London Lace, Series Complete Set

by Catou Martine

Her body convulsed with sobs. Slowly, incrementally, she made it to the bathroom. On the tile her fist ached as the box’s corner pressed into her palm.

  The emerald. His mother’s emerald.

  He had only given her a gift. A gift she didn’t believe she deserved. But he believed she deserved it, or he wouldn’t have given it to her. The gap between what she believed about herself and what he believed about her had been too wide for her to handle. He was right. She fought him at every turn, and she fought herself. No matter how good she felt, she was determined to ruin it all.

  “Oh, Todd. What have I done?”

  Why had she said those things? She had accused him of trying to turn her into his mother. How stupid and cruel could she be? Apparently as stupid and cruel as was necessary to break his final straw. For someone who created for a living she was bent on destroying that which meant more to her than anything. She claimed her work meant everything but she knew that wasn’t true anymore because of the hole she now felt in her heart. A hole she had put there herself. She wasn’t afraid of turning into Todd’s mother, she was afraid of turning into her mother. She felt sick all over again.

  When Eliza heard the cab pull up, she took the key Todd had left sitting on the counter, locked the front door, and then tucked the key under a flower pot.

  The cabbie looked at her oddly but didn’t say anything as she got into the back. Her face was all splotchy from crying. Her eyes were puffy and her make up was smudged. Her shoulders drooped and she moved slowly and tentatively, as if she’d just come out of hospital.

  “The bloke who called prepaid a trip back to London,” said the cabbie, grinning. “That makes my day.”

  Eliza shook her head. In a flat voice, she said, “Take me to the train station.”

  “But what about—”

  “—Keep the payment. Pretend you took me.”

  “Whatever you say, Miss.” He gave her a concerned look and then focused on backing down the driveway. Eliza watched the Snow White house grow smaller and disappear. She felt as if she were closing the last pages of a book. Her fairy tale was over.

  NO PLACE LIKE HOME

  Eliza called Carmen as she waited for the train to depart.

  “How did it go? Did he propose? I just had a hunch he was planning to propose, though I guess he can’t officially, at least until Miss Selfridge is off on her way. Gosh, sorry I’m blathering. Guess I’m excited. Plus I had two coffees and you know I usually only drink tea. The viewings are going great, by the way, in case that’s why you’re calling. Annabelle’s good with the clients, a little sycophantic but she’ll soon get the hang of it.”

  When Carmen finally let her get a word in edgewise, Eliza told her she would be back tomorrow.

  “What’s wrong, Eliza?” said Carmen, finally pausing to listen. “You sound terrible. What went wrong?”

  Eliza’s tears flowed anew. “Everything,” she said. “It’s all over.”

  “But…I thought…”

  Eliza could practically hear Carmen’s buzz of confusion through her mobile, but she wasn’t about to go into details. “Just don’t let me ruin the Ascot deal, Carmen. I seem to be bent on sabotaging everything in my life. Please don’t let me screw up our work.”

  Todd was right; she was really screwed up.

  “Of course, I won’t,” said Carmen. “But I don’t know what you’re talking about. It’s all going great. You and Todd will work it out, whatever’s going on.”

  “Sure,” said Eliza, but she knew they never would.

  After hanging up, Eliza leaned back in her seat. She’d ditched the jewelry box back at the house but kept the necklace, which was wrapped around her wrist with the jewel pendant pressing into the palm of her hand. She kept it there, pushing the stone painfully against her skin, a reminder of all she had thrown away, and of all the pain she still had yet to endure. Eventually, the rumbling of wheels on rails and the gentle rocking of the train chugging north made her sleepy. Her hand relaxed, her breathing settled into a quiet rhythm, and she dozed as the countryside raced by.

  She dreamt about her gambling father, whom she hardly knew, and the time he’d stumbled into her room late at night and frightened her. She’d hid under the covers and pretended she was asleep until he went away. He didn’t come back again for several years, and that time she’d been at school and he had only left a note, including a small amount of money, for her mother. She had an idea in her head of what he looked like, but it was only an idea. She didn’t even know if he was still alive.

  The train whistle woke Eliza a few minutes before pulling into Sheffield Station. The weather had changed. Gray clouds hung over the gray city, though the temperature was still mild. Outside the station, small gusts of wind rippled the terraced fountain. Eliza hailed a cab.

  “Brightside, please.”

  She watched the streets and the grim buildings without expression. The impassiveness of her features was an improvement over the hostile impudence of her eye-liner-smudged adolescent visage, but it was still a mask. There was little here to make her smile. Is that why she had come? To add salt to the wound of her loss? To add misery to heartbreak? Why is it that, when we fall, our first instinct is go to home, even when that home was the first place to knock us down?

  She paid the cabbie and stood on the curb of Lloyd Street. The pavement was littered, the road nearly empty, with most people still at work and children inside glued to TVs and other mind-numbing media.

  Eliza’s mother was semi-retired now, only putting in a couple of shifts at the local hospital as a nurse’s aid each week. But Eliza hadn’t called and so didn’t know if her mother would be home or not. Even if she were, she might not be happy to see her delinquent and neglectful daughter.

  Eliza had made a new life for herself, and from the outside she had made herself a new person, too. But today had proven that a part of her, a deep, essential part, intrinsic to love, had not changed at all. Is that why she was here now? To find out why?

  Eliza knocked. She had a key back at her flat but she’d tucked it away in a drawer years ago having had no intention of returning to Lloyd Street. Now here she was. Most of what Eliza had planned hadn’t turn out as expected, and for the most part, that was good, because most things had turned out better than her expectations. Like Todd. Todd and his love had been so unexpected it had totally derailed her. Tears were streaming down her face by the time she heard the distant echo of footsteps on the other side of the door.

  A frowning, suspicious face peeked out from behind the gauze curtain hanging in front of the side window. A moment later, Eliza heard a variety of locks clicking out of place.

  The door opened and her mother, looking smaller, frailer, more wrinkled and less happy, if that could be possible, stood before her.

  “What are you doing here?” she said.

  “I don’t know,” admitted Eliza through her tears.

  “Well, don’t stand there weeping. Come in.”

  She stood aside and Eliza entered. The hall smelled of burnt toast, coffee, cinnamon, and faint under-scent of cigarette smoke. Passing the sitting room, Eliza did not see any ashtrays.

  “You quit?” she said, wiping her tears off her cheeks.

  “Two years ago.”

  Her mother passed her and led the way to the kitchen. “Was just having my tea. I’ll put out more.”

  Eliza sat at the Formica table while her mother pulled down a second mug for coffee—her mother never took actual tea at teatime—and dropped an extra piece of bread in the toaster.

  “Have summa mine, if you like.”

  Eliza noticed the plate on the table. Sugared cinnamon toast cut into four squares. That had been Eliza’s favorite snack when she was little, but she’d only been allowed the treat once a week, and when she’d misbehaved, that got taken away. Bittersweet memories. She picked up a square and nibbled at the crust. She hadn’t eaten anything on the train. Her body was hungry but she had no appetite.

  Her mother put d
own the mug and pushed it toward Eliza and then she sat down and dipped a piece of toast in her coffee.

  “You stayin’ long?” her mother asked.

  Eliza shook her head.

  “No. Didn’t think so. You hightailed it out of here quick as you could and not been back hardly ever. Well, I can tell by the way you’re dressed it’s not money you need. Not that I got any to spare—”

  “—Mother. Can I just sit here a minute?”

  Her mother shrugged. “Suit yourself. You always did anyway.”

  They sat in silence and sipped their coffee.

  “What you got there?” said her mother eventually. She gestured to Eliza’s clenched fist, which she opened, revealing the emerald necklace and the red indentations in her palm.

  “It was a gift.”

  “What did you do to deserve that?”

  “Nothing. At least not enough. I tried to give it back.”

  “Your father gave me a pearl necklace once. I thought he stole it and I told him so. He was so hurt. I guess he hadn’t stolen it after all. But it changed things between us. I was hard on him, I know it. But he broke my heart early on and I never could forgive him for it. I don’t know why. ‘Spose my mother was a tough old bird and blamed men for all that gone wrong with her life. Guess I inherited it. And never thought to question it.”

  Eliza stared at the jewel as her mother prattled on.

  “You, on the other hand, questioned everything. Can’t say I blame you. You questioned yourself into a proper life. Nicer than this one.”

  “I’ve been lucky.”

  “You worked hard, too. I seen it. Take some credit.”

  They sat in silence for several minutes.

  “At some point,” said her mother. “You’ll need to tell me why you’re here.”

  Eliza swallowed.

  “I think I fell in love…” The tears erupted again.

  “You don’t look like a woman in love. You look like your heart’s broke.”

  “He’s too good for me.”

  Her mother scoffed. “Get over yourself. You’re the one who’s always thought you’re too good for this that and the other thing, ‘cause you had to scramble so hard to get up from a place you thought was down. Now you think you’re too good for me and for the others in this town. But you made all these levels in your life. When you lord yourself over others like that you make the gaps to suffer from.”

  “I didn’t. They really exist, mother. There’s a difference between Lloyd Street and Bond Street.”

  She shrugged. “Of money and perception maybe.”

  “He’s from a wealthy family. He’s a Sir for God’s sake!”

  “Does this bloke, this Sir, lord over you?”

  “No.”

  “Does he act like he’s better than you? Or anyone?”

  Eliza shook her head. “He’s got his own problems, his own hurts. But he treats people well. He’s always treated me well.”

  “There you go then. It’s you that’s got the mindset problem. It’s you that thinks you’re not good enough for him.”

  Eliza started sobbing. “I don’t know how to fix that! It doesn’t matter how successful I am or how many friends I have, I always feel like I’m not good enough. Not even Todd, and his love for me, can fix it!” She blubbered into a tea towel.

  Her mother’s face softened and she laid a hand on Eliza’s wrist. “You had a rough start. I admit it. But there’s nothing to be done about it now. That’s how you started but it’s not how you finish. You never took any of it lying down, Eliza. You were a fighter. Still are.”

  “But I fight for all the wrong reasons!”

  “You do deserve to be happy though. That’s worth fighting for.”

  “But you deserve it, too! Maybe Todd’s right and I’m just destined to lose.” Eliza wailed.

  Her mother sat back in her chair and sighed. “I was more the lying down type, sweetie. No fightin’ spirit. You got the backbone. Your father had it, too. Wasted it, mind you. But you didn’t.”

  Eliza wiped her nose. “What ever happened to him? Is he still alive?”

  “He’s over in Manchester. Remarried. Joined Gamblers Anonymous.”

  “Manchester? Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

  “You never asked.”

  Eliza stared at her mother, dumbfounded.

  “Don’t you remember?” her mother said. “He sent you a few letters when you were a teenager. You burned them. Said he was dead to you. Said you didn’t want to hear anymore about him. You were so angry. So angry and rebellious.”

  Eliza didn’t remember any of it. “I was pretty screwed up then. I guess I still am.”

  Her mother shook her head. “No, you’re not. Maybe anger’s what you needed to get out of this life and into another one. But don’t let it ruin things now. Your anger belongs in the past. So does mine, for that matter.” Her mother grew thoughtful.

  “Do you hate me for leaving?” said Eliza.

  “No. But sometimes I hate that you stay away.”

  Eliza dropped her head, feeling terrible.

  “But you’re here now,” said her mother, stroking her hair. “You’re here now…”

  Despite all the problems of the past, the feeling of her mother’s touch was warm and comforting. She was glad she had come home. Todd didn’t even have a mother to visit. She was dead and gone and Eliza realized now, too late, that the gift of his mother’s emerald was not about reliving his past; it was about creating a new future.

  Eliza spent the night in Sheffield and for the first time in two months she had a good night’s sleep. Before crawling into her old single bed with the chenille spread, Eliza and her mother had talked and laughed and sifted through the small selection of old photos. They even managed to find her father’s address in Manchester.

  “He’ll be surprised to hear from you. Don’t be offended if he doesn’t know what to say.”

  Eliza wasn’t planning to make contact right away. She had a few other things to sort out first.

  “Can you let him know I’m all right?”

  “Oh, I always do. We tell each other if we see things in the paper about you. We cut those out.”

  “So you kind of knew about Todd then?”

  “You can’t trust what those rags say. I just keep the pictures.” She winked. “He’s a handsome devil though. I was worried he was just taking you for a ride after that engagement stuff came out.”

  “That’s not even true. He’s doing it to help his sister.”

  Her mother gave her a quizzical stare, but it was too complicated to explain right now.

  “Like I said, can’t trust those rags,” her mother said.

  “I think he wants to be with me. Or he wanted to. Before all this.”

  “Do you want to be with him?”

  Eliza felt a huge lump in her throat. “Yes… yes, I do. But I’m afraid.”

  Her mother looked her in the eyes. “Are you more afraid to be with him or be without him?”

  Eliza closed her eyes. Her fear was palpable. Her tummy felt tied in a hundred knots. She honestly couldn’t imagine a world with Todd in it and having to go on being without him.

  “I’m more afraid to be without him,” said Eliza.

  “Well, then.” Her mother reached for her worn leather bible. She pulled a frayed postcard from the back pages and handed it to Eliza. She stared at an image of a rosebud just beginning to open. Below the image was a quote. “And the day came when the risk to remain tight in the bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.”

  “Anais Nin?” Eliza laughed. “I didn’t know you’d even heard of her.”

  Her mother winked and smiled. “I may be your mother but I am also still a woman.”

  For the first time in her life, Eliza absorbed this very simple, undeniable truth.

  The next morning, before taking an early train back to London, Eliza promised to visit her mother again soon.

  On the train back to the city
, Eliza felt as if a weight had been lifted from her chest. The hole was still in her heart, but she now had faith that she could repair it. She sent Todd a text.

  I’m sorry. Can we start over?

  He didn’t text back right away. She waited. By the time the train rolled into St. Pancras station, she still hadn’t heard from him. On the cab ride to the shop, she sent several more texts but they all went unanswered.

  She tried calling him, too. Days passed. When he didn’t return her calls she tried Tori and asked her to get him a message through Tatum.

  “He’s either in Manchester or Oxford. I think Melissa’s with him. You know, just for appearances. Though I think Christine’s traveling with them, too.”

  “He won’t return my calls, Tori. It’s been a week already. I don’t know what to do. I wrecked it all and he won’t even give me the chance to say sorry.”

  “Oh, sweetie. I’m sure he still loves you. Just give him some time.”

  “I said rotten things, Tori. I think it’s over for good.”

  “I’ll try to find out what I can from Tatum.

  A few days later, Tori called back.

  “Tatum doesn’t know anything except that he’s been busy packing up Evergreen and he's hired contractors in Oxford. He thinks maybe Todd’s selling the Oxford house, too.”

  That news hit like a rock in her gut. The Snow White house was perfect, even if was full of ghosts from the past. It was also still full of Todd. She wished he would call, but wishes were for fairy tales and she knew now, without a doubt, that fairy tales didn’t come true.

  At least she still had her work. Eliza had created many designs from her sketches in Devonshire. She had taken all of that inspiration of the countryside, the seaside, the horses, the gardens, even Todd’s red bedroom, and poured it into this season’s millinery creations. It hurt now to dwell on the sources of her inspiration, but when she stood back, she had to admit she was proud of her work. Such pride didn’t fill the empty void in her heart, but she was beginning to realize that nothing ever would.

  A couple of weeks before the Royal Ascot, Stella stopped by Candied Locks.