The Butterfly Room

by Lucinda Riley

  ‘Tonight, I love being alive,’ I said to the chestnut as I popped it into my mouth, then ran for the bus that would take me back to Freddie’s flat in Clapham.

  The night before I was due to catch the train home to Cornwall was a bittersweet one. Even though I was looking forward to seeing Granny and Daisy, I realised that Freddie and I had barely spent a night apart in the past four months. Freddie arrived home from the theatre and joined me in bed, making love to me with what felt like extra passion.

  ‘God, I’m going to miss you desperately,’ he said, stroking my hair as I lay in his arms afterwards. ‘Posy, darling girl, will you marry me?’ he whispered into my ear.

  ‘I . . . are you being serious?’ I moved my head so I could look at him in the flickering light of the candle.

  ‘Of course I am!’ Freddie looked affronted. ‘I’d hardly jest about something like that. Well?’

  ‘Is that it, then? No going down on bended knee?’ I teased him, my heart simply bursting through my skin with excitement and love.

  ‘If that is what madam requires, then so be it.’

  I watched as he sighed, climbed out of bed, then sank to one knee in front of me. He took my hand in his and looked up at me sitting on the mattress. ‘Darling Posy, I—’

  ‘As this is a formal proposal, I feel you should use my proper name.’

  ‘What proper name?’ He frowned at me.

  ‘The one that’s on my birth certificate, of course. Posy is only a nickname, you see.’

  ‘Right. So, what is the name on your birth certificate?’

  ‘Adriana Rose Anderson.’

  ‘Adriana Anderson?’ His eyes flickered away from me, seemingly confused.

  ‘I know, it’s hideous. I’m afraid I was named after my mother. Anyway, you only have to use it twice – once now and then on the wedding day. So . . .?’

  Freddie turned his eyes back to me, then gave me what seemed like a rather desolate shrug.

  ‘I . . . well, I think that you’re right, Posy. I should do this properly. With some clothes on, you know?’ he chuckled nervously as he stood up.

  ‘Oh Freddie, I was only teasing. You don’t really need to call me by my proper name or anything.’

  ‘No, when you come back in for the New Year, I’ll . . . arrange something.’

  He climbed in beside me and I blew out the candle as I snuggled into his arms.

  ‘You seem upset, darling,’ I whispered.

  ‘No, no, not at all. I’m just tired after two shows, that’s all.’

  ‘Posy?’ he asked, just as I was starting to drop off. ‘What was the name of the house you lived in as a child in Suffolk?’

  ‘It was called Admiral House,’ I murmured sleepily. ‘Goodnight, darling Freddie.’

  It was wonderful to be home with Granny in Cornwall, and Christmas passed in the traditional manner it always had.

  ‘So, when am I to meet this Freddie of yours?’ Granny asked me after I’d turned the conversation back to something he’d said or done for the umpteenth time.

  ‘When he’s finished his play in London. He told me to tell you he’s really looking forward to it.’

  ‘Well, it’s obvious that you’re totally smitten, Posy dear. Of course I can’t help but worry a little that he’s an actor and all that entails. It’s hardly the most reliable of professions, is it?’

  ‘Freddie has already said that he’ll almost certainly go to Bar School in September. He wants to provide for me properly, so please don’t worry about that, Granny.’

  ‘So you think he will make an honest woman out of you, Posy?’

  ‘Oh yes, we’ve talked about it already. Underneath it all, he’s awfully traditional, you see.’

  ‘And you’ve never regretted breaking off your engagement to Jonny?’

  ‘Oh no, Granny, not once.’

  ‘He was a very nice man, Posy. He would have made you an excellent husband.’

  ‘So will Freddie.’

  ‘If he asks you.’

  ‘Granny, he already has, unofficially, at least.’

  ‘Forgive me, Posy, I just worry a little that you might have said goodbye to Jonny and live to regret it. I fully understand the thrall of new-found passion, but in my view, slow and steady often wins the race.’

  ‘Granny, just because Freddie is trying his hand as an actor does not make him a flighty bohemian. When you meet him, you’ll understand, I promise. Now, I must go to bed before Father Christmas arrives.’ I smiled as I stood up and went to kiss her. ‘Goodnight, darling Granny.’

  I spent all of Christmas Day waiting for Freddie to make his promised phone call, though for some reason it did not come. I put it down to a glitch at the telephone exchange, knowing there must be a barrage of calls going backwards and forwards between households across the land, and our line had never been the most reliable.

  ‘He’ll phone tomorrow, I’m sure he will,’ I comforted myself as I went to sleep that night.

  I was out on Boxing Day morning to visit Katie in the tiny cottage that she shared with her husband and two children.

  ‘They are utterly adorable.’ I smiled as Mary, the toddler, climbed onto my knee for a cuddle while Katie fed the newborn Jack. ‘I just can’t believe you have two already. I don’t feel old enough to be a mother.’

  ‘Well, comes with the territory, doesn’t it?’ Katie shrugged. ‘Judas, it’s hard work though. All I long for is a night’s sleep.’

  ‘Does Thomas help you with the children?’

  ‘You jesting me?’ She rolled her eyes. ‘He’s down at the pub most nights.’

  As I left to walk back home, I thought that Katie wasn’t exactly a walking advertisement for motherhood. Usually so immaculate, her greasy hair had been scraped back in an elastic band and she’d still been in her dressing gown at eleven o’clock.

  I hope I never let myself go like that when Freddie and I have children, I thought as I entered the Manor House and went into the kitchen, where Daisy was making her traditional leftovers stew.

  ‘Anyone telephone for me while I was out, Daisy?’

  ‘No, Miss Posy, sorry.’

  ‘Oh, right. Anything I can do?’

  ‘No, it’s all under control, thank you.’

  Granny had the vicar and his wife over for lunch, but I was distracted, wondering why on earth Freddie hadn’t telephoned me to wish me a belated Happy Christmas. Then I started to worry that some accident had befallen him, that he could be lying in hospital somewhere, in pain and alone . . .

  ‘Granny, would it be all right if I telephoned Freddie’s flat in London? I’m rather concerned that I haven’t heard from him.’

  ‘Of course, my dear,’ Granny agreed.

  I went up to retrieve my address book, then dialled the number with shaking hands. It was a communal phone, which serviced the three flats in the converted house and sat in the hallway.

  ‘Please someone answer,’ I whispered, just wanting to know that he was all right.

  ‘Hello, Clapham 6951.’

  ‘Hello, is that Alan?’

  ‘It is, yes.’

  ‘Alan, it’s me, Posy,’ I said to Freddie’s flatmate. ‘Is Freddie there?’

  ‘No, Posy, I thought you knew he was going home to see his mother for a couple of days. He should be back after the show tonight, though.’

  ‘I see. It’s just that I was a little worried that something had happened, because I hadn’t heard from him. Would you leave him a message to telephone me as soon as he gets in tonight? Tell him it doesn’t matter how late it is.’

  ‘Will do, Posy. And I’m absolutely sure he’s fine. You know what Christmas can be like.’

  ‘Of course I do, yes. Thank you, Alan, and see you soon.’

  ‘Bye now, Posy.’

  I came away from the phone feeling rather silly. Of course nothing had happened to Freddie; he’d probably been busy with his mother. At least now I’d hear from him later. Feeling relieved, I went to join Granny for a
game of cards.

  Even though I stayed awake long past midnight, sitting on the bottom stair opposite the table on which the telephone was placed so I would not miss the call, it remained resolutely silent.

  As I walked miserably back upstairs, dark and terrible thoughts filled my head. Freddie had never yet not returned a call. After a sleepless night, I knew there was only one thing to be done. By the time Granny came down for breakfast, I was packed and ready to go to the railway station.

  ‘I’m dreadfully sorry, Granny darling, but one of my friends has been taken into hospital in London, and I really must go back to see her. She’s at death’s door, apparently,’ I lied.

  ‘Really? I didn’t hear the telephone ring last night or this morning.’

  ‘Then I’m glad it didn’t disturb you, Granny.’

  ‘Will you return to see in the New Year here or not?’

  ‘I think it depends how my friend is. I’ll let you know as soon as I can. Now, I must dash if I want to catch the nine o’clock. Bye-bye, darling Granny, and I hope to see you soon.’

  ‘Safe journey, Posy dear,’ she called to me as I ran out of the front door, where Bill had already got the old Ford running and my suitcase stashed in the boot.

  Granny didn’t believe me, I knew, but it couldn’t be helped. Whatever had happened to Freddie, I simply couldn’t bear to spend another five days here not knowing.

  When the train eventually pulled into Paddington station, I caught the underground to Baron’s Court and staggered up the many steps to the flat to deposit my heavy case and freshen up before going to Freddie’s. Estelle had obviously had a party last night, for there was the telltale detritus in the sitting room. I ignored it, used the bathroom and then went into my bedroom.

  There, sitting on my pillow, was an envelope. I recognised Freddie’s writing immediately. My fingers were shaking so much that I could hardly tear the envelope open. With tears blurring my eyes already, I began to read.

  My dearest Posy,

  I’ll keep this short and sweet. When I proposed to you just before you left for Cornwall, you may have seen that I was in rather a queer mood afterwards. Perhaps saying the words for real made me realise that you and I are simply not destined to be. Even though I had thought I was ready to settle down and commit to marriage and domesticity, I find that I am not. Dearest Posy, it is all me, not you, I promise, but for your sake, I want you to believe that there can be no chance of any kind of future for us.

  Sorry to sound harsh, but I want to make sure that you put me from your thoughts as soon as you can and find someone else who truly deserves you. Equally, I won’t ask for your forgiveness, because I don’t deserve such a thing.

  I wish you a long and happy life,

  Freddie

  I felt my breaths coming in short sharp bursts, my heart pumping madly to provide enough oxygen to accommodate them. I put my head between my legs to try and stem the dizziness before I fainted clean away.

  Surely, this was some kind of malevolent practical joke? Not a single word of it sounded like the Freddie I’d known and loved. It was as if an evil imposter devil had inhabited his soul, forcing him to write the cold, callous words down onto the page. I could read it a hundred thousand times over and I knew I would find no warmth contained in it. He might just as well have written I don’t love you any more and left it at that.

  Once the dizziness abated, I lay down weakly on my pillow, too shocked to cry. I just didn’t, couldn’t understand what had happened in the brief few minutes from our lovemaking and his proposal, to his strange behaviour afterwards. The only explanation was that saying the words out loud had indeed made him realise it wasn’t love. Unless, I thought, another surge of pain ripping into my tortured heart, he’d met someone else . . .

  Yes. That was the only explanation for his total change of heart. Could it be that young, attractive actress in the play? I’d been sure I’d seen her shooting admiring glances at Freddie when we’d gone out en masse with the cast for a drink after the show. Or maybe the props girl, with her jet-black hair, her eyeliner and red lipstick . . .

  ‘Stop it, Posy,’ I moaned to myself, shaking my head backwards and forwards on the pillow. Whatever the reason, the words that lay on the page told me our affair was categorically over, and the future that had been mine three days ago hung about me in shreds.

  I stood up, grabbed the letter and rolled it aggressively into a tight ball. Then I carried it with the tips of my fingers, as though it might wound me further, into the sitting room. I threw it into the fireplace, took a match to it and watched it burn to ash in the grate.

  Perhaps I could pretend I hadn’t received it, turn up tonight at the stage door as if nothing had happened . . .

  No, Posy, then you would just have to hear him say the same words he wrote, which would make the pain worse . . .

  I walked into the kitchen to see what I could salvage from last night’s party. Picking up a glass I poured a large measure out of the gin bottle, and added what was left of the vermouth then swallowed it down in one. I poured myself some more – anything to numb the pain – and some more after that. An hour later, I collapsed on my bed, my head spinning, and not long after I leaned over the side of my bed and vomited all over the floor. I didn’t even care because nothing mattered any longer. My golden future with the man that I loved would never happen. And nothing would matter ever again.

  Chapter 31

  When Posy arrived home the evening after Sam’s arrest, exhausted from a sleepless night of thinking about her son and a busy day at the gallery, she found an envelope lying on the kitchen table underneath a bottle of champagne. She sat down wearily to open it.

  Dear Posy,

  The first draft of the book is finished, so I’ve completed what I came to Admiral House to do. I apologise profusely for leaving without saying goodbye in person, but unfortunately, my schedule demands it. Enclosed is my rent until the end of December, with a little more for all those bottles of wine you’ve so kindly shared with me. I have put my address and telephone number at the top of this letter. Please, if you ever find yourself in London, look me up and I’ll take you for a slap-up lunch.

  Posy, you are a very special lady. You deserve great happiness and your family are extraordinarily lucky to have you. Just remember to put yourself first sometimes, will you?

  Much love and thanks,

  Sebastian

  P.S. I will send you a proof copy of the novel. You might recognise parts of your beautiful house!

  Posy drew the money out of the envelope and saw Sebastian had enclosed at least double what he owed her. Tears pricked the backs of her eyes. Apart from the fact she’d miss him dreadfully, she was surprised at the way he’d left so hurriedly, with no warning at all.

  As Posy put the kettle on the Aga, she could feel the atmosphere in the house had changed already. Even though Sebastian had spent much of his time upstairs, the presence of another person had been palpable. She was back to being alone. Ordinarily, she would have been fine – after all, she’d lived in this house for many years by herself. But tonight, what with Sam and the bloodstains she’d seen on the wall in the Folly, she wasn’t just alone, she was lonely. And she needed someone to talk to. Making a quick call, then taking the shepherd’s pie she’d made for Sebastian’s supper earlier and grabbing the bottle of champagne, Posy left the house, walked to her car and set off to see Freddie.

  ‘Come in, darling girl,’ Freddie said as he ushered her in through the door.

  ‘Thank you, Freddie. I brought a shepherd’s pie. It just needs warming through in the oven.’

  ‘What a treat,’ he smiled, taking it from her. ‘I was about to have scrambled egg on toast.’

  ‘I’m not disturbing you, am I?’ Posy asked him as she followed him through to the kitchen.

  ‘Not at all.’ Freddie glanced at the champagne bottle. ‘Are we celebrating?’

  ‘Unfortunately not, no. That was a parting gift from Sebastian. He’
s upped and left out of the blue.’

  ‘Really? That surprises me. He seemed such a steady sort of a fellow, but I suppose one can never tell with these artistic types. Should we open it?’

  ‘Why not?’ Posy sighed. ‘I’m sure it’s just as good for commiserating as celebrating.’

  ‘Well, I shall open it while you put the pie in the oven. Then you can tell me what’s happened.’

  ‘It’s Sam, Freddie. He was arrested last night at the Victoria Hotel in Norfolk and charged with fraud.’

  ‘I see,’ said Freddie, hoping his face didn’t betray the fact he’d already heard this from Sebastian. He retrieved two champagne glasses from the cupboard.

  ‘He’s out on bail,’ Posy continued, ‘and his solicitor thinks if he’s prepared to give evidence against his former partner, he may not be charged, but it’s up to the CPS to decide.’

  ‘I wouldn’t hold your breath, Posy. Certainly when I left, the backlog on criminal cases such as this was months. This partner of his – dodgy, was he?’

  ‘Obviously. I don’t know the details but the point is that, as well as my son being arrested this morning, the sale of Admiral House is down the drain. Thank you, Freddie,’ she added as he handed her a champagne glass. ‘I’m not sure what to toast to.’

  ‘To life perhaps? To the fact that despite everything, no one died last night and from the sound of it, Sam will hopefully walk away with a ticking off from the judge. There simply isn’t room to put all the petty criminals away, Posy.’

  ‘My son, a criminal,’ Posy shuddered. ‘Will he have a record?’

  ‘He might, yes, but there’s no point in thinking about that now. There’s a long way to go yet. To you, Posy,’ Freddie toasted and took a sip of champagne.

  They ate the shepherd’s pie at the table in the conservatory, and Posy noticed Freddie seemed quieter than usual.

  ‘Coffee?’ he asked her.

  ‘Thank you.’