Chapter Thirty-Three
CHAPTER
THIRTY - THREE
As January turned into February, Felicity kept herself very busy. She put more effort into her course and found her typing and shorthand speeds improving. She also realised her fellow pupils were warming to her as the months stretched on. She began to go for a walk with one of them after lunch to look at the shops and, once, she was shown how to use a telephone box. After she had had tea with her mother, she would take the bus to whichever theatre the company needed her and work on the sets.
Although Oliver was the background hum to her life and never absent from her thoughts, while she was painting she was less sad about losing him. She was often joined in her labours by a young man who seemed to do everything in the theatre. When he wasn’t painting scenery he was sourcing props, mending things and sweeping the stage. He also had a small part in the play.
‘How do you fit it all in, Piers?’ Felicity asked him one day when they were cleaning brushes, preparing to go home.
‘I get in early, I work all the hours God sends. If something doesn’t get done, I make excuses. I’m an ASM – Assistant Stage Manager. I’m learning so much and there aren’t many jobs for the likes of me, so I’m grateful.’
‘You do work very long hours.’
‘It’s what the job requires,’ Piers said. He cleared his throat. ‘Would you like to go for a drink when we’ve finished up here? Maybe something to eat?’
Felicity took pity on him. She knew that ASMs earned very little. ‘That would be lovely, but only if you let me pay.’
It didn’t take Piers long to relent. He guided her to a small restaurant with a daily menu that wasn’t expensive. With her allowance, Felicity could have taken Piers somewhere quite a lot more pricey but she was different enough being half French and having (apparently) an accent. She didn’t want to seem rich as well.
As she took the bus back home after a pleasant meal, not too late, she wondered if Piers could replace Oliver in her heart. Piers was handsome, quite tall, very nice, and funny: surely that was everything anyone could want in a boyfriend? And he seemed touchingly enamoured with her. He had also made her promise to come to his birthday party that was coming up soon, which seemed a small enough thing to agree to. As she put her key into the front door she decided she’d make a real effort to like him in the way he wanted to be liked. Surely a little will power would do it?
Violet found that she soon fitted comfortably into her new job with Miss Wynter. The hours were far from onerous and nor were the tasks found for her. She spent a lot of time taking Sigmund for walks and finding obscure pharmaceuticals from even more obscure pharmacies. In the evenings, after she had enjoyed the late-afternoons exploring London, she wrote her father and Jenny jolly letters about her employer.
She had worked for Miss Wynter for just over three weeks when she arrived to a different atmosphere. Miss Wynter was wearing different spectacles and was sitting up straighter. There was a table over her chair that had files of papers and a couple of pens on it.
‘Ah! You’re here!’ said Miss Wynter, managing to imply Violet was late. ‘I need to know how you’re feeling about this young man of yours – Henry Halford? Do you still care about him?’
Violet took a breath and sat down. Then she accepted the coffee and homemade pastry that Magda was giving her, as was customary. She knew she hadn’t ever mentioned Henry by name and had to digest the fact that Miss Wynter had somehow discovered it.
‘Of course he’s working with this Dr Saunders,’ said Miss Wynter. ‘And as they have worked together before, it would normally be assumed that something is going on between them. Are they sleeping together, do you know?’
Violet stared at the older woman in bewilderment. Sigmund, unaccustomed to being ignored, scrambled up on to her lap and pushed his nose into her hand.
‘You don’t know? Well, fair enough. But what you probably also don’t know – he doesn’t – is that he’s being considered for a post at Oxford, as a lecturer. Trouble is, he hasn’t published very much. Do you know if he might be interested in it?’
From somewhere, Violet found her voice. ‘Miss Wynter, I have no idea how you found out all this. I know I didn’t tell you any of it, not even his name—’
‘Well, to be honest, finding out about Henry Halford was almost too easy to be fun. He’s well known as being a very good lecturer, and of course has written a fair number of articles. Can you tell me anything I don’t know already?’
Violet wondered if there was anything Miss Wynter didn’t know. She seemed to be omniscient. ‘We met at my father’s house at Christmas – apparently they are old friends although I’d never met him before. And of course, as you know, Henry was my boss at the antiquarian bookshop, although I only worked with him for a short while before he went off on a lecture tour with Dr Saunders.’
‘Galling. But men do things like that; it’s why I learnt to avoid them. But what you need to decide is, do you want him to get this lectureship in Oxford? I know he’s got this mad idea there’s a lost palace – near here, I think it is. But he hasn’t submitted anything to anyone. A good solid paper, or a book even, would make the whole difference to his career. But there isn’t much time. The post will be filled by someone else soon enough.’
Violet’s thoughts were buzzing. A moment later she realised that she would do anything she could to help Henry, even if she wouldn’t be part of his life. This discovery was a shock, but it was also a relief. She knew that his happiness was important to her. ‘Will he be offered the job, do you know? Or does he have to apply formally?’
‘He’ll be invited to apply. And if he does, he’ll have to give up this lecture tour in America immediately. I happen to know the people involved. Do you want him back here or not?’
‘I want what he wants, but I don’t know what that is.’
‘Then let’s ask him. He’ll be told about the job and he can apply or not, as he wishes. But there’ll still be the problem of the unfinished project.’
Violet cleared her throat. She had no idea how Miss Wynter had found all this out, but she was suddenly grateful to her and her investigative mind. ‘I have a file of papers he doesn’t know about. When Dr Saunders came to me before they set off, asking for everything to do with Henry’s project, I kept it back.’
‘Good for you!’
‘But I don’t really know if what’s in it is useful although I thought so at the time. I put things in there when they didn’t seem to belong to anything else but still looked interesting.’
‘If he applies for the job, you can give it to him. I’ll put things in motion shortly.’ Miss Wynter smiled. It wasn’t a warm smile by any means; it reeked of self-satisfaction. ‘Now I think it’s time for my pre-prandial nap and Sigmund’s walk. Then we’ll have lunch.’
Violet got up. ‘Why are you doing all this for me, Miss Wynter?’
Miss Wynter seemed surprised to be asked this. ‘Although I have grown quite fond of you, I’m doing it because I’m bored. I enjoyed investigating your young man. And soon I’ll be going to my final resting place. There won’t be opportunities for entertainment there.’
Violet’s throat closed up with tears. Their acquaintance was brief, but she found the thought of Miss Wynter dying distressing.
‘Oh, don’t get emotional! I don’t mean I’m about to shuffle off this mortal coil! Although to be honest, I wouldn’t mind. I know you’d look after Sigmund. I mean I’m going to a nursing home where he can be with me. There are only a very few places. They’re building a new section at the home and I’m on the list for a suitable room.’
Violet was relieved. ‘Oh, good. I’m not quite ready to take on a dog yet.’ Violet realised it was a pathetic response but she was shaken by this conversation. She was very glad to get out of the overheated flat and take Sigmund for a long walk.
She was on the footsteps of the mansion block, about to take Sigmund home, when Owen Longley greeted her. ‘Miss Stone – Violet – I’m so glad to have run into you.’
Violet hesitated, hoping Miss Wynter wouldn’t be put out if she was a few minutes late for lunch.
‘Oh, don’t worry, my aunt is drinking sherry and doing a crossword. Not The Times , but The Listener . Satisfyingly difficult. I just wondered if I could perhaps take you out for tea or a drink after you finish here this evening? There are things we should discuss.’
Violet was still reeling from everything Miss Wynter had told her that morning but she nodded. ‘I am really very confused about how your aunt came to know so much about my private life. Some explanations would be welcome.’
Owen smiled. ‘I can’t explain everything, but I can probably help you a bit. Shall we say four thirty – after you finish today? I’ll meet you here, at the entrance, if you don’t mind. We don’t want to be interrogated by my aunt, which is what would happen if I collected you from the flat.’
As Violet had nothing else planned, she smiled and said, ‘That would be fine.’
‘Thank you. As I said, I don’t want my aunt knowing we’re meeting. She would be delighted if we got together and while I would be too’ – he smiled – ‘I don’t like to be more manipulated by her than I already am.’
Violet laughed. She liked Owen. He was charming, with just the right blend of confidence and the ability to laugh at himself.
‘You’re late,’ said Miss Wynter a few minutes later, as Violet and Sigmund came into the drawing room. ‘You’ve met that nephew of mine and arranged an assignation. Oh, don’t worry!’ she said without rancour. ‘I could tell what he planned when he left early. I always could tell if he was up to something when he was a boy. Now, do you want a glass of sherry, or shall we go straight into the dining room?’
‘I’ll just wash my hands and see to Sigmund, then yes, let’s have lunch.’