The Butterfly Room

by Lucinda Riley

  Evie knew that, however much the initial parting hurt, it was imperative that Clemmie went away to school. It was time she began to live and laugh like a normal nine-year-old and develop her own world, outside of her mother’s.

  The doorbell rang downstairs. Feeling utterly drained, Evie heaved herself up from the floor, walked heavily down the three sets of stairs and finally opened the front door.

  ‘Hi, Evie. I know I’m early, but town is heaving.’

  Marie Simmonds, Evie’s oldest friend, stood on the doorstep, smiling at her. They’d been nicknamed ‘Little and Large’ at school; Evie so petite and thin, and Marie, always a head taller than the rest of her classmates and decidedly plump. Just now, Evie thought, she’d swap places with her in a heartbeat.

  ‘Come in. I’m afraid everything is still a dreadful mess.’ Evie led Marie through the hall and into the kitchen.

  ‘God, Evie, you are lucky having this house. Give it to me and I’ll sell it for you tomorrow, even if it is decorated circa nineteen-fifty.’ Marie was the manager of a local estate agent, having worked her way up from her original position as receptionist.

  ‘It’s not been touched since my grandparents decorated it,’ Evie shrugged. ‘And no thanks. I want to live here, for the present, anyway.’

  ‘Well, the way things are going round here, with all the London lot desperate to secure a place and pay whatever it costs for the cachet of being in Southwold, I think you could count yourself as having millionairess status.’

  ‘That’s nice to know, but if I don’t intend to sell it, then there’s not much point in thinking about it, is there? Coffee?’

  ‘Yes please. Why don’t I have a nice relative who’s going to pop their clogs and leave their pile in Southwold to me?’ lamented Marie, running a hand through her mane of healthy black curls.

  ‘Because you have a lovely mother and father still alive,’ Evie said pragmatically, ‘which is something I haven’t had since I was ten.’

  ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound callous or mercenary. I just occasionally feel rather bitter watching all this money change hands in the office whilst me and my family, who have lived in the town for generations, are forced to move outside it because we can’t afford the prices.’

  ‘Slice of toast?’ asked Evie, putting a coffee cup on the table in front of Marie.

  ‘No, thanks. I’m on another diet. Honestly, Evie, I could really get to hate you: a huge house, plus a figure that hasn’t changed since you were a schoolgirl, even after having a baby and eating whatever you want.’ Marie watched enviously as Evie plastered her toast with butter and jam.

  ‘You wouldn’t want my body, Marie, I promise,’ said Evie, sitting down at the table. ‘And I could envy you your happy marriage and the fact your kids still have both their parents together,’ she shrugged.

  ‘How is Clemmie?’

  ‘Miserable, difficult and over-emotional. She hates Southwold and wants to go back to live in Leicester. She’s upstairs in a huff about going away to school. Honestly, I really don’t know what I’m going to do. At the moment, she’s refusing to go. I feel like a complete bitch. I just can’t bear her to think that I don’t want her at home with me, but for all sorts of reasons, it’s important she goes.’

  ‘Is it?’ questioned Marie. ‘She’s very young, Evie. Couldn’t she go to the local school for a few more years and then go on to boarding school a little later? Southwold Primary is rather good, actually. It’s changed a lot since we were there. Obviously, it has none of the trappings of a posh private prep school, but my two are very happy there.’

  ‘No. For her sake, I want her to go now.’

  ‘I must admit, I wouldn’t fancy sending mine away at nine,’ shrugged Marie. ‘I’d miss them like mad. And if she does go, you’re going to feel the breeze. You’ll be here all by yourself.’

  ‘Oh, I’ve got lots to occupy me, I’ll be fine.’

  Marie sipped her coffee. ‘So how are you feeling about being back here?’

  ‘Good,’ Evie answered shortly.

  ‘Ever see Brian?’

  ‘God, no. You know he left when Clemmie was a tiny baby and I haven’t heard from him since.’

  ‘So he doesn’t keep in touch with his daughter?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘That’s very sad – for Clemmie, I mean.’

  ‘I can assure you that we’re both far better off without him. I look back and wonder what on earth I saw in him.’

  ‘He always did patronise you,’ agreed Marie.

  ‘He treated me like a child. Nothing I ever did came up to scratch. I used to admire him so much, thought he was so much cleverer than I was, had seen so much more of life than me and initially I liked being looked after.’ Evie stood up and tipped the dregs of her coffee into the sink. ‘Now I can see that Brian was just a replacement for the father I lost when I was so young.’

  ‘Life hasn’t been easy for you, has it?’

  ‘Maybe not, but one could say that I’ve hardly helped myself to an easy ride. I’ve made some pretty awful mistakes.’

  ‘Everyone does when they’re young, Evie. It’s part of growing up. Don’t punish yourself too much. Now, isn’t it time we were on our way?’

  ‘Yes. I’ll go upstairs and see if I can extract Clemmie from her bedroom. She’s already said she doesn’t want to stay at your house whilst we go to the reading.’

  ‘She’ll be fine once she gets there,’ said Marie. ‘Tell her Uncle Geoff is cooking pizza for lunch and that Lucy can’t wait to see her.’

  Evie nodded. ‘I’ll do my best.’

  Having dropped a morose Clemmie at Marie’s house in the neighbouring village of Reydon and issued instructions for Marie’s husband, Geoff, to jolly her along as much as possible, the two women headed back into Southwold.

  ‘My goodness, town’s busy,’ Evie commented as they passed the brewery and headed for St Edmund’s Theatre, where the reading was taking place.

  ‘And this time next week, once the literary festival’s over, and with most of the children back at school now, it’ll be as dead as a dodo,’ commented Marie. ‘Look, there’s a queue already. Come on, let’s get a move on.’

  Evie and Marie found good seats in the centre of the small auditorium.

  ‘Have you read the book?’ asked Evie.

  ‘No, but I’ve seen the author photographs and Sebastian Girault is definitely worth coming to see, if not to listen to,’ giggled Marie.

  ‘He really is a wonderful writer . . . oh God! No! Look, it’s Posy.’

  ‘Posy?’

  ‘Posy Montague, see? Coming down the steps, just there,’ Evie indicated with her hand.

  ‘Ah, I see her. She’s with her daughter-in-law, Amy. Did you two ever meet?’ Marie whispered.

  ‘Briefly, a long time ago. She’s very pretty, isn’t she?’

  ‘Yes. I know her actually, because her son Jake is in the same class as my Josh. She’s really sweet and long-suffering, as you can imagine, being married to Sam Montague and his knack for financial disaster.’ Marie rolled her eyes. ‘They’re living in this dreadful house on Ferry Road, and there’s Mummy Montague sitting in her enormous pile a few miles away.’

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen!’ A hush fell over the audience as a woman appeared on stage to make the introductions.

  ‘On behalf of the Southwold Literary Festival, we’re glad to see you all here today. I’m sure it’s going to be an interesting afternoon as we listen to a reading of The Shadow Fields by the prize-winning author and journalist Sebastian Girault.’

  The audience applauded and Sebastian Girault strode onto the stage.

  ‘Wow,’ Marie whispered as the author ran a hand through his thick auburn hair before beginning his opening speech, ‘he’s gorgeous. No wonder the audience is mostly women. How old do you reckon he is? Early forties?’

  ‘I have no idea.’

  Amy closed her eyes as the lights dimmed in the hall. She felt completely exhausted. Sa
m had only arrived home at the eleventh hour to babysit the children, which had meant she and Posy had had to skip the planned lunch at The Swan and head straight for the theatre. Not being able to find a parking space, they’d had to leave the car on the other side of town and run to make the start of the reading.

  Amy wasn’t interested in listening to Sebastian Girault talk about a book she’d probably never have time to read, but at least it was an hour in which she could sit down in the dark without being hassled by guests, children or her husband. Yet, as he began to speak, even Amy began to listen. There was something soothing about his mellow voice, a constancy that lulled and calmed her as he read excerpts from a tale of such intrinsic sadness that it made Amy feel guilty for ever complaining about her own existence.

  The applause at the end of the reading was rapturous. Sebastian then took questions from the floor. Posy asked him how he’d managed to get the facts on the First World War so accurate, but Amy kept quiet, not wishing to have contact in any form with him again.

  The audience were told that Mr Girault would be in the foyer signing copies of his books.

  ‘Come on, I want to get a signed copy just so I can gaze into those eyes,’ said Marie as she and Evie followed the audience out of the auditorium. ‘Then I can imagine him reading me his book in a rose-strewn bath, unlike my office-bound husband.’

  ‘But Geoff doesn’t have the difficult artistic temperament to go with the brooding good looks and the talent,’ muttered Evie. ‘Brian was always surrounding himself with so-called intellectuals. I know his type and I don’t find it attractive. I’ll wait here while you get a copy.’

  Evie placed herself on a bench in the corner of the foyer and watched Marie join the queue to get her signed copy. When she saw Posy coming out with Amy, she put her head down and hoped she wouldn’t be noticed. It didn’t work. Posy made a beeline for her.

  ‘Evie, how are you?’ asked Posy, giving her a warm smile.

  ‘Fine,’ she nodded, feeling her cheeks redden.

  ‘Let me introduce you to Amy Montague, Sam’s wife.’

  ‘Hello, Amy.’ Evie managed a polite smile.

  ‘Hi. I think we met a long time ago,’ said Amy. ‘Are you back in Southwold for good?’

  ‘For the foreseeable future, yes.’

  ‘Where are you living?’ asked Posy.

  ‘At my granny’s house. She left it to me in her will.’

  ‘Oh yes, I did hear she died some months ago. I am sorry.’ Posy’s steady gaze held Evie’s. ‘What say you we all go to tea at The Swan? I’m dying to hear all your news, Evie, and you and Amy can get properly acquainted.’

  ‘Oh, I’m afraid I’m with someone and—’

  ‘We’d love to come to tea,’ Marie interjected, appearing behind Posy. ‘I don’t think we’ve ever met formally, Mrs Montague, but I know where you live and I love your house. Hi, Amy,’ she added.

  ‘This is Marie Simmonds. She’s an old friend of mine and an estate agent,’ added Evie, embarrassed by Marie’s easy attitude towards Posy, which made her own seem even more stilted.

  ‘Hello, Marie. Right then, let’s be off before all the comfy seats are taken,’ suggested Posy.

  The four women headed for the exit.

  ‘Excuse me? It is you, isn’t it?’

  Amy turned at the light touch on her shoulder and saw Sebastian Girault standing behind her.

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘You’re the receptionist from the hotel that I upset with my bullying tactics yesterday,’ he enlarged.

  Amy knew that the eyes of the other three women were upon her. She felt herself blushing heavily. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Here.’ Sebastian stretched out his hand and offered Amy a copy of his book. ‘Probably the last thing you want, but it’s by way of a peace offering. I really must apologise again.’

  ‘It’s okay, honestly. I said last night it wasn’t your fault.’

  ‘So you forgive me?’

  Despite herself, Amy had to smile at his earnestness. ‘Of course. Thanks for the book. Goodbye.’

  ‘Goodbye.’

  Amy turned and followed the others out of the theatre. Posy and Marie were agog to discover what that had all been about, so Amy had to explain.

  ‘How nice to meet an old-fashioned gentleman,’ said Posy as they entered the cosy lounge of The Swan. Evie excused herself to head for the ladies’, and the rest of the party settled themselves at a table.

  ‘Hardly. He was an absolute pig to me yesterday,’ replied Amy.

  ‘Well, at least you saved yourself the cost of his book for your trouble. I had to shell out fifteen ninety-nine for mine,’ sniffed Marie.

  ‘Shall we order tea and scones all round?’ asked Posy. ‘Gosh, this is such fun. All the girls together. I can’t tell you how much I wish I’d had a daughter. Poor old Amy gets stuck with me rather a lot, don’t you, my dear?’

  ‘I don’t mind, Posy, you know that,’ Amy replied.

  Evie returned from the loo and squeezed herself next to Marie on the sofa, even though there was room next to Posy.

  ‘We can’t stay long, Marie. Clemmie might get worried.’ Evie clasped and unclasped her hands uncomfortably.

  ‘She’ll be fine,’ said Marie, enjoying herself far too much to take any notice of Evie’s subtle hints.

  ‘Your husband’s so good with your children,’ sighed Amy, then, remembering Posy was there, added, ‘I mean, Sam’s just so busy at the moment.’

  ‘So, Evie, are you enjoying being back here after all this time?’ Posy asked pleasantly.

  ‘Yes, thank you, Posy.’

  The tea and scones were set on the table, and to Evie’s relief, Posy turned her attention to Marie and began questioning her on the state of the local property market.

  ‘Why don’t you let me come round and have a look at the house?’ Marie said eagerly. ‘I could give you a valuation, so at least you know what it’s worth.’

  ‘You’re not really thinking of selling Admiral House, are you, Posy?’ Evie caught the tail end of the conversation and couldn’t stop herself from asking.

  Posy saw a glint of the old Evie for the first time. ‘It has to be a possibility, my dear. As I have just said to Marie, the place needs lots of money spending on it and it’s far too big for just me.’

  ‘But what about your sons?’ Evie asked. ‘Surely one of them will want to—’

  ‘Live there when I shuffle off my mortal coil? I doubt it. It would be an albatross around anyone’s neck and therefore not a healthy gift to bequeath.’

  As Amy poured the tea, Posy watched Evie and wondered what on earth had happened to turn the lovely young woman full of vitality and intelligence, into a pale and dreadfully thin version of her former self. Evie looked as though she had the weight of the world on her shoulders, and her brown eyes were filled with sadness.

  ‘When does Clemmie leave for boarding school?’ Marie asked Evie.

  ‘Next week.’

  ‘Gosh, I went away to school and loved it,’ put in Posy. ‘Is she looking forward to it?’

  ‘No, not at all,’ Evie replied.

  ‘I can understand that, but once she gets there, I’m sure she will settle down quickly.’

  ‘I hope so.’

  Posy saw Evie was concentrating on her teacup, not able to meet her eye.

  ‘Well, if you would like me to have a word, reassure her, as one who went away to school herself, I’d be more than happy to.’

  ‘Thank you, but I’m sure she’ll be fine.’

  Posy searched around for something to throw into the now uncomfortable silence. ‘By the way, Evie, Nick is coming back from Australia shortly for a visit.’

  ‘Is he? That’s nice. Now,’ she said, then stood up, ‘we really must go, Marie.’

  She took some money out of her purse, put it down on the table and waited whilst a disgruntled Marie put on her coat.

  ‘Bye, all,’ Marie said, managing to hand her card to Posy as Evie almost manh
andled her to the door. ‘Give me a call.’

  ‘I will, once I’ve thought about it, my dear. Goodbye, Evie,’ Posy called to her disappearing back.

  ‘We ought to be getting home too, Posy,’ said Amy. ‘It’s past tea-time and I know Sam won’t have fed the kids.’

  ‘Of course.’ Posy shook her head sadly. ‘You know, I wish I knew what I’ve done to upset Evie. We used to be great friends and she was such fun. All the stuffing seems to have been completely knocked out of her. She looks dreadful.’

  Amy shrugged. ‘Ten years is a long time. And she’s obviously having some problems, what with her daughter going away to boarding school.’

  As Posy and Amy walked back to the car, Posy could not help remembering the expression on Evie’s face when she’d mentioned Nick returning from Australia. There was something up, and Posy was damned if she wasn’t going to try and find out what it was.

  Chapter 4

  ‘Answer the door, Clemmie, please! I’m just getting out of the shower.’ Evie called to her daughter from upstairs.

  ‘Okay, okay, Mum, I’m going.’ Clemmie rolled off her bed, ran down the stairs and unlocked the front door.

  ‘Hello, Clemmie. I’m Posy Montague, an old friend of your mother’s. Do you remember seeing me at the newsagents a few days ago?’

  ‘Yes,’ nodded Clemmie. ‘Do you want Mum?’

  ‘As a matter of fact, it’s you I came to see. Ever been crabbing?’

  ‘No,’ said Clemmie, looking apprehensive.

  ‘Then it’s high time you did. I’ve got bacon bait, lines and buckets in the car. If your mum says it’s all right, we’re going to row across the river to Walberswick. Do go and find her and ask if you can come.’

  ‘But . . . I don’t—’

  ‘Hello, Posy.’

  Evie had appeared in a bathrobe behind Clemmie, her face like thunder.

  ‘Ah, Evie, good to see you again. Would you mind if I took Clemmie crabbing? It’s such a beautiful day and I can have her back in time for tea.’

  ‘Well, it’s very nice of you to offer, Posy, but we have a lot to do before Clemmie goes to school and—’

  ‘Then I’m sure you’ll get it done in double-quick time with a few hours to yourself. So, what do you say, Clemmie?’