Chapter Twenty One
Caroline
Fitzrovia, London
I’m not sure why I feel compelled to pick up this journal again.
It isn’t as if I make a regular habit of keeping it up, but I would like to try and keep a record of this year, if only for the fact that when I’m an old lady I can look back and remember what it was to be young.
Another month has flown by, but just lately I’ve done nothing but work, which is probably why I’ve not felt tempted to write anything.
It’s hardly exciting to read about sewing ten dresses, three different blouses, a pair of trousers and an embroidered waistcoat, but they are ready for the show at last, and means all I’ve got to finish off is the coat I’ve designed, and also put the finishing touches to a formal dress.
It doesn’t sound very much, but I know they will probably take me up to the deadline, and now I can’t wait for it all to be over.
Imogen and I have been out on a few occasions when she can spare me the time.
Alexei is now part of her life, and it looks as if she’s met the man of her dreams. They asked me to make up a foursome one evening, and we went to see a horror film, which was fun, but I made it very clear from the start that I wanted no part in hand holding or anything else.
Needless to write, I haven’t seen Boris again.
I’m coming to the conclusion that perhaps I don’t like men very much, after all.
Even when a very good-looking and talented sculptor at art school asked me to go to the end of term ball, I declined.
All I can think about is getting my work done, and I’m not going to lie, I think about Harry quite a lot.
I can’t help wishing that he would like me as much as I like him, but there’s nothing I can do about it.
How long does it take to mend a broken heart?
I’ve asked that question so many times, and when my friends suggest it might get easier if I accepted some of the invitations I’ve had off other guys, I know they’re probably right.
The truth is I’m far happier being miserable and dreaming about what can never be.
Whenever I feel especially fed up Piers comes round or I go to his flat, and he cheers me up like no one else can.
I haven’t seen him for a while, but very early, at an ungodly hour, he phoned to say he was taking me out for tea at the Savoy today, and that I should dress up because it’s a special occasion.
I can’t think what we’ve got to celebrate, but I hope it’s something good for him; he’s so lovely and has been such an incredible friend to me.
I can hardly write this down - I’m so excited because the day has turned out to be so wonderful - I will try and write in as much detail as I can, without rushing too quickly to the end, for I know this will be a good memory forever, whatever the eventual outcome!
I’ve never been in such a beautiful tearoom as the one at the Savoy, and as I sat down, I couldn’t imagine being in such a place on a daily basis like the ladies who sat casually at cloth covered tables, against the banks of hothouse flowers, looking almost bored by the idea of afternoon tea.
There were so many different kinds of tea I didn’t know which to choose, and in the end, Piers suggested we have a pot of Earl Grey and a pot of Assam.
He also asked for a bottle of champagne, though he added mysteriously, that we would only open it after he’d spoken to me about a little matter he needed to discuss.
Then I couldn’t think any more about that because a waiter hovered, and poured the tea for us with a flourish, draped napkins over our knees and made so much fuss of me I felt I could very quickly get used to having such service permanently.
‘How are you, Caroline?’ Piers started when the waiter moved off.
‘I’m very worried about you. Imogen’s told me you’ve been working too hard, that you’re looking pale and exhausted, and I can see she’s quite right.
I know you love a bit of gothic horror, but that haunted expression and pale skin are doing you no favours. ’
‘Well, thank you for that … it’s nice to know my friends think my bloom has faded. I feel like Jane Austen’s Marianne Dashwood or Anne Elliot.’
‘It’s not meant as a criticism; anyone can see your divine bone structure is unaltered, but the dark rings beneath your eyes tell me you’re not getting much sleep.’
‘I have been working very hard … you know I’ve been trying to catch up, finishing my collection for the show.’
‘But, you can’t get away with telling me half-truths,’ said Piers, and his eyes were so kind I nearly burst into tears. ‘You’re still pining for Harry, aren’t you? And it’s getting worse, not better.’
I bit into a smoked salmon sandwich, as I contemplated my answer.
‘I am getting used to the idea that I am never going to see him again. I suppose it’s just going to take longer than I thought.
I don’t know, Piers, I can’t reconcile what we seemed to have in Bath with this total silence since I came home.
I just don’t think he liked me as much as I adored him.
And then I think I was silly to think we could have sustained a relationship.
We neither of us are in a position to take it anywhere. ’
‘But, perhaps he’s just been giving you time to think about what happened … giving you a bit of space in case it was just a holiday romance after all. He might have been unsure about your feelings. For all you know he might want to see you more than you think.’
‘Well, he’s got a funny way of showing it. If I liked someone and wanted to see them I’d at least write them a letter.’
‘What if he wrote to someone else telling them about his feelings? Would that make a difference?’ There was silence for a moment, and then I watched in disbelief as Piers took an envelope from his pocket and put it in front of me.
I looked up to see him smiling, and tears sprang to my eyes. He handed over a clean, pressed handkerchief, before putting his hand over the letter.
‘Do you want to read it, or shall I read out the relevant parts?’
I wiped my eyes, and blew my nose, promising to launder his hankie at the next opportunity.
‘Is it from Harry?’ I said at last. ‘I think if it is, I should like to read it.’
Piers nodded, and put the envelope into my hands.
There was quite a lot about what he’d been doing at university, and some discussion on theological arguments that they’d talked about on several occasions, and then the letter changed its subject and tone completely.
I know you won’t mind me telling you how much I enjoyed meeting you and Caroline.
I’m writing to ask your advice because I’ve spent so many sleepless nights not knowing quite what to do.
I cannot get that wonderful girl out of my head, no matter what I do - I thought it would be better if I gave her a chance to get on with her life in London, in the hope that it would give her time to concentrate on her final year studies.
I decided, in the end, a clean break would be better for both of us - I thought it would be just a matter of time before I’d be able to carry on with my life.
But, I find far from forgetting her or moving on, I think about her more every day, and wish I’d written to let her know just how much I enjoyed our time together.
It was just a few short weeks, but I’ve never known anyone like her, and I wish I could have the chance to get to know her better.
Am I too late? I hardly want to know your answer because a girl like Caroline isn’t going to be single for long.
Please help, Piers - I’ve been an idiot, and I really want to make it up to her if there’s a chance, but I’ll leave well alone if she’s found someone else.
I hope you’ll let me know by the next post,
Your friend always,
Harry
I cried a little bit more, but they were tears of happiness until I realised that if we started writing letters I’d be all consumed by him as quickly as I’d been at Christmas.
As much as I wanted him in my life, and was pleased he felt the same, there just wasn’t any way we would probably see one another again.
I hadn’t got a penny to spend on travelling, and though the Easter holidays were looming, I knew I hadn’t a hope of getting to Bath.
‘Before you give me your answer, Ellen asked me to pass on a little message. She and Roger are going up to Bath after Easter Sunday for a fortnight, and they want to know if you’d like to go with them.’
I couldn’t help myself, even in the elegant atmosphere of the Savoy. I jumped up out of my seat to run round to Piers’ side of the table, throwing my arms round his neck and kissing him on both cheeks.
‘I’ll take that as a yes, then,’ he said, leaning back in his chair and laughing at me, before motioning to the waiter to open the champagne.
I went back to my seat in complete happiness, as if I were floating above the ground.
One or two ladies in very smart hats smiled indulgently, and I heard one whisper that she thought we’d just got engaged, which made me smile.
I didn’t care what anyone was saying or what anyone thought.
In just a week’s time I was going to Bath, and I couldn’t be happier.
‘You will write to him straight away, won’t you?’ I begged.
‘It’s done already, my darling,’ said Piers biting into a dainty ham and mustard sandwich, ‘I didn’t want to miss the post, and I knew exactly what your answer would be. All you have to do is get a few nights of decent sleep or Harry will wonder if he’s fallen in love with a wraith.’
I laughed at his teasing words, and knew that sleeping that night was probably going to be no easier than the last few months had been, but I didn’t care. I was the happiest girl in the world.
***
Caroline
Chawton, Hampshire
April 1976
Mum and I enjoyed a lovely Easter together.
After church on Sunday, which was filled with the scent of spring flowers and sunshine filtering through stained glass, we went home to the smell of roast lamb just finishing off in the oven, and all I had to do was help lay the table, and help with the last minute rituals - finding the vegetable dishes and piling them full with the crispy potatoes, and sweet carrots, while she made the gravy.
We opened a bottle of wine and sat at the huge dining table where a bowl of marble eggs took centre stage, flanked by two vases of yellow daffodils, the perfect foil for the Morris papered walls of blue pomegranates.
I couldn’t help thinking about my dad, who always loved Easter even if it was a busy time for him, and when I looked at my mother, her eyes were misted, and I knew she was thinking of him too.
‘He’d be so proud of you,’ she said, putting out her hand to squeeze mine with affection, and we both knew she didn’t have to say his name out loud to know whom she was talking about.
‘I hope so,’ I answered, ‘I shall feel that’s much more likely to be true if I can complete my course, and do as well as I ought.’
‘You will, I’m certain, but it mustn’t be at the expense of your health, Caroline.
I’m sure that’s why you were ill in the first place - you’d been working too hard.
Anyway, I’m so grateful to Ellen for taking you away again.
You do want to go, don’t you? You’re not just going to please her … I know she can be very persuasive.’
‘No, I’m going to please myself, you can be sure of that.’
She pulled a funny half-smile, and I knew she was going to tease me. ‘I suppose you’ll have the chance to see Harry again. You like him very much, don’t you?’
I nodded coyly, and quickly added, ‘His sister is lovely too, and we’ll have so much to catch up on.’
‘Well, you take every possible chance you can to have a wonderful time and enjoy yourself,’ said my mother, wiping her mouth on a napkin.
She looked at me, her head on one side. ‘I remember being your age as if it were yesterday. You know love is the only thing that matters in this world, Caroline. I hope you’ll find that out for yourself one day.
I was lucky enough to marry a man who realised the importance of love, and I hope you’ll find someone who loves you as much as he loved me. ’
I wanted to ask Mum more about how they’d met, and how they’d overcome and resolved the family disapproval, but I could just tell the time wasn’t right.
I knew she still found it hard to look back on past times, even if she could talk about the things we used to do together as a family. It would have to wait for another day.
‘I only wish you could stay in Bath longer, especially when you’ve still got another week before you have to go back to art school.’
‘You’ve been so generous giving me some money to go with, I couldn’t ask for more. A fortnight will be just perfect, and I’ll have a chance to do some more work when I come home.’
In the afternoon I packed my case ready for the journey next day.
Ellen and Roger were picking me up in the morning, and as I selected some clothes more suitable for the finer weather, I couldn’t help feeling excited.
I had wondered if Harry might write to me, but he’d only written back to Piers telling him he would make contact with me in Bath, and sent a message to say that he and Elsa were really looking forward to seeing me.
Even so, I knew that in less than twenty-four hours I’d be in Bath again, and seeing my friends.
I picked up my precious jewellery box containing the locket, and my eyes fell on the writing box.
I hadn’t wanted to read Jane’s journal. I’d picked it up once, but the memories of all that had happened were so tied up with everything to do with meeting Harry I just hadn’t been able to face it.
However, it seemed in the space of a few days all that had changed.
Taking Jane’s journal from inside, I knew I could not leave it behind and tucked it carefully inside my case.