of her life.

  ‘It was the garden that saved me, to be truthful. Watching it grow and flourish must be similar to the rush you felt when you won a case in court.’

  ‘I think it’s a little more worthwhile than that, my dear. You have created something from nothing.’

  ‘Well, perhaps you’d like to come over to Admiral House and I’ll give you a tour.’

  Freddie didn’t reply. Instead he waved the waitress over and asked for the bill. ‘I’m getting this, by the way. It’s been a real treat to catch up, Posy, but I’m afraid I must bring lunch to a close. I have an electrician due at three to fit the spots in the ceiling of the Hophouse. You must come round and see it sometime.’

  She watched him put some notes on the table under the bill, then stand up. ‘Forgive me for rushing off. I’d lost track of the time. Goodbye, Posy.’

  ‘Goodbye.’

  As he left, she let out a big sigh before polishing off the rest of the wine in her glass. She felt totally confused, shaken by his abrupt departure. After all, it had been him who had sought her out, instigated the lunch, and she wondered what it was she had said or done to have him leave so hurriedly.

  ‘Or perhaps he simply did lose track of time,’ Posy muttered as she stood up and prepared to leave. Whichever, she couldn’t help feeling rather foolish as she walked along the high street in the bright September sun. She’d spent a lot of time in the past couple of days wondering whether, if he asked her out again, she could ever forgive him for dumping her so unceremoniously all those years ago. For her, at least, the physical attraction was there in spades and she had certainly enjoyed his company today.

  ‘Oh Posy, will you ever grow up and stop drea
ming?’

  As she drove home – carefully, due to the two glasses of wine – Posy remembered that the reason Freddie had suggested lunch originally was to tell her why he had left her. Yet he hadn’t said a word.

  ‘Men,’ she said as she changed out of her new shirt and jeans and donned her old and far more Posy-like cotton trousers and a moth-eaten jumper. Then she headed out into the garden.

  Chapter 7

  ‘Thanks so much for picking up the children,’ Amy said gratefully as Marie Simmonds let her in through her front door. ‘What with my childminder having this awful cold virus, I was really stuck.’

  ‘No probs. Have you got time for a cup of tea?’ suggested Marie. ‘All the kids have had supper and they’re in the sitting room watching TV.’

  Amy looked at her watch. ‘Okay, if you’re sure it’s no bother.’

  ‘Of course not. Come in.’

  Amy followed Marie along the narrow hall to the small, immaculate kitchen. Despite the fact that the house was on a new estate with fifty others that looked exactly alike, and therefore not Amy’s style at all, the warmth and orderliness of it compared to her own current accommodation made her feel envious.

  ‘You know, any time you’re stuck, Amy, I’d be happy to collect the kids for you and mind them for an hour or so. I only work until three so I can pick them up at half past. And Josh and Jake get on really well,’ Marie added.

  ‘It really is kind of you to offer,’ said Amy, ‘but now I’ve got the car back from the garage, things should be a little easier.’

  ‘Milk and sugar?’

  ‘Both, please,’ answered Amy.

  ‘Another skinny-ribs, just like Evie,’ sighed Marie, making a black coffee for herself.

  ‘Has Evie’s daughter gone to her boarding school?’ asked Amy.

  ‘Yes. She’s been there for a couple of weeks now and, after all the fuss, she loves it. Apparently it was your mother-in-law, Posy, who helped change Clemmie’s mind. She really is an . . . interesting lady.’

  ‘Yes, she is,’ Amy agreed. ‘Posy’s incredibly strong. Any time I’m feeling a bit low, I think of her and tell myself to pull myself together. So, how is Evie feeling about losing her daughter to boarding school?’