by June Tate
It was a time of mixed emotion for Gracie: the excitement of going home, the very fact she was going, thanks to the generosity of her friend; the feeling of failure in her marriage but the relief she would not have to see Jeff again, and the sadness of leaving Rick Rider behind.
She had called him and told him she was leaving. It had been a difficult conversation. She could hear the sadness in his voice as he spoke.
‘That’s great news, Gracie. It’s what you want and although I’ll miss you like hell, it’s the right move for you. You take care, you hear, and I’ll be in touch.’
On board, the sound of the gong brought their little celebration to an end. ‘All visitors ashore!’ called the steward.
Gracie walked to the gangway with Valerie and Max. There were tears shed by both women who had shared a great deal. They all exchanged kisses and Gracie went up on deck as the ship prepared to sail.
She watched the gangway being taken away, the ropes let go, the loud call of the funnels as the ship started to move with the help of the tugs and the band on the quayside started to play. She waved frantically to her friends standing on the quayside, waving back, until they were out of sight. Gracie leant over the rail, gazed at the magnificent Manhattan skyline one last time, admired the Statue of Liberty, standing tall and proud and sighed – she was going home!
Chapter Twenty-Two
As Gracie was crossing the Atlantic, Valerie’s divorce case was heard in court. Ross was there with his lawyer but Valerie wasn’t contesting it, so stayed away, letting her own lawyer represent her. It was pretty straightforward. Eventually, Ross was granted a decree due to his wife’s adultery. Costs and damages awarded, to be met by Mrs Johnson. It took less than half an hour.
When Valerie’s lawyer returned to his office, he called his client who had been pacing up and down the living room, wondering just how much it was going to cost.
‘Well Mrs Johnson, this is your lucky day, Ross had asked for a large amount of money to be paid for your infidelity, but the judge happened to be a lover of art and he cut the demand by half.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes, really. I believe he was at your first viewing and actually bought one of your paintings. Not that he mentioned it, of course, I just happen to have that information.’ He started to laugh. ‘Your ex-husband was not pleased.’
‘No, I bet he wasn’t. Not only has he lost a wife but also one he’d hoped to help him swell his list of wealthy clients. So how much?’
With relief Valerie listened. It was less that she and Max had anticipated, knowing Ross’s hunger for the dollar. She rushed into the studio to tell him the good news.
He hugged her and said, ‘Thank God that’s over! Well another six weeks and you’ll be a free woman. How does that feel?’
‘Fantastic! We can get on with our lives. It’s the strangest thing. I don’t feel as if Ross and I had a proper marriage, even though in the beginning we were happy. Does that sound strange?’
‘Not really,’ he assured her. ‘Since you moved in with me, you’ve been able to be yourself, feed the artist in your soul and thrive on it. You couldn’t have done it married to Ross.’
She put her arms around him. ‘That’s all due to you Max darling. Had I not been a GI bride, we would never have met.’
‘Ah, but remember ages ago I told you that fate had brought us together. You were meant to come to New York!’ He started laughing. ‘I was just a bonus!’
Ross read the gossip column the following morning.
Valerie Johnson, the new darling of the art world, was divorced yesterday by Ross Johnson, the eminent lawyer. He cited Max Brennen as correspondent. Well that’s no surprise. The two artists have been living together for the past several months. Will there be a wedding in the future?
He threw the paper across the room. He hated to lose at anything – and he’d not been awarded the amount of money he’d claimed and which he thought he richly deserved. He picked up the phone and pressed the button direct to his secretary.
‘If my mother calls,’ he told her, ‘tell her I’m in court!’ The last thing he needed right now was to listen to her outrage.
The Queen Elizabeth, with the help of tugs, was sailing into her dock at Southampton and Gracie Rider, beside herself with excitement, was standing at the rail with the other passengers looking for those who would be meeting them. She searched the faces of the crowd, desperate to see her mother and father. Eventually she spied them and started waving frantically, jumping up and down with glee.
The trip had been so very different from her outward voyage where she’d shared a cabin with twelve others on the SS Argentina, with hundreds of GI brides heading for their new lives. This time she had a cabin to herself, a steward and stewardess to care for her every need and all the facilities at her beck and call. It had been a marvellous experience and she’d loved every minute. But now, she couldn’t wait to make her way down the gangway … then it was time.
Walking carefully so as not to slip, she reached the dockside and ran towards her parents. Clasped in the arms of her mother, the familiar scent of 4711 invaded her nostrils and she knew she’d come home. Both women started crying.
‘Oh Gracie love, I’m so happy to see you,’ her mother sobbed.
Her father clasped her to him then. ‘Good to have you home, Gracie,’ he said gruffly, trying hard to keep his emotions under control.
‘Oh Mum, Dad, I’ve missed you both so much I can’t tell you!’
They made their way down the shed and to the area marked with the letter R, where she collected her baggage, walked to the line of waiting taxies and headed for home.
As she drove through the old familiar streets, Gracie felt her heart swell with happiness. Here was where she belonged, not in America! It was not the country for her and even if she’d been happy, deep down she knew she’d have eventually pined for England – and now she was here.
Once inside the family home, Gracie couldn’t help but wander around, touching the furniture, drinking in everything that she held dear and was so familiar. With tear-filled eyes she looked at her mother.
‘I can’t tell you how marvellous it is to be here again. I’ve missed you and home so much!’
Her father made them all a cup of tea, the British elixir of comfort, and they all sat down.
‘You didn’t say much in your cable,’ her mother said, ‘are you home for good?’
‘Yes Mum, I am. Sad to say my marriage just didn’t work out and there was no reason for me to stay in Colorado.’
‘How did Jeff feel about you leaving?’
Gracie had no intention of disclosing the harrowing details of her situation – ever; it would upset her parents too much. ‘We came to an agreement. Eventually I’ll apply for a divorce.’
‘Did he pay for you to come home then?’
‘No. My friend Valerie bought my passage.’ She then told them of their friendship and how successful her friend was in the art world. ‘She insisted on paying for me to come back.’
‘My goodness, that was more than kind. She still happily married then?’
Shaking her head, Gracie said, ‘Unfortunately not. She’s waiting for a divorce, but she’s in love with a man called Max who is also an artist and a successful one. They’ll eventually get married when she’s free. He’s a lovely man.’
‘So what are your plans, love?’ asked her father.
‘I’ll look for a job when I’ve caught my breath and if it’s all right with you, I’ll stay here until I’ve enough money to rent a flat.’
‘What do you mean if it’s all right? Of course it is. This is your home as long as you want!’
Gracie laughed at the indignation of her mother and she got up and hugged her.
‘I think we should go out to dinner tonight to celebrate, don’t you? Let’s go to the Polygon Hotel and live it up!’
Which is exactly what they did.
Later as she climbed into her bed in her old room, Gra
cie let out a deep sigh. She was home at last and she was happy, but niggling at the back of her mind was the memory of Rick. Rick who had told her he loved her. Rick who had cared for her. Rick who said they had unfinished business … and she missed him.
Back in Barton, Rick slid out from beneath the car he was repairing and wiped away the sweat from his brow with a cloth. Today, Gracie’s ship would have docked in Southampton and she would be with her family. He sat on an upturned box, sipped a bottle of Coke and lit a cigarette.
As every day had passed he’d missed her more and more. He was restless, unable to settle at anything but work, but tonight he was going to eat with Milly and her husband Chuck. It was his one good link with Gracie.
It was a fine evening and the barbeque was in use. Chuck wearing an apron and chef’s hat was in his element, cooking the steaks, corn on the cob and pork chops. Milly had made a selection of salads and baked potatoes in their jackets. The beer was sitting in a bucket of ice.
As they sat devouring their food, the conversation turned to Gracie.
‘I guess she’ll be almost home about now,’ Milly remarked.
‘She docked today as it happens. She’ll be happy to be back with her family.’ Rick tried to sound cheerful.
‘I’m not sure she’d have settled in this country, even if things had been different,’ Milly remarked. ‘America was too vast, too raw for Gracie’s way of life in my opinion, and after what she’d been through with the war and all, I think she found us just too much.’
Smiling Rick said, ‘She did tell me she found us all a bit loud. The Brits are so much more reserved than us and we can take some getting used to, I guess.’
‘You miss her, don’t you?’ Milly looked sympathetically at him.
‘Like hell!’ he said and changed the subject.
The day after Gracie’s arrival, she had breakfast and then wandered around the town, going into the shops, flicking through the clothes on different racks. She remembered moving on to the cosmetics, remembering the overwhelming smell of perfume when she first walked through the doors of Macy’s in New York. She then walked down the Bargate, the remains of the ancient medieval entrance to the town, thinking that there wasn’t anything this old in America. She stopped in a small café and ordered tea and a scone, thinking how very British this was as opposed to hot dogs and pretzels. She ended up in Watts Park, just sitting, watching the world go by – her world, her homeland – and was content.
Now the divorce was over and the press were no longer interested in them, Valerie and Max, decided it was the time to plan their next exhibition. They had been working hard and had several canvases each to show. They booked the same art gallery for two weeks hence. It was very well publicised and Carl Blackmore commented on it in his art column in the New York Times. The tickets sold out within days.
On the night of the opening, the champagne was on ice and the canapés ready. The two artists walked around the exhibition, checking that the pictures were hung properly, that the lighting was showing them at their best and hoping they would make a killing.
The doors opened and the people filtered in. Carl Blackmore walked over to them and shook Max by the hand and kissed Valerie on the cheek.
‘Good luck for tonight,’ he said before walking around the exhibition, taking notes for his column the following morning.
It was about an hour later that Valerie looked up and with surprise saw her ex-mother-in-law enter. She could hardly believe her eyes as Gloria Johnson slowly made her way around the exhibition, looking at the paintings, sipping champagne and eating more than a fair share of the canapés. Eventually, Valerie took a glass of champagne from a tray, drank a mouthful and walked over to Gloria.
‘Good evening,’ she said. ‘I must say I’m surprised to see you here, Gloria.’
The woman looked at her. The hostility in her gaze was undisguised. ‘My curiosity got the better of me,’ she said. ‘I wanted to see just what it was that you found more interesting than being married to my son … apart from your lover of course!’
Valerie tried to hide a smile. ‘And have you found the answer?’
With a tilt of her head she said, ‘I can see that you have a certain talent, but you could have still done all this with Ross by your side. He could have been a great help to you, knowing so many important people.’
‘How very strange you should say that, because it was quite the opposite in fact. Ross was delighted with my success as he saw it as a great hunting ground for more clients for him. Indeed, I found him touting for business at my last exhibition. I couldn’t have that happen, so I barred him from any further viewings!’
‘You did what?’
‘I think you heard me Gloria. Now if you’ll excuse me I must circulate among my clients. Thank you for coming this evening – for whatever reason.’
She chuckled softly to herself. God she disliked that woman, but then the feeling was mutual. Almost immediately after, she saw Gloria leave the premises and when she told Max about her encounter, he couldn’t believe the woman would have the nerve to visit that evening.
‘Well, I do hope she noticed the red circles for the sold sign by your pictures, that wouldn’t have pleased her.’
‘Frankly I don’t care,’ Valerie said. ‘But she won’t be coming to another that’s for sure. So let’s be grateful for small mercies!’
It was then that a reporter came up to them. Taking out his notebook, he spoke.
‘Congratulations on another great exhibition,’ he began, ‘now tell me you two, when will the public expect to hear wedding bells?’
‘You are a little previous,’ Max said a little sharply. ‘Mrs Johnson’s divorce isn’t finalised just yet.’
‘Yes, I know, but it’s just a matter of weeks, then I imagine you’ll be off to City Hall to tie the knot?’
Valerie intervened. ‘We have been far too busy to think about such things, but we’ll let you know if and when.’ She turned and walked away.
She and Max had been so happy just being together, they’d not discussed marriage and at the moment she didn’t see the necessity to change a thing. It had now been an accepted thing, their living together. It had been newsworthy but now it wasn’t, so why bother to change anything. The public knew about them and still came to the viewings and that was the most important thing. Their business wasn’t in jeopardy because of their lifestyle.
The evening had been a great success and many paintings sold. To her great surprise, it appeared the ‘in’ thing among the higher echelon of New York society was to own a Valerie Johnson painting. She was very much the latest trend. She wasn’t sure how she felt about it, as she told Max that evening.
‘I would rather people bought my work because they loved it than because I was in fashion!’ she exclaimed.
Max thought this was hilarious. ‘Listen, at your prices be thankful. Among those who want to be fashionable are the other true lovers of the arts. There’s room for both you know!’
She shrugged. ‘Yes you’re right and anyway there’ll be something else soon that will be in vogue and my sales will fall.’
‘That’s true, but the true art collector will always be there, thankfully.’
The two of them were weary. Talking to clients and the public always took away their energy, but networking was part of any business and they were both very adept on such occasions. They sat down and ate sandwiches and drank coffee, too tired to cook and, having been surrounded by people all evening, with no desire to go out to eat.
‘Gracie will be home among her family now,’ Valerie remarked. ‘I do hope she’s happy at last.’
‘I’m sure she is, darling. America wasn’t for Gracie, she was too far out of her element. But I got the feeling that Rick, her husband’s brother, was kind of important to her, am I wrong?’
‘No, I think you are absolutely right, but it was the wrong time and the wrong place, at least that’s what she felt.’
He put an arm around Valerie.
‘We were just so lucky to get together, despite the circumstances. I’ll always love you, you know that don’t you?’
She cupped his face in her hands and kissed him. ‘I do and I’m a very happy woman.’
Chapter Twenty-Three
Jeff Rider was far from happy. He’d returned home to live with his parents to save money, money that he needed to fuel his gambling habit. Since Gracie had returned to England, his drinking had increased and his Friday-night poker games were keeping him poor – he’d not had a lucky run for weeks. Even Velda, who could see nothing wrong with her beloved son, was being pushed to the limit of her endurance. He’d come back drunk tonight after losing yet again, and taken out his bad temper on a wooden chair in the living room, smashing it to smithereens.
For the first time in her life, Velda was scared of him and she recalled the story Rick had told her about Jeff putting his wife into hospital. She hadn’t believed it – until now.
‘Stop it! Stop it!’ she screamed as Jeff picked up another chair.
Her cries seemed to seep through the blind rage and he stopped, the chair held high. He saw the terrified look on his mother’s face and stopped, then put the chair down.
‘What on earth do you think you’re doing?’ she demanded. ‘This is my home! How dare you?’
Even in his fuddled alcoholic brain he realised he’d gone too far.
‘Sorry, sorry Ma,’ he murmured, and walked unsteadily towards the stairs and his bedroom.
Velda was shaking. She sat down and clasped her two hands together to try and stop them trembling, and this was how her husband found her a short while later.
‘Velda!’ He knelt beside her and took hold of her hands. ‘Whatever is the matter?’
She nodded towards the chair, now in pieces.
