by Anna Larner
Molly caught Georgina’s eye and gave an encouraging nod.
“I have to confess, I was not a fan of museums,” Georgina said, sharing a brief wry smile with Molly. A murmur of interest rose from the crowd. “But I stand before you with a change of heart. These last few months, I have felt for myself the magic of museums. Very few civic spaces seem to engender such trust and have the authority and purpose to truly inspire. For this reason I believe the museum is uniquely placed to uncover social injustice, to foster inclusivity, and to champion the diversity of our shared history.”
Georgina was so impressive. Lydia’s face, animated with unmistakable pride, made it clear that she felt the same way too.
Even Evelyn stood stock still as if transfixed. In fact if Molly was not mistaken Evelyn had yet to draw breath.
“Edith Hewitt’s story revealed to you in this illuminating display is in every way our shared history.” Georgina’s voice broke a little and she paused to swallow. “For it is a story we can all recognize—one of determination, of bravery, of love, and of loss.”
Molly could see that Georgina was speaking without a script and that every word seemed to flow directly from her heart.
“We will never know for sure what Edith meant when she inscribed All my love always. But we all know what it is to want to say that to someone.” Georgina looked across at Molly.
Could Georgina be talking about her? Please let Georgina be talking about her.
Georgina took a shaky deep breath. “I can tell the woman I love that I’m sorry if I ever let her down.”
The gathered crowd shifted slightly, their attention held to every word Georgina spoke.
“We will never know whether Josephine had regrets, and if so whether she had the chance to tell Edith in time. I can tell the woman I love that I miss her terribly when we are apart. Edith’s words must have felt pointless. I can tell the woman I love that I want to spend my life with her…” Georgina’s voice broke. She looked down.
Molly heard Lydia encourage, “Go on, darling.”
Georgina looked up again and took another deep breath. “That I want to spend my life with her in front of anyone who cares to hear. Josephine and Edith’s love went unheard, hidden until today.” Georgina turned towards Molly with her cheeks blushing pink. “We all owe a debt to the passion of one curator, the woman I love, Molly Goode.”
She loved her? You love me. The audience turned their heads sharply to look at Molly.
“To Molly.” To Molly’s utter amazement, Evelyn had raised her glass and the audience dutifully held theirs aloft. Molly could feel tears run down her neck to dampen her collar.
Lydia leaned in to Molly and said, “Now that’s a speech.”
Molly laughed only for her laugh to become a cry, prompting Lydia to place an arm around her and squeeze her tight.
“Oh, my dear,” Lydia said. “Love is such sweet distress. Here, have a tissue.”
“Molly?” Molly looked up to find Georgina balancing two glasses of wine and a plate of nibbles.
“Well, I shall leave you in the hands of the woman who loves you.” Lydia walked off in the direction of Evelyn, who had somehow found herself newly pinned between an enthusiastic visitor and the foyer corner. At the refreshments table, Fred was handing Fran a large glass of wine and a hanky.
“Hi,” Molly said, drying her eyes.
“Hi.” Georgina swallowed hard. “I thought you might think talk was cheap, so I’ve backed things up with nibbles.”
“Thank you,” Molly said, with the wine glass shaking in her hand. “I wouldn’t have believed you without a prawn vol-au-vent.”
“Knew it.” Georgina rested her cool palm against Molly’s hot cheek. “I imagine you thought I’d never say…it,” Georgina said. “It’s not that I didn’t want to before—” Molly placed a finger to Georgina’s lips.
“It doesn’t matter. As I figure it, all that matters is that the woman you love couldn’t love you more.”
Georgina’s eyes flooded with tears. “I love you so much.”
Molly hugged Georgina close. From over Georgina’s shoulder, she caught sight of Lydia talking with Evelyn. She was pointing to Josephine’s portrait and then to the Wright room. Molly could just make out that Evelyn’s neck was prickling pink.
“I don’t know what your mum’s saying to Evelyn, but I’m not sure it’s going down that well.”
Georgina dried her eyes and glanced across at the two women deep in conversation. “My guess is she’s suggesting that The Hunt be replaced by Edith’s painting.”
“In the Wright room? Really? It would certainly match her flustered expression.” Molly looked down hoping to avoid Evelyn’s attention. “Is that okay with you?”
Georgina lifted Molly’s chin. “Yes. I can’t believe given what I now know that I defended my father, and that I put him above everything.” Georgina shook her head and looked across at Edith’s painting surrounded still by curious visitors crowding in to take a closer look. “When it is so clear that the portrait needs to be seen and that it belongs in the Wright room.”
“There’s a chance,” Molly said, a little hesitantly, “that Evelyn won’t want to change her mind. Curatorial pride and all that.”
“Maybe. Except I’m pretty sure my mother hasn’t written her review of the Wright room yet.”
“Of course. I doubt Evelyn saw that coming.”
“I don’t know, she’s a wily old fox. I doubt there’s much she doesn’t anticipate. Anyway, enough of museums, paintings, parents. How about after this, pizza at mine?”
“Oh no, I promised I’d go to the pub with the art club. And given your speech, I think they’ll be expecting us both. I promise they’re a lovely bunch.”
“It’s fine. Sounds fun. Although I’m not posing naked for them. That privilege is entirely the robins’.”
Molly laughed with her heart so full of love she could have sworn it would soon spill onto the floor, a hazard of emotion, glistening for all to see.
Chapter Thirty-six
“Morning,” Molly whispered into Georgina’s ear, only for Georgina to pull the duvet over her head with a groan. “I’m leaving some paracetamol and a coffee here for you.”
Georgina slipped the duvet slowly from over her face and without opening her eyes croaked, “I had the most crazy dream that I was standing in front of everyone declaring that I love you.”
Molly sat on the edge of the bed and smoothed a hand along the line of Georgina’s arm beneath the duvet. “Imagine that.”
Georgina opened her eyes and gave a sleepy smile. “Don’t go to work.”
“Weren’t you once a workaholic?”
“Weren’t you once a rebel?”
Molly laughed. “The most rebellious thing I’ve ever done was run across the road before waiting for the pedestrian crossing lights to flash.”
Georgina sat up and rested the duvet at her lap. “You risked everything to correct injustice. That’s pretty rebellious, if you ask me.”
“None of that was planned. Isn’t rebellion planned? And stop tempting me with your breasts.”
Georgina laughed only to quickly hold her head. “Ow.”
“Yep, ow’s about right. My head feels like rhinos are disco dancing inside it.”
“Then don’t go.”
“I’ll come back for lunch.”
“I’ll have left for London by then.”
“You’re going back today? But it’s Friday.”
“I’ve got meetings just after lunch, I have no choice. I’m sorry.”
Molly gathered Georgina’s hand in her lap. The thought of not waking up with her tomorrow morning caused a dull ache in her chest. “I hate not waking up with you.”
“Even in this ridiculously creaky bed?”
“I shall miss this bed.” Molly pressed the mattress and heard the bed frame creak. “It’s been fun.”
Georgina studied Molly’s face for a moment before nodding. “Lots of fun.”
/> Molly gazed around the room. Her attention drifted out to the long garden beyond. “I can’t believe that you haven’t had buyers snapping off your hands for this place.” Molly walked over to the window and stared down at the beautiful grounds. She couldn’t have envied anyone more. The new buyers would be so lucky. Molly thought of the memories they would make. Of the laughter. Of the return of life this house had so longed for.
She leaned her head against the cold glass. “I wonder if they’ll put an arbour over the path, just there where it divides, and more seating to catch the evening sun, perhaps?”
“I have had offers.”
Molly looked at Georgina. “You have? You didn’t mention anything.” It looked like Georgina wanted to say something as her eyes flitted over Molly’s face, but then she looked down to the duvet in her lap. Molly quickly added, “Not that it’s any of my business, obviously. So when do you think you might return?”
“Look, I have an idea—why don’t you come over, say, Sunday evening. We could have a picnic in the sitting room. What do you reckon?”
Molly returned to sit on the edge of the bed once more. “You’re not coming back until Sunday night?”
“It’s just there are some things I need to do.”
“Sure.” She must keep it breezy, not needy. Georgina had to leave. It wasn’t her choice—it was just how things were. “And so have I lots to do. I am a very busy woman, I’ll have you know. What time on Sunday? I may just be able to squeeze you in between Countryfile and Antiques Roadshow.”
“Six?”
“I’ve pencilled you in.” With their hands entwined, Molly kissed Georgina goodbye. Reluctant to move away she said, “See you Sunday then.”
“I hate waking up without you too. Just so you know.”
Molly traced her fingertips to the tips of Georgina’s fingers before their hands parted.
Leaving Georgina was sweet agony. As Molly rushed the few hundred yards to work, she couldn’t help but wonder: Would it always be this way?
“Good morning, Molly.” Evelyn’s voice startled her back to the day ahead. As ever, Evelyn looked immaculate. Even the tips of her stilettoes shone as she paused under the portico with her coat resting over her arm.
Molly felt instantly unprepared. Had she even brushed her hair? She hoped she wasn’t wearing the tights with the ladder. “Morning.”
“Could you join me?” Evelyn carried on into the foyer before Molly could reply.
“Yes, of course.” Oh God. Was this about last night? Had they guessed right and Lydia had obliged Evelyn to remove The Hunt from the Wright room? Evelyn would hold her responsible wouldn’t she? Would she think that she had gone behind her back yet again?
Molly hurried after Evelyn giving a breathless, “Hi, Fred,” as they passed by reception.
“Molly. Ms. Fox.” Fred stood up straight.
“I’m expecting the chairman, Fred. Please send him straight up.”
Fred smoothed his shirt against his chest and gave a dutiful nod.
The chairman? “Is this about Edith’s painting?” Molly tried to recapture the breath that was escaping her with every step.
Evelyn’s breath remained steady and alarmingly calm as they reached the corridor. Without breaking her stride Evelyn said, “I have agreed with Lydia Wright’s request in that regard if that’s what you’re asking about. And now as far as I’m concerned that matter is concluded. Understood?”
“Yes, absolutely. So does that mean by any chance…”
They stopped outside Marianne’s office.
Evelyn let out an exasperated sigh. “The Hunt will return to the Victorian gallery and the watercolour of Josephine Brancaster will hang at the beginning of the family portraits in the Wright room. And as we are evidently continuing to discuss it, please make this adjustment with the conclusion of the Edith Hewitt display.”
“At the front of the family portraits?” Molly’s heart skipped with how right that felt. For Edith should be first in every way. “Did Lydia request this?”
Evelyn looked at Molly as if she had completely lost all sense. “No. There is simply no question of me hanging a series of works out of order.” Evelyn popped her head into Marianne’s office. “Three coffees and two further copies of the letter from Estelle Oberon. We’re meeting in the conference room.”
“Estelle Oberon?”
“Yes. Before we come to that. Please shut the door behind you and take a seat.”
Molly sat on the edge of her chair, for nothing about this meeting suggested it would be relaxed.
Evelyn sat back in her seat and folded her arms.
Molly held her breath.
“I would like to share something with you. Take from it what you will.” Evelyn smoothed her hand over her notebook pressing it flat against her desk.
“Okay.” The thought of Evelyn sharing with her couldn’t have been more unsettling, and it certainly wasn’t helping that the voice of the chairman arriving could be heard through the door.
“I was married once.” Evelyn closed her eyes to add, “A long time ago.” She swallowed as if the thought was less a memory and more a regurgitation of something acidic burning in her throat. She pinched at her brow and reopened her eyes to fix on Molly. “I mention this because I was doing very well in my post. There was even talk of promotion. But my husband was offered a job, and well, I dutifully resigned, followed him. It was what you did. And then less than a year later, he left me for some silly girl with a crush on him. Men are so weak, don’t you think? Their egos demanding to be stroked like a cat in heat.”
“I’ve not really given much thought to that question.”
Evelyn shook her head. “Right, yes, of course. But here is the point.” She lifted her palm from her notepad and poked her finger into it stabbing the cover as she said, “Is your job, your career worth less than your partner’s? Are you meant to sacrifice everything and follow them?”
“Is this about Georgina and me? Because if it is, then you’re mistaken. Georgina hasn’t asked me to do anything. Certainly not to leave—”
Evelyn leaned towards Molly slightly. “They don’t ask, Molly. Come in!”
Molly jumped at Evelyn’s raised voice and felt a shudder at her insinuation.
Marianne’s head appeared around the door. “The chairman’s arrived.”
“Marvellous. Shall we?” Evelyn pushed her chair back and gathered her papers.
“Sorry, I still don’t quite understand what you’re implying.”
“Well then, let me put it this way—when someone stands in front of their partner’s friends, colleagues, and employers declaring their love as Georgina saw fit to do last night, then that to me is a clear statement of intent.”
“Is it not just a heartfelt declaration of love?”
“Molly, in many ways your naivety is charming and in many ways blinding. I’ve said all I can.”
Molly’s head spun. Georgina wouldn’t ask Molly to leave her job and move to London. Would she? No, of course she wouldn’t.
Evelyn paused and stood behind her desk with her hand on the back of her chair. “Before we meet with Mark, I want to briefly mention the next matter of interest. As I said, Estelle Oberon has been in touch. I only know of the Oberons by reputation as generous philanthropists. How is it you know them? You see, Estelle mentions you personally in her letter.”
“I met them at the National Portrait Gallery.”
“Networking?”
Was that the same as chatting? “Sort of.”
“Well, you’ll be pleased I’m sure to learn that they wish to donate a not insubstantial amount of money to a project here at the museum related to encouraging young women to engage with their own particular history.”
“Really? That’s awesome.”
“They want the focus on using those histories to empower and underpin the young women’s confidence and well-being. Apparently there is a need, a gap in our programming. I wasn’t aware we had a gap?”
“Well not only has she run with the idea, she has positively sprinted with enthusiasm. The chairman is delighted. He tells me he has been trying to entice the Oberons for some time. Well done.”
“Oh, it was nothing, really.”
Evelyn placed her hand lightly on Molly’s forearm. “What you achieve is not nothing. Please remember that. Right, let’s go.”
Molly began to follow Evelyn. She could see through the open conference room door the chairman sipping at his coffee with a stray smile on his lips. Evelyn stopped at the threshold to the conference room. In a half whisper she said, “Can we, though, do you suppose, allow the chairman to believe it was his doing, the fruits of his labour, if you will? I think it best.”
It was clear to Molly in that moment that if Evelyn Fox mismanaged one relationship with a man, she had clearly determined never to mismanage another. She had become a master of conceding everything and nothing all at once.
“Of course.” Molly gave an understanding nod.
And then Evelyn did the most peculiar thing. She smiled. It was as if she forgot herself for a moment, because no sooner had her face relaxed into a warm expression, than she quickly turned away to the chairman, her face re-fixing, as if for battle.
“Mark. How wonderful to see you. And you’ve a copy of Estelle Oberon’s letter. I’ve invited Molly to join us. She’s the perfect choice to lead this project. I feel you agree…”
* * *
“I’ve never known the museum, or the square for that matter, so quiet.” Fran ushered Molly to move along the bench to make room for her. “I have had the most pleasant peaceful morning. Not one person asked me where the toilet was or if the embalmed mummy was real.”
“The morning-after phenomenon,” Molly said. “It was such a good night, wasn’t it?”
Fran gave Molly’s hand a quick squeeze. “A very good night. I’m impressed you made it in.”
