She told herself it was the Bellini, on top of her exhaustion, that did it – the sweet shock of something, a slight unsteadiness as the ground seemed to shift in some odd way, a sense of recognition of something, rather than someone, something promising, something warm, something confusing. She took his proffered hand, put her own into it, rather than shook it, then said, ‘You are so welcome,’ in response to his echo of Nell’s gratitude, and meant it. Never was any moment, any fragment of time, more welcome.
He was tall and slim, with brown eyes and rather wild dark hair; his natural expression was serious, but when he smiled it was like a child’s, a sudden brilliant expression of delight. He wore very nice clothes, which she liked – Ned had always looked marvellous, but conventionally so. Julius was more avant-garde – dressed in a very nice suit, the jacket a little longer, more waisted, than would have been considered the norm. His shirt was white silk, his blue tie almost cravat wide, tied in the loose ‘Windsor knot’, and his shoes brogues in style, but in very soft, light brown leather. Had Diana Southcott been present, she could have explained that his was the perfect personal interpretation of the Edwardian look that was so fashionable for men, expressed at its extreme by the Teddy Boys with their greased quiffed hair, their over-tight trousers, their narrow leather ties; Jillie only liked the fact that he looked unusually stylish, and had clearly given some consideration to how he dressed for the occasion. She wished promptly that she had gone to more trouble herself than the blue fine wool shirtwaister she had dragged irritably from her wardrobe.
Nell’s dress, which she had not taken in before, was, she noticed also rather irritably, quite special: a shirtwaister too, to be sure, but in green and white spotted silk, with long, very full sleeves, gathered on the shoulders and then caught in at the wrist.
Then she wondered why she cared so much what any of them was wearing. She offered them Bellinis, smiling graciously at their admiration of the house, and again at her hospitality, and said, ‘I don’t know how much help I can be to you, Nell, but I’ll try.’
Nell said, ‘The thing is, I do take my research terribly seriously, and hate getting things wrong.’
’Quite right,’ said Jillie. ‘Well, I’ll try not to let you down.’
‘Thank you.’
And then, feeling she had done enough for her for a moment or two, turned to Julius and said, ‘And Julius, what do you do?’
‘I’m an antiques dealer.’
‘How perfectly lovely. What fun.’
‘Yes, it is. Some of the time, anyway.’
‘And – do you specialise in any particular period?’
‘Yes, deco mostly. It’s coming back in, fortunately for me, especially the ceramics, and of course the bronze pieces, the borzois—’
‘He is terribly knowledgeable about it,’ said Nell, just a little automatically. ‘And he can tell repro from real just with the briefest glance.’
‘Darling, not really,’ said Julius. ‘I often make mistakes, actually,’ he said, turning back to Jillie, laughing at himself. ‘Terrible one the other day, paid over twenty guineas for something worth ten shillings.’
‘But that’s jolly rare,’ said Nell. ‘Usually you’re a genius at it.’
‘No more than you are at your writing,’ said Julius, smiling at her.
How sweet they were, Jillie thought. Totally in love. Lucky, lucky them.
‘Well, you must tell us more about it later. My mother loves deco, especially Clarice Cliff, in fact she’s got a complete tea set –’
‘My God,’ said Julius. ‘Really? Not – not in the crocus design?’
‘Not sure. We can go and look later, it’s in a cabinet in the morning room.’
‘I’d love that.’
‘You would, wouldn’t you?’ said Nell. ‘Gosh, we didn’t expect this, both of us so lucky.’
‘I hope you’ll go on thinking so,’ said Jillie. ‘Tell me, Nell, who is your publisher?’
‘Well,’ she said, rather reluctantly, ‘at the moment I’m between publishers.’ She blushed, and then giggled rather self-consciously. ‘Which actually means I haven’t got one – quite. But I have got a very good agent.’
‘That’s more than half the battle,’ said Josh. The evening was working out rather better than he had expected. So far anyway. He hadn’t seen Jillie so animated for a very long time.
‘She’ll find you someone soon,’ said Julius. ‘You’re so good.’
‘Well, let’s go in to dinner, and you can tell me about it, the plot and so on,’ Jillie said, thinking that this mutual adoration society could quite quickly get boring.
‘Wonderful,’ said Nell. ‘Can I help, Josh?’ He was gathering glasses together, overloading the tray rather dangerously. They disappeared towards the kitchen.
Jillie stood up and smiled at Julius. She felt odd, being alone with him. As if it was dangerous. How stupid. But he clearly felt it too; the easy relaxation had gone, and he was obviously thinking rather wildly of something to say. Finally, he managed to remark on the beauty of their garden.
‘And so big.’
‘Yes, we’re very lucky. Or rather they are, I really shouldn’t be here at all, bit old to be living at home but I’ve only just passed my finals. Now I have to find some hospital that will have me. I’m doing a locum at the moment.’
‘You can’t stay where you’ve trained?’
‘No, sadly not. They only keep about one student each year, and she has to be outstanding. I’m not. And Miss Moran, the big white chief surgeon, has taken against me, unfortunately. I’m not very good and I irritate her.’
There was a silence. Then Julius said, ‘I can’t imagine anyone being irritated by you.’ He spoke very seriously, presenting the opinion not as a meaningless compliment, but something he needed to say.
‘Well,’ said Jillie, ‘I am a bit nervous and clumsy, and those are two things surgeons absolutely cannot be. And – well, I missed a lot last year, about six weeks altogether.’
‘Were you ill?’
‘Sort of – let’s go in, shall we?’
‘Sorry,’ he said, looking stricken, sensing a forbidden territory. ‘I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to cross-question you –’
‘No, no, it’s fine. Honestly. You weren’t,’ she said, flustered on his behalf. ‘Come on, hope you’re hungry . . .’
They were finally gone; she felt exhausted. Nell’s questions had been predictable, easy to answer – yes, it was a man’s world, surgery, you had to prove yourself twice as good as they were; no, the worst hostility tended to come not from the other doctors, you just had to flirt with them. Jillie didn’t exactly like her – she was quite outstandingly self-confident – but her questions were well thought through, and she seemed genuinely eager to learn.
Jillie did ask them when they planned to get married and Nell said, ‘Oh, next spring soonest – so much to arrange, isn’t there, darling? We’ve actually only just got engaged.’
Jillie offered her congratulations, then asked Julius if he would like to see the Clarice Cliff tea service in its cabinet and he stood there, gazing at it, his face very solemn, and then turned to her with his brilliant smile, and said, ‘Thank you so much. It’s – well, it’s wonderful. Wonderful things.’
He sounded rather like Harold Carter, confronted by the tomb of Tutankhamun for the first time, as reverent and as astonished.
‘It’s been the most wonderful evening,’ he said, his brown eyes very serious on hers. ‘I’ve loved it. You’ve been wonderful to Nell –’