Victoria Connelly - The Rose Girl

by Unknown

  ‘Look, I’d better get going,’ Celeste said.

  ‘No, wait a minute,’ Julian said, and Celeste watched as he turned to face Miles. ‘Would you mind giving us a minute?’

  Miles glared at his brother. ‘Take all the time you want,’ he said. ‘I’m off. I’m fed up of hanging around this backwater.’

  They watched as Miles stalked back down the hill into town.

  ‘What the hell was all that about?’ Celeste asked once Miles was safely out of earshot.

  ‘Don’t pay any attention to him. He’s an idiot.’ Julian ran a hand through his hair. He looked flustered and it wasn’t a look Celeste was used to seeing. ‘Look, I wanted to give you a call. I’ve got some good news about the Fantin-Latour.’

  ‘Okay,’ Celeste said.

  ‘So, is it okay if I call round?’

  ‘Of course,’ Celeste said.

  ‘Are you about tomorrow?’

  ‘I imagine so,’ she said.

  ‘Still chained to that desk of yours?’ he asked.

  ‘Something like that.’

  ‘Okay, well, I’ll pop over mid-morning, if that suits.’

  ‘That would be fine.’

  ‘Right,’ he said, ‘I’d better see if I can smooth things over with Miles.’

  ‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ she said, and he waved her a goodbye before heading back into town.

  Celeste stood there watching him for a couple of minutes. For some reason, her heart was racing and it took her a moment to realise why. Miles Faraday had reminded her of somebody. Somebody who had made her feel confusion, anger and fear all at once. Somebody she’d had the good sense to walk away from and whose likeness she’d hoped never to meet again.

  Her mother.

  19.

  Celeste took Frinton for a walk, ambling along the bank that edged the River Stour and then striding out into the fields towards Duke’s Wood. It had rained in the night and both dog and mistress were delighted by the scents that the rain had released. Celeste took in great lungfuls of the woodland air, luxuriating in the early summer stillness of the place and the soft earth that supported her light tread.

  Duke’s Wood was a favourite haunt of Celeste’s and had been since the first precious day when she’d discovered it for herself. Her mind spiralled back into the past as she remembered running through the stubble fields, her ankles scratched and bleeding as she fled towards the trees, not knowing where she was going.

  The wood had welcomed her with a green embrace and had hidden her from the world as she’d sat at the base of a smooth beech tree, the wild beating of her heart slowly returning to normal as she’d watched a deer moving through the trees and listened to the song of a robin in a holly thicket.

  She passed that very place now, remembering the comfort it had given her as she’d tried to banish the words of her mother from her mind.

  ‘Get out of my sight – you useless girl!’

  There had been other words too – cold, hurtful words as sharp as flints – too painful to remember, but they had left their mark in her heart. Celeste had sat in the wood until their sting had lessened, until the light had faded from the sky and the wood was shrouded in darkness.

  She hadn’t wanted to go home but where else did a thirteen-year-old girl have to go? So she’d walked home at twilight, the eerie shadows of the trees her only companions.

  ‘Where have you been?’ Evie had cried as soon as Celeste had opened the front door. ‘You’ve missed your dinner! We had treacle tart for pudding.’

  Gertie looked more anxious. ‘Are you okay?’ she asked and Celeste had nodded.

  ‘I just lost track of time,’ she lied.

  ‘There you are, darling!’ her mother chimed. ‘We thought you’d left home for good this time. I was going to let your room out to a nice student.’

  Celeste stared at her mother’s smiling, bemused face. She seemed to have forgotten the whole incident and expected that Celeste would forget it too but she couldn’t. How could she? But neither could she talk about it. Instead, she reeled with pain and confusion, unable to put her emotions into words even if she’d had the courage to confront her mother or confide in her sisters.

  She remembered that evening now as she walked through the woods with Frinton. It was funny how places were tinged by the past. For her, Duke’s Wood would always be connected with that lonely evening when she was a teenager.

  She looked up into the brilliant green of the beech leaves and thought how long ago that night had been and yet she still carried that teenage girl inside her. She was still there, that young Celeste, hiding behind the memories that had been collected since. One had only to scratch the surface to discover her again.

  Perhaps it was meeting Julian’s brother that had made her think of that long-ago incident now, she thought. There’d been that same cold and callous quality about Miles Faraday that her mother had had. The same outspokenness, too, and lack of empathy with anybody else’s feelings. It had shaken her to witness it in somebody else.

  It was then that Frinton set up barking at the base of a great oak tree up which a squirrel had shot. Celeste watched as he jumped up on his back legs, his ears alert as if the poor creature might drop out of the tree into his jaws at any moment. She laughed. If only she’d had a fox terrier whilst growing up. They had a knack for vanquishing one’s woes in an instant.

  Celeste was glad to see Julian’s MG pulling up in the driveway as she got back from her walk. She couldn’t help but feel calmer somehow when he was around. He had an uncanny ability to chase the blues away and lift the spirit, and she really couldn’t think of many people who did that. It would be a shame to lose his friendship when the business with the paintings was over, she thought. He really was a sweet man.

  ‘Hello,’ she called as she approached him.

  ‘Good morning,’ he said cheerfully, bending down to greet Frinton, who had torn across the driveway to reach him. ‘Been for a walk?’

  ‘To the woods.’

  ‘Nice,’ he said. ‘Perfect day, isn’t it?’

  ‘I’ve been skilfully avoiding the study all morning.’

  ‘Good for you,’ he said.

  ‘Cup of tea?’ she asked.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said and the two of them fell into step together, entering the house a moment later.

  Celeste served tea in the living room and that’s when Julian began.

  ‘So, I think I’ve got some good news for you.’

  ‘Is it the buyer in America?’

  Julian nodded. ‘She’s very keen to make us an offer on the Fantin-Latour.’

  ‘So, you think it would be better to sell to her directly without going to auction?’

  ‘Well, it depends how quickly you need the funds.’

  ‘Pretty quickly.’

  ‘I thought as much,’ he said.

  ‘Yes, we’re about to get a quote for the work and I’m afraid it will be eye-wateringly high.’

  ‘I can imagine,’ Julian said. ‘Well, she’s told me that she wants that painting, and when Kammie Colton wants something, the amount she’s willing to pay doesn’t come into it. You can pretty much name your price.’

  ‘Really?’ Celeste said, still thinking of the quote. ‘It certainly would be nice to have some money in the pot.’

  ‘I’ve done a lot of research on Fantin-Latour and what his pieces have fetched in recent years, so you’re not going to lose out by not going the route of the auction. Auctions can be so risky, too – so much of it is down to luck on the day – so you might actually be a lot better off settling things outside the auction room.’

  Celeste nodded. ‘I really appreciate your advice on all this.’

  ‘All part of the job,’ he said. ‘It’s a really special painting and I’d like to see it do well for you. I know how much it means to you.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said.

  ‘There’s just one small matter to sort out.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Mrs
Colton is flying to the UK next week and will be coming to see the painting in London. It sounds like she’s been doing her research about your family, too, and she’s expressed an interest in meeting you all and seeing the manor and gardens.’

  ‘Has she?’ Celeste asked, feeling flustered.

  ‘I think she just wants to know a bit more about the painting’s background. A painting of roses belonging to a family who grow roses and live in a medieval moated manor house has really captured her imagination. She’s an American. They don’t have such places over there. She was very excited about the idea of seeing Little Eleigh Manor.’

  ‘You’ve spoken to her about it?’

  ‘Yes,’ Julian said. ‘I said I didn’t think there’d be a problem but that I’d better speak to you first. So, what do you think?’

  There was a pause before Celeste answered. ‘I’m not at all sure about this, to be honest,’ she said, suddenly feeling very anxious.

  ‘No?’ Julian said. ‘It’ll only take a couple of hours and it really would mean the world to her. She’s flying all the way from America to do this deal and, from what I can gather, she’s a real Anglophile. This trip will make her really happy. And I’ll be with her, of course. You wouldn’t have to deal with any of it on your own.’

  Celeste nodded in understanding.

  ‘But I can understand if you don’t want a stranger in your home,’ Julian went on. ‘Just say the word and I’ll let her know it’s not really feasible.’

  Celeste bit her lip. She felt mean now. ‘Of course she can come,’ she said at last, ‘and we’ll make cucumber sandwiches and a nice Victoria sponge if it would really make her happy.’

  ‘Really?’ Julian said. ‘I’m sure she’d be thrilled.’

  ‘And I’ll just keep thinking about her chequebook,’ Celeste said.

  Julian laughed. ‘I’ll set up a day and time for her visit, then?’

  Celeste nodded. ‘So how did you get on in Lavenham?’ she asked. ‘Did you find the right shop in the end?’

  ‘I’m afraid not,’ he said. ‘Nothing was quite right.’

  ‘So, you’re serious about opening an antiques shop?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ Julian said. ‘It’s time, you know? And you helped inspire me.’

  ‘I did?’ she said in surprise.

  ‘With your courage in deciding to sell your paintings and move forward.’

  ‘But that wasn’t courage – that was panic!’

  Julian grinned. ‘All the same, it made me think about my future and really start to plan ahead.’

  ‘Well, I’m really pleased for you. I think it’ll suit you.’

  ‘Really?’

  She nodded. ‘You have the right personality.’

  ‘I do?’ Julian seemed taken aback.

  ‘You like people. You get on with them. I’m sure they’ll all flock to your shop.’

  ‘Thank you,’ he said, suddenly looking abashed. There was a pause before Celeste began.

  ‘Julian?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Your brother –’

  ‘Yes, I must apologise if he offended you yesterday. He can be a bit’ – Julian paused – ‘insensitive.’

  Celeste looked at Julian, wondering if she was brave enough to say what she wanted to say next. ‘I was going to ask you about him,’ she began tentatively. ‘He reminded me of someone.’

  ‘Really?’

  She nodded.

  ‘Who?’ Julian prompted.

  Celeste took a deep breath. ‘My mother,’ she said.

  ‘Ah,’ Julian said. ‘She had a personality disorder?’

  Celeste frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Miles – my brother – he suffers from a personality disorder although he’d knock me into next week if I suggested such a thing to him. It’s called Narcissistic Personality Disorder – to give it its full, grand title. It’s a spectrum disorder which has all sorts of traits – some stronger than others. Basically, he’s like the most self-absorbed person you can think of, only a hundred times worse. He finds it hard to empathise with other people and can turn on you at a moment’s notice if you’re not giving him what he wants.’

  Celeste blinked. ‘That’s all sounding awfully familiar,’ she said. ‘You say this is a recognised disorder?’

  Julian nodded. ‘There’s a ton of stuff about it on the internet, where you can run tests to see how people score on the spectrum. It’s fascinating,’ he said. ‘Before I came across it, I thought I was going mad at times. I just couldn’t understand why Miles would say the things he did and act in the most unforgiveable ways and then – the next moment – act as if nothing had happened.’

  Celeste laughed and then covered her mouth in shame.

  ‘You know what I mean?’

  ‘You could say that,’ she said, staring down at the hearth, her mind whirling with thoughts. She then got up and closed the living room door, realising that she was intrigued by what Julian was confiding to her and desperate to know more and to share more with him.

  ‘My mother,’ she began as she sat down again, ‘if I so much as dented her pride, she would threaten to disown me and would blank me for days – weeks sometimes. And then she’d start up again as if nothing had happened. It would make my brain somersault in confusion. I felt as if I was walking on eggshells the whole time with her – wondering when her next outburst would be. When, not if. Because that was the one thing you could be sure of: it would be coming.’

  ‘Just like Miles, then,’ Julian said.

  ‘Then it’s not just pride or vanity or selfishness?’ she asked.

  ‘No, no. It’s something that goes much deeper and, I’m afraid, it’s not something that can be dealt with easily. There’s no magic pill or cure. This sort of disorder is so engrained that it’s virtually impossible for a person to change. One of the reasons is that they think they’re right. They’re perfect, you see, and, if you dare to challenge them, they’ll tell you that it’s the rest of the world who has it wrong.

  ‘Yes,’ Celeste said, nodding. ‘That’s it exactly.’

  ‘I’ve tried to point things out to Miles in the past, telling him his behaviour is unacceptable and that I simply won’t put up with it any longer and, sometimes, I think he’s understood me. But he hasn’t. There’ll be a calm period in our lives for a while when we are able to interact like normal people and I’ll almost be fooled into thinking that he’s changed, that he listened to me and really took on board what I said, but then the next eruption occurs and I realise that he hasn’t changed at all – and that he never will.’

  Celeste listened without interruption, watching Julian as he sat on the edge of the sofa, his hands clasped in his lap. He spoke so calmly about it all, but she couldn’t help wondering if he was raging inside just as she was.

  ‘Were you ever tempted to run away from it all?’ she asked him.

  ‘I’ve often thought it would be easier to end things between us,’ he said, ‘and to walk away, but I can’t bear the thought of that. It just doesn’t seem right, even though it might be the sanest thing to do, because it’s an endless cycle of emotional abuse.’ He paused. ‘You okay?’

  Celeste nodded, realising that there were tears in her eyes. She’d never spoken to anybody about this issue before – not really. Her sisters knew a little about what had gone on between her and Penelope but they’d always been too close to it all and unable to help her through it. So it came as something of a relief to realise that she wasn’t the only one who had experienced such a thing.

  ‘I never thought of it all as emotional abuse before,’ she said.

  ‘I’m afraid that’s what it is,’ he said and gave a tiny smile, ‘and I’m sorry to hear you’ve experienced it as well. I sometimes wish Miles would just hit me and have done with it. I think it would be less painful in the long run and then at least people would understand what’s going on. But this sort of abuse – well, people don’t really understand it unless they’ve experienced it
themselves.’

  Celeste looked into the fireplace again, her vision blurring with tears. ‘I’ve always thought it must have been a fault in me that made Mum act the way she did.’

  Julian shook his head. ‘It was never your fault, Celeste.’

  ‘But all the things she said. Where did that all come from?’

  Julian sighed. ‘Miles says the most hurtful things sometimes and he stores things up, too – really trivial things, often from years ago. They seem to build up in his mind and then come rushing out in a vile torrent of abuse. It’s like being bulldozed sometimes and it’s a wonder I come out alive at the end of it.’

  Celeste looked up at him. ‘I never knew what to do or say when Mum was like that. There just seemed no words suitable and so I said nothing. I tried to put everything to the back my mind and tell myself that I’d imagined it and that she couldn’t really have said such things. But then it would all happen again.’

  They were both silent for a moment as if weighing up the words they had spoken and the memories they had shared.

  ‘I wish I could but I can’t ever forget the things she said to me,’ Celeste said. ‘I’ve tried. I’ve really tried but they’re always there, ready to surface at any time and make me feel wretched again.’

  ‘But you’ve got to keep trying,’ Julian told her. ‘You’ve got to let it all go. I find it’s easier to cope with Miles now that we’re grown up. We don’t have to see each other if we don’t want to. But it was different when we were kids.’

  ‘He was like this as a youngster?’

  Julian nodded. ‘And there was no escaping from it then. Mum and Dad just thought he was a bit awkward and selfish, but these traits got worse the older he got. I knew there was something odd about it but it wasn’t until I saw an article online about the condition that I twigged. Suddenly, everything made sense. I went through the tick list of traits for NPD and my brother virtually had them all. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Now, I find myself examining him as if he’s some case study and not a real human. It’s really strange.’

  ‘And you really never wanted to just end it with him?’ Celeste said.