Oh, God, it couldn’t be. But it was. Him. Unmistakably, horribly him. Now what did she do? He was carrying two glasses of wine across the bar; if she was quick, bolted for the ladies, she might just—‘Darling. Look where you’re going. I think I’d better get our drinks.’ It was her mother; she had taken her to see The Diary of Anne Frank as a treat: ‘You look so badly in need of cheering up, darling,’ she had said, waving the tickets over the breakfast table. Hardly cheering-up fodder, Jillie had thought, having read the book, but it was kind of her mother and she was trying very hard to enjoy it. Now almost impossible, having discovered Julius and, she presumed, Nell was in the audience.
He had rung her every day for a while, saying, ‘I think we should talk,’ or, ‘I’m missing you terribly.’ At first she said, ‘I don’t see the point,’ but as he persisted, she had moved on to simply putting the phone down on him; finally the message seemed to have got through.
She felt terrible still; any virtuous glow that such strength of will might have rewarded her with, entirely eluded her, her only comfort being that she would probably never have to see him again.
Now the worst had happened: had materialised before her eyes, and under the worst possible circumstances. Had she only been with some handsome, attentive man, at least her pride would have been saved; but she was with her mother. Who went to the theatre with their mother, for God’s sake? Lonely, friendless, certainly boyfriendless people, that was who – and almost worse, she was wearing the same shapeless dress she had worn all week, having come straight from the hospital. Julius looked as marvellous as always in a black velvet suit and pale blue shirt, and no doubt, if Nell was there, she would be looking equally marvellous.
He had seen her and waved one of the glasses at her – looking, she had to admit, and how nice that was – totally delighted.
‘Jillie!’ he said, reaching her finally. ‘How very nice, how are you?’
‘I’m – very well,’ she said primly, longing more than anything to hug him, kiss him possibly, tell him how wonderful it was to see him. ‘Is – er – is Nell here?’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Yes, she’s in the ladies.’ No hiding place there, then. ‘Jillie,’ he said then. ‘Jillie, I wanted to –’ but there was her mother, smiling, and worse, there was Nell saying, ‘Jillie, how lovely –’ and Julius was offering to get them all another drink.
Then the five-minute bell went, which meant release and relief. Only then Julius said, ‘Look, have you eaten? We’re going to Simpson’s for supper afterwards, would you like to join us?’
‘How very kind, and yes, why not?’ said Geraldine. ‘Jillie, wouldn’t that be fun?’
And Jillie was still trying to find an excuse, any excuse at all, when the final bell went and Julius and Nell disappeared, and Jillie looked at her mother and said, ‘Mummy, I can’t go to Simpson’s dressed like this. I simply can’t, and anyway, I’m awfully tired, you know I am.’
‘Well, it’s too late now,’ said her mother firmly. ‘It will seem appallingly rude to change the arrangement.’ Whereupon Jillie burst into tears, in the mercifully almost-empty bar and said, ‘You should have asked me, not just accepted for us both. I can’t go, I just can’t.’
‘Oh, darling!’ said her mother. ‘All right, I’ll get a note to them. Do you want to leave now?’ and Jillie, struggling to contain not just her tears but her grief, said, ‘If you don’t terribly mind, I’m so sorry . . .’
‘I don’t mind. The whole idea was to cheer you up – it’s backfired horribly, and I can see why. Let’s go and find a taxi and get you home.’
She said no more until they were safely at number five; there, making hot chocolate for them both, she said only, ‘You should have told me, Jillie,’ embraced her daughter and sent her up to bed.
Jillie lay awake for much of the night, alternately weeping and thinking that whichever of the good fairies had attended her christening had done her a great disservice in bestowing upon her such high principles, and reflecting also that, if things had been the other way round, Nell Henderson would probably have hesitated for no more than a moment before setting to work procuring Julius for herself.
‘The beef all right?’ Julius asked now.
‘What? Oh – yes, lovely, thank you.’
‘Good. My kidneys are superb.’
And they then returned to their respective thoughts: Nell of Seth Gilbert, her rather attractive editor; Julius of Jillie Curtis in terms distinctly unsuitable for a couple who were planning their wedding to one another . . .
The day with the cabinet minister had gone extremely well. He had been far more proactive than Josh had predicted, eager to meet the constituents, to ask them of their voting intentions, absorbing any hostile reaction with calm good humour. He suggested to Tom that he offered to drive supporters to the polling stations – ‘Never fails to please ’em, swung many a don’t-know round’ – smiled obligingly at the press, and even – as Josh had predicted – kissed several babies, including Charlie, who didn’t scream in protest.
He also took rather a fancy to Alice, who was looking inevitably tired, but very pretty in a white blouse and red skirt and jacket. He sat next to her at the lunch at the working men’s club, and insisted on asking for second helpings for her of the chicken on the menu, claiming she needed feeding up.
He was clearly impressed by the number of people who knew both her and Tom, who made reference to things they had attended, the supermarket openings, the prize-givings, the concerts.
‘Bloody boring, most of them. You deserve to win,’ he said, pumping Tom by the hand at the end of the day. ‘You’ve obviously worked extremely hard down here, and even if you don’t win, I can tell you I’m not the only one to have you marked as part of the party’s future. I like the way you’ve hung your cap on the NHS and Nye Bevan too. It’s a way of standing out. If only he’d follow your example, rather than getting into a lather over the wretched bomb.’
Tom was so overwhelmed by the concept of Nye Bevan following his example that he went completely white; watching him, Alice really thought he was about to faint.
She discovered as they drove home, Charlie now giving up all pretence of being the good baby he had been impersonating all day, and screaming the entire way, that she had enjoyed her day out. ‘I’ll do this again,’ she said to Tom, ‘providing Mummy can have the other two. And if you really think it helps.’
Tom said there was no think about it, it did help enormously; and the household went to bed that night in a rare state of peace and harmony, Alice deciding that from tomorrow, screams or no screams, Charlie was going on the bottle.
Tom’s last thought was that he had, with a dollop of good luck and a degree of cunning, navigated some fairly stormy waters. His constituents seemed pleased with him, and wherever possible he told them that he had been offered an alternative, but had turned it down out of loyalty to them. Alice actually wanted to move to Purbridge, or rather Sandbanks, and Diana seemed to have decided not to do her worst – whatever that might be.
Chapter 54
‘You know, of course, the top floors of the Pierre are modelled on the Royal Chapel at Versailles?’
‘I – didn’t actually,’ said Diana, ‘but that is completely fascinating.’
‘And did you know that the gala opening dinner was prepared by Escoffier himself?’