by Lulu Taylor
When they were alone, Caitlyn hugged Nicholas hard.
‘That,’ he said in a heartfelt voice, ‘was bloody terrifying.’
She nodded against his chest. ‘I’m just glad the painting was a fake.’
‘Sod the bloody painting, I’m glad you’re alive.’
‘I don’t think I was really in danger. But . . . me too.’
They hugged for a while and then went through to the old kitchen and out the back door into the late afternoon sunshine. ‘I’ll need to give my statement, I suppose,’ Caitlyn said.
‘The officer is currently being plied with tea and biscuits by Renee. We’ve probably got a few minutes.’ Nicholas took her hand and they walked into the garden.
‘What do you think will happen to Sara?’
‘It depends what you decide. If you think she was going to thwack you with the poker, it could be pretty bad. Attempted murder, at worst. Criminal damage at best. I’m afraid it might go on for a while.’
‘That’s all right. She’s out of our lives because she can’t hurt me any more.’
‘You were brave back there, facing her down.’
Caitlyn smiled at him. ‘I finally found my best self. Thanks to Patrick, oddly.’
‘How do you feel about him now?’
They walked to a stone bench near a border of pale pink rose bushes and sat down. Caitlyn caught their sweet, rich scent on the air and felt the warmth of the sun-heated stone against her back. ‘I loved him, and I miss him. I’m grieving and I will be for a while. But our relationship was a complicated one. He called his activities “games” but they were darker than that. He lied to me – perhaps to protect me, but still . . . he lied. He did have a relationship with Sara even if it wasn’t straightforward infidelity. I need to come to terms with all of that. It helps to remind myself that our marriage wasn’t perfect, and that Patrick knew that too, but it was still possible to love him and treasure what was good.’ She turned to Nicholas. ‘I feel some closure now, though. I can move on and look to a future without him.’
He took her hand in his, his brown eyes gentle yet intense. ‘That’s good, Caitlyn.’
For a moment, she wondered if he would kiss her. She remembered with a sudden vivid sensation that kiss twenty years ago in another garden – the musky, honeyed sweetness of his mouth, his soft skin, the excitement of his embrace.
All that potential. And here we are, together again. Perhaps . . .
Patrick had said, Be happy . . . follow your heart . . . fall in love again.
After a while, Nicholas spoke. ‘How would you feel if Coco and I came here for the rest of her holidays? Do you think Max would like it?’
‘I’m sure he’d love it.’
‘Would you?’
She smiled at him. ‘Yes. I would.’
He said softly, ‘I’d like to spend more time here. I need to think about the future of this house and what I could make of it. And I want to hang out with Geraldine a bit more. What do you think?’
‘I think it sounds amazing. I’d love you to. As long as we’re together.’ She held his hand tightly. Everything felt right. ‘I should warn you, I do have a parcel of nephews and nieces who are going to love this place. A lairy brother-in-law and a very nice sister. And a lot of cousins.’
Nicholas laughed. ‘The more, the merrier. This house was made for people.’
Caitlyn gazed into his brown eyes, her expression suddenly solemn. ‘And if you’re thinking of doing this place up . . . well, I know a great interior designer with some time on her hands.’
There was a pause and then he threw back his head and laughed. Caitlyn joined in, and they went together back into the house.
Epilogue
The thaw, when it finally came, was almost as dramatic as the great freeze. Torrents of water flooded the countryside. Kings Harcourt stood alone in a vast lake, cut off again from the world. Now it was not skis they needed, but a boat.
It passed, as all the crises did, and the world went back to normal, more obsessed with Princess Elizabeth’s forthcoming wedding than with the trauma of the winter and the torrential spring. The fields, empty for a while, gradually refilled with livestock and life moved ever closer to normal.
I suppose it is normal, the way we are now.
Tommy stood at the window, looking out and watching the three children playing in the garden. The sun was bright now and the girls were in light dresses. Harry was in shorts and ankle socks. Summer was coming, and it promised to be a hot one. Near them in a chair sat Mrs Whitfield, watching them play, a cup of tea on the small table beside her. She looked older than she had during the winter, but she seemed calmer and more relaxed. Despite the loss of her son, she was happier somehow.
Tommy knew that her mother had been much altered by her experience with Barbara Hastings. After the woman had left, the Gainsborough tucked under her arm and a smile of triumph on her lips, Mrs Whitfield had turned a white, shocked face to Tommy.
She’s going to tell me that it’s my fault we’ve lost the painting, Tommy thought, and waited for the tongue-lashing.
But her mother said in a trembling voice, ‘She didn’t even say goodbye to Molly.’
It wasn’t until some weeks later, though, when Molly already seemed a part of the family and the snow had begun to melt, that Mrs Whitfield had been able to say anything more to Tommy. She had found her daughter in the drawing room one evening and said stiffly that she had something to tell her.
‘Yes?’ Tommy said, mystified, as they sat down side by side on the sofa.
Her mother took her hand. ‘Tommy, I owe you an apology. For many things. But I’m sorry in particular for the way I treated you before your marriage. I should have been kinder to you. Your situation was awful and you did the brave thing of marrying a man who was cruel to you in order to give your child a family. I respected that. But I never said it. I punished you for it instead.’ Mrs Whitfield paused, and looked downwards for a moment. Then she met Tommy’s gaze again. ‘It was only when that woman came here and did what she did . . . well, I realised your excellent qualities. I know Roger isn’t coming back. I wish he’d been strong like you, but he wasn’t. And I also know you will take on the burden of this house and shoulder it successfully, as you have everything else. You saw us through the war and through the winter. I’m very proud of you.’
Tommy felt choked for a moment. ‘Thank you, Mother. That means so much. You can’t think how much.’ She paused, then said, ‘I thought you were going to tell me off for giving Barbara the chance to take the Gainsborough. I knew it was a risk but I also wanted her off our backs once and for all.’
Her mother sniffed. ‘I’m sure she’s regretted it since. She’d have been better off with my diamond brooch. She will never be able to sell the painting, it’s quite famous. Perhaps she might have found a buyer on the black market . . . but as there’s a question mark over its authenticity, she might find that difficult too.’
‘Really?’ Tommy blinked at her. ‘I had no idea. It might not be genuine?’
‘I don’t think it is, if I’m honest, although I’ve never said anything. What difference does it make? If you like it, you like it, no matter who painted it. And we still have Fred’s copy. It’s just as good, in my opinion.’
Tommy laughed. ‘Mother, you do surprise me. I would have thought you cared enormously. After all, the money could make a significant difference to us.’
‘Oh, we would never sell it,’ said her mother. ‘In a way, I’m glad it’s not there any more, making us all anxious thinking about the money we could have if we sold it. Now we can get on with things.’
Tommy hugged her. ‘I’m so glad you said it. I must remember to tell Gerry that Barbara might have a fake, it will cheer her up no end. Oh, and there’s something else. Fred’s asked me to marry him, and I said yes.’
‘Good. That’s very good,’ said her mother. ‘Yes. Now, I can tell with you and Fred . . . that’s the real thing.’
Tha
t had been the beginning of a phase of unaccustomed warmth in their relationship, and it had transformed the atmosphere in the house.
But I never did tell Gerry about the painting. I must remember to.
Tommy thought of Barbara often when she passed the copy of Venetia, wondering what on earth she was doing with the original. Perhaps it was rolled up under a bed in a cheap lodging house, or hanging in pride of place in some new home. Wherever it was, Venetia was still here, gazing out from the shadows with her sad eyes.
Just a different version. But it still seems to have her essence in it.
‘I rather like Fred’s effort,’ Gerry said one day when she came into the hall to find Tommy standing in front of the portrait. ‘I don’t think I could tell the difference now myself.’ She looked over at her sister. ‘But I always wondered why you thought Barbara wouldn’t be able to guess the real one.’
Tommy smiled at her. ‘I guessed she would probably get it right. But it was the only way I could think of to make her leave Molly behind. She wasn’t thoroughly bad, she loved Molly in her own way. But in the end, she had a price.’
Gerry stared at her in astonishment. ‘That was the deal? Molly or the painting?’
Tommy nodded.
Gerry whistled. ‘Well then. I think we got the better half of the bargain.’
‘So do I.’
At that moment there was a clatter of shoes on the stairs and the three children came hurrying down, dressed in their best clothes. They stopped short at the sight of Tommy and stared.
‘Oh Mummy, you look beautiful,’ breathed Antonia.
‘Like a princess,’ Molly said shyly.
‘Very nice,’ agreed Harry, who had neatly combed hair and a freshly washed face. ‘You too, Aunt Gerry.’
‘I’m glad you like my get-up,’ Gerry said. She was wearing a cornflower blue dress and a silver organza wrap. She held up her hands. ‘I’ve even got gloves on! Now off you go and get into the car, children. Shoo!’
They ran out through the hall, leaving the sisters together.
Gerry said, ‘They’re right, you know, you look wonderful.’
Tommy glanced down at her pale pink suit. ‘Thank you. It’s not really like a princess’s wedding dress, but I think it’s right for me.’
‘Oh Tommy, I wish Roger were here. I do miss him, the idiot.’ Gerry sighed. ‘I wish we knew where he is.’
‘Sometimes I think he’s quite near to us,’ Tommy replied. ‘And other times, I imagine him travelling the world far away from here, free at last to live the way he wanted.’
‘In Russia, then,’ Gerry said with a laugh. ‘He seemed to think that was the earthly paradise he was seeking. We’ll toast him today at any rate. Now, I’ll go and make sure the children are in the car. Then it’s time to go.’
‘Just a moment more,’ Tommy said.
‘All right, darling. We’ll be waiting.’ Gerry went out to the car.
She was still gazing at the portrait when Fred came in, smart in his double-breasted suit. ‘Tommy, darling, it’s time to go. We don’t want to miss our appointment at the town hall.’ He looked at her searchingly. ‘Are you all right?’
‘Yes.’ She smiled, full of love and tenderness for him. ‘I was just thinking of everything that brought us together.’
‘You’re not afraid, are you? Of marrying me? You’re happy that you broke that promise to yourself?’
Tommy laughed, her eyes shining with sudden tears. ‘Of course I’m not afraid. I feel brave enough to face anything now we’re together. I’m only wondering how I managed to be so lucky as to be given you and Molly to make my family complete.’ She looked over at the portrait of Venetia. ‘But she reminds me how brief it can all be.’
‘Don’t think about that.’ Fred took her hand and smiled. ‘The worst is behind us now. We have so much to look forward to.’
‘Yes, we do.’ She squeezed his hand and felt a thrill of anticipation. She had come out of the cold and dark at last and into the light and warmth of a life with Fred.
‘Now,’ he said, ‘I think we have a wedding to go to. Come on. Take my arm.’
They walked out arm in arm into the morning sunshine.
Acknowledgements
Thanks to everyone at Pan Macmillan, in particular the marvellous Wayne Brookes, my editor, who is hugely cherished for his brilliance, good humour and the enormous care he takes of his authors; and to Alex Saunders, for endless patience and thoughtfulness. I’d like to thank Katie James and everyone in the publicity department, and Amy Lines and the fabulous marketing department. Thank you, of course, to the sales force for their amazing championing of their books. And endless gratitude to the talented art department for the brilliant covers. Macmillan is a very special place.
Huge thanks to Lorraine Green for her usual excellent and thoughtful copy edit, and all her patience and encouragement.
Thank you to my wonderful agent Lizzy Kremer, Harriet Moore, and all at David Higham Associates.
Thank you to all those who support the books and work behind the scenes to ensure their success, and to all the readers and book-buyers who keep writers writing.
A special mention of my friend Alice, whose beautiful house partly inspired the one in this book. You can see it at www.midelneymanor.co.uk or on Instagram at midelney_manor. It’s a beautiful and magical place.
I’m lucky enough to have a circle of kind, thoughtful and supportive friends (not at all like Sara!), and I thank them for their love and friendship over the years.
Thanks to those who contact me via Twitter and Facebook to send their support – it’s wonderful to hear when someone has read and enjoyed a book.
And of course, thank you to my family for all their love and encouragement, in particular to James, Barney and Tabby.
Lulu Taylor
Dorset 2017
THE SNOW ANGEL
A forbidden passion. A lifetime of consequences.
Cressida Felbridge is living the high life as a debutante in 1960s London society when she is courted by a friend of her brother’s and set to marry. Wishing only the best for his daughter, her father decrees that she must have her portrait painted to mark the occasion. But as soon as she meets the painter Ralph Few, Cressie knows her life will never be the same again. Soon, she is deeply in love with Ralph, but there is one problem: Ralph is still married to Catherine. As Cressie is drawn into a strange, triangular relationship, Catherine’s behaviour becomes increasingly erratic and Ralph and Cressie escape to Cressie’s family home in Cumbria. But Catherine will not give up Ralph that easily . . .
In the present day, Emily Conway has everything she could wish for: a huge house in west London, two beautiful children and a successful husband, Will. But as Emily and Will drive to a party, Will reveals that he has been betrayed by his business partner. Steering the car off the road at high speed, he ends their perfect life abruptly. When she wakes from her injuries, Emily is told of a mysterious legacy: a house in Cumbria on the edge of an estate, left to her by a woman she has never met. Could this house provide the chance to start anew, or does it hold secrets that she must uncover before she can be at peace?
Praise for Lulu Taylor
‘Utterly compelling. A really excellent winter’s story’
LUCY DIAMOND
THE WINTER CHILDREN
Behind a selfless act of kindness lie dark intentions
Olivia and Dan Felbeck’s dreams of a family are finally fulfilled on the birth of their twins. The longed-for babies mark a new and happy stage in their lives.
Soon after, Dan’s oldest friend, Francesca, offers them the chance to live at Renniston Hall, an Elizabethan house she is renovating. They can stay rent-free in a small part of the unmodernised house, which was once a girls’ boarding school.
The couple accept, and just as they are enjoying the family life that they have craved for so long, Francesca arrives at the Hall and doesn’t seem to want to leave. What exactly happened between Dan and Francesca
years ago at Cambridge? As Olivia wonders how well she knows her husband, she starts to suspect that her perfect life could be built on a lie.
Meanwhile, Renniston Hall holds dark mysteries of its own, and slowly the old house starts to surrender its long-held secrets . . .
Praise for Lulu Taylor
‘I raced through this gripping tale about secrets and lies and long-buried emotions bubbling explosively to the surface’
DAILY MAIL
THE SNOW ROSE
I know they think I shouldn’t keep her . . . That’s why I’ve escaped them while I can, while I still have the opportunity . . .
Kate is on the run with her daughter Heather, her identity hidden and their destination unknown to the family they’ve left behind. She’s found a place where they can live in solitude, a grand old house full of empty rooms and dark secrets. But they’re not alone, for there are the strange old ladies in the cottage next door: Matty and her sister Sissy. They know what happened here long ago, and are curious about Kate. How long can she hide Heather’s presence from them?
When an eccentric band of newcomers arrive, led by the charismatic Archer, Kate realises that the past she’s so desperate to escape is about to catch up with her. And inside the house, history is beginning to repeat itself . . .
Praise for Lulu Taylor
‘Pure indulgence and perfect reading for a dull January evening’