Chapter 30 #3
A few days later, a taxi trundled up the drive to Foxwood, and a young girl got out staggering under the weight of a large hamper from Fortnum and Mason.
It was Elizabeth who answered the door, for it was Daisy’s day off – she’d left sausages and peeled potatoes for mash for supper.
It was their tradition, when Daisy wasn’t there, to eat in the kitchen, and it would be much better for Ted to eat early as he’d gone back to school the day before.
‘I’m Harriet Banham,’ said the girl. ‘Stella’s editor. I wonder if I could see her?’
‘Oh,’ said Elizabeth, eyeing up the hamper. ‘Of course. Come in. She’ll be in her room but I’m sure she’d love to see you. Let me take that.’ She took the hamper off Harriet and stood to one side to let her past. ‘If you wait here, I’ll nip upstairs and get her. I’ll be two minutes.’
She set the hamper down. This must be good news. No one turned up with a Fortnum’s hamper if it was bad news. She ran up the stairs, tapped on Stella’s door and heard the sound of the typewriter stop. She’d been typing away for what felt like days.
‘There’s a girl to see you. Harriet Banham?’
‘Harriet?’ Stella’s face was a mixture of delight and puzzlement. ‘What on earth’s she doing here?’ She started to tidy up her hair and rearrange her clothes. Today she was wearing an olive-green shirt dress of Elizabeth’s that tied at the waist, and it suited her to perfection.
‘Get yourself ready. I’ll go down and show her into the sitting room, if you like.’
‘Thank you. I won’t be long. I just need to make myself look presentable.’
Elizabeth headed back down the stairs, where she found Harriet looking around at Edwin’s paintings in fascination, peering at every last detail through her spectacles as if she was looking for woodworm.
‘Are these all by Edwin Arbutus?’ she asked.
‘Yes.’ Elizabeth felt a burst of pride. ‘Do you know him? Or of him? He is … was my eldest son.’
‘Of course I know him. His paintings are wonderful. My mother took me to an exhibition at the National Gallery during the war. We both agreed his paintings were far and away the best.’
‘Thank you. We think so too, though we’re not allowed to say that.’ Elizabeth gave a little laugh.
‘I’ve only seen his war work in real life.
These are glorious. The detail is incredible.
And the colours …’ Her eyes swept over the collection from top to bottom.
She pointed at the picture of Clodagh. ‘That dog! She looks as if she might jump out of the frame. Sorry, I’m gushing rather.
But I don’t often get to see work like this up close. He was a genius.’
Elizabeth tried hard to feign modesty on Edwin’s behalf. ‘I don’t know about genius, but he was quite talented. These are just the things he painted when he was here. We got everything framed after he died and put it all up. It seemed the perfect memorial.’
‘You must be very proud.’
‘I am. I’m very proud.’
‘And I’m so sorry. That you lost him. I remember reading about it in the paper. I cut out his photo. I was sixteen …’ She blushed a little. ‘I’ve never been a film star sort of a girl. More writers and artists.’
‘He’d have loved that.’
They looked up as Stella came down the stairs. She looked a little uncertain.
‘Harriet. This is such a surprise …’
Harriet rushed forwards and threw her arms around her.
‘I had to come and see you. As soon as I got your letter I wanted to make sure you were all right, but I’ve had meetings and lunches and launches and I couldn’t get away until today.
I’ve brought you a hamper – just some treats.
For everyone, really. There’s champagne in there too.
Champagne does very well as commiseration as well as celebration.
Stella, I’m so sorry. About the boat …’ She finally drew breath.
Elizabeth could see Stella was lost for words.
‘Why don’t you both go into the sitting room? I’ll bring in tea. Daisy’s not here but she’s left flapjacks so I think we’ll manage.’
She could see Harriet was bursting to find out the connections, and she thought it was best if she made herself absent while Stella explained.
Stella could tell that Harriet was no stranger to grand houses, but nevertheless she exclaimed over the charm of the small sitting room, as everyone did. Stella settled her into one of the sofas and sat opposite her, being careful not to steal Elizabeth’s favourite spot.
‘So tell me,’ said Harriet. ‘Is Knight a pen name? Or are you an Arbutus? Were you trying to hide it from me, because you didn’t want to use the name to get a book deal?’
‘If I’d known that’s all it took …’ Stella laughed. ‘But actually, I’m not an Arbutus. My son is. Though he uses my surname.’ Harriet looked confused, so she decided to put her straight. ‘Edwin was his father.’
Harriet’s eyes widened behind her glasses.
‘So that’s who he was,’ she said softly. ‘You said you had lost someone in the war. I didn’t want to invade your privacy by asking any more, but now I understand. What a talented couple you must have been.’
‘Not really,’ said Stella. ‘I mean, he was, of course. I’m nothing in comparison. Though he taught me a lot.’
‘I’m so sorry. That you lost him. Your great love. It’s too awful.’ Harriet sighed. ‘And the boat too. But I’m very glad to see you being looked after.’
‘I’ve been incredibly lucky. His parents have been wonderful.’ It seemed crass to mention that she had never met them until the day of the fire. Harriet didn’t need to know that yet.
Harriet sat forwards excitedly, clapping her hands together.
‘Anyway, I’ve come for two reasons. First to make sure you’re all right.
And second, I’ve got some good news. Before I go any further, I have to tell you, you don’t have to accept this offer.
Because, as I said when we met, there are probably other publishers who would snap you up.
’ She paused to draw breath. Stella was gradually coming to realise that all Harriet’s thoughts came tumbling out of her in a torrent.
‘When I read your letter, I went straight to Upstairs. To the publishing directors. I told them your story, told them how completely wonderful I think you are and how much I believed in you. I showed them what you’d given me so far, and they gave me permission to give you an advance on the part-manuscript. ’
‘What?’ said Stella. ‘Say that again?’
‘I’ve got permission to give you an advance,’ repeated Harriet.
‘I’m hoping it will get you back on your feet and you’ll be able to deliver the rest before too long, but the important thing is I don’t want you to worry, about money or about when to deliver, because The Towpath Gang is so brilliant I would wait for ever to get it in my paws. ’
Stella sat back in astonishment. ‘Do you mean it?’
‘Just say the word, and I’ll get the contracts drawn up. You’re incredibly talented, Stella, and I feel lucky to have found you. Although I suppose you found me. Not that it matters, who found who. Either way, we are going to have a bestseller. I shall make sure of it.’
That night, when Harriet had taken a taxi to the station to catch the train back to London, Elizabeth suggested that Ted might like to move into Edwin’s old bedroom, up on the third floor, now the initial shock was over.
‘I moved all Edwin’s bits and pieces into the attic when he went off to art college,’ Elizabeth told her, trembling slightly at the memory.
It was hard for any mother when a child left home, but even harder when there was no hope of them ever coming back.
‘But there’s a decent bed and a chest of drawers and we can get him a desk. Or whatever he needs.’
The room was perfect for a small boy, tucked into the eaves, with wonky wooden floors and a window onto the garden, and an Egyptian carpet that looked as if it might fly if you shut your eyes and made a wish.
As Stella stood in the doorway, she imagined Edwin in here at Ted’s age, lining up toy cars on the windowsill.
What would Edwin say if he could see Ted there now?
Would he point out the big oak tree, with the owl that taunted you with his plaintive hoots if you happened to be awake at three in the morning?
Would he tell him to look out for foxes in the shadows?
Or explain to him all the phases of the moon – she remembered him showing her the Cold Moon one December, which was certainly aptly named.
‘It’s also called the Moon before Yule,’ he’d told her. She must get Ted a book on astronomy. And perhaps a telescope. The dormer window was crying out for a telescope.
Stella didn’t allow herself to feel any guilt that he could have had his own room all these years, if she hadn’t been so determined to be independent.
He’d been happy on the boat. And she reminded herself that they wouldn’t be here for ever.
With today’s news, she might be able to find themselves a place of their own sooner than expected. Who knew where they might end up?