The Butterfly Room

by Lucinda Riley

  ‘Anyway, you remind me far too much of Posy in that dressing gown,’ Sebastian finally quipped. ‘So tell me, Amy, and I want the truth, do you feel nothing at all for me?’

  She looked up at him and saw his eyes were no longer laughing, but deadly serious.

  ‘I . . .’ she shook her head, ‘I don’t know. I mean, I like you, but you’re a rich, successful, international novelist and I’m a downtrodden, broke mother from the sticks. How could I even begin to think of . . . anything?’

  ‘And what if I said that I’ve thought about you non-stop since the first moment I met you, that every time I’ve bumped into you, the feeling has got stronger?’ he murmured slowly. ‘That no matter what I do, or how often I tell myself you’re unavailable and not interested, I just can’t get you out of my mind?’

  Amy couldn’t answer. She stared at him, too shocked to speak.

  ‘Amy, I know it’s ridiculous and I understand it can probably never go any further, but unfortunately, I think I love you.’

  ‘You can’t, you don’t even know me.’ Her voice was no more than a hoarse whisper.

  ‘Will you come here? I promise, I just want to hold you, nothing more.’

  Amy’s heart was pounding. ‘I shouldn’t, I really shouldn’t . . .’

  ‘Look, I promise that if fate hadn’t sent you here to me tonight, I’d have probably suffered in silence. But it did. Will you come here?’ Sebastian stood up and held out his arms to her.

  ‘The children . . . I . . .’

  ‘I only want to hold you.’

  She stood up and walked slowly towards him. His arms went around her and she laid her head against his chest, feeling his heart pounding as fast as her own. Strange erotic frissons were shooting around her stomach as she breathed in his scent and experienced the physicality of him for the first time.

  ‘Do you, Amy?’

  ‘Do I what?’

  ‘Feel anything for me?’

  She looked up at him and nodded sadly. ‘Of course I do, and I hate myself for it. I mean, I’m standing here, in your arms, a married woman, wanting to . . .’

  Sebastian bent his head to hers and kissed her, hard and passionately.

  Amy could do nothing but respond with equal ardour.

  ‘Amy, Amy . . .’ his mouth was on her neck, his hands caressing her hair. As they sank to the floor, he tore Posy’s dressing gown from her shoulders and ran his fingers lightly over her breasts. Her nipples stiffened beneath his touch as she took her turn to pull off his clothes and felt his flesh against hers.

  ‘You are so beautiful, so beautiful,’ he said as he finally yanked the robe away from her body. He kissed her again as his hand trailed down to her stomach, then along her inner thigh. Amy groaned in pleasure, knowing she was more ready than she’d ever been as he moved between her legs, pushing himself easily inside her, riding her until they were both panting and Amy cried out, unable to hold on any longer.

  He sank onto her, continuing to kiss her face, her neck, her breasts.

  ‘I love you, I love you, Amy,’ he whispered. ‘I’m sorry, but I do.’

  They lay there, as still now as they had been active before. Amy found her eyes filling with tears.

  ‘What have I just done?’ she asked.

  ‘Made love with me,’ he answered.

  ‘How could I?’

  ‘Because you wanted to.’

  ‘But . . . the children, they could have—’

  ‘Well, they didn’t, sweetheart.’ Sebastian propped himself up on one elbow to study her and brushed a lock of hair out of her eye. ‘Please don’t tell me you regret it,’ he said quietly.

  Amy shook her head. ‘I don’t know . . . I’m married, for God’s sake! I’ve never been unfaithful to Sam. What kind of wife does this make me?’

  ‘From what I’ve heard from Posy, the most loving, supportive and long-suffering one.’

  ‘Yes, but that doesn’t excuse what I’ve just done: “Oh, sorry, Sam, I’ve had a bit of a rough day so I made love with someone else.” Christ!’ Amy stood up and went in search of Posy’s dressing gown. She put it on then sat on the sofa staring into the fire, her hands clasping and unclasping in agitation.

  Sebastian stood up and came to sit beside her. ‘Amy, did I force you to do that just now?’

  ‘God, no. That’s the worst thing about it. I wanted to. I really wanted to.’

  Sebastian pulled her into him and held her tightly. ‘I just needed to know that.’

  They sat silently for a while, each lost in their own thoughts.

  ‘So,’ he said eventually, ‘where do we go from here?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Exactly what I say. Is tonight the end of a beautiful friendship or the start of a new love affair?’

  ‘I can’t think about tomorrow. I can only think about what’s just happened,’ sighed Amy, hating herself for feeling so happy in his arms. ‘I’m far too confused.’

  ‘You’re right. Stop worrying about tomorrow. We have all night, don’t we?’ He tipped her chin upwards. ‘And whatever happens beyond this, we must seize the moment,’ he added as he reached down to kiss her yet again.

  Several hours later, Amy left Sebastian’s arms and crept into the bed in which her children were sleeping. She felt the warmth of their little bodies next to her and bit her lip guiltily.

  Her head spun as she tried to make sense of what had taken place. All she knew was that, right or wrong, she had never experienced anything like it before in her adult life. The passion and excitement she’d felt as they’d made love again and again had only seemed to grow as they’d explored each other and familiarised themselves with the intimate map of each other’s bodies.

  At some stage, Sebastian had led her upstairs to his bed and they’d lain in the darkness, listening to the roar of the storm and watching the clouds scud across the moonlit sky. Sebastian had talked to her as they lay entwined, told her a little of his life, his first wife and the loss of both her and their baby. And Amy had talked too, told Sebastian of her days at art college and her dreams of becoming an artist before she met Sam.

  Finally, in severe danger of falling asleep, Amy had said she must go and slip into bed with the children.

  He had tugged her arm to stop her leaving as she tried to climb out. ‘Don’t go. I can’t bear it.’

  ‘I have to.’

  ‘In a minute.’ He’d pulled her back next to him, kissed her and held her tight. ‘I just want to say, Amy, that if you should decide this can never happen again, I will remember this night for the rest of my life. Goodnight.’

  ‘Goodnight.’ She’d kissed him gently on the lips, then staggered on weak, wobbly legs to the children’s room.

  And now she lay, sleepless, her body aching, parts of her actually sore from the endless lovemaking.

  And no matter how hard she tried to remind herself of the dreadful act of betrayal she’d just committed, all she could feel was utter joy . . . and the sense that she’d finally come home.

  Chapter 20

  Posy and Freddie touched down at Schiphol Airport at two o’clock in the afternoon. Posy felt exhausted. She’d had a sleepless night worrying about her decision to accompany Freddie to Amsterdam, and all that it might entail. She’d finally dropped off to sleep at five, but had to be up at a quarter to seven to be ready for Freddie’s arrival.

  She’d packed and unpacked her suitcase, unable to decide what to take with her and what to wear to the party. Sebastian had sweetly carried it downstairs for her and she’d introduced him to Freddie.

  ‘May I say that I very much enjoyed your book, Mr Girault.’

  ‘Sebastian, please. Perhaps we could go out for a beer at some point? Posy says you’re a child of the Second World War like her.’

  ‘I’d be glad to.’

  ‘Good. Take care of her now, won’t you?’

  ‘Of course,’ Freddie had smiled.

  ‘Goodbye, Sebastian,’ she’d called as Freddie h
ad carried her suitcase to the car and put it in the boot next to his own.

  ‘All set?’ Freddie had asked her.

  ‘I think so, yes.’

  He’d held her by the shoulders and kissed her lightly on the cheek. ‘You look terrified, my dear Posy. This is meant to be fun, you know.’

  ‘There’s just been so much to organise. I think I’ve got out of the habit of going away.’

  ‘Well then, we must nurse you gently back into it, mustn’t we?’

  She’d resolved then and there to stop being such a silly old woman and enjoy the weekend.

  They had driven to Stansted Airport, chattering about all sorts of things, and finally Posy had started to relax. At the airport, she felt a frisson of excitement as they checked in.

  ‘Do you realise that it’s over twenty years since I was on an aeroplane, and that was only to Jersey for a holiday with the boys?’ she’d said to Freddie as they’d walked through to departures.

  ‘Well, just to warn you that they don’t make you wear a flying mask and goggles any more,’ Freddie had quipped.

  Posy had thoroughly enjoyed the smooth flight and was rather sad when they came in to land. Freddie, who was obviously a seasoned traveller, led her though passport control and into the baggage hall, where they retrieved both suitcases from the carousel.

  They took a taxi and as they entered the city, Posy looked eagerly out of the window at the tall, gabled houses leaning precariously along the web of tree-lined canals that made up the core of central Amsterdam. Everyone seemed to be on bicycles, haring along the narrow cobbled streets, bells tinkling to alert pedestrians and cars alike to their presence.

  The taxi stopped in front of an elegant seventeenth-century town house overlooking a canal. ‘What a beautiful city,’ she murmured as they climbed out.

  ‘I came here to stay with Jeremy many years ago and fell in love with the place. I’ve always wanted to come back. The wonderful thing is that you can walk to virtually anywhere, the city is so compact. Or take a boat.’ Freddie indicated a barge going under the bridge on the canal. ‘Right, let’s check in and then we can go and explore.’

  The reception area was tastefully furnished, understated and homely. Posy sat herself in a chair whilst Freddie checked them in.

  ‘Right,’ he said, handing her a key, ‘how about we unpack and then go out for a stroll?’

  They spent the next couple of hours wandering around the maze of canals, stopping at a small cafe for hot chocolate and to check the map to see where they were.

  ‘You know what else you can buy in here, don’t you?’ Freddie raised an eyebrow.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Any kind of cannabis that might take your fancy.’ Freddie indicated the blackboard propped up against the bar, displaying the menu of different kinds of grass and hash. ‘Ever tried it?’

  ‘No, I always refused it in the old days. Have you?’

  ‘On the odd occasion.’ Freddie’s eyes twinkled. ‘Fancy a quick joint with your hot chocolate?’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Really,’ nodded Posy. ‘My philosophy is that one must try everything once.’

  ‘Okay then.’ Freddie nodded and headed off to the bar to make a purchase. He came back with a roll-up and a box of matches. ‘I asked for the mildest stuff, by the way.’ He lit it and breathed in, then passed the joint to Posy, who took it and put it to her lips. She took a drag, but as the acrid smoke went straight to the back of her mouth, she choked helplessly.

  ‘Yuck!’ she shuddered, handing it back to Freddie.

  ‘It’s an acquired taste, but at least you tried it. Any more?’

  ‘No, thanks.’ Wiping her streaming eyes, she laughed. ‘Goodness me, if only my sons could see me now, sitting in a cafe in Amsterdam with a man and smoking pot!’

  ‘I’m sure they’d admire you for it. As I do,’ Freddie added, stubbing out the joint into the ashtray. ‘Shall we go?’

  Posy took her time getting ready for dinner that evening, sitting in front of the mirror in her lovely room overlooking the canal and applying her mascara and lipstick a little more carefully than usual.

  Freddie collected her from her room, dressed in a crisp blue shirt and a smart jacket.

  ‘You look lovely, Posy,’ he said. ‘Ready to go?’

  They went to a wonderful French bistro the hotel receptionist had recommended. Over a good bottle of Chablis and a delicious steak, they discussed where they would visit tomorrow before the party in the evening.

  ‘I’d love to go to the Van Gogh museum if possible,’ said Posy as Freddie refilled her glass.

  ‘And I’d like to see Anne Frank’s house, which is only a stroll away from our hotel. Perhaps we had better make that our first port of call, as I’m told the queues are fairly horrific,’ said Freddie. ‘What about the seedier side of the city? I’ve heard the live shows in certain districts are . . . educational, to say the least!’

  ‘I plucked up the courage to try some pot, but I think I draw the line at a live sex show,’ admitted Posy. ‘But don’t let me stop you.’

  ‘Not my scene, either, I can assure you. Now, what shall we order for dessert?’

  After supper, the two of them walked companionably back to the hotel. Even though it was late October and there was a chill in the air, it was a pleasant, crisp night.

  Posy linked her arm through Freddie’s. ‘I feel a little tipsy,’ she admitted. ‘I’ve drunk far more than I’m used to.’

  ‘It doesn’t hurt once in a while, does it?’

  ‘No.’ They had reached the front of the hotel. Posy turned to Freddie. ‘I just want to tell you how much I like it here and how glad I am that I came.’

  ‘Good,’ he said as they walked into the lobby. ‘A brandy before bed?’

  ‘No, thank you, Freddie. I’m utterly exhausted and I want to be fresh for tomorrow.’

  ‘Of course,’ he said as Posy collected her key from reception. He leant down and kissed her gently on the cheek. ‘Sleep well, my dear.’

  He watched her as she walked easily up the stairs to her room on the first floor. No one would guess that she was almost seventy – she had the physical stamina of a woman far younger. And the same zest for life she’d had as a twenty-one-year-old.

  Freddy went into the cosy bar and ordered himself a brandy. He looked at other couples chatting together in the comfortable chairs and sighed heavily. That was what he wanted, and he wanted it with Posy. Due to circumstances he couldn’t have dreamt possible, he’d been denied it once before, so when he’d seen her there in his boat, he’d felt a wave of euphoria that fate had perhaps thrown them a second chance.

  Of course, he’d presumed prematurely that she would have known. It had been almost fifty years since he’d last seen her, after all. Surely someone would have told her . . .?

  Freddie took a sip of his brandy. After that first lunch, when it had become clear that she still didn’t, he’d simply had to get up and leave. He’d been too upset to stay.

  ‘What to do?’ Freddie muttered under his breath. He knew they couldn’t carry on like this, that he’d have to walk away just like he’d done before. What he knew would have broken her then; the question was, would it break her now?

  He finished his brandy and took his key from reception. He needed someone to talk to, he decided, someone who knew Posy relatively well, but could give him a rational overview.

  Freddie thought he knew just the man.

  Posy looked out of the window as the plane took off from Schiphol airport. It had been a wonderful three days and she’d enjoyed every second of it. The party had been huge fun, and Freddie’s friend Jeremy and his lovely wife Hilde welcoming.

  She glanced at Freddie sitting next to her, his eyes closed.

  I love you, she thought to herself sadly. That had been the only negative during the weekend – as always, Freddie had been the perfect gentleman and she only wished he hadn’t been. It felt – as it often
had between them – that there was so much that was left unsaid.

  Don’t be greedy, Posy. Be thankful for what you have with Freddie, not what you don’t, she told herself firmly.

  Having collected their suitcases, Freddie drove towards Suffolk in silence, staring at the road in front of him.

  ‘Are you all right?’ she asked, noticing his grim expression.

  ‘Sorry, Posy.’ Freddie roused himself and gave her a weak smile. ‘I’m fine. Maybe a little tired, that’s all.’

  When they arrived at Admiral House, Freddie carried her suitcase inside. Sebastian was in the kitchen, making himself a cup of tea.

  ‘Hello, you two wanderers. How was Amsterdam?’

  ‘Wonderful,’ said Posy. ‘Do excuse me, but I must use the facilities.’

  As she left the kitchen, Sebastian offered Freddie a cup of tea.

  ‘No thank you, I must be on my way. But actually, how about arranging a time for that drink? There was something I wanted to discuss with you . . .’

  Mansion House

  Bodmin Moor, Cornwall

  June 1955

  ‘Now, on the auspicious occasion of her eighteenth birthday, I would like to say a few words about my granddaughter, Posy. I can honestly say I could not be prouder of her. And I know I speak for her father . . . and of course her mother, too.’

  I saw tears twinkling in Granny’s eyes as she glanced at me next to her.

  I’d found tears were the most infectious plague on the planet and soon enough there were some in my own eyes too.

  ‘As well as winning a coveted place at Cambridge University, and excelling in her final school exams, I also want to say that, despite the trials she has been through since she came to live with us here, Posy has never wallowed in self-indulgence. You will all know how she has always maintained a smile for anyone who greets her, been willing to help out in times of crisis, and provided a listening ear to those who needed it.’

  ‘’Ear, ’ear!’ I heard Katie call out from the crowd gathered around me in the garden. People chuckled at her probably accidental play on words.

  ‘So let us all wish her well as she embarks on adulthood and her next great challenge. To Posy!’