The Butterfly Room

by Lucinda Riley

  ‘Two. And you’re right, it’s not all been plain sailing, but then whose life is?’

  ‘No one’s, I guess.’ Sebastian looked at his watch. ‘I’m afraid I have to go. I have an appointment at half past one. Thanks very much for coming, and if you do get a chance to speak to your mother-in-law in the next couple of days, I’d be very grateful. She could always contact me at The Swan if she’d like to meet me.’ Sebastian stood up. ‘Bye, Amy.’ He nodded at her and left the bar.

  Amy sat nursing her St Clements, suddenly feeling very low. The fact that Sebastian had arranged another appointment half an hour after meeting her made Amy feel even more stupid. He’d obviously had no dishonourable intentions at all.

  And why should he? Amy drained her glass and stood up. She was, after all, hardly the kind of woman Sebastian would be used to – or interested in – in his high-flying, literary world.

  And there was her, acting like some uptight teenage virgin whose innocence was about to be threatened. Amy shuddered. She was absolutely positive that, after her behaviour today, it was the last she would see of Sebastian Girault. She was surprised to find that the thought upset her.

  From his vantage point in a hidden corner of the hotel lounge, Sebastian watched Amy leave. Strolling back into the bar to the table she had just vacated, he ordered another pint and settled down to finish his newspaper.

  Chapter 11

  When Posy saw the car travelling along the drive towards the house, it was all she could do to stop herself running out to meet it then and there. She walked to the front door, opened it and stood on the porch in an agony of anticipation as the car drew to a halt in front of her.

  At last, her tall, handsome son drew his long legs out from behind the wheel and met his mother halfway across the gravel.

  He flung his arms around her. ‘Hello, Mum.’

  ‘Nick, my dear, dear boy. It’s so wonderful to see you!’

  ‘And you, Mum, and you.’

  They stood hugging for some time, both trying to compose themselves before speaking further. Nick released Posy and looked at her.

  ‘Mum, you look amazing! If anything, younger than when I left.’

  ‘Oh go on with you, Nick, of course I don’t, but thank you anyway.’

  He put an arm round her shoulder and they headed towards the house. He stopped short in front of it and looked up. ‘My memory has served me well. It’s exactly as I’ve remembered it for all these years.’

  ‘Good,’ said Posy as they walked into the hall, ‘but I’m afraid you’ll be able to spot ten years’ further wear and tear inside.’

  As they entered the kitchen with its familiar comforting smell, Nick was assailed by memories of his childhood. It had always felt to him like a safe haven and he saw it hadn’t changed. It still contained the same thick iron saucepans hanging on the wall, the eclectic mishmash of rare and valuable porcelain arranged in no particular order on the dresser and the huge station clock above the Aga that had hung there since he was a toddler.

  ‘Mmmh, what is that smell?’ said Nick. ‘It’s not . . .’

  ‘Yes, liver and bacon, your favourite,’ said Posy.

  ‘But, Mum, I wanted to take you out, to treat you.’

  ‘You told me it was my choice and I wanted to cook for you at home. We can go out any old time. Oh Nick, dear, I just can’t tell you how wonderful it is to see you. You haven’t changed one jot, either. Coffee, tea, or how about a beer?’

  ‘A beer, please, and yes I have, Mum. I’m thirty-four already and beginning to sprout grey hairs and lines around my eyes,’ he sighed. ‘So how are you?’ he asked as he took a swig of beer from the bottle she handed him.

  ‘My joints are starting to stiffen up, especially in the morning, but I’m basically hale and hearty.’ Posy poured herself a glass of wine. ‘Here’s to you, darling boy, and your safe arrival home after all this time.’ She raised her glass to him.

  ‘I can’t tell you how good it feels to be back, sitting in a house that’s older than a few years and isn’t a bungalow.’

  ‘I want to hear everything that happened in Perth. You must have liked it, to stay there so long.’

  ‘I did and I didn’t,’ said Nick. ‘It’s so completely different to the UK, and Southwold in particular, which is what I needed.’

  ‘You know, I always wondered whether you were running away.’

  ‘Of course I was, but I’m back now.’

  ‘How long for?’ Posy hardly dared ask.

  ‘That’s the million-dollar question,’ grinned Nick. ‘Now, how about some of that liver and bacon? I’m starving.’

  Posy’s appetite had vanished with excitement, so she pushed her own lunch round her plate as she listened while Nick told her all about Perth and brought her up to date with his plan for a shop in London. She drank a little too much wine, plucking up courage to tell Nick about the impending sale of Admiral House.

  ‘So, if you’ve been investigating shop leases in London, does that mean you might be thinking of staying permanently?’ asked Posy.

  ‘Well, the reason I didn’t contact you the moment I got back to England was that I wanted to explore things before I saw you. Now I’ve found the right premises, I’ve decided I’m going to give it a go.’

  Posy’s face lit up and she clasped her hands together in pleasure. ‘Darling Nick! I can’t tell you how happy that news makes me.’

  ‘You’ll probably be seeing no more of me than you have in the past ten years, I’ll be working so hard,’ chuckled Nick.

  Posy made to clear away the plates but Nick pushed her gently back down into her chair. ‘I’ll do it, Mum.’

  ‘Thank you, darling. The rice pud’s in the bottom of the Aga, if you wouldn’t mind retrieving it. So, what was it that made you come to this momentous decision now?’ Posy asked as Nick served the rice pudding into two bowls and brought them to the table.

  ‘Oh, all sorts of things,’ Nick replied as he sat down. ‘Perhaps the biggest one being that I’ve realised you can run away as far as you wish, but you can never escape from yourself.’

  Posy nodded, waiting for him to continue.

  ‘And to be honest, I missed England, especially this.’ Nick indicated his rice pudding. ‘I suppose that it just wasn’t home.’

  ‘But you’re glad you went?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ answered Nick, stirring his spoon around his bowl. ‘It was an awfully big adventure that had the advantage of making me a shed-load of money.’

  ‘You’ve always been rather good at doing that,’ agreed Posy. ‘Everything you touch turns to gold. Completely the opposite to poor old Sam.’

  Nick’s face darkened. ‘He’s still struggling?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well, he does rather bring it on himself, doesn’t he, Mum? I mean, one hare-brained scheme after the next. Is that sweet wife of his still hanging in there?’

  ‘Oh yes, Amy’s still with him and of course, you haven’t met their two children, Jake and Sara. They are delightful.’

  ‘They haven’t taken after their father, then,’ said Nick bluntly.

  ‘My goodness, Nick, you talk of Sam with real venom,’ sighed Posy, sadness in her voice. ‘He might be rather a disaster when it comes to business, but he’s not a bad person, you know.’

  ‘I appreciate he’s your son, and my brother, but I’m afraid I can’t quite agree on that point, Mum.’

  ‘By which you mean what?’

  Her son sat opposite her, stoically silent.

  ‘Nick, please tell me, so that I can try to understand,’ Posy pleaded. ‘There’s nothing more upsetting for a mother than to see her children at loggerheads.’

  Nick shook his head. ‘Look, Mum, it doesn’t matter. Let’s move on to happier subjects, one of them being the fact that, believe it or not, I’ve met somebody. Somebody special.’

  ‘Nick! You dark horse! Where is she? Who is she? I presume she’s Australian?’

  ‘Er, no, that’s the
odd thing. I actually met her the day I landed back in the UK. She’s a friend of my old friends, Paul and Jane Lyons-Harvey. Her name’s Tammy, she’s extremely beautiful and she runs a vintage clothes business.’

  ‘Goodness, Nick, that’s fast.’

  ‘I know. Should I be worried?’

  Posy thought back to the first moment she’d laid eyes on Freddie and shook her head.

  ‘Definitely not. If the feeling’s there, it’s there, in my book anyway.’

  ‘Well, it’s never happened to me so fast before, and it’s scary, Mum. I really, really like her.’

  ‘Good. Then when can I meet her?’

  ‘I was thinking I might bring her up here next week, if she can spare the time. She’s busy setting up her business just like I am.’

  ‘Oh do, Nick. If you could make it a weekend, then even better. I could invite Sam and Amy . . . whatever you feel about your brother, you should meet your nephew and niece.’

  ‘Of course, Mum. We’re all grown-ups after all. And I’d love to see Amy again, and meet the kids of course. So how about next weekend?’

  ‘Perfect!’ Posy clapped her hands together. ‘Do warn your lady friend to bring some warm pyjamas, won’t you? The nights are drawing in.’

  ‘I will, Mum,’ he said, looking at the mischievous grin on her face. ‘Now, before I leave, I’d love to see what more you’ve done to the garden.’

  After they’d wandered round the garden and Posy was making tea in the kitchen, Nick walked through the hall towards the morning room. He paused to look up at the massive chandelier and saw how the light showed up the huge cracks stretching across the vast ceiling, the peeling paintwork and the crumbling cornicing. In the morning room, he reached for the heavy black light switch and then moved across to light the fire. The room was very cold, and the smell of damp was noticeable. The beautiful silk curtains he remembered hiding behind as a child were frayed and rotting.

  Rather like a silent movie queen ravaged by the passage of time, the sight of this once elegant room reduced to its current state brought a lump to Nick’s throat. He busied himself with lighting the fire, as his mother entered with a tea tray and her famous Victoria sponge cake.

  ‘There,’ he said as he crouched in front of the flames. ‘The first fire I’ve lit in ten years. Wow, that makes me very happy.’

  ‘Have you decided where you’re going to live yet?’ Posy asked him.

  ‘No, Paul and Jane have said I can stay with them as long as I want. I’ll get the business sorted out first and then move on to finding myself a place.’

  ‘Well, when you’re up next weekend, I’d like you to take a look around the house. Most of the furniture is probably worth nothing, but there might be the odd piece that’s worth something.’

  ‘Are you stuck for cash, Mum? You know I’ve told you over and over to ask if you are.’

  ‘No, Nick, I’m absolutely fine. The thing is . . . I really feel that I must think about selling Admiral House. I’ll be seventy next year.’

  Nick stared at her, then at the flames in the fireplace. Eventually he said, ‘Right.’

  ‘Nick, tell me how you feel, please.’

  ‘To be honest, Mum, I’m not sure: a mixture of stuff, I suppose. Sadness, obviously – this was my childhood home, and yours for that matter – but I understand why you’re thinking about selling it.’

  ‘It’s perhaps a little like caring for an old and infirm pet,’ Posy said sadly. ‘You love it, and will be heartbroken when it’s gone, but you know it’s for the best. That’s how I feel about Admiral House. It needs a new owner, someone who can nurse it back to its former glory. It’s gently crumbling to bits and I must do something before it’s past the point of no return.’

  ‘I understand, Mum.’

  Nick looked up and saw the large damp patch that had been there since he was a small child. He remembered thinking how it resembled a hippopotamus. Now, other patches had joined it, creating a fresco across the ceiling.

  ‘I have a local estate agent coming in to value it next week,’ Posy told him, ‘but of course I have to ask you whether you would consider taking it on.’

  ‘Firstly, Sam would never forgive me if I did. He’s the eldest son and heir, after all. Besides, my life isn’t here; plus I’m going to need every penny I have to sink into the business. Sorry, Mum.’

  ‘Of course, Nick. I had to ask, that’s all.’

  ‘Where will you go once you’ve sold it?’

  ‘I really haven’t given it much thought. To a smaller place that doesn’t need much upkeep. With at least some form of garden outside,’ she smiled. ‘I do hope whoever buys it doesn’t demolish this one.’

  ‘I’m sure they won’t. It’s a wonderful feature. You just need some rich city type with a trophy wife and an army of staff to come along and take it on.’

  ‘Well, I can’t imagine there are too many of those, but we will see.’

  ‘As you’ve always said to me, what will be will be. And now, I’d better be on my way.’

  Nick stood up, as did Posy, and they walked together to the front hall.

  ‘Before you go, I must give you this.’ Posy picked up a letter from a side table by the front door and handed it to him. ‘It was hand-delivered to the gallery yesterday, so what luck that I was seeing you today to pass it on.’

  Nick took it and looked down at his name written in her familiar sloping black ink. He swallowed hard, trying not let his shock show. ‘Thanks, Mum,’ he said after a moment.

  ‘It’s been wonderful to see you, darling boy,’ she said as she kissed him. ‘And I’m absolutely thrilled you’re coming home for good.’

  ‘So am I, Mum.’ Nick smiled. ‘Bye now.’

  Nick made his way out to the car and turned the engine on. He drove along the drive, then pulled to a halt just outside the entrance. The letter was on the passenger seat, willing him to open it. His fingers shaking, he picked it up, opened it and read the words she’d written to him.

  Then he sat staring into space, trying to decide what to do. He could tear this up now and head straight back to London and Tammy. Or he could drive into Southwold, hear what she had to say, then lay the ghost.

  Nick turned right and drove towards Southwold. The town looked as pretty in the autumn dusk as it always had. He drove up the High Street, noting that his old shop had become an estate agent’s, but nothing much else seemed to have changed. On a whim, he parked his car and took a walk along the sea front.

  As he walked, he let the memories wash over him, knowing it was important not to bury them. Perhaps if he saw her, with a newfound focus and Tammy in his life, he could finally exorcise them for good.

  He hung over the railings, watching the sea slip gently in and out of the shore, and remembered the sheer agony he’d felt last time he’d stood here. Yes, he had loved her. Perhaps he would never love like that again, and in retrospect, he prayed he wouldn’t. He’d realised that kind of love was not a force for good – it was overwhelming, all-encompassing and destructive.

  Nick walked back to his car, started the engine and headed for her house.

  Chapter 12

  Tammy signed the papers with a flourish, then handed the pen back to the agent. ‘There we go, all done and dusted at long last.’

  ‘I believe these are now yours.’ The agent dangled a set of keys in front of her.

  ‘Yes. Thank you.’ Tammy took the bunch and placed them safely in the zip pocket of her handbag. ‘Is there anything else?’

  ‘No, everything is in order.’ The agent checked his watch and smoothed a strand of hair across his bald pate. ‘It’s nearly lunchtime. How do you fancy joining me for a glass of champagne to toast your new venture’s future?’

  ‘Er, thanks for the offer, but I’m obviously eager to get straight to my new premises and start sorting things out.’

  ‘As you wish. Good luck, Miss Shaw.’

  ‘Thank you, Mr Brennan.’

  Safely outside the offic
e, Tammy hailed a taxi.

  ‘Number four, Ellis Place, please. It’s just off Sloane Street, at the Sloane Square end,’ she added proudly as she jumped in the back of the taxi.

  As they sped along the King’s Road, Tammy gazed through the window, hardly able to believe her luck. Only last week, she’d told Nick she despaired of ever finding suitable premises. Location, location, location, was what it was all about, but there seemed to be nothing available in her price range in the right areas.

  Then Jane had called her from a photo shoot and said she’d just heard on the grapevine that a clothes boutique had just gone under and the liquidators were looking to sell off the fixtures, fittings and, of course, the rest of the lease. Jane gave her the number to call and Tammy did so immediately.

  She’d decided it was perfect before she’d even stepped inside. Tucked away in a small side street just off Sloane Street, the tiny shop-front stood between an up-and-coming shoe designer – whom she had read about in Vogue recently – and a hatter. Inside, the shop was almost exactly as Tammy had imagined her own would be: small, but tastefully decorated and with just enough room to display her clothes. There was an office and tiny kitchen at the back and a dry downstairs basement, which, as well as providing storage space, could seat a seamstress. The fact the shop was only a five-minute drive from her mews house was another big incentive.

  Tammy had had her heart in her mouth when she’d asked the agent the price. It was definitely at the absolute top end of her budget, and criminal for the amount of space she’d be renting, but she was convinced it was the right thing to do.

  They’d shaken on it then and there, and now, only a few days later, Tammy stepped out of the taxi, walked to the front door, her hands shaking a little, and turned the key in the lock.

  She stood for a few minutes, hardly daring to believe she’d finally done it, before letting out a shout of triumph. She took out her mobile and dialled Nick’s number. Even though he was visiting his mother today and she expected his voicemail, she wanted him to be the first to know.

  ‘Hi, darling, it’s me. I just wanted to say, I’m in! And it’s wonderful and I’m so happy. We’ll crack open the champagne when I see you later. Give me a ring and let me know what time you’ll be back. I’ll probably still be here at the boutique, so maybe you could come and collect me. Bye, darling.’