Chapter 16
The flat has everything we need: three bedrooms, a living room with balcony space looking out over Green Park, a drawing room, bathroom and kitchenette, with a pantry for my butler to prepare our meals.
There is also a small annexe off this for a maid to live.
It will suit us well. Helena is delighted with the décor, which was my birthday surprise for her.
After all, a girl only turns twenty once.
‘Can we afford all this?’ she exclaimed when I showed her around the apartment in Piccadilly.
When I assured her we could, she threw herself into my arms.
It makes a change to be appreciated. When in Cerensthorpe, Veronica shuns me…
No, I should strike my words through, it’s unfair and ungentlemanly of me to make cruel comments about my wife, especially when she suffers and is unable to help herself.
Dr Trowbridge has explained why Veronica ails, her third miscarriage has damaged her mentally as well as physically.
He suggested a special hospital, but I have heard mixed results about such places, instead I have employed a nursing staff to care for her.
My presence, it seems, is challenging for Veronica, but the doctor assures me this will pass.
When I suggested that I should take a London flat on a more permanent basis, there was relief in her eyes.
I never thought I would be this man.
A man who seeks love away from home.
A cheat.
A lothario.
A wife in the country.
A mistress in town.
I always held such men in contempt, yet now I have joined their ranks and have no intention of leaving.
Helena Last and I met when Jocelyn, Charlie and I barrelled down to the opening of the Popular Café on 10 October.
The date is important; it was the day my life changed forever.
She was our waitress and from the moment she approached our table, my heart and mind knew trouble lay ahead.
From her blonde curls, to her laughing green eyes and easy smile, she could not have been more different from my dear Veronica.
When she responded to my tentative flirting, I felt she was doing it out of sympathy – poor old chap, she probably thought, I’ll be kind – but she assures me this was not the case.
‘You had gentle eyes,’ she has since told me, ‘and I could tell you were a gentleman.’
The chaps returned home the following day, but, due to the problems at home, I remained in London, which was a good excuse.
The thought of her was like a siren song.
Each day, the call of the Popular Café intensified.
It was the music – especially when Helena sang – I told myself, the food, the convivial company…
But it was her. When she agreed to meet me on her night off, I was the happiest man alive and as we walked along the banks of the Thames, I quite forgot I was ten years her senior and a married man.
A telegram has arrived, I must stop reminiscing about my meeting with my darling girl to record this important news: Charlie’s cousin, Selwyn of the British Museum, has requested I visit with utmost haste as he has exciting news about my manuscript.