Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
London, England
E lena’s apartment was located in the trendy London district of Shoreditch, not far from a pub called The Brazen Squirrel and a pizza-by-the-slice place that advertised two-pound pieces.
Julia and Charlie got out of the cab and paid the driver, who reminded them that in England, they drive on the other side of the road than they’re used to.
“Be safe out there,” he told them with a wink.
Julia and Charlie were extra careful when they crossed the street to get to Elena’s, holding hands as they drew closer.
“Why does she think we’re coming again?” Charlie asked, uncertainty in his voice.
“Because I own a publishing house,” Julia said. “We want illustrators.”
“Okay. And who am I?” Charlie asked.
Julia stopped short before she rang the buzzer up to the third-story flat, grimacing. “You’re my husband and partner in all things,” she said with a funny laugh.
Before they went up, he kissed her and reminded her that everything would be okay, no matter what. Even if Elena didn’t know CAT’s identity, even if all of this was a lark. Julia tried to smile and led the charge up the stairs, huffing slightly before they reached the open door.
When they entered, a young girl called from within, telling them to take off their shoes and join her. “I’ve just put some tea on!” she called in an Italian-British accent.
Julia was surprised at the state of the apartment.
Marius and Sophia’s lives seemed modest enough, with that beautiful but homey bed-and-breakfast and those pasta dishes.
But Elena’s apartment was almost fancy, with its gleaming mahogany floors and ornate decor.
On the phone, Julia had been surprised to learn that Elena was barely eighteen, that she’d left home earlier than all her classmates, and initially lived with an aunt here in London before she’d been allowed to move into a place by herself. Eighteen felt insanely young.
But when Elena greeted them with a warm smile in the hallway, beckoning them to the living room, Julia remembered that she and Charlie had left home when they were Elena’s age.
They’d plunged into the world headfirst. Maybe Elena would see something of that in Julia (although Julia guessed she wouldn’t, given the fact that, to Elena, Julia probably looked quite old).
Julia introduced herself in person and watched as Charlie and Elena shook hands. Elena had strong, sleek black hair and catlike eyes that made you marvel at the intelligence of the next generation.
“Please, sit down!” she said, guiding them into the living room, where three mugs of tea sat waiting for them, plus a basket of hard English cookies.
“You have a wonderful place,” Julia said, settling onto the sofa next to Charlie.
“Thank you for saying that.”
Julia yearned to ask how a young woman like Elena afforded this.
Maybe her father, Federico, had money? Maybe Elena was being bankrolled?
Then again, the way Marius and Sophia had spoken had made Julia think that Elena’s parents hadn’t been afforded any of the “legs up” that Elena, maybe, would have with Julia’s publishing house and Gregor’s insights.
For a little while, they chatted simply about London, about Elena’s time at the Royal College of Art, about Positano, about the weather.
She seemed like a clearheaded and bright young woman with a wonderful future ahead of her.
Julia could just barely imagine her, perhaps in a hooded sweatshirt, making that CAT copycat in Paris.
Paris was just down the road, in some respects.
Maybe she’d gone there on a Friday and come back Saturday morning. Had she needed help?
Just when Julia was about to ask Elena another silly question about art school, Elena raised her palm and said, firmly, “Before we go any further, I want you to know that after our phone call, I looked you up. Julia Copperfield. Julia Copperfield of the now infamous American publishing house.”
Julia’s heart dropped into her stomach. It was obvious what was happening now. Elena was calling out her lie. Perhaps she’d smelled the lie immediately on the phone and had been too curious to hang up.
Julia crossed her ankles and waited to come up with a response that would win Elena’s favor. But how did anyone win the favor of an eighteen-year-old girl?
“Yes,” Julia said finally, because she could only agree. “That’s my publishing house.”
“Can I ask you a question?” Elena asked, raising her chin.
“Okay.” Julia had never been more anxious in her life.
“Why did you believe her?”
Julia understood. Why did you believe Lucia’s lies?
“I’ve thought about that a lot since the night of the book launch,” Julia said, her voice faint.
“I read that manuscript probably twenty times. I confirmed countless facts about Lucia’s life and paired them up with the well-known creation dates of CAT’s murals.
To me, in many ways, I was doing everything I felt necessary to make sure A Journey into the Night would be a wonderful success. But you know what?”
Elena blinked and waited.
“The real truth is that I wanted to believe that Lucia Colombo was CAT because I wanted to believe the incredible CAT had wanted to reveal her identity through my publishing house,” Julia said, her voice wavering.
“It was arrogant and insane of me, and I know that now.” She swallowed.
“But the problem is, because of Lucia Colombo, and because of my recklessness, my publishing house might not recover from this.”
Elena bowed her head. “I read about that too.”
“You know we’ve been trying to look for Lucia?” Julia asked.
Elena nodded again.
“You know that some guys took her away? Some Bulgarians?” she pressed it. “Apparently, they met Lucia in Positano.”
“I remember those guys,” Elena said thoughtfully. “A few of them worked odd jobs. Plumbing. Electrician. I think one or two worked at the hospital. They were harmless, until they realized what they could do, how much power they could take when they wanted to.”
It was an interesting choice of words. Julia sat back and cupped her elbows. Charlie was quiet beside her, letting her take the lead. He seemed captivated, too.
“Why do you think Lucia and those guys wanted to impersonate CAT?” Julia asked.
Elena sipped her tea. “As you know, there’s a lot of money in the CAT brand,” she said. “It didn’t start that way.”
“And Lucia knew that?”
“She knew a lot,” Elena said with a shrug.
“How?” Julia rasped.
Elena looked reticent, her eyes out the window. What had begun as a sunny afternoon had now shifted to clouds and raindrops. It felt gloomy and appropriately London-esque.
Elena’s voice was shaky. “How did you know to contact me?” she asked.
Julia thought about the CAT copycat mural, about Gregor. She didn’t know how much she wanted to reveal.
“I know it isn’t a coincidence,” Elena continued. “You’re here because you want someone to prove Lucia isn’t the real CAT. You think it’s going to be me who does that. But the problem is, I was never able to verify the real identity of CAT.”
Julia’s heart sank. “How is that possible?”
Elena’s eyes flickered.
“I mean, we know you painted the copycat in Paris,” Julia pointed out.
“It isn’t a copycat,” Elena said. “It’s real.”
Julia flared her nostrils and gave Elena her best I’m a mother, don’t lie to me look. Elena’s eyes dropped. The silence intensified. Julia had no idea how to get Elena to say it was her, to admit a truth that wasn’t convenient.
“We aren’t going to tell anyone it was you,” Julia said quietly.
Elena remained silent. She was smarter than most thirty-year-olds, Julia realized.
A full minute passed. Julia was worried that Elena was going to tell them to leave, to get out of there. Julia wouldn’t blame her.
Suddenly, Charlie lent Elena a bit of kindness, asking her about her parents’ time in London.
Her eyes brightened just the slightest bit.
“They met going to the same art school that I’m going to now,” she said.
“Some of their art is still here, in different exhibition halls, and I’m even attending lectures with a few of their professors. ”
“Your dad works with clay?” Charlie asked. “We saw a lot of his stuff in Positano. It was incredible.”
“Yes. He gives classes to tourists in Positano,” Elena said. “He has an enormous workshop. He still makes his own stuff, too, and sells it around.”
The way Elena spoke of her father made Julia understand how much she loved him.
“And your mother?” Charlie asked.
Elena’s eyes glinted with tears that she seemed too proud to let fall. “Mama passed away a few years ago,” she said. “She was a painter. Mostly, she earned her money by painting coastal scenes and other Italian-inspired things for tourists. She hated doing that.”
Julia remembered the paintings they’d found at Lucia Colombo’s mother’s place. There had been an entire section in A Journey into the Night wherein Lucia had written about how much she hated painting the same old stuff for tourists. Over and over again, the same thing.
It was a funny coincidence, she guessed.
“Lucia went to your school too,” Julia remembered.
“Yes, but they didn’t know each other,” Elena said confidently. “They weren’t really friends.”
Julia felt a spark of recognition. She inhaled sharply.
Before Julia could ask Elena anything more, Elena got up to blow her nose and drink a glass of water. Julia and Charlie looked at one another, having a nonverbal conversation before Elena returned to tell them she had to leave soon. It meant she wanted them gone.
Julia realized, as she got up, that she saw Elena in a brand-new light now. Like Charlie’s daughters, Elena had lost her mother too young. She was grieving. She would always be grieving. Julia had to fight the urge not to wrap her arms around her and tell her it would be okay.
Before they left, Julia spun around at the door and said, “You said you could never verify the identity of CAT.”
“That’s right.” Elena gave her a look that meant she was tired of all of this.
“But you know for sure that Lucia isn’t CAT,” Julia said.
Elena didn’t say anything. The steeliness in her eyes meant that she knew exactly who CAT was and refused to say so. Why did she want to hide her identity so much? Why did it matter now, now that her mother was gone?
“All I would ask of you,” Julia said, her voice wavering, “is to make a statement saying Lucia isn’t CAT, and you know she stole details of CAT’s life for her personal gain.
You don’t have to say how you know.” Julia wet her lips.
“Therein lies the threat that you’ll tell the world more details about Lucia, that you’ll taint her already tainted name.
And if Lucia herself comes forward to say that she did in fact lie, that she isn’t CAT… ”
Elena jumped for it. “Your publishing house will be in the clear again?”
Julia flinched. “Yes,” she said. “That’s true. But CAT will also remain CAT—anonymous and mystical and wonderful. The real CAT will have nothing of Lucia’s infamy attached to her. It means that you’ll preserve what was always wonderful about CAT and make sure she lives forever, in that way.”
Elena was quiet and watchful, her hand making a fist at her side. “Let me think about it,” she said. Her voice was hard-edged.
Julia sensed it. Elena wouldn’t do anything she wanted her to do, not unless it benefited the CAT name. She hoped Elena understood how essential this was before it was too late for all of them.