‘Not at all. And congratulations again on your engagement.’
And may you never know, she thought, the tears back behind her eyes, the misery of it not ending as you think it will.
Lying in bed, wide awake, she felt disturbed, confused even. Julius had done odd things to her; made her feel – goodness, what had he made her feel? Aware, she realised finally, for the first time for many months, aware of herself, as if she mattered, indeed as if anything at all mattered. For so long, she had plodded dutifully along: working, because it was the only thing to do, while not caring too much what the outcome was; being pleasant to people, while feeling no interest in them whatsoever, while avoiding them indeed whenever she could; holding herself back, locking her emotions away as things not to be trusted, not released. Julius, with his intense enthusiasms, his untidy charm, had broken into her passivity, had made her want to know more of him, more of what he thought and enjoyed and disliked and desired. She felt for him, in the purest sense, felt herself involved by the charm, the enthusiasm, the way he dressed, the way he talked, the way he was.
But he was not hers to be explored, to be sought out, investigated: he belonged to Nell. He was forbidden, dangerous territory and disturb her as he might, she had no option but to turn her back on him and walk away.
Chapter 42
Jillie didn’t actually ever intend to go in, of course. That was intensely out of character. It was a pretty little gem of a shop in the King’s Road, the big window filled with deco wonders. Jillie noticed it before she saw the sign over the door that said Noble Antiques. She was looking for a birthday present for her mother, and felt she might have found it in a beautiful marble and bronze clock, a full-breasted winged lady stretched out above the face, and would have gone straight in had she not seen the sign. Whereupon she was seized with ridiculous shyness, that Julius might think she was pursuing him – though why should she, him being practically married. But she had not been able to quite forget her reaction to him as he took her hand, a month ago at least now, the warmth, the increased intensity of colours and sounds . . .
Inside it was literally a treasure trove, of cabinets that were lovely in themselves, some mirrored, filled with china and pottery, of clocks ranged along several shelves, of statues, chairs, tables, dressing tables, of sets of hairbrushes and combs and hand-held looking glasses, of pretty limpid lamps with great fringed shades. She stood there, smiling, Julius quite forgotten, thinking this would solve the birthday problem not just today but for many years to come. There were footsteps and Nell stood in front of her, looking – well, clearly not suspicious, for how could she be, but not entirely welcoming.
‘Oh, hello,’ she said, and her light, pretty voice seemed to have developed a new edge. ‘How nice to see you. I was so grateful for your help, my agent said that chapter was the best in my draft – and I’m sorry, you just missed Julius, he’s gone dashing off to see some woman in Surrey.’
‘It’s not Julius at all,’ said Jillie. ‘I’m looking for a present for my mother and I noticed the clock in the window, the marble one, the lady with wings –’
‘Oh, yes, I liked that. I was hoping Julius would give it to me, but –’
‘Oh, well, in that case,’ said Jillie, ‘forget it. He’s probably intending to give it to you. There’s plenty of other lovely stuff here. What about that dressing table, how much is that?’
‘I haven’t the faintest idea,’ said Nell, ‘but I can find out for you, everything’s listed in this book. Let’s see, dressing table, well, sixty pounds, but hasn’t she got a dressing table?’ And Jillie said yes, yes, of course she had, but she would love to have this instead – and it was extremely charming, a semicircle of bright polished oak, with three circular mirrors, one large and central, the other two on either side of the curve. How displeased her mother would be, presented with such a dressing table, for she was fond of the one she owned which had been her grandmother’s, but that displeasure could hardly measure up to Nell’s, still clearly hostile. ‘So, yes, I might take that, or rather buy it. Do you deliver?’
‘Of course,’ said Nell. ‘Goodness, what a lovely present, lucky her. Well, look, I’ll tell Julius you were here.’
‘But only because of the shop,’ said Jillie firmly and then thought she must sound at least half mad, for why else should she be in the shop, if it was not to pursue Julius, which of course she was not.
‘You can write a cheque and he’ll arrange the delivery. When is the birthday, by the way?’
‘Next month,’ said Jillie. She really could not afford sixty pounds, especially for something she didn’t want, nor her mother either. ‘So if you could have it delivered at the weekend, that’d be wonderful, because they’re away –’
‘Oh, I’m afraid I can’t possibly say,’ said Nell. ‘Deliveries are nothing to do with me, I’m only sitting in as a favour, but I’ll leave a note for Delia, the girl who usually does it.’
‘Oh. Yes, well, thank you, Nell, that’s really kind, gosh, I must fly. Give my – my regards to Julius, won’t you?’
‘Yes, of course. So glad we could help you. And thank you again for your help to me.’
Then she ushered Jillie to the door of the shop, rather firmly, as if fearing she might stay any longer. And Jillie walked away down the King’s Road towards Sloane Square, feeling foolish, cheated and depressed.
Tom was trying to make up his mind quite how he was going to deal with Diana. He could never see her again, of course – but he had to tell her and didn’t quite know how. A phone call seemed rather casual, a letter could be ignored. So maybe he did have to go and see her. But when? And where? A visit would be dangerous: he didn’t trust himself to resist her. The sex had been extraordinary, beyond anything he had ever known. He kept reliving it in his mind and at times at unsuitable moments.
He wished with all his heart he hadn’t had sex with her. He liked being her friend, he liked her, he liked being with her, she was funny and fun, and he loved just looking at her. Tom appreciated style; and he didn’t get much of it at the moment. Caring for small children left precious little energy for adding a bold necklace or tying a scarf in a particular way to make a dress stand out. Of course he didn’t blame Alice, but he missed it. The friendship with Diana had supplied it in spades. Now he’d spoilt all that, broken the spell, changed the friendship into something dangerous and forbidden that had to be ended.