Victoria Connelly - The Rose Girl

by Unknown

  ‘That I love him.’

  Esther nodded but, much to Evie’s astonishment, she didn’t look surprised. ‘I thought as much,’ she said.

  ‘How could you possibly know that when I didn’t even know?’ she asked.

  ‘Because I know the signs!’ Esther said.

  ‘Oh, really?’

  ‘Really,’ she said. ‘Come with me. I’ve got something to show you.’

  Evie followed Esther out of the kitchen and back to her room, where she walked across to a little chest of drawers, opening the top one and reaching inside for a small photo album.

  ‘This is the last photo ever taken of Sally,’ Esther said as she opened the album. Evie moved closer and looked at the photograph of the woman she had heard so much about. ‘It was just before she got sick.’

  Evie took in the long, straight hair and the smiling face.

  ‘Who took the photo?’

  ‘A man she’d met called Paolo. He was from Italy. He was training to be a doctor and she was madly in love with him. She never told me, of course, but I knew. Just look at that smile and her eyes. You can see it everywhere.’

  Evie studied the photograph and nodded. ‘But I haven’t been going around smiling like that,’ she said.

  ‘Maybe not but I could still tell. You had that aura about you.’

  Evie laughed. ‘I don’t believe in auras.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter if you believe in them or not. I saw it all the same.’

  ‘I think you’re being rather fanciful, Esther,’ Evie said with a wry smile.

  ‘But I’m right, aren’t I? You’ve been in love with him this whole time.’

  Evie stared out of the window, watching the swallows dancing in the sky high above the rose garden. ‘Yes,’ she said at last. ‘I think I have.’

  When the meal was over and coffee was being served, Julian dared to ask the question that Celeste had guessed had been uppermost in his mind but hadn’t dared to prompt.

  ‘Have you had any time to consider my proposal?’ he asked.

  ‘About the antiques centre?’ she said, as if he’d made any other sort of proposal.

  He nodded. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Gertie and Evie are all for it. Even Esther got quite excited when I told her.’

  ‘But what about you, Celeste? How do you feel about it?’

  She ran her index finger around the rim of her coffee cup. ‘How do I feel about it? I think it would be a very interesting business to have at the manor. It could be a really viable option for the future of the house.’

  ‘Then you’re for it?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said.

  ‘But you sound hesitant,’ he said, looking at her with great intensity.

  She stared back at him, gazing into the kind eyes that she had grown so used to seeing over the last few weeks. It seemed odd to her that there had been a time in her life when she hadn’t known him, when she hadn’t had his gentle presence in her days, and she valued it – she truly did. Only it made her feel so uncertain of herself, and of the future, too, because she didn’t feel that she had anything to give him.

  ‘Celeste?’ he said when she didn’t answer him. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Julian – I –’ She paused.

  ‘Tell me. If something’s worrying you, I want to know.’

  She nodded. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I – it’s just that I feel that everything is moving so fast and that I’m not quite ready for it all.’

  ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘I can understand that.’

  ‘Can you?’

  He nodded. ‘Of course I can,’ he said. ‘You mean me in particular, don’t you?’

  They held each other’s gaze. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I think I do.’

  He swallowed hard and reached his hand across the table to hold hers. ‘You know how I feel about you, don’t you? I’d be very surprised if you hadn’t worked it out by now.’

  ‘I know,’ she said quietly.

  He nodded. ‘And I know that you haven’t quite made your mind up about all this.’

  She bit her lip. ‘Julian,’ she said, ‘my head’s a mess. I feel like I’m only just coping, you know?’

  ‘I know.’

  She took a deep breath. ‘You’ve been so kind and patient with me,’ she said, ‘and I want you to know how much that means to me.’

  He gave a little nod and smile and then cleared his throat. ‘I’ve been so happy since I met you,’ he told her, ‘and I know you’ve got a lot going on.’ He swallowed hard and his bright eyes were intense with emotion. ‘But I can’t wait forever, Celeste,’ he said.

  ‘I know,’ she said. ‘I know.’

  When they left the restaurant, Julian hailed a taxi and accompanied her to the Liverpool Street station.

  ‘I wish I was coming through to Suffolk with you but I’ll be there this weekend,’ he said as the taxi pulled up by the kerb. ‘Perhaps we can have lunch or something?’

  Celeste had been twisting and squeezing her fingers together since they’d left the restaurant, wrangling with her thoughts since Julian’s declaration.

  I can’t wait forever.

  She knew that. It had been a perfectly reasonable thing for him to say and yet the guilt it made her feel weighed heavily upon her. She turned to look at him.

  ‘Julian,’ she began, ‘I don’t want you to have any expectations of me because I can’t promise you anything.’

  ‘I know that,’ he said, ‘and I’m not asking anything from you.’

  ‘But you are,’ she said, her voice wavering slightly. ‘You’re waiting, and that’s a great pressure. I can’t take that responsibility – not now and maybe not ever.’ She looked at him in the brief space between them on the backseat of the taxi and suddenly wanted to be anywhere but there.

  ‘Okay,’ he said at last. ‘I understand.’ His voice had changed; it had become colder and more controlled and his eyes had lost some of their warmth. Celeste had an awful premonition that she would never see that smiling, kind expression of his ever again.

  ‘Goodbye, Celeste,’ he said, unbuttoning his belt and leaning across the seat to open the door for her.

  ‘Julian –’

  ‘Goodbye.’

  31.

  It was a strange and lonely world without Julian’s texts and phone calls, but Celeste could hardly expect to receive them now, could she? She closed her eyes as she remembered the expression on his face in the taxi. Those kind blue eyes of his had iced over in a matter of seconds, shutting off his warmth from her. Why had she done that? What had she been thinking of?

  Herself. She had been thinking only of herself and how she felt about things. Not once had she thought about what Julian might be thinking and feeling. She hadn’t asked him once. He’d been so attentive to her, so caring, and had done his best to try and understand what she was going through, but she hadn’t returned that kindness to him. Instead, she had pushed him away from her, over and over again.

  Sitting at the old desk in the study, she thought about calling him, but what would she say? She could feel tears brimming but quickly blinked them away when she heard a light tapping on the study door.

  ‘Celly?’ Gertie’s voice called.

  ‘Come in.’

  Gertie entered the room. ‘It’s a bit dark in here, isn’t it?’ she said, walking across to the windows and drawing the curtains properly. Celeste remembered Julian’s words about the room and how he thought she should change it, make it lighter, brighter.

  ‘Did you want me?’ Celeste prompted.

  ‘Ah, yes – I’ve just had a call from Tom Parker. He wants to know if we’ll be taking part in the show in September. He’s not had the form back from you yet and needs to reserve our place if we want it.’

  ‘Yes – tell him yes,’ Celeste said, thinking of the local fair that Hamilton Roses took part in each year at the church to raise funds. It was a lovely event in which local craftsmen displayed their wares, filling the church with unique pieces and produce.r />
  ‘I must have just mislaid the form,’ Celeste said. ‘Just when I thought I was finally getting on top of things.’

  ‘You are,’ Gertie said. ‘You’re doing the most amazing job.’

  ‘Am I?’

  ‘Yes!’ Gertie said, observing Celeste closely. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘Really?’ Gertie said. ‘I don’t believe you.’

  Celeste looked at her sister and thought about spinning some lie about how she was probably just tired. She could get away with that but she knew it would be wrong and, anyway, there was a part of her that was desperate to confide in someone.

  ‘I think I’ve messed up,’ she said at last.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Gertie asked. ‘The paperwork?’

  ‘No, not the paperwork.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Julian.’ Just saying his name brought a flood of emotions to the fore.

  ‘How?’ Gertie said, perching on the desk next to her sister.

  ‘I told him that I thought we should take break,’ she confided to Gertie.

  ‘A break? But I didn’t think you were really seeing him,’ Gertie said.

  ‘I know,’ Celeste said. ‘I told you – I messed up.’

  ‘What did you say exactly?’

  She closed her eyes, trying to recall her words. ‘I told him that I felt pressured by him and that I didn’t want him to have any expectations of me.’

  ‘Oh, Celly! When did this happen?’

  ‘After the auction.’

  ‘But I thought you went out to dinner?’ Gertie said.

  ‘We did. And then he saw me to the station and I told him.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me what had happened?’

  ‘I’ve been –’

  ‘Don’t say you’ve been too busy,’ Gertie said, ‘because you always say that.’

  ‘But it’s true.’

  Gertie shook her head. ‘You’ve been trying to bury it, haven’t you? You were hoping you could hide it away and forget about it.’ She leaned in closer to Celeste and watched as her sister slowly nodded.

  ‘I’m so desperate not to feel anything but I can’t stop this,’ Celeste said, her dark eyes wide and wild-looking.

  ‘And you shouldn’t try to! It’s not natural to try and stop your emotions,’ Gertie said. ‘Have you talked to him since?’

  ‘No,’ she said, the one word filled with more anguish than any word had a right to be.

  ‘Celly, he adores you! You’ve only got to pick up the phone for him to come running back to you.’

  Celeste shook her head. ‘You didn’t see the way he looked at me. It was awful, Gertie, and I’ve only got myself to blame. I made him look at me like that!’

  Gertie got up from the desk and hugged her sister. ‘You really like him, don’t you?’

  ‘I didn’t know how much until I said those stupid things.’

  ‘Well, tell him that! Tell him what a silly idiot you’ve been. He’ll understand!’

  Celeste gave a funny laughing cry as Gertie continued to hug her.

  ‘I’m too scared to call him. I’ve blown it. He was so patient with me but I just went too far. I can’t ask anything else from him.’

  ‘I think you’re wrong,’ Gertie said. ‘I think if he knew how you really felt, he’d be by your side in a minute.’

  Celeste shook her head. ‘I can’t do that to him. He probably hates me now.’

  ‘He won’t hate you.’

  ‘He’ll have made a voodoo doll of me and have it full of pins, which is probably why I’m in so much pain!’

  Gertie squeezed her shoulder. ‘You’re in love and that can be the worst pain in the world when it isn’t going right.’

  Celeste looked up. ‘You said that like you know what it means.’

  ‘Did I?’ Gertie said.

  It was Celeste’s turn to scrutinise her sister. ‘Is there anything you want to tell me?’

  Gertie smiled. ‘No,’ she said. ‘The only thing I want to tell you is that you’re wrong – completely wrong – if you think Julian won’t want to hear from you. I think you should ring him. Just talk to him.’

  Celeste shook her head again. ‘I can’t,’ she said.

  Gertie hopped down from her perch on the desk. ‘Okay!’

  ‘And don’t you dare ring him, Gertie!’

  Gertie stopped when she’d reached the door. ‘I won’t,’ she said.

  ‘Promise?’

  ‘Promise,’ Gertie said.

  But it was a promise destined to be broken.

  Celeste wasn’t the only one obsessing over not hearing from a man. Gertie had spent more time checking her phone for messages from James than she had looking at roses, which – for a rosarian in summer – was downright irresponsible.

  She had lost count of the number of times she had cried herself to sleep. It was just so hard for her to keep the faith when she had nothing tangible to hold on to. She still hadn’t told anyone either, although Celeste had been on to her a couple of times, knowing something was going on.

  Poor Celeste, she thought. Like Evie, Gertie adored Julian and knew that he and Celeste would make a really great couple, but Gertie feared that it was never going to happen now. At least Evie had got things right in the man department, she thought as she walked into the relative darkness of the manor after having spent the day in the garden. She was carrying a little basket filled with fresh eggs from her hens. Her bare limbs were a rich brown and she felt the wonderful fatigue of a hard-working gardener.

  The grandfather clock was striking seven as she crossed the hall and saw Celeste.

  ‘I’ve come in search of tea,’ Gertie said.

  ‘Me too,’ Celeste said. ‘I didn’t realise what the time was.’

  ‘You should really forget about that study once in a while and get yourself outside. It’s been a beautiful day.’

  Celeste rubbed her eyes. ‘Perhaps you’re right,’ she said.

  ‘You know I am,’ she said. ‘The summer won’t last forever, you know.’

  The sound of laughter could be heard from the kitchen and Gertie and Celeste soon saw that Evie and Esther were cooking something on the Aga.

  ‘There you both are!’ Evie said. ‘We were about to send out a search party!’

  ‘What are you cooking?’ Gertie asked, worrying about the state of her beloved Aga.

  ‘What is it again, Esther?’ Evie asked.

  ‘Half-the-garden soup,’ Esther said. ‘Basically, it’s whatever you can find that’s in season.’

  ‘Sounds ominous,’ Celeste said.

  ‘Well, there are plenty of eggs here if it all goes horribly wrong,’ Gertie said, placing her basket on the table.

  ‘It won’t go wrong,’ Evie said. ‘Esther is the most amazing cook!’

  ‘Oh, is she?’ Gertie said, feeling that her position in the kitchen was being usurped.

  ‘Hey! Have you guys heard the latest?’ Evie said.

  ‘No, what?’ Celeste asked.

  ‘James and Samantha have sold their house,’ she said lightly.

  ‘Really?’ Celeste said. ‘I didn’t even know it was for sale.’

  Evie nodded. ‘They’re leaving Little Eleigh.’

  The colour drained from Gertie’s face. ‘No, you’ve heard that wrong,’ she said. ‘You’re always getting things wrong, Evie.’

  ‘I haven’t got it wrong. Not this time. I saw James in the post office. He told me.’

  ‘You talked to James?’

  ‘Yes,’ Evie said. ‘He told me to tell you both. He’s trying to let everyone know before he flies out next week.’

  ‘Flies out where?’ Gertie said.

  ‘To France,’ Evie said. ‘They’re selling up here and buying some ramshackle gite over there. It sounds amazing – like the sort of place you’re always talking about with shutters that open out onto the hills. Hey! Maybe he’ll invite us out there. What do you think?’

  Celeste had been watching Gertie’
s face during this exchange, noticing its pallor and stunned expression.

  ‘I don’t think we should fish for an invite, Evie,’ Celeste warned. ‘Didn’t you sell her some container roses the other week?’

  Gertie nodded.

  ‘Probably to make the garden look good for buyers,’ Evie said.

  Gertie, who’d only just sat down at the table, stood up.

  ‘Where are you going?’ Evie said.

  ‘I’m not hungry,’ she said.

  ‘But we’ve got absolutely gallons of this soup!’ Evie said, but her sister had already left the room. ‘What’s the matter with her?’

  Celeste sighed. ‘I’m not sure but I think I’d better try and find out.’

  Celeste did her best to track Gertie down but she’d obviously left the confines of the manor. She didn’t get a chance to talk to her until later that evening when she heard a series of loud, angry thumps coming from the kitchen once everybody was safely out of the way.

  Taking a deep breath and not quite knowing what she was going to discover, Celeste entered the kitchen.

  ‘Hey,’ she said softly.

  ‘Hey,’ Gertie replied without looking up.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Celeste asked.

  ‘Making bread,’ Gertie said. ‘What does it look like?’

  Celeste flinched at the tone of her voice. Bread. That was probably the worst-case scenario. It was far worse than scones or lemon cake, that was for sure. Gertie obviously had a lot of anger inside if she’d felt compelled to knead dough last thing at night.

  ‘I’ve been trying to find you,’ she said.

  ‘Yeah? Well, I’ve been trying not to be found.’

  ‘I guessed,’ Celeste said, sitting down on the bench on the other side of the table and feeling the top vibrate under Gertie’s vigorous ministrations. She watched as her sister threw and kneaded the bread dough with great force, Gertie’s face flushed to its very limit with her efforts.

  ‘Are you going to talk to me?’ Celeste asked after a while.

  ‘What would you like to talk about?’ Gertie said, her tone cold and closed.

  ‘How about James Stanton?’

  Gertie stopped what she was doing and wiped a floury wrist across her forehead. ‘Why do you want to talk about him?’