The Cornish Knot

by Vicky Adin

  A week later, a walk on the beach in the misty rain at midnight on New Year’s Eve washed away the last regrets for things she couldn’t change. Her year of discovery, heartache, failure and success came to a close and her new year couldn’t have started better.

  Francesca Antonia Marsh was born at 2.01 pm on the second of January 2012 – an auspicious date to Megan’s mind – and she had been there to witness it! As Trina held the tiny babe in her arms, freshly swaddled by the midwife, Jason announced, “We’ll call her Shesca. We wanted to honour Trina’s mum, but I also wanted to remember Dad.”

  Overcome with joy, she hugged everyone in the room twice, babbling she knew not what nonsense.

  “I gather you’re pleased,” said Jason.

  Pleased was an understatement.

  While Jason and Trina learnt about being parents and enjoyed their new baby, Nick hired Steve as project manager and lined up the tradesmen who would be needed as soon as the consents came through.

  The waiting game was tense. Megan felt restless and often didn’t know what to do to fill in her time. She couldn’t do anything to help Nick, Sarah was at work and Bella usually went to school holiday programmes. With Jason on leave and at home, she couldn’t even spend as much time with Trina and Shesca as she would have liked. She was grateful for any chance to be useful. Instead of organised holiday activities, some days she and Bella spent the day together and got into the habit of making afternoon teas. Megan came to relish these special moments with her granddaughter. Flour covered the bench as Bella waved the measuring cup around before she dumped it in the bowl. Then Bella’s job, at her insistence, was to stir the mixture and drop spoonfuls of it into the patty cases, while obstinately refusing any help until they were ready for the oven.

  At other times, Megan’s newly discovered interest in genealogy would keep her enthralled and tied to the computer for hours on end. She joined several research sites and scanned many of the free sites, learning a lot about what lists were available, where she could find records and the best sources to turn to for advice. As her skills improved, so did her determination to find Isabel’s lover.

  January turned into February. Jason’s schedule kept him away for much of the time, a nanny was hired to help Trina, Bella went back to school and Sarah announced her decision.

  “Mum, I’ve given your offer a great deal of thought.”

  Something about the tone of voice told Megan she wouldn’t take up the business manager’s role.

  “Nick and I have talked about this a lot, especially since Trina and I’ve been working together. We think you should be the one to take on the job of business-cum-public relations manager. You would be brilliant at it. You could do the networking, both here and overseas, to establish the brand identity and do the promotional work. Leave the finance side to the experts if you want to.”

  Sarah’s confidence in her to undertake the one role not yet filled was the last push Megan had needed to prove her judgment had been right after all. She said nothing, letting Sarah talk, but now her cup was full.

  “Um. So, what I’d really like to do, is retrain as an interior designer. That way we can build Nick’s architectural firm into a total package a bit different to other firms.” Sarah hurried on before her mother could answer or find reasons why it wouldn’t work. “I know we are putting all our eggs in one basket, Mum, but with the mortgage paid off now, thanks to you, and Nick’s picked up several new clients already, we feels it’s the right time. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Of course not,” answered Megan enthusiastically. “I knew it was a long shot, but I wanted to give you first opportunity. And thanks for your vote of support too. I believe you are right. I’m sure I could do that job myself, the more I think about it, but I am so pleased for you. You’ve made a great choice. You will make an excellent interior designer.”

  “Thanks, Mum. That’s a relief, but I promise I’ll help you and Trina with all the arrangements for the gallery opening. I don’t start till next semester.”

  A few days later, she got the long-awaited call from Nick. “I’ve got the council consents.”

  At last! They could begin the alterations.

  “It should take about six to eight weeks, if everything goes according to plan.”

  It didn’t.

  The rain was driving everyone to distraction. With one of the wettest summers Auckland had known, general grumpiness over a summer ruined was the norm, but those who relied on fine weather to get their work done were even more frustrated.

  March literally flowed in and was almost washed out, and the weather had still not improved. The work slowly slipped behind schedule. The building site turned into a quagmire and mud was traipsed everywhere whenever another tradesman arrived. Nerves were stretched and tension crackled. Small arguments needed patching up and smoothing over, but somehow – helped by some home baking – Megan managed to keep everyone calm and on track. Even so, their plans for a mid-April opening were looking shaky.

  Fortunately, the internal refit had been going ahead according to plan. To Megan’s eyes, the place looked wonderful. The central steps that led to the verandah spanning the front had been widened and gently curved. The heavy, oversized wooden front door led straight into a wide gallery that took up the full expanse of what once had been the two front rooms and entranceway. The wooden floor had been matched and repolished, and the bay window and French doors restored. A set of double, frosted-glass doors at the back of the gallery led through to the private customer viewing lounge, with a discreet connection to the office, workroom, kitchen and bathroom.

  Outside, the front fence and garden had been removed to provide off-street parking, and a side entrance and small garden courtyard at the back had been created. None of the outside paving, concreting and garden work had been completed. Nor had the external painting.

  “We should still get it all done in time,” Steve assured her.

  Megan couldn’t see how.

  The rains suddenly eased, and Steve was proved right.

  Workmen appeared in their droves and completed the work in the space of two weeks.

  She was amazed.

  Now they could formally announce the grand opening date.

  Chapter 38

  Suddenly, it was action stations.

  “So, that’s settled then. We’ll go for the Tuesday in the last week of April, with drinks and canapés from five-thirty to catch people before they head home,” confirmed Megan.

  They had three weeks.

  Megan stood back and watched in admiration as Trina and Sarah took control of the operation. Phone calls and emails quickly put plans into motion. The artwork Trina had acquired was installed, the advertising promotion commenced and invitations were sent. Nothing was left to chance. They double-checked the delivery of orders, the caterer, the party planner and numerous other details Megan hadn’t considered.

  “I can help too, Mum,” said Jason, who proved the greatest surprise. “I’ll do the social networking stuff,” which, Megan discovered, meant blogging, tweeting and posting on Facebook, Pinterest and other sites she’d never heard of before.

  “I could do the cleaning,” offered Megan one day amongst the chaos, but her comment simply caused a burst of laughter.

  “No way!” said Sarah. “We’ll all be had up for elder abuse if we let you do that.”

  “How about you personalise the printed invitations instead?” suggested Trina.

  “And it’s time you took Muriel out to lunch,” added Sarah. “So shoo.”

  To add to Megan’s anticipation, Jessica and the boyfriend she had heard so much about, were coming to the grand opening. Happily ensconced back in her father’s law firm, Jessica no longer felt adrift, and one of the best decisions she had made was to take that cooking class where she’d met Max. Megan couldn’t wait to catch up with the latest news. Paul was also due back soon. So much was happening at once.

  * * * * *

  The day of the opening ca
me. In contrast to the previous two months, the vastly improved April weather was perfect – clear, warm and sunny – and promised a balmy evening. Strings of lights appeared draped along the verdandah and around the marquee erected in the forecourt, chandeliers lit the gallery and huge flower arrangements stood on tall stands. Megan could not fault its understated glamour.

  “It’s simply beautiful, girls. I couldn’t have done it without your help,” she said with a hug and kiss for each one.

  By half-past three Sarah and Trina judged everything in place to their satisfaction. The caterers were due in an hour, so they retreated to the private lounge to do the last-minute check and get changed.

  “Shesca’s asleep now, so you must be quiet,” an excited Bella told them in a stage whisper, putting her finger to her lips. She had been allowed to come along after school to see the gallery all decorated and what the women were wearing before being whisked back home by their nanny, well ahead of the guests’ arrival. Sarah swept the child into her arms and cuddled her so tightly the girl’s high-pitched squeal brought relieved laughter to the place for the first time that day. Francesca slept on regardless.

  “I’ll just phone Jessica and make sure she’s okay. Poor girl was thoroughly jet-lagged yesterday,” said Megan.

  Megan had met Jessica and Max at the airport two days earlier. The young woman bubbled with enthusiasm and didn’t stop talking. She tried to include Max as best as she could but often failed when she chatted about the things she and Megan had done together. They talked late into the night.

  Max, Megan discovered, was a professional photographer.

  “I’ll be your official photographer for the night,” he insisted, resisting her efforts to say no. He was her guest. Unfazed, he showed her his photos on the laptop to convince her.

  “These are beautiful, Max. Thank you. I will accept, after all. I think you have a great future ahead of you. Good luck.”

  Megan had no doubts that Jessica had found her soul mate. She had also fulfilled many of her Paris dreams, from the cut of her clothes, which screamed class, to her love of art finding a new field of expression in Max’s photos. And he loved to cook. What more could a girl ask? Max reminded Megan a little of Nick, calm, caring and devoted, and willing to fit around his livelier partner – even if he did have a tendency to disappear for hours while he took and developed his photos.

  As she dialled the number, she hoped he was back by now.

  “Yes, he’s back,” laughed Jessica. “With some great photos, he says. He loves the light here. And I feel wonderful after my lazy day and all that pampering. Thanks so much for organising it for me.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Confirming the taxi would pick them up at four-thirty, she said goodbye and let her thoughts turn to Paul.

  She looked forward to him being at the function tonight. The past few days had been so busy she hadn’t found time to catch up, not since Jessica and Max had arrived. The last time she’d seen him, he convinced her he should be the least of her worries. She had taken him at his word, grateful for his understanding. At least he’d accepted the invitation to dine with them all after the event.

  Over a week had passed since they’d managed a wonderful couple of evenings together and had talked for hours over dinner and then back in her apartment.

  Sitting on the sofa together, they admired the charcoal sketch of Isabel on the wall.

  “Do you think we’ll ever find out who drew it?”

  Paul shook his head. “Unlikely, unless we find that unique mark on another painting one day. One that is signed.”

  “One day, then. Anything is possible if you look for it hard enough.”

  “I tried my best to get the museum to let me buy it, or at least acquire it, for the Auckland Art Gallery.”

  “Could you do that?” Megan asked, hardly able to take her eyes off the sketch. “Are you that well in with the gallery?” She turned to look at him to gauge his response.

  Paul laughed. “I bluffed. Hoping they might concede that point. If they had, I’d have been making some rather rapid enquiries amongst the Auckland people about who could make the decision to purchase a lost New Zealand artwork. But our friends in Cornwall didn’t go along with the idea.”

  The best he’d come up with was a digital image. “I managed to have it reproduced to look as close to the original as possible. I’m glad you like it.”

  “To say I like it is not enough. I love it.”

  She took his hand briefly. “I haven’t had a chance to thank you properly since it arrived. I can’t begin to tell you how much it means to me.”

  Paul squeezed her hand in return. “It’s a measure of how I feel about you.”

  Flustered, Megan wasn’t sure what to say in response, but Paul didn’t belabour his point, nor did he expect an answer.

  “I have some other news too,” he continued carelessly.

  Megan raised her eyebrows in question.

  “I’ve secured an Emeritus Professorship. I’m back in Auckland permanently. I take up the role next semester.”

  At last! Megan’s response had been spontaneous. She flung her arms around his neck, then, in an exaggerated fashion, cheek-kissed him on both sides – just as she’d seen him do in Florence. They cracked up and broke into uncontrolled laughter.

  For a moment she wondered what his return might mean for their relationship in the longer term. Tony would always be a part of her inner core; she could never replace him, but ... she missed that special someone to talk to about her deeper thoughts. Some things you just couldn’t talk to your children about – especially your doubts and fears. Paul, against all logic, had become a confidant in a way she thought she would never have again. She enjoyed his company and when together they always seemed to be on the same wavelength. Having Paul living in Auckland would be marvellous.

  She decided to be bold and took the opportunity to ask whether he would consider the role of art advisor with the gallery, insisting he receive a commission on procured works.

  It was his turn to look astonished.

  Chapter 39

  With little more than an hour to get ready, the three women managed the revolving door use of the bathroom very smoothly. Megan chose to wear the replica 1920s gown she’d had made in Cornwall for the grand opening, even while wondering if it was too much. No one in New Zealand had seen the dress; she’d kept it out of Sarah’s sight deliberately. As she emerged from the bedroom, the girls stood ready and waiting.

  The midnight blue satin shimmered in the light, and the silver beading sparkled.

  Bella squealed in delight. “Nana, you look so pretty.”

  Sarah and Trina echoed Bella’s thoughts.

  “What a beautiful dress.”

  “Where did you find it?”

  “I had it made,” Megan said. “Constance wore the original for her twenty-first birthday portrait.”

  “How perfect for tonight! Simply stunning, Mum.”

  Megan’s doubts evaporated and her spirits soared.

  “You girls look stunning too,” she said, carefully eyeing Trina who sometimes looked as tired and strained as any mother of a four-month-old baby, even with a nanny’s help, but not tonight. Trina was bursting with energy that only the young can exhibit, and her expertly cut deep red gown made her appear slim and taller.

  Sarah, dressed in dazzling emerald green, poured them each a glass of bubbles in early celebration. “To the women of this family,” she toasted.

  The clink of glasses and laughter met Nick and Jason as they walked through the door – the men had been banished to change at the hotel where Sarah and Nick were staying after the function and celebratory dinner.

  “Save some of that for us,” teased Jason, taking a glass from Sarah as he crossed the room to stand with Trina.

  “Ve-ry nice,” he complimented, even as his eyes said a lot more.

  Nick put his arm around Sarah, kissed her gently on the top of her head and murmured, “You
look beautiful.”

  Megan watched her two children and their partners, thinking how fortunate she was. They had both found their soul mates. What more could a mother ask? With her propensity for sentimentality, she wisely kept her thoughts to herself. Life had, after all, turned out better than she could ever have hoped after Tony passed away. His abiding strength had carried her through whenever things got shaky, and she knew he would have thought tonight a perfect outcome.

  What had started out as an escape from her bleakness had turned into something she could never have imagined in a million years. By following in Isabel’s footsteps she had discovered a life so distant to the one she’d had she could hardly believe it possible. Somewhere along the line Isabel’s journey had become of secondary importance. What was more important by far was what she had learnt from it.

  This evening was hers and hers alone.

  * * * * *

  With a sense of déjà vu, Megan took her place to welcome people, pleased at how many of the guest list had accepted. Amid the convivial hum of conversation, the wait staff, although constantly observed by Sarah, efficiently wove their way around the crowd. People wandered through the gallery, glasses in hand, stopping to study one or another of the paintings on display, or gathered in groups to catch up and share opinions. Jessica and Max had been one of the first couples to arrive. As soon as she could, Megan took Jessica by the hand and led her to a display at one end. On the wall, discreetly hidden by a screen and bordered by two very grand floral displays, hung Megan’s pride and joy – the painting of Isabel and Constance.

  Jessica’s reaction was just as she’d hoped. “That is so beautiful.”

  Jessica hadn’t seen the painting for some time, and not since Megan had had it professionally cleaned. The colours appeared clearer, softer, defining the fine details. Certain it was now worth far more than the Trevallyan Trust Board had thought when they gave it to her, Megan almost felt guilty. Almost. Later, as the pièce de resistance, the painting would be revealed.