“So what will you do?”
“Give myself until Christmas,” Eleanor says slowly. “I need the autumn to make sure the tea-room will survive. And I want time to tell Mummy about Felix without her feeling he’ll whisk me away at a moment’s notice.”
“And what do you think he’ll do?”
“First he’ll find his Mama. When he gets home again… Well, they say absence makes the heart grow fonder, don’t they? If Felix really loves me, a few short months of waiting shouldn’t make any difference.”
“But what if they do?”
“They won’t.” Her voice shakes. “I know he loves me. He bought a little two-seater Austin Seven, specially to drive to Woodstock. He spent weeks finishing my portrait. I’ve got to take the risk, Kath… I must be able to trust him.”
Kathleen sighs. “I don’t know how I’d survive without knowin’ Sean and I can go on bein’ neighbours until we’re wed. We see each other every day, even if it’s only for half an hour.”
“I wanted to talk to you about that. Well, not about your wedding, but your plans for the future. Vera wants a holiday in September. Would you like to take her place for a fortnight? Come to work with me?”
“Ellie! There’s a surprise!”
“Actually, I want to ask you a lot more than that. Vera started up the tea-room with me, and I couldn’t have done it without her. But by the end of the day, she’s exhausted. I don’t know how much longer she’ll want to go on working so hard. She has some money Daddy left her—”
“Do you mean what I think you mean?”
“I’d like you to join me as my partner. Those two weeks in September could let you find out whether you enjoy it. You’d have your own kitchen. You could choose your staff. You’ll earn more than Palace wages. And when I manage to scrape up the courage to move to Cornwall, you’ll be in sole charge. I’d have a partner who could share the responsibility – and the rewards.” She throws an arm around Kathleen’s shoulders. “Are you interested?”
Kathleen looks at her with shining eyes. “You bet I am! That palace kitchen is so hot and crowded. I’m sick of Cook bossin’ me around when I know I can prepare any food you name better than she can… I’ll have to tell Sean, but I’m sure he won’t object.”
That night Eleanor sits at her desk, writing Felix a note full of apology and explanations, disappointment and longing, promises and passion.
She waits for, hopes for, prays for a reply. A fortnight later, a letter from Felix arrives. It’s full of love for her and is ecstatic about Moira and her villa and the beauties of the Riviera. Eleanor’s eyes fill with tears and her heart with jealousy. She longs to be back at Juan-les-Pins, sharing the joy of Felix’s reunion.
She hides the painting of the girl in red taffeta under her bed. She knows if Anne sees it, a string of questions will follow. When the showdown happens, Eleanor’s determined to plan its time and place.
Every Saturday afternoon, when she closes the tea-room, she longs to climb into the Morris and drive to St Ives. Surely Felix must be home by now? She imagines travelling through the night, sleeping for an hour in a lay-by, pushing on again until she reaches the sea – and the love and reassurance of Felix’s arms. A briefly snatched day and a single night with him would be better than this silence: a chance to pledge their love, make plans for their future.
But at every Saturday’s end, Eleanor hesitates. She busies herself with the chores – and lets the brief opportunity slip into the dusk.
On the Riviera Terrace
Juan-les-Pins, August 1936
“I’m so glad you told me.”
Felix swings one lean leg over the other. His long fingers hold the dainty glass of only the best champagne.
He and his beloved Mama have talked and talked. It’s time for luncheon on the Riviera terrace, but neither of them have an appetite for food. They can only devour every detail of the other’s face.
“Yes… It wasn’t easy. But I wanted you to know… And about time.”
“Of course. But it wasn’t your fault, what happened.” Felix swallows back the bile. It has fought its way up his throat in spite of the bubbly. His stomach wants to retch, his mouth to spew vomit. “The man was a monster.”
“Many are.”
“The thing is—”
“Yes?”
“Walter hid it so well.” Felix drums his fingers against his glass. “When I was a child, all those years growing up without him when the highlights of my little life were seeing him again, for the snatched weekend in Newlyn, then in St Ives… I had no idea.”
“Secrets and lies, eh? Secrets and lies, my darling boy!” Moira pushes herself out of her low wicker chair. She raises her arms to smooth her hair. Her body is slim, taut; she holds herself proudly.
Felix runs his professional eye over the widow’s black lace dress, the narrow waist, the straight back, the shining hair, the extraordinary poise.
“I should love to paint your portrait, Mama. You’re still a very beautiful woman.”
A deep blush rises from Moira’s throat to her cheeks. She smiles at her son, but there’s more than a flash of sadness in her cornflower-blue eyes.
“When Walter called me beautiful I used to resent it. I used to think, oh God, here we go again. It’ll be another one of those ghastly nights. Me saying no, please no. Walter denying and denying I had a choice.” Her voice deepens. “Denying that I no longer wanted him.”
Felix stands to take her in his arms. “But that’s all over now, isn’t it, Mama?”
Moira pulls away. She reaches up to stroke her son’s cheek with a light gesture of love.
“No, my darling boy. That’s the whole point, don’t you see? It’s never over, even though it happened all those years ago… Memories like mine never fade.” She hesitates. “Besides—”
“Yes? Tell me.”
“There was worse.” Moira chokes. “I could tell you, but I don’t want you to know. I never want you to know.”
“But I’m here precisely to be told—”
“No.” Moira takes Felix’s hand. “It would be useless, pointless. Let’s go and eat.”
“Mama?”
“Yes, my darling boy?”
“Come back to St Ives with me. In a few weeks’ time, when we’ve had a vacation together under the Riviera sun. Come back to The Hideaway. I want you to see what I’ve done to the cottage, the bathroom, the skylight. You surely can’t be planning to stay here on your own. I need you home with me—”
“I promise to visit you. But I can’t promise to live in that house again.”
“You mean there are too many ghosts?”
Moira looks past him, out to the blue of the Mediterranean sea.
“I mean,” she says, “there are too many ghosts – and worse.”
A New Broom
Woodstock, 1936
Having Kathleen in the tea-room kitchen during the two mid-September weeks comes as a revelation to Eleanor. Kathleen works at twice Vera’s speed, invents fresh recipes, gives Eleanor ideas for their winter menu, introduces her to new suppliers, adjusts the tea-room’s prices slightly upwards and even makes Eleanor laugh at the end of hectic days when they’re both exhausted.
Eleanor realises how wary she’s been of overloading Vera, reluctant to chivvy her or criticise her cooking. With Kathleen, she feels free to ask for changes or improvements, to discuss and review their progress. Their partnership’s both dynamic and loving, born of years of friendship, and now interlaced with the added excitement of tackling a new challenge.
“I wish I’d brought you in at the very start,” Eleanor says.
The fortnight’s over. They’re sitting in the tea-room kitchen on a Saturday evening over salmon sandwiches and a bottle of Chablis. “But back in July, I’d no idea whether the venture woul
d succeed. There was so much to learn. It wouldn’t have been fair to ask you to give up your palace job and take the risk.”
“I’ve had the happiest two weeks of my workin’ life. It’s hard, responsible work, but so much fun.”
“So where do we go from here?”
“I’ll have to give the Palace proper notice, but I could be free to join you at the start of November. How does that sound?”
“Perfect. It’ll give me time to talk to Vera, who can go back to being our housekeeper. She’ll probably breathe a sigh of relief. And I’ll get the legal stuff signed and sealed with Michael Humphreys.”
“Have you told your mother about me joinin’ you permanently?”
“Not yet.” Eleanor refills their glasses. “I hardly see her these days. She’s either working for Jonny or gadding about… But she’ll be delighted. She always leaves the business side of things to me.”
At the end of September, Maud comes back to Blenheim for a week’s holiday, looking smarter than ever, her sophistication strangely out of place in homely Fishery Cottage. She’s bursting with royal news.
“Edward and Wallis spent all summer cruisin’ the Mediterranean on a yacht called the Nahlin,” she tells Eleanor and Kathleen one Sunday evening as they eat supper at Fishery. “He’s no idea how a king should behave. He walked around small seaside towns stripped to the waist, with Wallis in tow. He ain’t got no royal dignity.”
“With everyone snapping their cameras at him?” Eleanor asks.
“Of course… Lappin’ it up. The American and European papers are full of the scandal. Some people said Wallis seemed fed up with Edward. At the end of their holiday, she travelled to Paris alone. She wrote to Edward tellin’ him she wanted to go back to her husband, but the king threatened to slit his throat if she left him. Now her divorce is goin’ ahead, exactly as he planned. God only knows where it’ll lead.”
“At least he’s a man who knows what he wants,” Eleanor says.
“Yes, but what does his country want? He travelled to Balmoral for a couple of weeks, insistin’ Wallis follow him. Then he went to collect her from Aberdeen station when he should have been openin’ a new infirmary. He got the Duke and Duchess of York to do it instead, sayin’ he were still in mournin’. But that were plain ridiculous, seein’ as how he’d spent the summer cavortin’ around with never a care in the world. He can’t expect people to accept him as a serious monarch if he behaves like that.” Maud shakes her head. “I can see everythin’ comin’ horribly to the boil the minute Wallis is a free woman. Just you watch and wait.”
Eleanor feels she’s doing exactly the same: watching and waiting.
At the end of September a letter from Felix finally arrives, along with a beautiful chiffon scarf. He’d spent a glorious month with his Mama in Juan-les-Pins. Now he has a ton of work in St Ives to catch up on. He loves her. His bed is cold and lonely. He’s eternally grateful to her for finding Moira.
As Eleanor reads the letter, her heart thunders with both relief and anxiety. She winds the beautiful scarf around her neck. Felix mentions nothing about the future. When will they see each other again? Does he want her to meet Moira? She sleeps with the letter underneath her pillow, but it gives her no answers. In her darkest moments she’s filled with dread.
Might it be possible that, by finding Moira, Eleanor has lost Felix?
The Engagement
Woodstock, 1936
Eleanor has many new plans for the tea-room, but she’s reluctant to put any of them into action before Christmas. She wants to open up the drawing room as a second tea-room, but she hesitates to ask for Anne’s permission, dreading another argument. She wants to exhibit other painters’ work on the tea-room walls, but puts her plans on hold until Kathleen is safely installed.
Vera, grateful she can return to her normal duties, suggests she makes tins of shortbread to sell in the tea-room at Christmas. Eleanor knows that if these are a success, they could extend their range to homemade jams, preserves and gingerbread. But once again she hesitates, clawing back her ambitions.
Both Robin and Michael approve her plan for Kathleen to join as her new partner. One Wednesday afternoon at the end of October, after Kathleen has signed the contract in Michael’s office, Eleanor rushes to the drawing room to show Anne the document.
“It’s done and dusted, Mummy.” She throws open the door. “I’m so excited. I have a new partner—”
Anne stands beside the fire in Jonny’s arms. Her lipstick is smudged, her hair tumbles around her ears, her eyes glitter with happiness. Eleanor catches her breath.
“Congratulations, Eleanor,” Anne says. “And I have a new fiancé.”
Eleanor says wildly, “I beg your pardon?”
Her mother grips Jonny’s hands. “We’re engaged.” Her cheeks shine with a radiant blush. “You’re the first to know. Jonny asked me to marry him on Saturday. I couldn’t wait to say yes. I’d been longing for him to ask. We adore one another.”
“Good God, Mummy.” Eleanor clutches the back of the sofa. “You hardly know—”
Jonny breaks free of Anne and moves swiftly towards his future stepdaughter. “I hope you don’t mind, Eleanor.” His voice is thick with emotion. “I made a complete fool of myself with you, but the fact is my darling Annie and I are much closer in age. We’ve both lost someone we love and we turned to each other for sympathy.” He glances lovingly at Anne. “After we started working together, we realised how well we fitted into each other’s lives… I’m a very lucky man.”
“I’ve been so busy in the tea-room I didn’t notice.” Eleanor flops onto the sofa. “I don’t know what to say.”
“I hope you’ll say you’re happy for us.” Anne sits beside her. “You can stop worrying about me now. I’ve Jonny to take care of me.”
“To care for you both,” Jonny says quickly. “Not that you need it, Eleanor, you’re so independent. I could never replace Walter, but—”
“Yes, indeed, thank you.” Eleanor’s head fizzes with shock. “I mean, no, you could never be my father.” She tries to control her voice. “So when—”
“We’re planning to marry on Saturday the 12th of December.” Anne looks up at Jonny for confirmation. “We’d like to spend our honeymoon in Europe. I’d love to go to Paris, and Jonny wants to visit Florence and Rome. We’ll ask Stephen and his wife to run Jonny’s shop over Christmas.”
“And where—”
“We’ll hold the ceremony at the register office in Oxford and have a small party here in the tea-room, if that’s all right with you. Neither of us wants to make too much of a song and dance.”
“And where will you live?”
Jonny sits down on the other side of Eleanor. “We thought I could move in here, after we’re married,” he says, “but only with your approval.”
“We’ll keep this drawing room for ourselves,” Anne says. “But next summer you could certainly expand into the garden—”
Eleanor stands up, desperate to be on her own. “I’m delighted for you both. I hope you’ll be very happy together.” She drops the new contract into Anne’s lap. “If you could read this, make sure you’ve no objections—” She makes a dash for the door.
Jonny says, “Before you go…”
Eleanor turns to face him. She notices how young and buoyant he looks: his hair is luxuriant and gleaming; his eyes shine with a gratitude both infuriating and disarming.
“Thank you for giving us your blessing. I promise you won’t regret it. I intend to make your mother the happiest woman in the world.” He slides towards Anne, flinging an arm around her. “Don’t I, my darling girl.”
Anne lifts her face for Jonny’s kiss, as if there’s nobody else in the room.
Eleanor crashes into the kitchen.
Vera says, “Good gracious, dear heart, whatever’s the matt
er? Have you seen a ghost?”
“I think there might be one in the drawing room.”
“In the—”
“My father’s ghost… Mummy will explain. Jonny’s in there with her. Could you take them a tray of tea? If I do it, I might throw it at them.”
“Eleanor!” Vera almost drops a plate of cakes. “What on earth has happened?”
“Can you manage without me for half an hour? There’s something I must do.”
Eleanor leaves the house and starts to run. Through the graveyard and its iron gate, into the Triumphal Arch and the sweep of Blenheim’s parkland. Up to the front of the palace, round the side to the stables. She even startles the horses.
“What’s the matter, Eleanor?” Sean emerges from behind a black mare he’d been grooming.
“Where’s Kathleen?” She has a stitch in her side and she bends double to get rid of it. “I must talk to her.”
Sean strokes the mare’s nose to keep her calm. “It’s Wednesday afternoon. She’ll be at Fishery.”
“Of course.” Eleanor pushes back her hair. “Sorry, I forgot.” She starts to run again.
Sean stares after her, shaking his head.
“I don’t understand why you’re makin’ such a fuss.” Kathleen takes some scones out of the Fishery oven. “Way I sees it, your mother’s engagement’s got to be good news.”
“But Jonny proposed to me—”
“You turned him down, Ellie. It’s not as if he’s been seein’ Anne behind your back! She and Jonny are both old enough to know what they want. It may not be love’s young dream, but I reckon they’re lucky to have found each other. It gives your mother a second chance of happiness… and it gives you a wonderful opportunity.”
The Choice Page 32