Chapter 33
Four months later
Elizabeth didn’t think she had ever been so tired.
Diana had made her get up at five o’clock to get to Olympia and help get the stand ready.
It was all hands on deck for the Ideal Home Exhibition.
She had been on her feet all day and hadn’t stopped talking to visitors.
The doll’s house had been a roaring success, with each room decorated in a different colour scheme showing off their newly named range of household paints.
Stella had even done miniature versions of Edwin’s paintings to hang on the walls.
Hordes of visitors had crowded around. They’d sold hundreds of raffle tickets, and orders were at a record high.
And just after midday, the crowds had parted, standing back to let Princess Margaret onto the stand.
Dressed in a luxurious fur coat and a matching hat, she’d shown great interest, and had talked about Queen Mary’s doll’s house at Windsor Castle, which she’d been very fond of as a child.
The day could not have gone better. Michael was almost beside himself.
‘I might have to give you a job too,’ he joked to his wife. ‘Though at this rate, Diana will be taking over from me.’
Diana had done more for Arbutus Paints than anyone could ever have imagined.
She had secured editorial slots in several magazines featuring Elizabeth, who let readers into her secrets of how to decorate the perfect country home.
The next thing in line was a new range of Arbutus wallpaper, which Stella was helping to design – it was intricate and inspired by nature, influenced by some of Edwin’s paintings of the landscape around Foxwood.
Life, thought Elizabeth, was as good as it could possibly be.
She and Michael would never be the same – you never were, after losing someone – but their love had grown deeper and more meaningful, with a newfound respect.
She’d had one postcard from Jasper, of Rodin’s The Kiss, with a scrawled message saying Paris is waiting for you.
She’d tucked it into her dressing-table drawer as a souvenir, nothing more.
Now, she was longing to get back to the flat before they headed off to the Savoy for dinner with Alfie and Clementine.
For two pins she’d have stayed in with baked beans on toast, but no doubt she’d get a second wind after a bath.
A cube of Yardley, a change of frock and she’d be ready for anything.
Ben had painted the walls of the gallery a dramatic grey-black.
An Arbutus paint, of course, that was named Church Roof.
Stella hadn’t been sure at first, she had thought it might be too overpowering, too gloomy, but in fact now all the pictures had been reframed in dark blood-red, she could see it was perfect.
Every one of Edwin’s paintings stood out against the dramatic backdrop.
It made the colours even more striking. And the centrepiece, the one that had its own wall, was the painting of Stella.
The painting was on the front of the catalogue too: EDWIN ARBUTUS: THE FOXWOOD COLLECTION.
‘What do you think?’ asked Ben.
‘You were so right,’ was all she could say.
He’d written to Elizabeth and Michael after the Snow Ball. A passionate but carefully worded letter, asking them to consider letting him exhibit their private collection.
I would guard each one of the paintings with my life. It would be such an honour to show them to the world, to let them see his genius extended beyond what we all already know and love. And, of course, you would have Clementine’s eagle eye over everything. They could not be in safer hands …
Dozens of people had replied to the invitations Clementine had sent out, including Sir Kenneth Clarke.
They had finished hanging earlier that afternoon, aided and abetted by Monsieur Corbières, for Ben declared there was no one with a better eye for juxtaposition: the two of them had become firm friends, and had spent hours moving the paintings around, deciding on the best place to hang each one.
It made Stella realise that despite his ebullient exterior Ben was someone who thought and cared about things very deeply.
She had been careful to take things slowly, after that first kiss at the Snow Ball.
She hadn’t wanted either her heart or his to be bruised by a too-swift entanglement.
He had respected her wish for caution. He teased her, they bantered and flirted, she teased him back, and something powerful simmered beneath the surface providing a delicious tension every time they met.
And now, looking around her at all the love and care and thought he had put into displaying Edwin’s work, she knew what she was about to do was the right thing.
She’d been to look at a little flat in Bloomsbury earlier.
It was small, but with two bedrooms, one for her and one for Ted.
There was a lovely little school nearby, and the headmistress there had assured her that they were very good at preparing their brightest pupils for the grammar school.
She had thought long and hard about the move.
It was what she needed, for her career, which was the most important thing to her, for it represented independence.
And although Elizabeth and Michael had been sad at the thought of them moving back to London, she and Ted would come to Foxwood every holiday, and his grandparents would see him every time they came to stay at the flat.
And she would be near to Ben. She was ready, she thought, to take the next step and embark on something more serious, and her living in London meant they could get to know each other properly.
She had given the landlord a deposit, and agreed to move in the next month so Ted could start at his new school during the summer term.
‘We need to go,’ she said now. ‘We’re due at the Savoy in ten minutes.’
He groaned. ‘Do we have to go? Can’t we just go for supper somewhere quiet?’
‘You know we have to. Clementine’s organised it, remember?’ She knew he would never do anything to upset his sister. ‘And I’ve booked a room.’
‘What?’ He looked startled.
‘There’s no space for me at the flat because the whole family are up for the Exhibition. And my advance came through today. So I thought I’d treat myself.’
‘Well.’ He looked pleased for her. ‘You deserve it.’
She looked at him, her eyes sparkling with mischief. ‘We deserve it.’
His eyebrows shot up. ‘Oh,’ he said. ‘Oh! I see.’ He looked pleased. ‘Well, in that case, let’s get our skates on.’
She was a little bit nervous, but it was a delicious kind of nervous.
It had, after all, been a very long time, but she’d had to be sure.
And what could be more perfect than a room at the Savoy to celebrate Harriet’s approval of The Towpath Gang, and the fact that everyone was so confident about it they’d signed her up for a sequel?
She couldn’t make a habit of splurging on a swanky hotel, but she’d wanted to do something to mark her success, and how far she’d come.
She had lost so much – her parents, her lover, her home, her work – and gradually, she had rebuilt her life.
She couldn’t have done it without help, of course, but she didn’t think anyone would begrudge her one night of indulgence.
With the gallery door firmly locked, they wandered together through the streets of Soho towards the Strand, holding hands, hardly speaking, both wrapped up in the glory of what was about to happen, the absolute thrill of it.
And when they walked in through the revolving door of the Savoy, and up the stairs to the American Bar, it was obvious to anyone who saw them that they were deeply, irrevocably in love with each other.
Here they all are, thought Clementine, as the waiter brought a tray of cocktails to the table.
All the people I love. People I wasn’t expecting to love.
People I didn’t even know this time last year.
Unexpected arrivals. And twists in the tale.
She’d smiled to herself as Stella and Ben arrived, starry-eyed.
Elizabeth and Michael had exchanged amused glances.
She was glad they didn’t mind that Stella was having a second chance at love.
Of course they didn’t. It was no reflection on her love for Edwin.
That would never die. But she deserved to be happy, and she knew Ben would worship the ground she walked on.
She picked up her French 75. She only took a sip, then put it down, but she’d wanted to order one.
It felt right, for it reminded her of the night she’d first met Alfie, when he’d handed her one as part of his rescue mission.
She picked up the long-handled silver spoon the waiter had left for mixing their drinks, and tapped it on the side of her glass. Everyone looked up in surprise.
‘Alfie and I have an announcement. We wanted to make sure everything was all right before telling anyone. But I’ve been to see Dr Shaw today, for a proper check-up. And I’m glad to tell you, there’s another baby Arbutus on its way. Due in September. And all is well.’
‘Oh, darling,’ Elizabeth leaned in and kissed her cheek, ‘I couldn’t be more thrilled.’
‘That’s wonderful,’ said Stella.
‘Well done, sis,’ said Ben, his eyes glistening.
‘A Snow Ball baby,’ laughed Diana, who had swiftly counted backwards. ‘You made that a night to remember.’
Michael ordered champagne.
It was all perfect timing, thought Clementine.
The war was firmly behind them, gradually becoming a dim memory.
Alfie, Diana and Michael were steering Arbutus Paints into a bright new future.
Stella had her book coming out, and there was Edwin’s exhibition.
And dear little Ted would have a cousin for Elizabeth to spoil.
Foxwood was ready for the next generation.