by Caron Allan
Almost half an hour after leaving the house, just as Flora had made up her mind to go out to him and bring him back into the house to talk, Hardy drove away. He reached his home and sat at the kitchen table for the rest of the evening, late into the night, pulling out a file he’d brought from work, reading and rereading, making notes, crossing them through, ripping up pages and tossing them, crumpled, into the rubbish bin in the corner of the room. He paced the floor. When it was time to go to bed, he made a fresh pot of tea and sat back down at the kitchen table, still trying to come to a decision.
He slept in the chair, waking to find a crick in his neck and ink all over his cheek. As soon as it was a decent hour to call, he drove back to the Gascoignes’. Greeley opened the door within five seconds, clearly expecting him, as was Flora who was up and dressed and waiting in her pretty little sitting room.
Hardy walked in, and without preamble said to Flora, ‘Does she love him?’
Whatever Flora had been expecting, it wasn’t this. ‘What does that have to do with anything?’ And she thought, not for the first time, how haughty she sounded, and how like her mother.
‘If she loves him, if they are getting married, I’ll hold my tongue. What you told me yesterday... Surely you must see what a serious breach it was? And it’s not the first such breach I’ve discovered in the man’s career. But if she loves him...’
Flora hesitated. In truth, she was not convinced of Dottie’s undying affection for Gervase Parfitt. But how could she tell Hardy, of all people, about her uncertainty?
He held out his hands imploringly. ‘Flora. I’m—I need to know. I don’t intend to try to come between them. I don’t want to make trouble. I would never hurt her. But if there’s nothing serious on her side, then I have a duty to inform my superiors of what you’ve told me. For Parfitt, there will be a hell of a stink, and that could affect her. But as I said, what you’ve told me about, that’s only one small breach in a whole range of... Well anyway. But you know how I feel about Dottie. I wouldn’t involve her in a scandal for all the world. If she loves him, well then. I shall try to pretend our conversation yesterday never happened. But as a police officer, you must see how I stand.’
Still Flora hesitated. He threw himself down in a chair, leaning back with his eyes closed.
She could see he’d hardly slept. He was pale; there were dark circles under his eyes. And her practised womanly eye detected he was wearing the same shirt as the day before. Either that, or all his shirts had a crinkle on the collar in exactly the same spot. This one was also blotted with ink on both cuffs. She took the chair next to him and reached out to pat his arm.
‘I don’t know how she feels, William, dear, and that’s the honest truth. She won’t discuss it with me.’
He looked surprised. ‘I thought you told each other everything?’
‘Yes, we did used to. We—well something happened and—you know, with the babies and everything. We just don’t see quite as much of each other, so I suppose it’s inevitable things change.’ She looked unhappy. He was curious, longing to know what had happened, but he felt he couldn’t possibly ask. Flora took pity on him.
‘It was when Dottie first came back from the Midlands in the summer. My mother told Dottie something. Something that had been a secret, a painful secret. She felt she had to tell her. But... It’s created something of a...’ She fought for the right words. ‘It shook us all up, and it’s been hard to know how to go back to how things were before.’
His mind was busy. ‘Is this to do with Parfitt?’
She shook her head. ‘No, no it’s nothing to do with Gervase.’ She looked at Hardy. ‘You really don’t like him, do you?’
‘Not at all. But I can’t tell you what I think without using the kind of language unsuitable for a lady’s ears.’
‘George hates him with a passion and calls him all sorts of names, practically on a daily basis. Oh William, we’re all so concerned that she might actually marry Gervase.’
‘I must say, I’m surprised. I had assumed all the family loved him as much as Dottie does.’
Flora made up her mind to be very candid. ‘I told you I didn’t know. I’m not certain, William, but I’m not at all sure Dottie does love him. She enjoys his company, that’s all, and he is something of a steamroller, he just seems to mow down everything in his path. But as for the rest of us, we’re not especially enamoured of him. I don’t know why, I just don’t trust him. He’s so slick and plausible. And pompous. And—well, I don’t know what it is about him, I only know that I dislike him intensely.’
He had made up his mind. ‘Dottie will be furious.’
‘She’ll get over it.’
‘It could ruin him.’
‘I don’t care about that. I don’t believe he’s a good man. I don’t want him to drag her into anything scandalous. And I don’t want him to break her heart.’
‘She won’t forgive me.’
‘She will, William. Just be patient and give her time. I’m afraid she’ll know that I talked to you, but that can’t be helped either. If there’s to be a fuss, you will try to keep her out of it, won’t you?’
‘Of course. I don’t believe she’s done anything so very awful. It’s he who has violated the trust placed in him. And more besides.’ The clock in the hall chimed nine o’clock. He ought to be at his desk by now. ‘I must go.’ He bent to kiss her cheek, and she felt oddly moved by the intimate gesture.
‘Goodbye, William, do take care of yourself, and come and see us often.’
He felt much lighter and happier as he left the house. His mind was made up, and come what may, he was going to do what he knew he had to do.
‘What time’s your train?’ Dottie asked. There was no reply. She felt his lips nuzzling her ear. It tickled, and not in a good way. She pushed down her irritation, wondering when she had become such a shrew. Forcing a smile, she gave him a playful slap, nowhere near as hard as the one she really wanted to deliver. ‘Gervase, stop it! Listen to me, I’m trying to ask you a question.’
‘I know.’ His tone was the vocal equivalent of rolling his eyes. ‘That’s women for you, forever chatter chatter chatter.’ He gave a theatrical sigh. ‘In answer to your question, it’s the usual train at half past two. Can’t I stay with you? I’d much rather do that.’
‘Don’t be silly, you know you’re needed.’ She kept her tone light, but in her head she was determined to make him go home to Nottinghamshire. The mere thought of him staying on was too much. She was depending on him going home. Although she was not at all prepared to consider why she felt that way. She pushed the feelings away with a mental shrug of the shoulders and a silent excuse: Everything’s fine. There’s nothing wrong. I’m tired, that’s all. I’m just so busy at the moment.
‘Well I don’t know that I’m needed exactly, but I can see I’m not wanted here.’ He pretended to pout, and she made herself smile, disguising another twinge of irritation. Just lately he’d started doing this. Pouting and acting like a child. She knew other couples did this kind of thing, and baby-talk and the like, but it wasn’t as sweet or endearing as he seemed to think; it actually made her want to slap him. Hard. But she tried not to react too sharply. They’d had one or two disagreements lately and it had been horrid. She didn’t want them to fall out over something so petty. Not when she knew she was just being beastly to him. She was just tired. And busy.
She said, ‘Of course you’re wanted here, but you’re a very important man and I can’t expect to keep you to myself.’ She knew it was exactly what he liked to be told.
The very important man straightened his tie. He took her hand in his, dropping a light kiss on the back of it.
‘Darling, you know I just find it so difficult to be away from you.’
‘I know, but...’
‘You know I love you, dearest. I wish you’d be a little kinder to me. It would be far nicer for me to go back to Nottingham with some happy memories instead of you saying, ‘Stop it, Gervase,’
every time I get you to myself.’ He adopted what he fondly imagined was an irresistible puppy-dog gaze.
Dottie gripped her hands together, just in case she did slap him, and said firmly, ‘I’ve told you, I’m not like that. You’ll just have to...’
‘I know, I know! I’ve just got to wait until we’re married.’ There was an edge to his voice. He tried again, this time in a wheedling manner. ‘It’s just so difficult being apart from you for two weeks at a time. I long for you, Dottie, I really do. I ache for you.’
She was spared the necessity of answering him; there was a soft tap on the door of the morning room, and Janet, the Mandersons’ maid, said from the hall, ‘Mr Gervase’s cab is here, miss.’
Dottie managed to stifle her first response, ‘Thank God,’ and merely smiled. Gervase cursed softly and got up to open the door.
‘Thank you, Janet.’ He took his hat and coat from her and began to head for the front door, which stood open. Out in the street beyond, Dottie could see a bored-looking cabbie standing by the door of his vehicle, ready for his client. She followed Gervase down the steps, felt so relieved to escape with just one more hasty kiss on the lips, then he was gone. Dottie waved, and for the first time that morning, she smiled with genuine pleasure.
Chapter Four
Two days before Christmas, Dottie looked up from her desk in the office located in the dim recesses of the warehouse to see Flora coming in, pulling off her wet hat and shaking the raindrops from her coat.
‘Flora!’ Dottie was on her feet and taking the coat and hat from her. The coat she draped over the back of a chair, which she placed near the fire, and the hat and gloves she put on the mantelpiece, reasoning that if hot air travelled upwards, they would surely dry. ‘I didn’t realise it was raining.’
Flora was already looking at the sheets strewn across the desk.
‘In buckets. At least it’s not cold today. So glad the weather has cheered up. Any further forward with your next lot of designs? I love the colour of this sample.’
‘It’s coming together. I’m hoping that, with a few late nights, we will have everything ready in time. What do you think of this peacock blue negligee set?’
‘It’s lovely, though I’m not sure it’s really me.’
‘I think it would look perfect on you. And I’m sure George would agree.’
‘Oh he’d adore it, I know that. I’d better get one, we wives have to keep our husbands happy. And I’ll have one in that emerald green, too; that colour does things to my eyes that reduces George to mush. Look, I know I’m a bit early but I was just so excited about going out on my own with you like we used to, and you know, being an actual woman again, not just a mother. But if you’re not ready, I don’t mind waiting.’
‘I’ll only be five more minutes, I promise. I need to stop working anyway, my head is swimming.’ Dottie got up, ‘Oh and I’ve just got to go and see one of the ladies. Then I’ll be ready to go.’ She hurried out of the room.
Flora took a seat and waited. She had never been here until Dottie had taken charge. But she’d heard that Dottie hadn’t changed a thing. All that was missing from the office of Carmichael and Jennings, apart from Mrs Carmichael herself of course, was Mrs Carmichael’s large bottle of gin.
Flora smiled. Dottie had fitted herself into the role remarkably well. In the six months since Mrs Carmichael had passed away, she had worked very hard to learn as much as she could about the business side of things. If her family had been unsure how good a businesswoman a girl of Dottie’s years would prove to be—still not yet twenty-one, Flora reminded herself—then their doubts had been set aside early on. Because she seemed to manage everything: design, execution, organisation, staffing, and bringing in new clients. If not exactly effortlessly, at least Dottie’s hard work and willingness to learn had eased her into the new role, and her charm had appeased most of the existing clients. Flora wondered whether it was possible Dottie’s fashion warehouse might some day rival even the big, established and respected houses in Paris, London, New York and Milan. That would be an incredible achievement. Flora planned to be there by Dottie’s side to support her as much as she could, and she knew their mother felt the same.
The only cloud on the horizon, apart from Gervase of course, was this new business with their Aunt Cecilia. Flora pushed away the nagging fear those thoughts brought once again. She would not—could not—lose the person she thought of as her sister. Dottie was too important to her.
And not just to her. There were their parents too. How would they feel if Dottie was wooed to Sussex by Cecilia Cowdrey? They would be devastated, Flora knew. But she hastily dismissed that alarming idea as nonsense. Dottie would never leave London and her work...
But she’ll have to, a little voice said in Flora’s mind, because of Gervase. She sighed. He had made it all too clear that he was keen to get engaged as quickly as possible. He would not be happy with a long engagement either, Flora suspected. He showed all the signs of a man impatient to be married. How could Dottie possibly keep both herself and Gervase happy? She couldn’t possibly persuade him to leave his exalted position in the Midlands, yet it was equally impossible they should commute to and from London. How on earth was it to be managed? Flora began to have grave concerns. Not for the first time. There was something so very proprietorial in his manner towards Dottie that Flora disliked. And George said the man had indulged in some boasting of a man-to-man kind when they’d had a few drinks together. Would Gervase be a faithful husband? Was he even capable of such a thing? And how would he enjoy having a career woman for a wife? Flora was absolutely certain he would hate it. She knew in her heart he would never permit such a thing.
Dottie returned just then. ‘All done! I’ll just grab these and I’ll be ready to go.’ ‘These’ turned out to be the design sheets with the attached swatches. Flora helped her to stack the pages neatly, checking each one to ensure the sample of fabric and the buttons and other trimmings were all in place. In addition there were a number of rough sketches for the new children’s range Dottie was still considering. The top one caught Flora’s eye: a delightful christening gown in white silk and lace.
She marvelled again at how well Dottie fitted this new world. It had given her confidence, helped her develop her abilities and potentially could add considerably to her financial position. It was too much to expect her to simply give that all up, surely? Yet Flora knew that Gervase was the kind of man who would expect to be Dottie’s whole world, yet she would never be the heart of his.
‘What are you going to put them in? It’s raining, don’t forget.’ Flora was putting her coat and hat back on, still horribly damp. Her gloves she shoved in her bag.
Dottie, biting her lip, looked about her. She looked anxious. ‘I don’t know. I don’t have anything.’ She looked at Flora. ‘What shall I do? They won’t fit into my bag, or yours.’ There was the rising sound of panic in her voice. It was the sound Flora recognised in her own voice whenever she grew worried about the children. Calmly she said:
‘Why don’t you wrap them in brown paper? It’ll keep the worst of the rain off them at least. We’ve only got to get to the car, and from the car to the restaurant.’
‘Oh, good idea!’ Dottie nodded then practically ran out of the room in search of the brown paper. It didn’t take long to wrap up the sheets into a precious bundle, and they were ready to leave.
Flora’s stomach rumbled. ‘I’m so hungry,’ she complained over her shoulder as they went out. ‘Ever since I had the twins, I’m ravenous all the time.’
Dottie grinned. So often these days, Flora seemed to forget she had only had one of the babies herself, not both of them.
She said goodbye to everyone in the warehouse and wished them all a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. A couple of the girls came forward to hug her and to thank her for the little gifts she had left for them all.
‘I can’t believe I’m going to be away from the warehouse for two whole weeks. I’m a bit worried it w
on’t be here when I get back. Two weeks seems like an awfully long time to be away.’
As they made a dash to the car, coats huddled close about them against the weather, bags and the brown paper parcel clutched under their arms, Flora said, ‘I’m sure everything will be quite all right. They’ve got phone numbers and addresses if they need to contact you in an emergency. You’ve earned this holiday.’ Then she pointed at the parcel Dottie cradled in her arms as she waited for Flora to open the car door for her. ‘Anyway, you’ll be fairly busy with those. Not such a holiday after all!’
Later, over lunch at the restaurant, once the soup dishes had been taken away, Flora leaned forward and asked, ‘What time are you leaving on Friday?’
It was the first mention from either of them of Dottie’s visit to the relatives in Sussex.
Dottie told her what she had planned, and after a moment’s silence, Flora suddenly said, in a soft rush, ‘You will come back, Dottie darling, won’t you? I couldn’t bear it if...’
A waiter interrupted them, his arm reaching past first Flora then Dottie to set plates of roast beef in front of them. Neither woman spoke except to say, ‘Yes, please,’ or ‘No thank you,’ to the vegetable and gravy options on offer. When he had gone, Dottie put out a hand to take Flora’s.
‘Don’t be silly. Of course, I’ll come back. Flora, I’m just going down to St Martins for a few days, to spend some time with Aunt Cecilia. That’s all. I’m coming back.’
‘Do you feel differently now? Now you know the truth, I mean?’
Dottie shook her head. ‘No. I mean, at first it was a lot to take in. It was such a shock, and I felt rather like someone had pulled the rug out from under my entire life. I couldn’t seem to understand. But that was just the shock of it. Once it had worn off, I realised that, no matter what the so-called ‘truth’ about my birth was, Mother and Father will always be my mother and father. And you...’