21. An invitation to the museum
AN INVITATION TO THE MUSEUM
Charlie Big Potatoes was no respecter of hangovers.
Ursula put the pillow over her head to block out his persistent moaning but the cat would not be muted.
If anything, he was getting louder. Anton would have told her to ignore him.
In fact, Anton would have told her it was her own fault for pandering to him in the first place.
And on that particular point she found herself agreeing with him.
Nonetheless, she stumbled out of bed and opened the window to let both the cat and the cold in.
Daylight hadn’t found its way properly into the world yet and it was still half-dark out there.
The hill was a shape, rather than a distinctive element, and the ones behind it were just blue-black shadows.
She opened the bedroom door wide enough for a skinny cat to slip through and took herself back to bed.
But Charlie was only interested in following her.
He edged his way down under the duvet and settled by her feet, his damp fur pressing up against the bare skin of her ankle.
Ursula closed her eyes and tried to get back to sleep, but the spell was broken.
There were no other noises in the house, except for someone’s distant snores.
It sounded like even the early risers were having a lie in.
Perhaps they were suffering as much as she was.
But then a creak on the stairs let her know that at least one person had shaken off the effects of last night’s party.
It was enough to bring Charlie out of his hidey-hole under the duvet and on his way through the crack in the door.
Ursula curled up into a ball and shut her eyes again.
‘What do you think you are doing?’
She awoke with a start, her eyes flitting around the room, searching for the owner of that voice, even though he never came this close.
She’d been dreaming, that’s all. But it was enough to get her out of bed to peep through the curtains.
The light had changed and the hill was clearer.
She could see the different aspects of it now.
The trees at the top where she’d sheltered with Esteban.
The patches of bracken. The sheep. The man standing in the same spot where she’d seen him on that first day.
Not Howard, as she’d been led to believe.
This was a different shape that unfortunately, she knew well.
Anton. She’d thought she’d left him behind, but that would have been too easy.
Last night, she hadn’t been honest with Howard when she said she hadn’t been able to let him go.
The truth was, she’d give anything to see the back of him.
It was Anton who wouldn’t let her go. He must have been watching her all this time and just when she’d started to feel a bit less anxious, just when she’d started to think she might even be enjoying herself he pops back up.
Right on cue. What do you think you are doing.
Megan was at the kitchen table cradling an empty mug in her hands. ‘You look like I feel.’
Ursula flopped down onto a chair. ‘If you mean rough, then I look exactly how I feel too. I don’t think I’ve drunk that much in a long time.’
‘Me neither. Doesn’t do any lasting harm every now and then though, does it?’ I’m having another tea. Do you want one?’
‘Yes please. Did you stay over last night?'
‘We both did. Me and Gareth. It’s lucky Andi’s got so many spare rooms.’
‘Yes, I suppose it is.’ Ursula suspected Gareth hadn’t actually needed a spare room last night but that was none of her business.
‘It was nice to see Howard having a good time. Dilys always liked a dance as well.’
‘Did she?’ Ursula frowned, not sure why Megan was bringing this up, and then a sudden flashback was all the explanation she needed.
There had been music last night. And dancing.
She may have insisted on dancing to ‘Supernature’.
She may also have insisted on dancing with Howard.
‘Oh dear, I think I might have forced Howard to boogie.’
Megan laughed. ‘He didn’t need no forcing, he was way ahead of you on that one.
It was a real tonic, I tell you. Gave me a boost anyway.
I mean there’s not much we can do about Auntie Dil now.
It sounds awful but you can’t stop it happening, can you?
But we’re all doing everything we can to keep Howard going without getting his hopes up too much.
It would kill her to see how much he’s suffering.
They were proper devoted to each other and now she doesn’t know who he is most of the time.
It was lovely to see him let his hair down last night.
Worth the hangover. Anyway, I’m in no fit state to drive this morning.
Gareth’s dropping me off. He’s helping Brett with the furniture.
’ She stood up and went to the door. ‘You won’t say anything to Esme, will you? ’
‘About Gareth?’
‘You’ve probably noticed she’s got a crush on him.’
‘It’s not common knowledge then? He hasn’t come out?’
‘Only to a select few so far. I don’t think he knew himself. Not properly anyway. Until Brett. They just clicked, I suppose. Only I saw you’d picked up on it last night.’
‘I won’t say anything. It’s up to them to decide who knows what and when.’
‘Thank you. I’m late, I must go. You’re very perceptive, by the way. Very sensitive to others. I expect that can be a nuisance for you sometimes.’
A nuisance? Yes it could be on occasion.
Megan had a point, but not one that she was prepared to debate this morning.
Ursula set her expression to composed and serene.
The veil was down again. And then she reminded herself that wasn’t necessarily a good thing.
She really should start that list of habits that needed breaking.
Although perhaps there was another list that needed writing first. Ursula Moller’s list of regrets.
But she didn’t think she’d ever have the stomach for that.
Andi found her in the lounge debating with herself whether to go outside. ‘What are you up to?’
‘Nothing much. Trying to make up my mind what to do today.’
‘I’ve got something to show you.’
She took Ursula upstairs and unlocked the door to a room that could very well have been the one she’d heard someone crying in. ‘Remember I told you I had somewhere private to go? This is it.’
Ursula followed her in and saw shelves filled with bales of material, threads, and everything else a dressmaker needed.
To one side of the room, underneath the shelves, was a table with two sewing machines.
In the middle was a workbench and, in the corner, a mannequin that was an old friend.
She checked the back of it and found what she was looking for.
Chain stitched lines that had been sewn in a long time ago, charting the growth of one little girl.
One a year, until she’d become taller than the dummy.
Ursula traced her fingers along them, each one a symbol of her mother’s love. ‘It’s hers. You kept it.’
‘For you. I kept it for you. I have her pattern collection as well.’
‘They must be antiques by now. I haven’t made anything in years. Not sure I can remember how to.’
‘It’s been a year for me. Mostly I just come in here to be alone.’
‘And to cry?’
‘Yes. To cry. Yes.’
‘About Pablo?’
‘About lots of things.’
Was this going to be it, the moment Andi opened up? Ursula waited for her to say more but Andi’s mouth was resolutely closed. She put her arms around her. ‘What a pair we are. How did we get so lost?’
Andi shrugged. ‘I suppose it’s age. We get scared, don’t we? Scared to let go of the past and just as scared to look forward. It leaves you stuck in limbo.’
‘I don’t know. I have friends who are in their seventies and they don’t seem to be like that.’
‘It must be the lives we’ve led then. Maybe the men we chose have helped make us this way.’
‘You never wanted boring. You always chose excitement.’
‘I know. I was an idiot.’ Andi opened another door that turned out to be a walk-in cupboard with two rails of garments covered in protective plastic.
‘My museum.’ She took out a silver dress with a bustier bodice, a sweetheart neckline and a pencil line skirt.
The first dress Ursula’s mum had helped her make.
Ursula felt the fabric. ‘I loved that dress on you. I was so envious that you had the figure to carry it off.’
‘Really? You never said.’
‘You were gorgeous. I always felt plain next to you.’
Andi’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Urs, you could have been a model. I always felt dowdy and fat next to you. You know what? We were both absolute stunners. We just didn’t know it. What I wouldn’t give for that figure and that face now. We were bloody beautiful. I was beautiful.’
‘You still are.’
She put the dress back ‘You’re my best friend. I think you might be a bit biased.’
‘Nonsense, my love.’
Andi smiled. ‘You sound just like Gillian. That was very her.’
Ursula thumbed through the other outfits on the rails.
A couple of them had belonged to her. She’d left them at the flat so that she’d have some going-out clothes when she went on her secret clubbing nights with Andi, before that became something else she stopped doing.
‘I’m sorry I got so silly about you and Mum.
I wasn’t used to sharing her. And I was too immature to accept that it wasn’t enough for her to wait for me to turn up for a couple of hours a week. ’
‘I understood. So did she. We got over it, didn’t we?’
‘Yes, but it wasted so much precious time.’ She removed a pale blue A-Line dress from its cover. She and her mum had gone to London to get that fabric. ‘There was supposed to have been a matching jacket.’
‘She never finished it,’ said Andi.
‘She was waiting for a reason to.’ Ursula put the dress to her nose to see if it smelled of her mum’s scent. But how could it when she never wore it?