The Rose Girls

by Victoria Connelly

  He shoved his hands in his pockets and she watched as he turned to leave, his shoulders slumped and his gait one of a rejected suitor. Evie stood there, chewing her bottom lip in agitation and wondering if she had just made a big mistake.

  Later that afternoon, Evie was dusting Esther’s room, the cloth flying over the surfaces as if possessed. When she reached the collection of figurines, Esther barked from her chair.

  ‘I’d rather do those myself, thank you!’

  ‘Do you want me to help or not?’ Evie asked, an enormous scowl on her face.

  ‘Not when you’re in that mood.’

  ‘What mood? I’m not in a mood!’

  ‘Of course you’re not!’

  Evie paused, duster in hand. ‘I’m just – just –’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Lukas is back,’ she blurted before she could stop herself.

  ‘Who’s Lukas – a lost cat?’ Esther asked.

  ‘No. A lost man.’

  ‘Oh,’ Esther said.

  Evie sighed. ‘He was here earlier in the year doing some work for us in the garden whilst Mum was ill and I was taking care of her. He’s an art student and he’s been working his way around England looking at – whatever it is artists look at.’

  ‘And he clapped eyes on you, is that it?’

  ‘Something like that.’

  ‘But you don’t have eyes for him?’

  Evie twisted the yellow duster in her hands as if she was wringing somebody’s neck.

  ‘I liked him,’ she said, ‘but I didn’t think I’d see him again. I didn’t ask him to come back.’

  ‘Then tell him to go. If you’re not interested, he’ll have to listen,’ Esther said.

  Evie appeared not to have heard Esther.

  ‘I didn’t ask anything of him,’ she said. ‘I told him to go.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Esther said, turning around in the winged chair and giving the girl her full attention. ‘Evie? Why is this worrying you so much?’

  But Evie didn’t reply. She just shook her head and left the room with the duster in her hand.

  22.

  With a house as large as Little Eleigh Manor and only three other people living in it, one would have thought that it would be easy to slip out undetected, but Gertie’s experience of such things proved otherwise.

  She was just halfway across the hall when she heard Evie’s voice coming from the living room. ‘Where are you off to?’

  ‘Why should I be off to anywhere?’ Gertie said, stopping briefly.

  ‘Because you’ve got that definite stride of yours that means you’re going somewhere.’

  ‘I’m only going for a walk if you must know.’

  ‘Can I come with you?’ Evie had got up and was now in the hall, looking at her sister.

  Gertie’s mind whirled around a number of excuses but her sister seemed to take pity on her.

  ‘Go on, then,’ she said. ‘Be off with your volume of poetry or whatever it is you’re going to read in the dappled shade of some ruin.’

  Gertie could feel herself blushing. ‘I’ll see you later.’

  She left the house, anxious that Evie might follow her because she was, indeed, going to some old ruin – the little chapel on the other side of the river. She was glad that Evie hadn’t questioned her too much about her choice of dress because she was wearing her favourite, which was in the lightest of fabrics and was the exact colour of new bluebells.

  The evening air was still wonderfully warm and the Stour Valley was bathed in golden light, turning the river into a sparkling wonder. The light breeze rustled the leaves of the willow trees and Gertie marvelled at the length of her shadow.

  She should have been feeling more light-hearted than she was after the recent trip to Cambridge, but she’d only seen James a handful of times since then and each meeting had been horribly brief. Text after text had been sent explaining how very busy he was or how needy Samantha was being.

  Forgive me, Gertie xxx

  How many times had she forgiven him now? And could she really be expected to do anything else in her position? She had no right to expect anything from him, really, and yet she couldn’t help feeling so horribly disappointed each time he let her down. Was it too much to ask to see him? All she wanted was to be in his company and to be held and kissed. How she missed those kisses. She lay in her lonely single bed each night imagining what it would be like to have James next to her. To be able to roll across a great double bed and kiss the man she loved whenever she wanted to. Especially when the woman he currently shared a bed with didn’t really want him there next to her.

  But at least she was seeing him now, she thought, as she wended her way through a field full of black and white cows. Large raised heads watched her progress but decided that she wasn’t worth bothering about and continued with their evening meal. It was like a scene from a Thomas Hardy novel and Gertie couldn’t help feeling like one of Hardy’s doomed heroines, having fallen in love with the wrong man at the wrong time and wondering how the whole thing would end.

  Keep hoping, she told herself. He’s on his way to you.

  She wasn’t sure how and she wasn’t sure when but, one day, James would be hers and they would be together in their little Italian villa, starting a family of their own. How Gertie had clung to that dream during the dark months of Penelope’s illness. It had been the one thing that had kept her sane, the only little glimmer of light in a very dark world.

  But reaching the ruined chapel, she saw that there was no James and no Clyde either. She checked her watch. Was she early? No. She walked through the tall blond grasses, admiring the patch of blue scabious, and found a low wall and sat on it, the knobbly flints uncomfortable under the thin fabric of her dress. She should have brought a jacket with her. The air was cooling rapidly now.

  She looked out across the old grounds of the chapel. Beyond the tall pink spires of rose bay willow herb, there were two apple trees, their fruit as small and hard as golf balls. Gertie couldn’t help wondering if she would still be meeting James here in secret when the fruit was ripe. It had been a year since they had first met. A whole year of secret meetings and promises that, one day, they would be a proper couple. But, as time went on, it was getting harder and harder to believe that that day would ever come.

  As the light faded from the sky, Gertie came to the conclusion that he wasn’t coming. She’d checked her phone a dozen times but there was no message, and then she remembered their secret hidey hole. Jumping down from the wall, she walked through the ancient arched doorway of the church and made her way towards what once would have been the altar. There, about six inches up from the ground, was a hole half-shrouded by gangly weeds. A large flint had been placed inside it and Gertie removed it now and found a piece of paper, which she unfolded.

  Couldn’t get a signal on my mobile so thought I’d leave a note in our secret place. I turned up early, hoping you’d be here too. S’s not been feeling well today so I can’t stay. Miss you loads. Love you. J xx

  Disappointment coursed through Gertie. She wasn’t going to see him and she’d waited so long for today. She closed her eyes and, when she opened them, she realised that it was getting dark and that she wouldn’t have long to get home safely.

  Leaving the ruins, she should have headed home straight away but something made her cut across a field towards the village, her feet unsteady on the hard ridges left by a tractor.

  What do you think you’re doing? a little voice inside her asked.

  ‘I just want to see him,’ she replied.

  Don’t be a fool. Go home!

  But some mad need from deep inside her moved her towards the barn conversion at the end of the village. The lights were on and shone out of the huge windows as Gertie approached from the footpath. She could see quite clearly from the gap in the hedge at the back o
f the house and knew that she was well hidden in the shadows there. It was a ridiculous thing to do and yet she couldn’t stop herself. She just wanted a little glimpse of him.

  She gasped as he came into view holding a huge ceramic bowl filled with salad which he placed on the dining room table before wheeling Samantha’s chair up to it. Gertie watched in envious wonder as James sat down. He was facing the window and Gertie wished with all her heart that he would sense her presence out in the darkening evening.

  She watched as they ate. James was smiling. What did he have to smile about when he wasn’t with her, she wondered? He was always professing to be so miserable at home.

  Perhaps he’s thinking about you, a little voice inside her said. She smiled, but she couldn’t help feeling hurt that he was with Samantha and not her.

  And then it happened – Gertie watched as if the moment was happening in slow motion as James leaned forward in his seat and reached out to take hold of his wife’s hand, stroking it with his long fingers in a gesture so gentle and romantic that it brought tears to Gertie’s eyes. Was that the action of a man no longer in love with his wife? A man who was planning to leave his wife?

  Gertie turned away, her mind fogged with confusion and her eyes brimming with tears. What was going on? He loved her, didn’t he? Not Samantha. He was always telling her that. Samantha was manipulative and cruel. She drained him of all energy. He’d told her that over and over again.

  ‘It’s you I love,’ he’d say but, seeing him with Samantha in the privacy of their home, she wasn’t at all sure she believed him anymore.

  Celeste had been hiding in the study with the door firmly closed and the radio on in an attempt to keep out the noise of banging coming from Mr Ludkin and his son, who had made a brutal start on the north wing. It was a bit risky starting work on the renovations before the actual sale of the paintings but Celeste didn’t think they could wait any longer – not with a great gaping hole in the ceiling and the risk of rain damage, and Julian seemed quite sure that they were about to make a good sale with the Fantin-Latour, so there would be money in the bank before too long.

  She was just thinking about looking up personality disorders on the internet when Evie charged into the room.

  ‘So what are we going to do, then?’ her sister asked without any sort of preamble. It was her usual way; she always expected people to be able to read her mind and keep up with her train of thought.

  Celeste frowned. ‘About what?’

  ‘About the painting!’

  ‘What painting?’

  Evie sighed and placed her hands on her hips in frustration at Celeste’s inability to understand what she was talking about.

  ‘The painting that Simone stole from us!’

  ‘Oh, that painting,’ Celeste said.

  ‘Don’t say you’d forgotten about it,’ Evie said, walking into the room and sitting down in their mother’s old chair.

  Celeste swallowed hard. She’d have never had the nerve to do that and yet Evie looked completely unperturbed by her movement.

  ‘To be honest,’ Celeste said, ‘I hadn’t given it much thought. Where’s Lukas?’

  ‘What’s Lukas got to do with this?’ Evie said, and Celeste noticed that her sister was blushing.

  ‘Gertie mentioned he was back. I’d like to meet him.’

  ‘Well, he’s gone, okay?’

  There was an awkward pause between them before Evie continued.

  ‘So, you’re going to let her get away with it, is that it?’

  ‘With what?’

  ‘The painting!’

  ‘It’s not a case of letting her get away with it,’ Celeste said.

  ‘No! I know what you’re like. You’d do anything to avoid confronting the old cow about this, and that’s so wrong, Celly!’

  ‘Then what do you suggest we do? We can’t just take it and I don’t think Dad would believe us if we told him. He’d probably deny knowing anything about it and the whole business would just leave a lot of bad feeling. You know what Simone is like – she’d twist this thing around and make us look like the guilty party.’

  Evie shook her head. ‘I can’t believe you’re just going to leave it.’

  ‘I don’t think we have a choice.’

  ‘But that painting was our grandparents’,’ Evie said, knowing that that would hit her sister’s weak spot.

  Sure enough, Celeste gave a weary sigh.

  ‘You want that painting back as much as I do,’ Evie told her, ‘and, if you don’t do anything about it, then I will.’

  Evie was still fuming mad when she drove to Gloria Temple’s for a meeting with her wedding planner. She knew Celeste had a lot on her plate at the moment but she would have thought that a stolen painting would be a pretty big priority, especially in light of what the other paintings had been valued at. She shook her head as she drove through the winding countryside, slowing down to overtake a horse before turning into the immaculate driveway of Blacketts Hall. She took a couple of minutes to calm herself down, pulling her fingers through her hair, which was still the frightful shade of blonde she had dyed it.

  Opening the door of the van, she stepped out into the sunlight and it was then that she noticed a young man standing by the great yew hedge, his back to her. But Evie recognised him all the same.

  ‘Lukas?’ she said.

  He turned around. ‘Evie!’ he said, obviously thrilled to see her, which was more than could be said for Evie.

  ‘What on earth are you doing here?’ she said, her eyes doing their best not to take in his strong tanned arms but failing miserably.

  ‘I put an advert up in a few local shops and Miss Temple hired me,’ he said with a big grin that was far too cute to be ignored.

  ‘I thought you’d left Suffolk,’ Evie said.

  ‘What made you think that?’

  But Evie didn’t get a chance to answer because Gloria Temple appeared. ‘Ah! Evie! Am I interrupting something?’ Her eyes drifted from Evie to Lukas. ‘Do you two know each other?’

  ‘Yes,’ Lukas said.

  ‘No,’ Evie said at the same time.

  ‘Oh,’ Gloria said. ‘How confusing!’ She clapped her bediamonded hands together. ‘Well, let’s make a start, shall we? Carolina is here and wants to quiz you about your beautiful flowers.’

  There then followed an intense hour with Gloria’s wedding planner in which Evie was made to feel like the very lowest of minions as Carolina droned on and on about what she was planning for Gloria’s big day.

  Evie was sitting on a black leather sofa that faced the window overlooking the driveway, and she couldn’t help but notice Lukas halfway up the ladder as he trimmed back some foliage from the front of the house. He seemed to be all too aware of her presence, too, and caught her eye and waved. Evie rolled her eyes.

  ‘Evelyn?’ Gloria said.

  ‘Sorry?’ Evie said, her attention drawn back into the room.

  ‘Don’t you like Carolina’s suggestion?’

  ‘Oh, no!’ she said. ‘I mean – no – I don’t not like it.’

  ‘What?’ Gloria cried.

  ‘What?’ Carolina echoed.

  ‘I mean, I think a balloon arch is a wonderful idea!’ Evie said, seeing the two women’s faces relax. Evie sighed. She wasn’t a big fan of balloons, it had to be said. She thought them cheap and nasty and childish. At least, that’s what her mother had said about them but she wasn’t going to confess to that and so she smiled. ‘Balloons!’ she said. ‘Let’s have them everywhere!’

  Once the meeting was finished, Gloria escorted Evie to the front door.

  ‘Isn’t Carolina absolutely wonderful?’ Gloria beamed. ‘I wouldn’t be able to operate without her!’

  ‘I would,’ Evie said under her breath, ‘quite happily.’

  ‘I’m so glad you two have met
now. It makes me feel a lot easier about things. Of course, she’ll be here on the big day too, so make sure you liaise with her.’

  ‘I’m looking forward to it,’ Evie said, hoping she wasn’t about to be struck down for lying as she shook Gloria’s hand. ‘I’ll see you on the big day.’

  Gloria laughed. ‘Can you believe I’m going to be a bride again?’

  Evie smiled. She could believe it, all right. She wondered if Hamilton Roses would be called upon to supply the flowers for the wedding that would no doubt follow this one in two or three years’ time, if the bookies were to be believed.

  Lukas was still hanging around in that annoyingly persistent way of his as Evie made her exit.

  ‘I like your hair like that,’ he called from his perch halfway up the ladder.

  ‘I don’t,’ Evie said. ‘It was a mistake.’

  ‘You look like Marilyn Monroe,’ he told her, coming back down to earth. She smiled sarcastically at him. ‘You do!’

  ‘Well, I’m going to dye it a different colour soon so wave it goodbye.’

  Lukas waved and Evie rolled her eyes at him. It was then that an idea crossed her mind.

  ‘Could you get a ladder like that onto our van?’

  ‘Why?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m just wondering.’

  ‘I don’t see why not,’ he said. ‘There’s a rack.’

  Evie nodded and pursed her lips together. ‘Would you do something for me, Lukas?’

  He took a step closer towards her. ‘You know I’ll do anything for you,’ he said.

  ‘Well, then,’ she said. ‘I might just have a job for you.’

  23.

  It was on a perfect English summer’s day in mid-July when Kammie Colton visited Little Eleigh Manor. Julian had rung Celeste in plenty of time so that she was prepared and, after Celeste had made sure the house was looking as good as it possibly could with half the roof missing from the north wing and dust everywhere, she took a walk around the garden.

  The roses were looking their very best, and Celeste stopped by a small round bed full of Rosa Mundi which was flowering for all it was worth, its stripy two-toned pink petals fully open to allow its golden stamens to drink in the glorious sunshine. Summer really was the most wonderful season and Kammie Colton couldn’t have picked a better day to see the gardens, Celeste thought, as she nipped a dead rose head between her fingernail and thumb. It was a quick and simple movement that was done instinctively and almost without thought as she moved around the garden, but she cursed herself a moment later when she stepped off the path into a bed to nip off a shrivelled rosebud and caught her dress on an evil thorn of a Portland rose. She had put on a dusky pink linen dress that had been ironed the night before and hung in a room from which Frinton had been barred, and now she’d gone and snagged it.