Present day #2
Lilly laughed then. Joshua looked crestfallen, and it was funny, kind of; she was losing her home, potentially losing her fight, and he was more concerned that his uncle’s subterfuge might have put a spanner in the works of his dating plans.
‘She’s far too good for you.’ She spoke half in jest. ‘She’s honest, for one thing!’
‘Do you think she might still come for a coffee with me if I ask her?’
Lilly turned to face the young man, who was, despite her anger at the whole situation and her wariness of his uncle, an open book. It irritated her how much she liked him in spite of his part in this whole fiasco. The gentle putt-putt of a boat reversing into the dock filled the air.
‘I don’t know. Maybe. You’ll have to ask her yourself.’
‘Thank you.’
‘What are you thanking me for?’
‘For not telling me to stay away from her and for not chasing me off the towpath.’
‘I’m sorely tempted to do both.’ It was her turn to come clean.
‘I need to say something, but I don’t want you to shout at me.’ He squinted.
It was strange to hear the quaver of fear in his voice, as if she were that person, someone whose wrath he ought to fear, which could not be further from the truth.
‘Say what you need to and I will not shout at you. I rarely shout!’ She shouted the last bit, remembering how she had first met Clodagh on that glorious day that was to be their beginning, right here on the riverbank.
I don’t think I barked. The thing is, he threw rubbish into the river – plastic! He threw plastic!
‘Alfie told me to give you a message. He said that he would be here around eleven to pick you up.’
‘Urgh, that man! I don’t want a message, and kindly tell him not to waste his time as I will not be going anywhere with him any time soon.’ Her blood raced at the sheer audacity of it.
‘I . . .’
She watched Joshua’s mouth flap, as if it were trying to find the words.
‘What is it, Mr Vaughan? Spit it out.’
She figured the sooner he had said his piece, the sooner he could leave and let her get on with her picture.
‘He’s already here.’ He pointed along the path towards the dock, and there was Alfie, walking towards her, open-necked shirt, no jacket, less formal than she’d seen him before, in deck shoes, chinos and with his sunglasses on his head.
It was infuriating the way her heart was yet to catch up with what her brain understood and gave a squeeze of delight at the sight of him.
Turning to her paint palette, she mixed a little blue with grey and a splash of water, trying to get the tone just right.
‘I know I’m one of the last people you want to see.’
‘That’s not true.’ She answered without looking up.
‘Oh?’ he answered with a note of optimism.
‘Not one of the last, the absolute last, the very last!’ she emphasised.
‘Literally?’ Alfie stared at her.
‘Literally!’ she confirmed.
‘So if Attila the Hun were here, you’d prefer that or . . . or an axe murderer?’ He tried a smile, which she didn’t reciprocate, knowing this time it would take a lot more than his smooth-talking, easy humour and handsome face to win her over.
‘Precisely that.’ She stared at him.
‘I think I’ll . . .’ Joshua held his small leather attaché case aloft as if he had somewhere he needed to be urgently, which she guessed was anywhere other than here, as he stood to leave.
‘Speak later, Joshy.’ Alfie waved before turning towards her. ‘Lilly,’ Alfie began.
‘Why are you ambushing me like this, tag-teaming me with your nephew!’ she fired.
‘Why can’t you just leave me alone! Who knows how many days I have left to sit in the sunshine and enjoy my work in peace, but it seems it’s not enough that you’re taking that from me, you want to pitch up to harass me as well, spoil what limited time here I may have. It’s awful! You are awful!’
‘I was thinking about what you said.’
‘Clearly not about the bit where I said I don’t want you anywhere near me.’ She offered the reminder.
‘No, the bit where you said you’d only been on the river once before, on a water taxi back in the nineties, and so I thought it would be nice for you to see your home from the river. I brought my boat.’
Her eyes followed his extended arm towards the breathtaking wooden slipper launch that had only recently moored. A stunning craft, beautifully proportioned, its wood shiny. She knew her dad would have greatly admired it.
‘Thank you, but I’m quite content not to go for a ride on your very expensive boat.
’ She returned her attention to the canvas.
It bothered her that he thought she might be the kind of woman who would roll over at the sight of his fancy boat or the gift of a bauble, or a nice dinner in Battersea, come to think of it.
He didn’t know her at all, and never would.
‘Lilly!’ His tone was close to exasperation, which made her stop what she was doing and look up.
‘If I was the villain you paint me as I would not be here, trying to talk to you. I’m asking for an hour of your time.
That’s all, just one hour. This building you are so fond of, it’s a chance to see it from all angles, to really take it in. ’
Before it’s gone for ever . . . She filled in the blanks.
‘After that’ – he raised his palms – ‘if you still insist, you won’t see me again, I promise. And contrary to what you might think, I am a man of my word.’
It was conflicting; she felt relief that he might keep his word and a little distressed at the prospect too.
It was such a shame he was a liar and an arsehole because she had really liked him.
He was right, however, about the chance to see Waide House from the river, to take a snapshot in her mind. It would be lovely.
‘I hate how everything feels like it’s in turmoil.’ She put her brush down and, weary from the fight, spoke freely. ‘I was so happy, content, before your letters started arriving and your nephew was sent to knock on my door.’ The sadness that flared in her breast was raw and uncomfortable.
‘Please, Lilly, come out with me on the boat, just for an hour.’
‘So you can what? Twist my arm, give me all the reasons why it might be to my benefit to move on? I’ve heard it all and my heart is still broken.’
‘No, no arm-twisting. Come out with me because it’s a nice way to spend time.’
It was a once-in-a-lifetime offer and one she knew she might live to regret not taking.
Folding away her easel, she packed her brushes and, in a well-practised manner, took her painting paraphernalia into Waide House and popped it inside the wide hallway; she’d take it up to the flat later, after one last glimpse of this place she so loved.
With her hair tucked inside a peacock-blue silk scarf, she walked towards him.
‘One hour.’ The reminder as she made her way out on to the dock.
Alfie lifted his hand to help her down into the launch and she had no choice but to take it.
There it was again, that darned frisson of excitement.
What was it about men like Wilkie and Alfie that had the power to make her feel this way?
Why was she attracted to the liars, the cads, the cheats?
Rex had been different, she remembered. Sweet Rex, kind Rex, who had not, despite his best efforts, had the same effect on her.
What she had felt for him was a pale imitation of the passion, the desire, the need, she’d had for Wilkie.
Stepping down into the interior, she was fascinated. The design and craftsmanship were impeccable; the hand-stitched leather of the two wide sofa-like seats at the rear and front, the highly polished dashboard with a leather-covered steering wheel that looked fresh out of an expensive vintage car.
‘She’s beautiful.’ Her fingers trailed the butter-soft upholstery as the boat gently rocked in the swell.
‘Lady Margery, named after my mother.’
Lilly kept her eyes on the river ahead, not wanting any more of his history, the personal details that had helped lash him to her with confidence; she wanted no more of that.
Alfie sat next to her and switched on the engine, which purred as, with incredible skill, he pulled away from the dock and out into the river.
‘I’ll take her upstream slowly so you can see Waide House properly – then we’ll turn her about, and you can do the same from the other direction.
There’s nothing like seeing your city from the water.
A different perspective altogether, like the difference between travelling on the top deck of a bus or underground on the Tube.
When you’re on the river you get to see the lines at the top of the buildings, understand their placement along the water’s edge and take in the whole expanse. ’
It was thrilling, no mistake, being on the stretch of river she knew so well.
A sensation quite unlike any other; and he was right, so much detail she had been unaware of!
The proximity of the towering apartment blocks to her building, the small spaces between the plots filled with tiny squares of garden where people shoehorned in snippets of nature.
And how tiny Waide House looked, a stocky little anomaly among the shiny skyscrapers.
‘Look at her.’ She wasn’t sure if she’d said it aloud.
It was an almost visceral reaction, the sight of her home, the building in its entirety sitting there like a dusty little thing among the shiny giants, a relic among the new.
Her tears fell in a steady stream, distressed at the utter abhorrence of the fact that the block was to be razed to the ground, not a brick left.
Alfie was strangely quiet. ‘If I look at the flat, I can see me standing in the window when I was little, looking out at the wonder of it all.’
‘Yet I see potential homes for hundreds of people.’
‘Oh, please! Let’s not pretend you are doing this for altruistic reasons. You’re doing it for profit!’ She cut him short.
‘It doesn’t have to be either or, Lilly. Yes, it’s a great business proposition for me, a legacy—’