The young woman in front of me flushes. ‘They are lovely.’ Then she flushes again. ‘I do not mean that I am lovely, you understand –’
‘Oh, but you are,’ breaks in Ed. ‘Such a beautiful child. We both thought so, didn’t we, Lily?’
I nod. ‘Remember that portrait of you which he entered for an award all those years ago? It got third prize. And although it didn’t sell then, it was recently bought by a collector.’
I watch her intently. She had mentioned both the competition and the sale in her letters. So I knew that she knew about them. But now she gasps as if in surprise, placing fingers to her mouth. Both are exquisitely painted in matching rose. The nails are a perfect oval. Not one chip on the polish. ‘Fantastic,’ she coos.
Perhaps she’s embarrassed now about the demanding tone of that second letter that she thinks we haven’t received. I can understand that.
‘That’s why I was trying to find you,’ adds Ed eagerly.
Really? If so, that’s news to me. Sometimes Ed says things just to please people.
‘I got quite a lot of money,’ my husband babbles on. He’s getting excited, almost high. I know the signs. It means he is capable of behaving recklessly. I touch his arm, hoping to slow him down, but he continues. ‘It helped me get a gallery of my own!’
There’s a slight pause as my husband and I both think the same thing. That happens quite a lot nowadays. Maybe it’s the same for all couples who have been married for a long time. ‘We ought to thank you,’ I say, reluctantly accepting that this would indeed be the honourable thing to do, even though we can’t afford it.
‘We should, indeed,’ agrees Ed. He’s looking away from me, but I know his mind is going round. How much should he pay? What could we afford?
‘Where are you living?’ I ask, to buy time.
‘In a place called King’s Cross. In a hostel.’ She sighs. ‘There are cockroaches everywhere.’
Suddenly that confident woman is no longer there. I see a young girl who has just left her native country and is now finding her feet in a city that has probably changed a great deal. I stop wondering about how much we owe her and how her presence makes me feel nervous because it reminds me of the past. Once more, I want to help. Partly out of guilt.
‘You must come over for dinner.’
‘Yes.’ Ed is glowing with excitement. I know why. Already he is painting her in his head. It’s a great angle. I can see that. Italian Girl Grown Up. No more curls. A bob instead. A new look. Maybe pastels instead of acrylics. He’s been talking about changing style. It suddenly occurs to me that Carla’s reappearance in our lives could be exactly what my husband needs.
‘Come over tonight,’ Ed says.
No. Not so soon. We need time to talk. ‘Tonight isn’t so good,’ I say, reaching into my bag for a pen. ‘Give me your number and I’ll call you.’
Carla scribbles it down eagerly. ‘I start college soon, but I am sure I will have some free time.’ Then she stands up straight. ‘I have done a law degree in Italy and now I am going to take a transfer course and then qualify as a lawyer in England. Like you, Lily!’
Why is my chest tightening? Why do I feel as though this beautiful girl is creeping on to my territory? It’s my patch. Not hers.
‘It’s a very competitive world,’ I find myself saying. ‘Tough. Unforgiving. Are you sure about this?’
‘You were my inspiration!’ Her eyes are bright. ‘I always remember that famous boiler murder case you were working on when Ed was painting me. I studied it at university. What was the man’s name – Joe Thomas? “This man is innocent,” you kept saying. “I am going to make the rest of the world see that.” ’
Why do I feel this is a prepared speech? That there’s another reason for her coming here? Or is it me, being neurotic because the girl has mentioned the man I have tried so hard to forget?
I do my best not to think about my phone call earlier today.
‘Lily will be able to help you with your assignments,’ Ed bursts in. He’s like an excited child, keen to please. I understand why. He feels guilty. After all, he’s built a career on this girl.
‘We will be in touch to arrange dinner at our place.’ I press a card into her hand. ‘Meanwhile, here are our details.’
‘Take this too.’ My husband is pressing a twenty-pound note into her hand. ‘Get a taxi from the Tube station.’
‘Ed,’ I say, trying to stay calm. ‘Can you be back early tonight? There’s something we need to discuss.’
He pauses, his eye catching mine. Something we need to discuss. Something we need to talk about. Every time we have used that phrase in our life, it’s been to do with something big. Our marriage. The pregnancy test. Tom’s diagnosis. And now how much we should pay Carla.
‘Sure,’ he says uncertainly. ‘I’ll be there if you are.’ He laughs. ‘My wife’s really important now, you know. Practically lives in the office, she does. Keeps a duvet there.’
He hasn’t been sarcastic like this for ages. I don’t have a spare bed in the office, but I do often get back late. How can you not when you’re a partner?
‘There’s something else we haven’t told Carla,’ I add.
Ed frowns. ‘There is?’
That’s the other thing about being an artist. You can block yourself out. Hide.
‘We have a child. A boy.’ I falter as I often do when telling strangers I have a son. ‘He’s called Tom.’
‘Really?’ Carla’s eyes soften. ‘I can’t wait to meet him.’
30
Carla
Perhaps it was best that they hadn’t received her letters. It could, Carla told herself, make things easier, provided she played her cards right.
Now, as she made her way back to the hostel, all Carla could think about was the admiration in Ed’s face and the lovely warmth that flowed through her body because of it. The sight of crisp autumn leaves and the cold, early evening air that caught in her throat reminded Carla of the time she had first met Lily and Ed. In her childish eyes, they had seemed so grown up! Yet Lily had probably not been much older than she was now.
How her once-friend had changed! Carla had always remembered her as being very tall and plump. Her only asset had been that beautiful long blonde hair. ‘I would like to teach that English woman how to dress,’ Mamma was always saying. ‘You do not need money for style. It is a question of putting together the right things and then wearing them with pride.’
Well, someone, somewhere, must have taught Lily because she had style now. Carla had hardly recognized her when she had appeared in the gallery. She was much thinner and was wearing a beautifully cut jacket that resembled a Max Mara. The blonde bob looked even better in person than it had done in the picture. By framing Lily’s face, it accentuated her cheekbones. The older woman had become almost beautiful.
Ed may have changed too, but he still had that aura of kindness and that manner of speaking as if he knew exactly what you meant. You were also aware when talking to him that he was taking in your nose, your ears, your bone structure. It was what a real artist did. And how flattering that it was her portrait that had been bought by this unknown buyer!
Meanwhile, she had her first day in front of her. Law school! Carla’s heart quickened. She wanted to be good at this. She really did.
‘We will be in touch,’ Lily had promised, ‘to arrange dinner at our place.’
Perhaps by then she would have heard back from Larry.
‘Do not worry, Mamma,’ she told herself, nodding a thank you at the good-looking young man who had invited her to go through the main doors first. ‘I will make sure that justice is done.’
31
Lily
Ed is true to his word. He is not only back early from the gallery for our ‘little chat’, but he has also cooked supper. Our signature dish, we call it. Salmon en croute. It was the first meal we ate after my pregnancy test: the beginning of our new life together after its false start.
How long can you pretend for? How long will it be before someone comes from the past to bring it all back?