Rosie Thomas 3-Book Collection
Page 117
‘You remember when I nearly had to go away? Because of the money?’ Her glance flicked around the apartment, from the white space above them to the pictures on the high walls and the uncluttered lines of the few pieces of furniture. It was important not to let the memories of her little room at Follies, or of her home town, slip too far away from her in the midst of this.
‘Somehow Oliver found my bank account. He put seven hundred and fifty pounds in it. It meant that I could keep us going, Mum and Graham and me, for just long enough.’ Her hands moved, a quick gesture of helplessness. ‘He never let me talk about it.’
She was quiet, thinking about Oliver and their odd, improbable friendship. But friends they had been. ‘I liked him very much,’ she said, almost to herself.
Tom said nothing. Very slowly he leaned forward and put his cup down on the table, then he stared blindly out at the glimmer of river between the grey and brown blocks. In its place he saw the bare trees in Addison’s Walk, and the pinnacles of Magdalen Tower. He felt the fragility of Helen’s shoulders in his arms, and the determination that held her head up. She hadn’t given way to the impulse to ask for his help. He had willed her to do it, but she had preferred to fight alone with her own pride.
Tom recalled how he had gone back to Follies and watched the heavy door until he saw her set out again, pulling her duffel coat around her in the sharp wind. The dusty, close smell of the old house filled his nostrils as he remembered the climb to the top, her unlocked door, and the row of digits that he had copied from her chequebook on the desk.
He had paid the money in notes into her account, and scribbled a meaningless signature.
Then he too thought of Oliver. Charming and reckless. Generous and thoughtless. A man of impulses, and never of careful, tactful plans. His face came back to Tom, as clear-cut as a profile on a coin. For a second Tom felt a lead weight on his shoulder and saw Darcy’s dark shoulders in front of him, bent under the same weight.
Swiftly Tom left his seat and knelt down beside Helen. He shut out the sight against the fold of her dress. Helen smiled with quick happiness and wound her fingers in his hair.
There was no need for her to know any more. Tom would leave her with that memory of their friend.
It was the last thing he could do for him.
‘I love you, Tom,’ she said.
He nodded, quickly, and the jealousy that he had felt for his dead friend broke up and drifted away like mist under the sun.
He was still learning about Helen, and it was his daily pleasure to know her better and to love her more. But he was certain, as certain as he was of his own love, that Helen’s dazzled devotion to Oliver was long ago over. Their memories of him were a bond between them now, liking and love that had different faces but were still shared, and precious to them both.
The Mortimores were no threat, any more. If he had almost lost her to Darcy, with his title and all his acres and priceless possessions, then he had fought back for her in time.
Helen had chosen him, and she had turned her back on all that English magnificence to come here, to come back home, with him.
‘Are you happy?’ he whispered against her.
Her face when she looked at him told him more than anything she could have put into words.
‘You know I am.’
Tom reached up and pulled her down so that their mouths met.
When he spoke again his voice was light, and teasing. They knew that Follies, and everything that had happened there, would drift away at last into their shared history.
He smiled at her. ‘So, clever. What will you do now?’
‘Now? At once? What do you think?’
‘I meant after that.’
Slowly, as if the thought was just coming to her, she said, ‘I’d like to study some more. Does that sound very dull?’
‘No. It sounds just what you should be doing. And where better? American universities are the best in the world.’
‘You don’t have to tell me that. I’m already more New York than the New Yorkers, remember?’
He looked at her, a slender gipsy-like girl in the careful white space of his apartment. How empty it would be without her. He thought of the mid-town theatres, the dusty stages and cramped rehearsal rooms and the opulence of Greg Hart’s suite. His world, and where he wanted to be. But never without Helen.
He remembered how unquestioningly she had left the cool green and gold of Oxford to come here with him. She had embraced his home town open-heartedly.
‘Thank you,’ he said softly, ‘for coming here with me.’
‘It doesn’t matter where I am,’ she answered, ‘so long as it’s with you. But if I could choose …’ she hesitated, and saw the flash of determination in Tom’s face that they would go wherever it was she wanted, ‘… it would be right here.’
He pulled her close to him. ‘In that case, will you marry me? Now at once, without a ruby?’
‘Yes,’ she answered him. ‘Yes, I will.’
They turned away together, and above them, where the little sea picture hung the air still seemed full of the scent of flowers and the tough, salt, free tang of the sea.
London 1919
The Great War is over and London lies on the brink of an uncertain future. With the misery and horror of war in the past, hope begins to emerge for the women who have waited at home as, for the first time, they have taken steps towards political, economic and personal independence. But the men who fought and survived the trenches believe the future is theirs by right, and any woman who has celebrated her freedom must now redouble her efforts to keep it.
Nancy Wix is just such a woman. Born into a down-at-heel family, Nancy has always known that the visions she has seen since she was a child will set her apart from her peers. A chance encounter with a gifted medium reveals a way in which she might take hold of her future and she grasps the opportunity with a desperate intensity – for this is the age of spiritualism, and Nancy’s gift will see her star rise at a time when decimated families are desperate to hold on to their dead sons.
As the roaring twenties dawn, Nancy strives to break free from the rigid bonds of society and find her place. The only thing that could hold her back is her love for an unattainable man …
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London 1885
As a turbulent and change-filled century draws to a close, there has never been a better time to alter your fortune. But for a beautiful young woman of limited means, Eliza’s choices appear to lie between the stifling domesticity of marriage or a downwards spiral to the streets – no matter how determined she is to forge her own path.
One night at a run-down theatre, she meets the charismatic Devil Wix – showman, master of illusion, fickle friend. Drawn into his circle, Eliza becomes the catalyst of change for his colleagues – a dwarf, an eccentric engineer and an artist – as well as Devil himself. And as Eliza embarks on a dangerous adventure, she must decide which path to choose, and how far she should go when she holds all their lives in her hands.
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Within one exotic land lie the secrets of a lifetime …
Newlywed Nerys Watkins leaves rural Wales for the first time to accompany her husband on a missionary posting to India. Deep in the exquisite heart of Kashmir lies the lakeside city of Srinagar, where the British live on carved wooden houseboats and dance, flirt and gossip as if there is no war.
But the battles draw closer, and life in Srinagar becomes less frivolous when the men are sent away to fight. Nerys is caught up in a dangerous friendship, and by the time she is reunited with her husband, the innocent Welsh bride has become a different woman.
Years later, when Mair Ellis clears out her father’s house, she finds an exquisite antique shawl, a lock of child’s hair wrapped within its folds. Tracing her grandparents’ roots back to Kashmir, Mair embarks on a quest that will change her life forever.
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About the Author
Rosie Thomas is the author of a number of celebrated novels, including the bestselling The Kashmir Shawl. A keen adventurer, she has climbed in the Alps and the Himalayas, competed in the Peking to Paris car rally, trekked in the footsteps of Shackleton in South Georgia, and travelled in Ladakh and Kashmir. She lives in London.
Rosie can be found on Facebook at www.facebook.com/RosieThomasAuthor where she’d love to hear from you.
Also by Rosie Thomas
Celebration
Follies
Sunrise
The White Dove
Strangers
Bad Girls, Good Women
A Woman of Our Times
All My Sins Remembered
Other People’s Marriages
A Simple Life
Every Woman Knows a Secret
Moon Island
White
The Potter’s House
If My Father Loved Me
Sun At Midnight
Iris and Ruby
Constance
Lovers and Newcomers
The Kashmir Shawl
The Illusionists
Daughter of the House
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