We were all dumbstruck with horror. I was thinking how easily it could have been Ruth and me, as we had merrily and whole-heartedly joined in the start of the protest just a few days ago.
‘What now?’ Stefan quietly asked. The Count shook his head in despair.
‘This could get a great deal worse. Even now the political leaders do not grasp the true dangers, believing they are in control of the situation. Nor does the Tsar quite understand the precariousness of his own position.’
There was no sleep for us that night as, like thousands of other frightened citizens, we stayed safely behind locked doors. The Count was proved to be entirely correct: things did indeed get worse. Sickened by what they’d been obliged to do, the regiment concerned in the shooting stood down, swapping sides and becoming part of the demonstration themselves. Others followed suit.
By the first of March 170,000 soldiers had joined them. The stink of fear and decaying bodies was everywhere, as was the red flag. Prisons and police stations came under attack, the prisoners were released on to the streets, and the number of rioters exploded. Law and order had completely broken down in what was by now being dubbed a revolution.
The Countess wasn’t in the least interested in the turmoil going on around her, even if people were dying. She was far too preoccupied in exerting her power, the eyes fixed upon mine hard and cold as she proceeded to make her displeasure about my recent actions plain. ‘You will never involve yourself in such a carry-on again, do you understand?’
‘I beg your pardon, milady. It’s just that I considered it important. It seems that not everyone can afford food of any kind for their children, let alone the sort of fine meals we are served every day by Anton. I believed it was right to help and . . .’
‘I am not interested in what you believe!’ the Countess screamed.
‘Hard as it may be for you to accept, milady, I am entitled to have opinions and a mind of my own.’
‘Oh, you’ve made that abundantly clear, Dowthwaite, from the very start, I seem to recall.’
I almost smiled at the memory of our first disagreements back at Carreck Place. ‘There we are, then. Every person has rights, even the poorest and the lowest of the low.’
‘On the contrary, you do not have the right to defy my orders and go anywhere without my permission! Not even to this so-called chapel of yours.’
‘Goodness, you surely aren’t intending to hold me prisoner? With respect, milady, what I do with my free time is my choice, not yours. It was a properly organised support group for a straightforward protest march about the price of bread, and no fault of ours that the demonstration turned into something far more serious.’
‘That’s enough! I will take no more of your obstinate defiance. You may consider yourself dismissed herewith.’
I blinked in disbelief, this being the last thing I’d expected. I’d been quite certain I’d be able to win her round in the end. ‘You can’t be serious?
‘Never more so. Pack your belongings and go. I will not harbour a revolutionary in my own home a moment longer than necessary.’
I gave a half-laugh. ‘That’s absolute nonsense. You know I am no revolutionary. As I explained, my friends and I from the British and American chapel were merely supporting mothers desperate to feed their children. What if Master Serge were starving ‒ wouldn’t you do everything you could to keep your son alive?’
‘Get out!’ Moving across the room at speed she pulled the bell cord to summon Gusev, the butler. ‘Leave my house this instant, or I’ll have you thrown out.’
Without pausing to offer my usual curtsey I turned and walked away, chin high, wanting her to see that I was not intimidated by her fury. Oh, but I was. Deep inside I was shaking with shock, and on reaching my room collapsed on to the bed. What had I done?
Within minutes Gusev was tapping on my door. ‘I’m sorry, Baryshnya, but I am to escort you off the premises.’
I was almost in tears as the butler led me downstairs, kindly carrying my bag with barely a portion of my belongings quickly stuffed inside. I could feel everyone’s gaze upon me as we passed through the back kitchen. Stefan, I noticed, was not among them, no doubt out on one of his mysterious jaunts. I couldn’t even begin to guess how he would react when he returned and found me gone. Unless he was involved with the revolutionaries after all.
‘I’m sorry it had to end this way, Miss Dowthwaite. You have been good for the children,’ the butler kindly remarked as he opened the door. A swirl of bitter cold wind swept over us, taking my breath away. ‘We’ll send on your trunk when you let us have your new address.’
And where might that be? I hadn’t the first idea where I was going.
Perhaps someone had called her, for the next instant I was being gathered into Nyanushki’s arms. ‘Don’t leave, my dear. Let me talk to her ladyship. Whatever you’re supposed to have done, I’m sure it’s all a silly mistake.’
I kissed the papery soft cheek. ‘I’m afraid there’s nothing you can do, Klara. The Countess has decided I’m a revolutionary, so I am dismissed.’ And on that shocking note I walked out of the door into the unknown.
TWENTY-TWO
She sacked you? Just because you supported those starving mothers and children? Had the woman no heart at all?’ Abbie had been enjoying an afternoon off from the shop listening to more of her grandmother’s story, filled with admiration for her attendance at the demonstration but shocked by this new development.
Millie gave an ironic chuckle. ‘Not that I ever discovered.’
‘So you found yourself accidentally caught up with the start of the revolution and all she could think about was herself, and the fact you hadn’t followed her stupid rules?’
‘We didn’t see it as a revolution at the time, more a demonstration and riots, but yes, I’m afraid so, as always.’
‘Surely Stefan took your side and stood up for you, or did he lose his job too?’
The phone rang before her grandmother could answer that, but as Abbie picked up the receiver Millie watched how her granddaughter’s face changed colour to a flush of furious pink.
‘How did you get this number? Well, Marisa had no right to give it to you without checking with me first. So, what is it you want? Sorry, say that again.’ A slight pause while Abbie allowed the request to be repeated. ‘No, Eduard, I can’t simply drop everything to do your bidding. I understand you must be missing her, but why would you care about Aimée when you’ll be having another child soon, one that would never have been conceived had you remained faithful to me?’
‘I am her father, so I have the right to see her,’ he shouted at the top of his voice, so that even her grandmother, seated some distance away, could hear.
Abbie instantly felt ashamed. Of course he was, and Aimée adored him, so she really had no right to keep them apart. Not that she wanted to. Abbie just didn’t wish to see Eduard right now. She took a calming breath. ‘I’m not disputing your rights, but I can’t bring Aimée back to Paris at the moment. The new school term has started and she’s settling in nicely, so I really don’t want her disturbed. You’ll have to wait till the summer holidays.’
‘If you do not come to me, I come to you.’
‘Don’t even consider it,’ Abbie hissed furiously into the phone. Hearing his voice again had brought back a strange ache of nostalgia, yet she felt an instinctive reluctance to have her life disturbed by echoes of the past just when she too was beginning to settle, at least emotionally.
‘We need to talk,’ Eduard said, in his carefully enunciated English. ‘We cannot do that over the phone.’
‘We have nothing to talk about,’ Abbie coolly responded. ‘Unless, of course, you have something important to tell me, like you’ve actually spoken to your wife about a divorce.’
‘You know I can’t do that, Abigail, not while she’s pregnant.’
Abbie gave a h
arsh little laugh, feeling nauseated that she could still fancy this man who had betrayed her so many times. ‘Just as you couldn’t tell her while I was pregnant, or at any point in the six years since. You know what your problem is, Eduard? You’re a coward.’
‘I have soft heart. That does not that make me a coward.’
‘It does when you end up hurting people.’
‘I do not want to hurt you.’
‘How can you say that when you’ve been refusing to marry me for years?’
‘I don’t wish to hurt my wife, either. I love you both.’
‘It doesn’t work that way.’
‘Come home. I miss you, Abbie.’
Her heart seemed to contract, but whether with love or pain over what their relationship might have been, was hard to decide. ‘Why would I? Has anything changed since I left? Don’t even bother answering that. Sorry, but I’m not interested.’ And she put down the phone.
‘Oh dear,’ her grandmother softly remarked. ‘I’m sorry, but I couldn’t help overhearing much of that conversation. You do seem to be having a rough time of it at the moment, my darling.’
Abbie sank back into the chair opposite Millie, tears starting yet again which she quickly thumbed away. ‘I’m still furious with him for making no effort to do as he promised.’
‘And with yourself for believing in him?’
‘Yes, that too. Lies, lies and more lies, that’s all I’ve had from him. He never even asked her for a divorce. When he was absent from our apartment, as he often was, I thought he was working away, doing the catering for some event or cooking at an out-of-town hotel. Instead, it turned out he was living a double life and still sleeping with this wife. I only learned the truth when I saw her by chance at Galleries Lafayette just before Christmas, and realised she was pregnant. When I challenged him about it he admitted everything. Could hardly deny it.’
Millie gently patted her granddaughter’s hand. ‘Oh, my poor darling. You must have been so jealous. I know how that feels.’
‘Yes, I suppose you must, with all that business between Stefan and the Countess. What a madam she was. Did she get him in the end?’
Millie seemed to be looking into some far distant place and, recognising there might still be more pain to be revealed in her grandmother’s story, Abbie deliberately brightened her tone. ‘Which is why I decided to stay on in the Lakes, and I’m so glad I did as I’m loving spending time with you, Gran, and listening to your stories.’
‘Not to mention the wonders you are achieving with the jewellery shop. I’m so proud of you. Didn’t I say how strong you are?’
Abbie smiled. ‘It’s your belief in me, and hearing your own story, that gives me the strength I need. And remembering how Mum used to love to work in the shop once upon a time.’ Abbie would like to have said that she wanted to justify her mother’s faith in leaving it to her, but she still hadn’t yet confessed to her father that she knew the contents of the will. ‘I’ve even brought in some amber pieces from a Polish firm. Not as valuable as the one we have, but I simply couldn’t resist. Apparently they carve it with a sharp knife, then polish the piece and drill a hole for the chain to turn it into a pendant. Not sure I’d ever have the skill to do that job myself, but I thought I’d have a go at setting a few of the smaller stones into earrings.’
‘Good for you. Amber is beautiful, likened to the sun because of its colour and clarity. There are many myths and legends attached to it, not least that it is considered to possess healing properties, often worn by children when they are teething. And significantly it is a symbol of fidelity, meant to represent everlasting love,’ Millie said with a smile.
‘Oh, I like that. We could do with a bit more fidelity in this world, judging by all the scandalous goings-on in this Profumo affair. What his lovely wife feels about her MP husband sleeping with a woman who is also having it off with a Russian diplomat, I dread to think. Poor woman!’
‘Windmill girls, or so they think, and the dreadful scandal is having to be carefully kept from Lady Astor that her son has become an innocent victim in the affair, a scapegoat in fact, just because he allowed Stephen Ward to use a cottage on the Cliveden estate. The poor lady is losing her memory and not at all well and it could make her last days even more painful if she heard what was happening. I know someone who works for her, who says they have to keep changing channels so that she never hears the news.’
‘Sometimes ignorance can be a good thing, then,’ Abbie said. ‘But it didn’t work for me.’
Abbie spent the next several days working with the amber, not only making a range of earrings but slipping doughnut-shaped pieces on to silver chains to form pendants, and setting cabochons into rings and brooches. Each piece of raw amber was unique, its shape entirely natural. There were even some faceted bead-shaped pieces that Abbie threaded into bracelets and necklaces. The colours ranged from white through pale yellow, beige, gold and brown, and even blue and green, all with a varying degree of translucency. None contained the kind of inclusion that was in Kate’s amber pendant, but all were still beautiful.
‘They’re as glamorous as diamonds and an absolute joy to work with,’ she said to Linda when her assistant set a mug of coffee and a real doughnut down on the work bench beside her. ‘Ooh, delicious, I’m absolutely starving. Is it calorie free?’
Linda laughed. ‘Absolutely. Not that you need to worry with your slender figure. No wonder that Andrew Baxter is showing interest.’
‘Stop it. You’d do better to ask yourself why. Did you know he’s thinking of setting up in opposition?’
‘I did hear a rumour. Will that finish us?’ Linda sank onto a stool, her face grim.
‘Who knows? I’m trying not to think about it. Hey, but this amber might help to create more custom. I can quite see why people love it. It warms the heart and delights the eye, is organic and fragile, and yet touches history by reaching back through the millennia. Amazing!’ Abbie thought of her grandmother being held responsible for the protection of such valuable gems, even accused of stealing the Countess’s pearls, and shivered at the thought.
‘A treasure from a lost world,’ Linda agreed, licking the jam from her own doughnut.
‘Absolutely. I’m so hoping they’ll sell.’
‘I’m sure they will. They really are lovely. I could type out some cards giving information about its origins, myths and legends, if you like.’
‘Excellent idea, and I’ll make a display in the window. In Gdańsk and also in Russia before the revolution, as well as jewellery, craftsmen would use amber to create little snuff or trinket boxes, often with images of Venus, the goddess of love, or Ceres, the goddess of fertility, carved into the lid. They made candlesticks, panels and cabinets decorated with religious icons and sculptures of the Crucifixion or the Last Supper. Sadly, after the revolution, when religion was pretty well eradicated, the market died, and many artists turned to painting fairy tales on tiny lacquered boxes instead.’
‘Maybe you could have a go at making a few boxes yourself.’
Abbie rolled her eyes. ‘I very much doubt my skills would stretch that far, but I might try something a little more modest such as decorating a wooden trinket box with a mosaic design in amber. If I ever reach such an advanced level.’
‘Don’t put yourself down. It’s quite evident you’re an artist at heart. You have a natural flair for design.’
Leaning back in her chair to sip her coffee, and ease the tension in her arms and fingers, Abbie let out a sigh. ‘The problem is I need to be a businesswoman first, Linda, if we are to survive. You’re right, I am more into design, most content doing window displays, choosing and arranging the stock, even making some of it myself. Doing accounts doesn’t come naturally to me.’
‘You can always pay someone else to do all of that stuff.’
‘True, if I could afford it.’ Abbie looked troubled as
she finished off her doughnut, thinking of what would happen if she were forced to admit defeat and sell the shop after all. It didn’t bear thinking about. What would she do then ‒ go back to Paris? Never! She was here to stay, and to make a success of Precious Dreams, no matter what the effort involved. Shaking off these gloomy thoughts as she dusted sugar from her lips, Abbie smiled. ‘We must make a pact to eat more doughnuts and somehow encourage more feet to walk through that door.’
Linda chuckled. ‘The first is easy. As for the second, I was wondering if we should hold a launch party to officially declare the newly improved Precious Dreams open.’
‘Wow, that’s a good idea! We could offer wine and canapés.’
‘Or frothy coffee and doughnuts.’
‘And a special discount on anything bought on launch day, or maybe that entire week.’
Within minutes they’d fixed a date a couple of weeks ahead, and Linda had gone off to ring a catering firm and start writing posters to put up around town to publicise it. Pondering the expense of such an event, Abbie pulled out the latest bank statement. As she read the bottom line she heaved a sigh and pushed it quickly back into the filing cabinet. They’d just have to hope the launch party worked and brought a rush of much-needed trade.
It was a Saturday and Abbie was sitting eating her lunch by the lake, which she loved to do, laughing as Aimée attempted to ensure that every duck got a crust of bread. Mallards and teals were hustling each other as they searched the reedy edges of the lake for scraps, shaking their feathers in the warmth of the summer sunshine. A pair of tufted ducks came waddling across the road, holding up traffic as they too noticed food was on offer.
The Amber Keeper Page 21
