Chapter 24
TWENTY-FOUR
WINDSOR
The ‘Date’
Three days later, Victoria popped her sketchpad, a couple of pencils and an eraser into her bag, then shouted goodbye to her mum, who was digging a small vegetable patch in the back garden, to Chandler’s delight. She made her way down the path and towards the town centre.
The Windsor streets were teeming with tourists, who were not only making the most of the spring weather, but also checking out the various market stall-holders, who were exuberantly selling their wares along the centre of Peascod Street.
Victoria carried on walking past the delicious-smelling sausage stall, and smiled at the confectionery stall, with happy memories of going with her mum and Albie to Ferry Lane Market when they used to holiday in Cornwall with her gran and grandad, and where they would get their penny chews. She had always been a Fruit Salad girl, whereas Albie loved the Black Jacks that left a dark, liquoricey stain on his tongue.
Checking her watch, Vic was happy to see that she still had half an hour before she was to meet Jerico. She needed to buy Mandy a birthday gift, and on entering Marks and Spencer, she noticed that they had moved the underwear section to the front. She loved good underwear, and Nate had loved her wearing it. A memory of her prancing around the bedroom drunk as a skunk one Valentine’s night in a sexy red lace ensemble, suspenders included, then tripping over the hairdryer and stubbing her toe on the bed leg and ruining the moment, caused her to smile to herself.
She walked towards a mannequin dressed in a beautiful, white-silk balcony bra and matching panties. As she felt the material between her fingers, a huge wave of sadness engulfed her. How could she ever feel sexy again, now? The constant fear of telling someone, if she hadn’t already, would be there, plus the fear of passing on the virus, or the doubts about what the other person might be thinking about her, even if they had taken it all on board.
In fact, would anyone ever find her sexy or attractive again?
Overcome with emotion, she aborted her present-buying mission. Keen to compose herself before meeting Jerico, she walked back down the street, engineering a loop through the King Edward Court shopping centre so she could get some sun on her face and try to clear her mind of this negativity.
Arriving early at the castle, she was amazed that she managed to get a space to sit on a bench near the impressive statue where they were to meet. She was just scrabbling around in her bag in panic because she thought she had forgotten her shiny new Nokia 8800, which was still a novelty to her, as it had so many different features, when a familiar voice greeted her.
‘So, my real life Queen Victoria – what kind of adventure shall we have today, then?’
Startled, Vic grinned, then stood up to an enthusiastic kiss on both cheeks from the handsome author, which caused her to flush slightly.
She noticed that Jerico Flint was a man who wore his long beige shorts with the effortless style of a European. His predominantly green, patterned shirt brought out the emerald of his eyes, and his khaki-coloured fedora made him look like some kind of unassuming movie star. In fact, she saw a couple of Japanese tourists giving him a second look, as if they were wondering about him. Maybe they could sense the Vince Vaughn vibes, too, or had caught the same delicious whiff of expensive-smelling sandalwood aftershave that had just reached her on the breeze.
‘I’ve always wanted to meet someone here,’ Jerico enthused. ‘A bit like meeting someone under the Waterloo clock – it holds an element of mystery and romance, doesn’t it?’
Vic laughed and took on a dramatic tone. ‘Maybe pass on the Pitons then, for I have a new title for you. Once your donkeys are done with, of course.’ She raised her voice slightly. ‘I can see it now, Mr Pigeons and the Queen Victoria Statue .’
‘Love it already.’ Jerico threw his arms out wide. ‘An eccentric author meets a mysterious artist and they find themselves solving a murder that takes place in the chapel within Windsor Castle.’
‘As long as you’re not murdering me, then fine.’
‘ Au contraire , dear girl, au contraire . Also, this is quite the statue. I had a little read-up about it last night. Did you know that it’s made of bronze and was erected in 1887 to mark the great monarch’s Golden Jubilee? The cost of it was covered by subcriptions from the people of Windsor and surrounding districts.’
‘A generous lot, us Windsorians, clearly. I didn’t know that, and I guess I really should, considering I was born here. And isn’t that always the way? I’ve only ever been around the castle twice, too.’
‘Are you hungry?’ Jerico suddenly enquired, above the babble of a group of Chinese tourists who had appeared out of nowhere and started taking photos of the statue and the castle walls.
‘I can be.’ Vic smiled. ‘There are loads of places to eat around here.’
‘No, dear girl. I have taken the liberty of bringing us a picnic. We have a river and sunshine – why on earth would we want to sit inside with the stinking masses when we can be outside with nature?’
‘That backpack is like Doctor Who’s TARDIS,’ Vic laughed as Jerico pulled out a blanket, a bottle of wine in a clear chiller pack, plastic glasses and various Tupperware containers. They had managed to find a quietish area of riverbank down near her favourite bench. With swans for company and boats quietly meandering their way up and down the river, it really was quite idyllic. They sat down with their legs out straight towards the river bank.
‘I can’t take credit for anything, I’m afraid. The sausage rolls, mini quiches, mini pizzas and egg custard tarts are all from the posh deli near where I live.’ Jerico started to lay out all the goodies between them.
‘Which is where, exactly?’ Vic quizzed.
‘Bray, and that’s not a command for your best donkey impression.’
Vic laughed. ‘Very posh.’ She raised an eyebrow. ‘Other than you living in a fancy village not far from here, all I know is that you write books about murders and dress like somebody out of a Dickension novel.’ She cocked her head. ‘No spectacles today, I see. Or maybe you are going to bring out a monacle in a minute?’ She smirked.
Jerico remained deadpan. ‘They are purely for show, but isn’t everything we wear on the outside, including ourselves? For show, I mean. ’
‘Perhaps,’ Vic said, eyeing up the delicious-looking food as Jerico snapped the lids off the plastic tubs. ‘Oh, and also I heard that your dog died. I’m so sorry to hear that.’
Jerico suddenly looked intently at Vic with his deep emerald eyes, which she realised were watering with sadness. His dark lashes were longer than hers, and she noted, with a dart of alarm, that his shoulder-length raven hair made him a ringer for Nate – just an older, wiser version. And boy, did she fancy him.
‘Grief is the price we pay for loving, Queen V.’ His voice became animated. ‘Fat Frank was a joy. Better than any human I’ve ever known. I never knew to this day which mixture of breeds he was, or even how old. I found him wrapped in a blanket in a bus shelter one Christmas Eve. A label around his neck said, “Please love me like I deserve to be loved”.’
‘Aww.’ Thinking maybe she should try that for herself, Victoria put her hand to her heart.
‘Yes, my little boy. He had a bark as deep as Frank Bruno’s voice, hated exercise and I overfed him. But despite him being overweight, he lived a long and happy life, so put that in your healthy-living pipes, everyone. Maybe that’s the answer, Queen V: that happiness and dog treats are the key to longevity.’
‘I’ll stick with sausage rolls, for now.’ She wiped her mouth free of flaky pastry. ‘These are delicious.’
‘I really appreciate you meeting me today. I feel I’m on a writing roll. In fact, I think grief has turned me into a literary demon. I knocked this one out in three months. It’s with the editor – hence me having this delectable breathing space.’
‘Yes, I umm… I needed some breathing space earlier in the year too.’ The ever-wise Jerico gave her silence to expand if she wanted to. There was something about his expression and his manner that made it easy to open up to him; he felt safe. ‘Had a bit going on myself. I split from my fella of six years. It’s been tough.’ She sighed and suddenly spiralled into her thoughts. Sh ould she tell him the real reason? Was Jerico Flint someone she could just could divulge her diagnosis to? She hardly knew him. And was this what her life was going to be like from now on? Was she supposed to live a lie, and in fear of how people would react if she did want to be honest? But why did he need to know, anyway? Their relationship wouldn’t change if he didn’t know. And maybe it wouldn’t if he did. But she liked him and didn’t want his thoughts of her to be any different to what they were now.
Maybe, when the shock of it all had passed and she had got used to living with the virus, then these thoughts wouldn’t even cross her mind. So what? She had HIV. But it did matter. What if she were to cut herself badly, like she had done during the Albie debacle on Christmas Eve? Then, out of respect, he would need to know.
Jerico put his hand on hers. ‘I’m sorry you’re going through a difficult time. And who is this fool to let such a beautiful creature go? I’ve a good mind to set Mr Pigeons on him.’
Despite Vic’s breath hitching at his touch, she was brusque in her delivery. ‘I don’t want to talk about it anymore.’ Then more softly, ‘If you don’t mind.’
‘Of course not.’ Jerico refilled her plastic glass. ‘Cheers.’ He held his glass to hers.
Vic’s mind darted elsewhere. ‘I love the Vettriano book you gave me – thanks again. I haven’t read the text yet – just flicked through the paintings – amazing. And… how thoughtful of you to remember that I liked him.’
‘Rarely happens – that level of thoughfulness on my part, that is – so make the most of it.’
When Jerico laughed and the skin around his eyes crinkled, he looked even more attractive, Vic thought. He had lips that would give Mick Jagger a run for his money, too. Full and kissable. She suddenly had an image of them pushed against her own well-defined ones, today coated with a slick of peach lip gloss. They both shared the same thick, dark wavy hair, too. They would have made beautiful babies, she thought sadly.
Vic took a sip of wine.
‘So tell me about Victoria Sharpe then. Are you from around here? Are your parents still about?’
Vic took another drink. ‘Yes, born in Windsor and I guess I have to thank them for my path to creativity.’
‘You don’t sound very enthused by that.’ Jerico wiped his mouth on a napkin.
‘Oh, just, it wasn’t always easy – a drunk mother, an absent father…’ Her voice tailed off. ‘It was by drawing in my room that I got through some of the darker days of my childhood.’
Jerico’s voice softened. ‘And out of the darkness came a beautiful light.’
Vic was sure she actually felt her heart flutter.
The ebullient man drained his glass. ‘It’s really quite divine here today, isn’t it? We needed this sunshine.’
‘I’ve just realised you said you wrote a book in three months, but last time we met you mentioned that you wanted to write full-time, so how on earth do you find time to work?’
‘If you have the will, you will find a way, my dear.’
‘Wow, you must never sleep. What do you do for work, anyway?’
‘Oh, a bit of this and a bit of that, mainly for charities. Anyway, enough about me – we need to talk about Mr Pigeons.’
Once they had agreed on a sketch for the new cover, hours passed in what seemed like a matter of minutes, with fun, easy chat and banter. Until Jerico suddenly checked his watch and started furiously packing his rucksack with the empty plastic containers. ‘Shit, I’m late. Shit. I’m really late. I have to go. I need to be somewhere. Shit, shit, shit!’ He shoved a piece of chewing gum into his mouth. ‘I can get to Slough on the train from here, can’t I?’
‘Yes, yes, it’s just six minutes from the central station. ’
In his haste to jump up, they bumped heads. And then Vic found Jerico awkwardly pulling her up towards him, and then he was cupping her chin in his hand and then looking right at her. Then without inhibition, they were kissing. Clumsy at first, and then curious, passionate, meaningful. Lost in the moment, not caring, or knowing who or what was around them, until, ‘Shit, I’m sorry, Vic, so sorry. I really do have to go.’
With his rucksack on his back, Jerico Flint careered off to the station, leaving Vic standing looking out over the river, feeling like she had literally just had her socks blown off. A lone swan appeared on the bank next to her and she burst into tears.
Jake was smoking a cigarette, Norman sunbathing quietly at his feet, when Vic appeared on deck, sobbing her heart out. Ignoring the annoyed bark from Norman for the interruption, Jake butted his cigarette and stretched his arms out wide to her.
‘Victoria, sweetheart.’ He ushered her inside and onto an armchair. A cool breeze rushed through the boat. ‘You sit down there. I’ll make you a nice cup of tea.’
Vic, slightly drunk from the half bottle of wine she had just consumed on the riverbank, began to gabble. ‘I kissed him, and I liked it, but I can never be with him. It’s not fair.’
‘Slow down – what’s not fair? Who have you been kissing?’ Jake put a mug down on a side table. ‘And have you been drinking?’
‘You judge me, too; that’s right. You’re all the same. I’m going.’ She went to get up, but Jake put a firm but gentle hand on her shoulder.
‘Victoria, stop. I judge no one – you should know that by now. All I care about is if you are OK. And you don’t have to tell me anything, but I’m not letting you leave this boat until you’ve calmed down. All right?’
‘OK,’ Victoria said, her voice small. Jake handed her a piece of kitchen towel and she blew her nose noisily. ‘It’s fine. You wouldn’t understand, anyway.’
‘What, an old man like me, you mean?’ He cocked his head to the side. ‘You know damn well from our chat the other day, I’ve loved and lost along with the best of them. Age is a number, Vic, and never forget that. And with age, comes sage – well, sometimes.’ Jake smiled.
‘I think I may have found my “diamond love”,’ Vic whispered.
‘Really?’ Jake took an intake of breath and sat down on the other armchair.
‘Exactly.’ Vic sniffed. ‘I’ve known him literally five minutes, but he makes me feel alive and attractive and cared for all at the same time. But there’s no way I can be with him.’
‘Why?’ Norman came running in and plonked himself down at their feet.
‘If I tell you something – and I know this is a big ask – will you promise not to tell my mum?’ Victoria realised she sounded like she was eight years old again and had just run inside the galley kitchen to sneak a glass of cold orange squash.
Jake nodded and put his hand on top of hers. ‘I promise.’
‘I’ve just been diagnosed as HIV-positive.’
Saying nothing, he squeezed her hand. After a moment he said, ‘I’m grateful you feel you know you can trust me enough to tell me.’
‘You don’t seem shocked.’ Vic screwed up her face. ‘It’s like you knew already.’
Jake got up and went to the kitchen, so she couldn’t read his face. ‘Nothing shocks me, Victoria. Not anymore. How are you feeling?’
‘I’m fine physically, just struggling with it mentally.’
Jake came back to face her. ‘Do you want to talk about it?’
His face was open and kind. Vic felt a warmth emanate from him that gave her the urge to hug him. Instead: ‘No, no, I’m all talked out. I’m more bothered as to why would Jerico… that’s his name, by the way.’
‘And a mighty fine name, at that!’ Jake enthused. ‘And the phantom weekday kisser, I take it?’
‘Yeah.’ Vic smiled. ‘Why would he want me once he knows I’ve got this?’
‘Because, like everybody else who knows you, he may just see the amazing person that you are. Kind, capable, loving, creative, fun… Need I go on? Or, on the other hand, he might not.’
‘Oh. Thanks for that.’ Vic shook her head.
‘See what you did there? You homed directly in on the negative. We don’t know what other people are thinking, Victoria. We can make up all sorts of things in our head about what they might be, but until we communicate with someone, it’s all our own fabrication. You will do what you will do, whatever anyone else says. But all I can say is, if it is a “diamond love”, then maybe, just maybe, it is worth taking that chance on.’
At that moment, Vic’s phone rang. ‘Who’s that?’ she groaned. Then, on seeing it was Nate, groaned again. ‘Oh, God, I’m so not in the mood for a Nate chat.’ She took a drink of tea. ‘Whilst we are on difficult subjects, I need to talk to you about something else. Something really serious.’
Jake sat down again. ‘That sounds ominous, but before that, do you want to talk more about what’s going on with you?’
‘No. No, I don’t.’ Vic ran her hands through her hair. ‘This is so hard to tell you. And I’m not sure if it is even the right thing to be doing.’
‘Harder than telling me what you just did? Surely not. Come on, Vic. Like I say, nothing shocks me.’
‘Malini received your letter.’
Jake’s hand began to shake. He sat down and put his hand to his head. ‘How on earth do you know this?’
‘She was driving to the airport to fly to England to find you, with her two-year-old little girl in the car, and was killed instantly in a car crash.’ A look of complete horror swept over his face. ‘She never stopped loving you, Jake.’ Vic had tears pouring down her face now.
‘And her daughter?’ Jake whispered.
‘She survived… And this is the hardest bit to tell you,’ Vic stuttered. ‘The woman I was walking along here with the other day – I think she’s the little girl who was in the car. I think she could be your daughter, Jake.’
Jake took a huge intake of breath. ‘How do you know her?’
‘Her name is Joti. She’s Mum’s neighbour. She showed me a letter from the man she had always thought was her real dad. After his death he wanted her to find you so she was not alone in this world. He selfishly didn’t tell her before he passed, as he lived in Australia and was scared he would lose her, because she used to go home and visit him and his new wife every year, without fail.
‘This is all so meant to be, because if you hadn’t told me your story the other day, I never would have known.’
‘Did you say you knew me?’
‘No. No, I wanted to talk to you first.’
Jake gripped Vic’s hand again. ‘You don’t know what this means to me. I could die right now and be the happiest man alive. I can’t believe Malini has been dead all these years, though.’ He let out a wracking sob. ‘And it’s all my fault.’
‘No, Jake. No. It’s not. She chose to leave you and marry someone else.’
‘Yes, but only because nobody could have lived with me at that time. She did what was right for her child… our child.’
‘But clearly not what was right for her – as when the time was right she felt that she had to come to you. It’s so romantic and so sad, all at the same time. And don’t you ever be blaming yourself again, Jake Turner. She experienced a great love with you – like no other – and Joti has grown into the most amazing woman. She’s a nurse and is the kindest, wisest person. Your Malini shines through her.’
‘To think I could have bumped into her when I went to your mum’s.’
‘You went to Mum’s?’
‘Yeah. I, er… I knew you were struggling around her drinking. I think the world of both of you kids and her… and… I umm… wanted to make sure you had a decent Christmas. Your mother told me what you both liked, so I got the food shopping.’
‘And the bed?’
‘Yes, that was me too. Your mum was out of it. I took it apart and sorted it for her. She thanked me, but I could have been the milkman for all she knew.’
‘Oh, Jake, you’ve gone beyond the realms of friendship. Thank you, thank you so much.’
‘And, Victoria, there’s something else that you should…’ Jake stopped himself short. His brow furrowed as if deep in thought.
‘Yes, what is it, Jake? Say it.’ From his face she could tell he had said too much already.
‘Umm, nothing. It’s fine, it can wait…’ Jake shuffled in his chair. ‘But how do I work this, Vic? I have to see Joti. We must talk.’
‘I’ve said enough, and it’s over to you on this one, I think. Rather than me playing matchmaker, you know where she lives.’
‘Yes, you’re right. I have to deal with this in my own way.’