The Rose Girls

by Victoria Connelly

  ‘Hello,’ she said. ‘It’s certainly busy.’

  He nodded. ‘It’s a good crowd. That’s exciting. Where are you sitting? Come with me.’

  He led the way down the aisle between the neat rows of chairs, his right hand in the small of her back.

  ‘Oh, not the front!’ Celeste said. ‘I couldn’t bear it.’ She walked back a few paces, choosing herself an aisle seat in the middle of the room.

  ‘Are you sure you’ll be okay here?’ he asked.

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ she said with a tight smile. Her nerves were definitely getting the better of her. ‘Go on, Mr Auctioneer – get those paintings sold.’

  He gave her a grin and a funny little salute before making his way to the rostrum at the front of the room. An expectant silence followed and then the madness began.

  The first few lots were rather dull landscapes in oil which went for staggering amounts of money. Celeste looked around the room in awe. Who were these people and how on earth did they make so much money? She noticed a row of tables along the side of the room which were manned by staff with telephones glued to their ears and computer screens in front of them. It seemed that the auction was not just confined to this little room in the centre of London but included the whole world.

  Tens of thousands of pounds were exchanging hands at an alarming rate, the figures being shown in all the major currencies of the world on a large screen behind Julian. Celeste watched in wonder, her eyes wide and her heart racing wildly as the time approached for the rose paintings to be shown.

  Celeste’s mouth had gone quite dry when the first of her paintings was brought out into the room. Julian’s eyes met hers across the crowds and then the torture began.

  First was the Frans Mortelmans of the pink and crimson roses in the basket.

  ‘Grandma’s favourite,’ Celeste whispered to herself, tears filling her eyes a few heart-stopping moments later as it sold. Even though it reached forty-five thousand pounds, it hurt so much to know that she would never see it again. She knew that Gertie and Evie would be watching the auction online at home and wondered if they would be cheering or crying.

  The Frans Mortelmans was followed by the Ferdinand Georg Waldmüller and then the Jean-Louis Cassell painting of white roses that Celeste loved so much. Each of them made over thirty thousand pounds, but every time the gavel fell, its strike was like a bullet being fired into Celeste’s heart.

  The rose painting sale finished with the delicate Pierre-Joseph Redouté. ‘The Raphael of flowers,’ Celeste said to herself, remembering what Julian had told her about the painter. It reached a record price: sixty-five thousand pounds, receiving the first round of applause in the sales room that day.

  All of the paintings had met and far exceeded their reserve price which, in a way, was a wonderful thing, but it meant that none of them was coming home with her. She knew then that she had secretly been wishing that at least one would. But at least they had the little painting that Evie had liberated from Simone, Celeste thought. That was some consolation.

  She didn’t stay for the rest of the auction but quietly left the room, feeling Julian’s eyes on her as she exited. She couldn’t bear to look at him; she needed to be alone and so left Faraday’s and walked the streets until she found a little park. She sat on a bench in the London sunshine, taking deep breaths to calm herself.

  They were gone. First the Fantin-Latour and now the other smaller paintings that had graced the walls of Little Eleigh Manor for so many years. Celeste closed her eyes, feeling the full weight of her guilt. She knew that most people would probably think she was a spoilt girl living in a medieval moated manor house full of antiques and that she had nothing to complain about, but she couldn’t help mourning the loss of something so beautiful and something that had been so precious to her grandparents.

  When her phone beeped, she took a look at the message, half-expecting it to be from Julian asking her where she had gone, but it was from Gertie.

  You did the right thing. x

  She blinked away the tears, taking comfort in the fact that her sister knew exactly how she was feeling at that moment.

  As much as she wanted to leave London and slink back to her quiet corner of East Anglia, she knew how rude that would be after all of Julian’s hard work and so, after a few more moments of relative solitude, she made her way back to the auction rooms. The sale was over and the foyer was full of people lining up to pay for their items. At first, she couldn’t see Julian but then she spotted him in the corner of the room. He was laughing and smiling as only he could. She’d never seen such a warm and relentlessly happy person and she felt her sad mood lift just a little as she watched him talking to a customer. Then he caught her eye, excused himself and made his way across the foyer towards her.

  ‘Celeste! Are you okay?’ he asked, his hand firm on her shoulder.

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘You’re shaking,’ he said. ‘Come with me.’

  ‘Don’t you have to be here?’

  ‘No, no,’ he said lightly, guiding her out of the room with his hand in the small of her back like before. They walked down a carpeted corridor and into a grand and spacious office overlooking a courtyard.

  ‘Is this yours?’ Celeste asked.

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Not a bad little pad, is it?’

  ‘It’s beautiful.’

  ‘And fully equipped with a drinks cabinet,’ he said. ‘Can I get you anything?’

  ‘No, thank you.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ he asked. ‘You look as if you could use something.’

  ‘A cup of tea, perhaps?’

  ‘Of course,’ he said, picking up the phone on his desk. ‘Liza? Two cups of tea, if you wouldn’t mind.’

  ‘You sure it’s not too much trouble?’

  ‘Celeste – you were one of our big clients today. I think we can stand you a cup of tea.’

  She gave a little smile.

  ‘I got worried when I saw you leave,’ he said. ‘I hope you aren’t too upset by this whole thing. I think we got you the very best prices we could.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I know you did and I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done for us.’

  ‘You know one of the paintings will be off to Brazil?’ he said.

  ‘Really?’

  He nodded. ‘The Jean-Louis Cassell. A businessman who is crazy about roses bought it,’ he said. ‘The others are staying in the UK.’

  She smiled, strangely comforted by the thought that the rest of the paintings wouldn’t be too far away.

  ‘So,’ he said, ‘you’re staying for dinner I hope?’ He had an anxious look in his eyes, which seemed to suggest that he thought Celeste was about to up and run, and, much as she’d have liked to, she couldn’t do that to him.

  ‘Of course,’ she said.

  ‘Good!’ he said, clapping his hands together just as Liza entered with the tea things.

  Back at Little Eleigh Manor, Gertie, Evie and Esther were sitting in the kitchen drinking cups of tea of their own.

  ‘Did she respond to your text yet?’ Evie asked Gertie.

  Gertie looked down at her phone. ‘She just sent a couple of kisses.’

  Evie looked grim. ‘She’ll be feeling pretty miserable, won’t she?’

  ‘I’m guessing so,’ Gertie said. ‘I wish she was coming home right away.’

  ‘I don’t,’ Evie said. ‘Julian will cheer her up.’

  ‘Maybe,’ Gertie said. ‘I just hope he doesn’t push things with her. I think he’s really falling for her.’

  ‘Well, I think Celly needs a good big push and Julian seems just the right sort of man to do the pushing too.’

  ‘Don’t be insensitive,’ Gertie said.

  ‘I’m not,’ Evie said, ‘but she needs somebody to pull her out of this constant dark mood of
hers.’

  ‘She’s just had a lot to deal with.’

  ‘We’ve all had a lot to deal with,’ Evie said.

  Gertie gave Evie a look, the sort that was sure to wind her up.

  ‘What?’ Evie said. ‘You don’t think being pregnant whilst doing the work of three people is enough to be dealing with?’

  ‘I thought you said Lukas had accepted the job?’

  ‘He has,’ Evie said.

  ‘So, when’s he starting?’

  ‘Next week.’

  ‘Then stop moaning!’

  Evie shook her head and looked at Esther. ‘Honestly, I get no sympathy around here.’

  Esther gave a little chuckle at the sisterly banter.

  ‘Right,’ Gertie said. ‘I’m off out to get some work done.’

  Evie nodded. ‘I’ll join you in a bit,’ she said.

  ‘So?’ Esther began as soon as Gertie had left, leaning a little closer to her young friend.

  Evie grinned, knowing exactly what Esther was waiting to hear.

  ‘I told him I was pregnant,’ she said after a protracted pause. ‘With his baby.’

  Esther’s eyes lit up with joy. ‘You did?’

  ‘Yes! And I told him something else too.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘That I love him.’

  Esther nodded but, much to Evie’s astonishment, she didn’t look surprised. ‘I thought as much,’ she said.

  ‘How could you possibly know that when I didn’t even know?’ she asked.

  ‘Because I know the signs!’ Esther said.

  ‘Oh, really?’

  ‘Really,’ she said. ‘Come with me. I’ve got something to show you.’

  Evie followed Esther out of the kitchen and back to her room, where she walked across to a little chest of drawers, opening the top one and reaching inside for a small photo album.

  ‘This is the last photo ever taken of Sally,’ Esther said as she opened the album. Evie moved closer and looked at the photograph of the woman she had heard so much about. ‘It was just before she got sick.’

  Evie took in the long, straight hair and the smiling face.

  ‘Who took the photo?’

  ‘A man she’d met called Paolo. He was from Italy. He was training to be a doctor and she was madly in love with him. She never told me, of course, but I knew. Just look at that smile and her eyes. You can see it everywhere.’

  Evie studied the photograph and nodded. ‘But I haven’t been going around smiling like that,’ she said.

  ‘Maybe not but I could still tell. You had that aura about you.’

  Evie laughed. ‘I don’t believe in auras.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter if you believe in them or not. I saw it all the same.’

  ‘I think you’re being rather fanciful, Esther,’ Evie said with a wry smile.

  ‘But I’m right, aren’t I? You’ve been in love with him this whole time.’

  Evie stared out of the window, watching the swallows dancing in the sky high above the rose garden. ‘Yes,’ she said at last. ‘I think I have.’

  When the meal was over and coffee was being served, Julian dared to ask the question that Celeste had guessed had been uppermost in his mind but hadn’t dared to prompt.

  ‘Have you had any time to consider my proposal?’ he asked.

  ‘About the antiques centre?’ she said, as if he’d made any other sort of proposal.

  He nodded. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Gertie and Evie are all for it. Even Esther got quite excited when I told her.’

  ‘But what about you, Celeste? How do you feel about it?’

  She ran her index finger around the rim of her coffee cup. ‘How do I feel about it? I think it would be a very interesting business to have at the manor. It could be a really viable option for the future of the house.’

  ‘Then you’re for it?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said.

  ‘But you sound hesitant,’ he said, looking at her with great intensity.

  She stared back at him, gazing into the kind eyes that she had grown so used to seeing over the last few weeks. It seemed odd to her that there had been a time in her life when she hadn’t known him, when she hadn’t had his gentle presence in her days, and she valued it – she truly did. Only it made her feel so uncertain of herself, and of the future, too, because she didn’t feel that she had anything to give him.

  ‘Celeste?’ he said when she didn’t answer him. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Julian – I –’ She paused.

  ‘Tell me. If something’s worrying you, I want to know.’

  She nodded. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I – it’s just that I feel that everything is moving so fast and that I’m not quite ready for it all.’

  ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘I can understand that.’

  ‘Can you?’

  He nodded. ‘Of course I can,’ he said. ‘You mean me in particular, don’t you?’

  They held each other’s gaze. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I think I do.’

  He swallowed hard and reached his hand across the table to hold hers. ‘You know how I feel about you, don’t you? I’d be very surprised if you hadn’t worked it out by now.’

  ‘I know,’ she said quietly.

  He nodded. ‘And I know that you haven’t quite made your mind up about all this.’

  She bit her lip. ‘Julian,’ she said, ‘my head’s a mess. I feel like I’m only just coping, you know?’

  ‘I know.’

  She took a deep breath. ‘You’ve been so kind and patient with me,’ she said, ‘and I want you to know how much that means to me.’

  He gave a little nod and smile and then cleared his throat. ‘I’ve been so happy since I met you,’ he told her, ‘and I know you’ve got a lot going on.’ He swallowed hard and his bright eyes were intense with emotion. ‘But I can’t wait forever, Celeste,’ he said.

  ‘I know,’ she said. ‘I know.’

  When they left the restaurant, Julian hailed a taxi and accompanied her to the Liverpool Street station.

  ‘I wish I was coming through to Suffolk with you but I’ll be there this weekend,’ he said as the taxi pulled up by the kerb. ‘Perhaps we can have lunch or something?’

  Celeste had been twisting and squeezing her fingers together since they’d left the restaurant, wrangling with her thoughts since Julian’s declaration.

  I can’t wait forever.

  She knew that. It had been a perfectly reasonable thing for him to say and yet the guilt it made her feel weighed heavily upon her. She turned to look at him.

  ‘Julian,’ she began, ‘I don’t want you to have any expectations of me because I can’t promise you anything.’

  ‘I know that,’ he said, ‘and I’m not asking anything from you.’

  ‘But you are,’ she said, her voice wavering slightly. ‘You’re waiting, and that’s a great pressure. I can’t take that responsibility – not now and maybe not ever.’ She looked at him in the brief space between them on the backseat of the taxi and suddenly wanted to be anywhere but there.

  ‘Okay,’ he said at last. ‘I understand.’ His voice had changed; it had become colder and more controlled and his eyes had lost some of their warmth. Celeste had an awful premonition that she would never see that smiling, kind expression of his ever again.

  ‘Goodbye, Celeste,’ he said, unbuttoning his belt and leaning across the seat to open the door for her.

  ‘Julian –’

  ‘Goodbye.’

  31.

  It was a strange and lonely world without Julian’s texts and phone calls, but Celeste could hardly expect to receive them now, could she? She closed her eyes as she remembered the expression on his face in the taxi. Those kind blue eyes of his had iced over in a matter of seconds, shutting off his w
armth from her. Why had she done that? What had she been thinking of?

  Herself. She had been thinking only of herself and how she felt about things. Not once had she thought about what Julian might be thinking and feeling. She hadn’t asked him once. He’d been so attentive to her, so caring, and had done his best to try and understand what she was going through, but she hadn’t returned that kindness to him. Instead, she had pushed him away from her, over and over again.

  Sitting at the old desk in the study, she thought about calling him, but what would she say? She could feel tears brimming but quickly blinked them away when she heard a light tapping on the study door.

  ‘Celly?’ Gertie’s voice called.

  ‘Come in.’

  Gertie entered the room. ‘It’s a bit dark in here, isn’t it?’ she said, walking across to the windows and drawing the curtains properly. Celeste remembered Julian’s words about the room and how he thought she should change it, make it lighter, brighter.

  ‘Did you want me?’ Celeste prompted.

  ‘Ah, yes – I’ve just had a call from Tom Parker. He wants to know if we’ll be taking part in the show in September. He’s not had the form back from you yet and needs to reserve our place if we want it.’

  ‘Yes – tell him yes,’ Celeste said, thinking of the local fair that Hamilton Roses took part in each year at the church to raise funds. It was a lovely event in which local craftsmen displayed their wares, filling the church with unique pieces and produce.

  ‘I must have just mislaid the form,’ Celeste said. ‘Just when I thought I was finally getting on top of things.’

  ‘You are,’ Gertie said. ‘You’re doing the most amazing job.’

  ‘Am I?’

  ‘Yes!’ Gertie said, observing Celeste closely. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘Really?’ Gertie said. ‘I don’t believe you.’

  Celeste looked at her sister and thought about spinning some lie about how she was probably just tired. She could get away with that but she knew it would be wrong and, anyway, there was a part of her that was desperate to confide in someone.