Bey smiled, but her heart sank a little. Being with Will Murdoch seemed to spark something inside her. A light she hadn’t known she had. In him she could sense a kindred spirit. Someone who felt passionately about glamour and sparkle in the same way she did. Someone who made everything fall into place.
He was staying in Amsterdam that night but she was booked on a flight later in the afternoon, so when they finished their coffees he walked with her to the stop for the airport express.
‘I’m really looking forward to working with you,’ he said as she prepared to board the bus.
‘I haven’t got the job yet,’ she reminded him.
‘You will,’ said Will. ‘I know it.’
She hoped he was right.
The email offering her the job arrived the next morning. Bey and Lola did a little jig of happiness and then Bey hugged her mother and thanked her for everything.
‘Especially for allowing me to put my workbench in the shed,’ she said. ‘In fact I’ve taken over the whole house these last few months and you’ve been great about it.’
‘To be honest, I’m sorry you’re leaving,’ said Lola. ‘I’ve enjoyed knowing you’re here. But I’m pleased at the same time. I so want you to be happy. In life, in love, in everything.’
‘Happy with work will be a good start.’ Bey kissed her. ‘As for the rest . . .’ She thought about Will Murdoch again. ‘Maybe it’ll follow.’
Lola had asked her if she wanted her to come to London with her and help look for somewhere to live, but Bey had good news on that front too. She’d called her old college friend Vika, who was living in a house share with three other girls off the Uxbridge Road and who said that there’d be a spare room the following month. In the meantime, Van Aelten were putting her up in a London flat.
‘That’s very good of them.’ Lola was astonished.
‘The family lives in Hertfordshire but have some apartments in the city,’ said Bey. ‘One of them is empty and they said I can use it.’
‘You’re mixing in properly rich circles now, my girl,’ said Lola. ‘Country houses and flats in the city.’
‘Though I’m not the one who’s got the money.’ Bey chuckled. ‘Oh, Mum, it’s great though. I felt comfortable the minute I walked in the door.’
‘You must have made an impression on that guy Will, too,’ said Lola. ‘It was wonderful of him to remember you and tell you about the job.’
‘If you recall, I tried to scald him with coffee,’ Bey reminded her. ‘That tends to mark you out.’
‘All the same, he clearly thought a lot of your work to recommend you.’
‘Which is great,’ said Bey.
She was hoping that it wasn’t just her work he thought a lot of.
Chapter 25
Emerald: a bright green precious stone
The next time Bey saw him was a month after she joined Van Aelten and Schaap. He walked into the office where she was studying a silver ring, sliding it on and off her finger as she assessed it for ease of wear. The design was far fussier than anything she would have come up with herself, but the ring was surprisingly comfortable. The final version would be in gold and set with two diamonds, but the silver one had been made so that she could test it for wearability.
‘Having fun?’ he asked when she didn’t look up.
‘Will!’ She put the ring on the desk in front of her. ‘It’s great to see you. I’m loving the job.’
‘I knew it would suit you.’ He gave her a complacent smile. ‘I knew you’d suit them too.’
‘The vintage jewellery is great fun,’ she said. ‘I never thought I’d enjoy it as much as I do. At the moment I’m working on engagement rings for the Renaissance line.’
‘This is one?’ He picked it up. ‘Nice.’
‘It’ll be very glamorous,’ agreed Bey. ‘I’d prefer something simpler myself, but this is great to wear. In any case, I wouldn’t say no to anyone who proposed to me with the final version.’
He grinned at her. ‘I didn’t realise you were so easily persuaded.’
‘Well, I guess it would depend on the man too,’ she conceded.
Will laughed.
‘But this way . . .’ she continued, ‘this way I get to play with the ring without having to make the commitment. Truthfully, working here is a dream come true for me.’ She gave him a rueful look. ‘Does that make me sound completely shallow? I know I’m not saving the world. I know there are plenty of people doing far more important jobs. But . . .’
‘But you’re making beautiful things,’ said Will. ‘And that’s art, Bey. Just as much as a great painting or a piece of music.’
‘Exactly.’
‘If I didn’t think so too, I’d feel pretty useless wandering around the globe looking at grubby pieces of stone.’
‘The Stone Man.’ She grinned. ‘Did you know that’s what they call you? It’s because you always know the ones that’ll look great after they’re cut and polished.’
Her fingers went to the Adele Bluebells in her ears. Since she’d started working at Van Aelten, she’d taken to wearing them every day. She felt as though her job now merited wearing expensive pieces on a regular basis, although when she was meeting clients she always borrowed from the Van Aelten and Schaap stock.
‘They suit you,’ observed Will. ‘I think Warren’s sourced Ceylon sapphires for the Bluebell collection. Richard always went for the best he could get.’
‘I’ve never thought about where the stones themselves came from,’ said Bey. ‘Mum gave me the earrings before I went to college.’
‘Lovely present,’ said Will. ‘And of course you’d have to have at least one Warren design. I should have asked before, I guess, but how exactly are you related?’
At Richard’s funeral she’d told him she was only a distant relation. But there was no reason not to tell him the truth now. He looked at her in total astonishment.
‘So why on earth didn’t you get a job with Warren’s?’ he asked.
‘We’re not close,’ she explained. ‘Mum and Dad didn’t have a great relationship and I don’t get on with the rest of them either.’
‘That’s a shame,’ said Will. ‘I’m sure you would’ve been a real asset to them.’
‘Oh, they’re happy enough the way things are,’ said Bey. ‘They already have someone for the Adele ranges, and everything else they buy in on exclusive terms. They don’t need me.’
‘They’re making a mistake letting you work for someone else. If I’d realised you were actually a Warren . . .’
‘I’m not. A Warren, I mean,’ she added. ‘I hardly know them, and they . . .’ She shrugged. ‘They’re not part of my life. Besides, Warren’s isn’t like Cartier or Tiffany or Boodles. It’s a small Irish outfit that punches above its weight. It doesn’t have the history or the client list of the big companies.’
‘I suppose not,’ acknowledged Will. ‘All the same . . .’
‘Wouldn’t you have suggested me for the job if you’d realised?’ She tried to hide the concern in her voice.
‘I might have thought differently about it,’ he admitted. ‘But it would’ve been a mistake. Everyone thinks you’re great.’
She smiled with relief and then looked up as Clara and her assistant, Henry, walked into the office.
‘Hi, Will,’ said Clara. ‘D’you want to see what I’ve done for the tennis trophy?’
Van Aelten and Schaap had been asked to design the trophy for a new tournament being held in the Middle East. Bey had seen Clara’s initial design, which looked like a sail encrusted with precious stones. The trophy itself was a metre high, and the tournament winner would receive a replica. Bey hadn’t thought about the other things that jewellers made, but she was enthusiastic about the idea of designing something like the trophy herself one day.
‘Sure,’ he said. ‘We need to have a chat about that bracelet you were talking about too.’
Will and Clara disappeared into her office, while Henry went downstairs
to the shop and Bey got back to the silver ring. She was beginning to put everything away for the evening when they came out again. Clara said she was going to see Gerritt for a few minutes and Will stayed in the outer office and waited for Bey to finish up.
‘I wondered if you’d like to have a bite to eat with me,’ he said. ‘To celebrate your job here.’
‘That would be lovely,’ she said. ‘But please don’t feel you have to look after me because you got me the job.’
‘You got yourself the job,’ said Will. ‘I was just the messenger. Anyhow, I wasn’t thinking of something extravagant. How about a pizza? Or is that a little too downmarket for Van Aelten and Schaap’s latest designer?’
She smiled. ‘I’d love pizza. I skipped lunch today and I’m absolutely starving.’
‘There’s a good place down the road,’ he said. ‘Let’s go.’
It was a warm evening and the streets were busy and bustling. Bey was enjoying the feeling of belonging in the city, of having a job she loved and walking alongside a man who made her feel alive inside. It was a long time since she’d walked alongside a man at all, she thought. Her brief romance with Martín Jurado had been tied up with being in a new and wonderful place, and feeling freer than she’d done in years. But she’d known that it hadn’t meant anything deep to either of them. He was rebounding from a break-up and she didn’t want to let anyone into her heart. She was afraid that, like with her parents, it would all go wrong. And she didn’t want to make that kind of mistake.
Getting involved with Will Murdoch would be a truly terrible mistake, she told herself as they sat at a patio table outside the restaurant. Why she was even thinking of him like that was a mystery to her. Will had been friendly but professional when they’d met. That was all. Yet she felt a delight in being with him that had nothing to do with being professional. And everything to do with his easy charm and good looks.
‘Prosecco?’ he asked as the waiter came to take their order.
‘Oh, I couldn’t . . .’
‘We’re celebrating,’ he reminded her.
‘But . . .’
‘If you don’t drink alcohol, that’s fine,’ Will said. ‘But you should mark the occasion.’
‘You’ve twisted my arm,’ she said, although she looked at him in consternation when he only ordered one glass because, he told her, he had to drive home later.
‘Enjoy it.’ He shrugged dismissively. ‘I’ll toast you with sparkling water.’
She relaxed into relishing the cold, fizzy wine, which came with a strawberry on the rim.
‘Five a day,’ she said as she ate the strawberry and then tucked into the ham and pineapple pizza she’d ordered.
‘I don’t know how you do it,’ said Will when she’d finished before him.
‘Do what?’
‘Pack away the pizza like that and still look as slender as a reed.’
‘Metabolism,’ she told him. ‘And skipping lunch.’
Will said that skipping lunch was a very bad idea. She said it wouldn’t become a habit, and he said it was as well to remember that. Then she made some other comment and suddenly they were talking and talking as though conversation had only just been invented.
She felt more alive sitting beside Will Murdoch than she had in years. Yet being with him was also comfortable and comforting. There was an unexpected calmness about him that allowed her to talk to him as though she’d known him all her life.
She learned that he’d been born and raised in Scotland. His father was an estate manager, his mother a teacher. His interest in gemstones had been forged by a fascination with geology and the landscape around him, but he’d been introduced to it as a career by a neighbouring landowner whose family had mined diamonds in Johannesburg. She loved hearing the cadences of his voice as he spoke, picturing a Monarch of the Glen existence within a strong, secure family. Two sisters, both pharmacists. A younger brother who ran a local hotel. Close but not in each other’s pockets. A little like the Fitzpatricks, she thought.
He asked her to tell him more about herself and the Warrens and she simply said that her visits to her father had never been successful and that her mother and her mother’s parents were her proper family.
‘It’s a shame that things sometimes work out that way,’ he said. ‘But we’re not defined by our families, you know.’
He might have a different opinion if he was related to the Warrens, she thought. She couldn’t help defining herself based on their opinions of her, no matter how many times she told herself they weren’t important.
‘We’re lucky to work in the jewellery trade,’ remarked Will, realising that talking about the Warrens made her uncomfortable. ‘No matter what goes on, it’s a make-believe world. We only ever see people when they’re rich and happy.’
She laughed at his words and told him that she wasn’t rich. But, she realised, she had the Bluebells. And she had her dream job. So she was very definitely happy.
It was late by the time they got up to leave. He asked where she lived and she told him about the house share she’d moved into with Vika.
‘I’ll drop you off,’ he said.
Even though it was Will and she felt as though she’d known him for ever, she hesitated for a moment. Her father’s words of warning were still burned into her brain, influencing every move she made when it came to men. She’d never got into a car alone with any of her coffee-jar men. She’d always had an excuse thought up in advance. But now, even though Philip’s voice was clear and insistent, she ignored it.
‘I don’t want to put you to any trouble,’ she said.
‘Even if I was heading back to Scotland, I’d drop you home first.’ He grinned at her. ‘You’re an important member of the company now. It’s no trouble.’
He paid the bill, waving aside her offer to split it, and then led her to Burlington Road, where he’d left his car.
‘Nice,’ she said as she got into the passenger seat of the white Audi Q7.
‘To be honest, it’s a bit of a pain in the city,’ he said. ‘But a dream for driving up to Scotland, and handy in the hills, of course.’ His accent broadened as he spoke, and she laughed.
He continued to make her laugh as he regaled her with stories of his childhood on the journey back to the three-storey house she shared with Vika and the others.
‘Would you like to come in for coffee?’ she asked when he pulled up outside, a question that made her wince because it sounded so crass and obvious when all she really wanted was to keep talking to him for a little longer.
‘Better not,’ said Will. ‘I’ve a few calls to make to the States this evening and I need to get home.’
‘Don’t let me keep you a minute longer,’ she said. ‘Thank you so much for driving me. I’m really sorry if it’s messed up your evening.’
‘I was the one who suggested dinner, remember?’ He smiled at her as she opened the door. ‘You didn’t mess up a thing. And it was the nicest evening I’ve had in ages.’
She felt a warm glow envelop her. And as she watched him pull away, she wondered how much coffee was left in the jar on the cupboard shelf.
She climbed the creaking stairs to the office the following morning with a sense of anticipation, but although she was at her desk for the entire day and hoped that Will would drop by – to see either her or Clara – there was no sign of him. Later in the week, she heard Nico, the manager of the Bond Street store, saying that he’d gone to New York. She felt hollow inside, even though Clara asked her for ideas about additions to the Van Aelten and Schaap vintage range and gave time and attention to her suggestions. However, she cheered up immensely when the head designer asked her to work on a bracelet. Clara’s faith in her and her ability was confidence-boosting. And yet, although she was engrossed in what she was doing, her head still jerked up every time the door to the office opened, hoping that Will had returned.
She didn’t see him again until the staff monthly meeting, when Gerritt Van Aelten talked about the
ir upcoming customer event at the Savoy. Will was already sitting at the round table in the small meeting room when she walked in, but was engrossed in conversation with Gerritt and simply acknowledged her presence with a brief nod.
‘The economic climate is difficult,’ said Gerritt once everyone had arrived and the meeting proper had begun. ‘But we want to remind our clients that no matter what, haute joaillerie is a good investment and Van Aelten and Schaap can put on a great show.’
Henry Austen, Clara’s assistant, had already told Bey about the events to which selected customers were invited and where Van Aelten and Schaap showed off their latest collections. The theme for this one was opera. The models for the night would be representing various operatic heroines; there would also be performances from rising stars of the Royal Opera, and each of the tables was named for one of the great works. Display cases were to be arranged around the room so that clients could try on the jewellery in a relaxed atmosphere.
‘Is it a good selling opportunity?’ Bey asked Nico, who was sitting beside her.
‘Naturally we want to sell as much as we can,’ he told her. ‘But it’s also a way of thanking our customers for their business during the year. All the same . . .’ he smiled, ‘yes, it is a good selling opportunity. And of course you’ll be wearing lots of Van Aelten and Schaap jewellery that night too.’
Which was something she was really looking forward to.
‘Are you going to be there?’ she asked Will when the meeting broke up.
‘Oh yes,’ he replied. ‘Some of our biggest clients are coming along. They ask for specific stones and I have to source them. It can take months to get the right ones.’
She glanced at her watch and saw that it was nearly 12.30.
‘Would you like to have a sandwich with me?’ she asked.
‘That’s sweet of you,’ he said. ‘But I’m rushing off to the airport shortly.’
‘You’re going away again ?’ She kept the disappointment out of her voice. ‘What a jet-set life you lead.’
What Happened That Night: The page-turning holiday read by the No. 1 bestselling author Page 24