The Englishwoman Trilogy: Box set of: Englishwoman in Paris, Englishwoman in Scotland, Englishwoman in Manhattan

by Jenny O'Brien

  After she’d delivered the lunchtime order to The Shard, she nipped into a taxi and headed for Harrods. Taking the escalator up to the ‘woman's floor’ she shook her head in disgust. She had more than enough clothes and shoes but tonight she wanted to wear something special, something extra-special. Tonight she wanted to wear something that would blow his socks off. She giggled at such a stupid phrase and wondered who had come up with it and then she forgot all about socks.

  ‘Lady Titania, how wonderful to see you again. You haven't brought your mother with you today?’ she added, looking over Tansy’s shoulder.

  ‘Er no, just me.’ She smiled at the wiry shop assistant. Her mother was a big spender on the woman's floor and, of course, these shop assistants would be on commission.

  ‘And you've changed your hair. It's, er, so unusual,’ she added.

  ‘Yes, well I fancied a change,’ she said with a little shrug. ‘I’m in need of a new evening dress, something long and slinky but with just enough movement for dancing,’ her eyes drawn to the rails upon rails of designer dresses.

  ‘I have just the thing and it only came in today so nobody else will be wearing it. Still a size 8, I see. If you’d just like to go to the changing room, I’ll get my assistant to bring it through for you.’

  The dress was divine, more than divine. Jenny Packham had always been a favourite but she’d surpassed herself with layers of creamy, tulle swathing a plunging halter-neck with the cutest cinched velvet waistband and jewel encrusted detailing around the neck. It was long, romantic and, when she slipped it over her head, she felt utterly gorgeous. All she needed was a prince but as she already had a castle on the table, she’d happily make do with a viscount. It wouldn’t be such a great hardship, her face a study in merriment as she swished the skirt around her ankles.

  The only thing she wasn't sure about was the colour. Ivory had such a bridal virginal air about it but it was the only colour they had in stock so it was that or carry on searching and the clock was ticking. However, she did balk at adding shoes to the shopping bill despite the asserted attempts of the shop assistant. She had enough in her bank account to pay for the dress, but not shoes. There was always her mother’s account but there was a big difference between a couple of skirts and shirts for work and a bit of frivolous nonsense meant for fun, her hand lovingly pleating the fabric between gentle fingers.

  She had the dress.

  She knew where the shoes where (bottom rack, fifteenth box from the left).

  Her hair was a completely different animal…

  Her hair was the only thing worrying her because she’d heard horror stories of black hair being dyed blonde and turning green or, God forbid, orange. Whilst she liked both colours she didn't really think her parents would consider a traffic light look appropriate for their only daughter.

  The hair stylist was more than helpful and immediately shifted her calendar to make room. It was wrong, Tansy knew it was wrong, but in the same way Tor had managed to secure a table at The Shard, she accepted it as part and parcel of been titled and she would leave a hefty tip. After flicking through magazines, they decided on trimming her hair from waist length to just below her shoulders and adding subtle blonde highlights to the ends to try and blend the blonde roots with the starkness of the black. She advised her against dying it blonde so she’d just have to live with the choc-ice look for the time being.

  Tor was speechless when she opened the door, her cashmere throw draped over her shoulder as she shouted ‘goodbye’ through the kitchen to Hamilton.

  He was leaning against the jamb with a bouquet of the sweetest bunch of peonies in shades of cream and pink. He’d stopped off at the first florist he’d come across and taken ages choosing just the right flowers for just the right woman. There were roses in abundance, in all the colours but he’d given her roses already. Orchids were too manufactured, too stylised, but peonies; peonies with their glorious full-bodied blooms almost too large for their slim necks were perfect.

  She looked just like she would on her wedding day, their wedding day, because he wasn't giving up yet. He’d never give up, even if he died trying. The dress skimmed her curves before draping her hips and flowing to the floor where his heart joined it. He could hardly think, he could hardly see. He was fit to burst with love, with desire, with longing. Before he knew it he was doing what he’d promised he wouldn’t. He reached in for a tender kiss before dropping on to one knee.

  ‘I was going to wait until later but Tansy, will you marry me?’ he whispered, removing a small Chopard ring box from his pocket.

  She stared at the box, her face blanched pale before placing her hand over his and pushing it back towards him.

  ‘Ask me after the party.’

  Dinner was at La Cage Imaginaire, along Flask Walk and within walking distance of Julietta’s Hampstead apartment. They both chose Scottish fillet of beef, laughing when they realised it was on the menu. Sitting at the white damask covered table with sparkling cutlery and glassware they could have stayed there all evening, hands entwined as they talked and talked about their childhood growing up in very different and yet surprisingly similar circumstances. They both had ponies as children and then horses, spending most of their spare time in the stables. Where Tor had gone to university, Tansy had left for Paris but she skipped over that part. They both loved to read, although their tastes weren't similar. They even enjoyed the same movies although Tor raised his eyebrows at Notting Hill being her favourite.

  ‘It was always going to be popular but with Hamilton living almost opposite William Thacker’s blue door…’

  ‘William Thacker?’ His look blank.

  ‘You know? Oh dear, you don’t, do you? Well, at least I didn’t say The Sound of Music,’ she added with a giggle.

  ‘There is nothing wrong with The Sound of Music. I'll have you know I was brought up on Julie Andrews and Mary Poppins.’

  ‘Really, well you are a little older than me.’

  ‘I'll give you older. They were on DVD,’ he said, leaning across the table and stamping a kiss on her lips.

  ‘What's that for?’

  ‘For being cheeky.’

  ‘I'll have to be cheeky more often,’ she said, placing a finger to her lips with a smile. ‘So, you never did tell me what you were doing on Belnahua?’

  ‘You’re sure you really want to know? It’s not very romantic.’

  ‘Let me be the judge of that, I think it’s the most romantic of places.’

  He grinned, remembering their first night together, hopefully the first of many. ‘I’m working with some boffin friends of mine in Cambridge on research into the origins of man.’ He paused, his eyes seeking hers and the boredom he was sure to find.

  ‘Go on then. So, you’re a modern day Charles Darwin?’

  He laughed. ‘Not quite. Darwin got to travel to South America while the islands of interest are on my doorstep so to speak. Anyway, last year these chaps found a fungus on the island of Kerrera that turned out to be four hundred and forty million years old. It certainly ruffled some feathers, in the world of mycology I can tell you. Since then I’ve been helping them to collect and analyse fossilised rock and soil samples from all the other islands in the Inner Hebrides, all 79 of them.’ He looked up suddenly. ‘Bored yet?’

  ‘Never bored. So what’s this fungus called then?’

  ‘Tortotubus, a conversation stopper if ever there was one. What would you like for dessert?’

  They walked, or should that be shuffled, to Julietta’s a ground floor apartment along Pilgrims Lane. Tansy had opted for her four-inch Manolo Blahnik crystal brooch embellished Hangisi pumps, which she hadn’t actually bought to walk in.

  ‘Slow down, why don't you? You try walking in these,’ she said, lifting her skirt and trying to run after him with little baby steps.

  He paused to stare, his eyes twinkling with laughter.

  ‘How did you ever know? I've lost count the amount of times I’ve worn ladies clothing and
as for footwear… Although I do have to get my size nines off the Internet. I have a nice pair of Jimmy Choo’s in green if you'd ever like to borrow them,’ he added with a grin. ‘I'm happy to carry you but I wouldn't like to crush your dress,’ as he swung his arm over her shoulder and slowed his pace.

  ‘I'll hold you to that. The only way I'm going to be able to get through it is by getting drunk, so watch out.’

  He swung her to a pause under a convenient lamppost, which illuminated her face to a translucent beauty. ‘In that case, I might as well get my money's worth while you're still standing,’ he said, his lips meeting hers. His body moulded to her, his hands intertwined with her; his heart matching hers beat for beat.

  They could've stayed like that for minutes, hours, days, forever and when, they finally broke apart, they still touched.

  ‘Do we really have to go to the party?’ he asked.

  ‘Well, it was your idea in the first place.’

  ‘I know, but I've changed my mind.’

  ‘No, I need to be brave; I need to meet them one last time and then walk away,’ her hand reaching up and caressing his face.

  ‘After…’ His look uncertain, his speech stumbling. ‘I'm staying at Browns Hotel if you’d like to come up for a nightcap?’

  ‘What, to see your etchings? She laughed her reply before pressing a kiss against his lips. ‘Yes, my darling, I'll come up and see your etchings and, if you still want to ask me that question?’ She pulled on his hand. ‘Come on, the sooner we get this thing over with, the sooner we can go dancing.’

  Julietta opened the door after one knock as if she'd been standing on the other side waiting for them.

  ‘Come in, Titania, lovely to see you and your little friend,’ she said, dragging her into a briefer than brief hug with another one of those non-touch air kisses she was famed for. Tansy gave her a small smile as she took in her sprayed on black body stocking and bright red high-heels, no doubt colour coordinated to match her bright red lipstick.

  Julietta was someone she'd thought a friend, a best friend even. She was someone she’d shared her secrets with, all of them. No one knew her better than Julietta and yet she suddenly realised she didn't know this woman in front of her. This woman was a stranger, a complete stranger and someone she didn't like very much. The way she grabbed on to Tor’s arm, her blood dipped fingernails clutching at his jacket as if she was staking a claim; perhaps she was? Perhaps she’d been too hasty in agreeing to go back with him after the party. He had proposed but being engaged wasn’t what it used to be, not that she was engaged. She was nearly engaged – there was a wealth of difference between a yes and a maybe.

  ‘You know some of the people here already,’ Julietta added, gesturing with her hand towards the lounge. ‘What would you like to drink?’

  She didn’t want anything to drink. She didn’t want anything to eat as she saw one of the guests wandering past with a slice of floppy quiche. All she wanted was to release Tor from this bitch’s clutches and run for her life. She was up to something, the question was; what? No doubt she’d been paid handsomely by the gutter press for that photo opportunity tip-off. No doubt she’d spent all the money by now…

  She shook her head trying to puzzle it out, even as she watched Julietta run her gaze from the top of Tor’s head to the soles of his shoes as if he was some prize exhibit. She couldn’t blame her, not really. He looked good enough to eat, dressed as he was in another one of his suits. For a man who professed not to like them, he certainly seemed to have a wardrobe full. This one was black with a satin collar, the snug fit only emphasising his strong build. He’d left his tie at home, instead leaving the top couple of buttons open to reveal a thick column of deep brown throat, a throat she was having difficulty in dragging her eyes away from.

  She still hadn’t answered. She didn’t want to be rude in case she was wrong. She couldn’t think outside of the fact she didn’t want to be here.

  ‘A wine for Tansy and I’ll have a beer if you have it?’ Tor answered, throwing her a worried look.

  ‘Beer? I’m not sure what we’ve got.’ She paused, flicking her blonde fringe with a smile. ‘Why don’t you come and help me, Lord Brayely while Titania circulates?’

  She wandered into the lounge simply because she didn't have a choice. Tor had been manoeuvred out the way, which scuppered her plans for heading out the front door. As soon as the coast was clear, she’d drag him away and, if he didn’t want to be dragged she’d leave without him. She was experienced at running away, this would be a doddle after Paris, London and then Scotland.

  The lounge wasn't as crowded as she’d expected. In fact, it was nearly empty. There were a cluster of friends standing by the fireplace and one or two sitting on the stark white leather sofas but that was it. She glanced around at the plain white walls punctuated with designer arty paintings depicting large oranges and pears. She wasn't a snob, far from it but she really didn't get Julietta’s taste in art. The room looked like a dentist’s waiting room with its laminated wood flooring and designer coffee table with a couple of carefully positioned books on the centre.

  She didn't belong here. She'd never belonged here as she looked around at the women crawling with diamonds and jewels. What had they done with their day that was of any use? It was a dead cert it involved the full treatment of waxing and polishing with perhaps a spray paint for all those nooks and crannies that needed it, her eyes now on her own short unvarnished fingernails. Some of them had obviously gone one step further in the strive for self-improvement by having their tyres pumped, her eyes drawn to Jemima’s stunning low cut dress and her fine display of mountains where before there’d been barely a couple of minor speed bumps. She smiled to herself at the analogy remembering her very busy afternoon. After the hairdresser, she’d visited her parents; a difficult half hour spent over cucumber sandwiches saying very little but giving her the opportunity to reclaim her laptop.

  Instead of facials and spa treatments, she’d spent the rest of the afternoon on her book, the book she’d been meaning to write for years but never had the nerve. When everyone tells you you’re thick, you start believing it. She couldn’t spell and as for punctuation; the semi-colon was a puzzle, as was the apostrophe but it was the use of ellipses that she found the most confusing…

  Sitting at the kitchen table, she decided to ignore the finer elements of grammar and just get her words down and, before she knew it, she was already halfway through the introduction. The words had flown from the ends of her fingers but then again, she was talking about something she understood. She was talking about a passion, her passion. She was talking about bread. She’d only powered off when she heard Hamilton’s key in the door and then it was a mad dash to get ready for the party she didn’t want to go to.

  She crossed the room to the pine mantelpiece with its measly gas fire and joined in a dulcet conversation with a couple of girls she'd been at school with. She didn't know them well but she could get away with giggling over Latin lessons and the science teacher’s comb-over. After a while she got bored. Tor had obviously been hijacked and all she wanted to do was leave. The music was loud and obnoxious and the wine mediocre. She would've gone searching for him but she wouldn't give Julietta the satisfaction. Instead, she found herself heading towards the patio doors and the bench at the end of the garden screened off from the road by a wall of pampas grass. It was dark and quiet with only the stars to keep her company. Closing her eyes she avoided thinking about Tor and what he was up to. Instead she let her mind focus on her book and chapter one.

  ‘Bonsoir Tansy.’

  Chapter Sixteen

  ‘So how long have you known Titania then?’

  ‘A little while, I'm friends with her brother.’

  ‘Which one?’

  ‘Hamilton.’

  ‘Ah, my favourite. I’m so pleased she’s staying with him,’

  He missed her sharp look as he took a sip of his drink. If he had, he wouldn’t have allowed himself t
o incline his head, but he was too busy with his thoughts. He didn't want to be here holed up next to the fridge with this woman. Her eyes were too close together for a start; too close together and too small and beady. Was beady even a word? Whatever, it suited her. Tansy was right. The only question he had was, what had she ever seen in her?

  He regretted making her come to the party. They could have been dancing by now. He could have been twirling her around, her sensual skirt flowing over those wonderful legs. Not that he’d ever seen her legs, he reminded himself with a start. He’d seen the outline of them under her leggings and he’d seen her ankles earlier as he’d helped her down the steps but that was all. He’d also seen her feet, as he remembered that evening with Toddy, but he would like to see a little more of her than her ankles and her feet. There was her bottom of course, that wonderful curve he knew like the back of his hand as the sudden image of her sticking out of that hedge appeared in his head. She had a good bum. No, she had a fantastic bum and he was pretty sure her legs would be of the same mould.

  He withheld a laugh at the correlation between his love of all things mouldy and his love of all things Tansy. They were his two passions but he’d give up the first in a heartbeat. She’d crawled under his ribs up to his heart and, just like her namesake, she’d invaded him more effectively than any military campaign. It was a war he had no intention of winning. It was a war he had no intention of competing in. It was a war and he was surrendering.

  He felt the increased pressure of Julietta’s hip as she pressed up next to him. This was no friend of Tansy’s the way her hand, so recently on his arm, was creeping towards his back. He knew what she wanted. No, that wasn't quite true, he added with a frown. He knew if he gave her even a hint of encouragement, she’d whisk him upstairs but she wouldn’t lock the door. She’d want to be found. She’d want Tansy to find them. The colour drained from his face. If she walked in now she’d reach all the wrong conclusions.