Love Letters (40 page)

‘You’re not very confident of Damien’s time-keeping,’ said Veronica, having put down the paper. ‘It’s the trains I worry about, which is why Anne and I came by car. Fortunately we live quite near to each other.’

‘What time –?’ Fenella stopped, belatedly aware that it wasn’t polite to ask when people were leaving.

‘In about half an hour,’ said Veronica reassuringly. ‘The car’s packed already and Anne’s just taking some photos of your lovely wild garden.’

‘We make sure it’s tamed in time for the wedding season but it soon grows unruly again. Everyone seems to prefer it that way,’ said Fenella.

Vernonica agreed that wild was wonderful.

‘Anyone need a lift to the station or anything?’ asked Laura. ‘No? Then when I’ve finished this, I’ll get upstairs to the office, start sorting out thank-you letters and things.’ She turned to Veronica. ‘You won’t go without telling me? You and Anne have been so brilliant.’

Veronica patted Laura’s shoulder as she got up. ‘Well, any time you want me – us – again, just say the word. It’s been a cracking festival, it really has, well done!’

After Veronica and Anne had been seen off in a throaty roar everyone drifted back to the kitchen.

‘It’s been really odd, hasn’t it?’ said Fenella, sliding the kettle on to the hot plate. ‘We’ve spent most of the festival wondering if Dermot was going to turn up. Then he whistled in, did two amazing events, and was helicoptered out again. It’s as if he was never here, in a way.’

‘Sort of,’ said Laura, feeling that in some ways her life would have been easier if he hadn’t whistled in.

‘But he made the festival such a roaring success. And all down to you, Laura.’ She paused. ‘You’ve been such a star, getting Dermot here and everything. Jacob Stone’s said to give you a bonus.’

‘Oh, you don’t need—’

‘Then I explained that we couldn’t, so he’s given you one instead.’

Laura was mortified. ‘You mean, after all that, we didn’t make a profit?’

‘Well, we did,’ said Rupert. ‘But not a huge one. Jacob emailed me to say he was going to give you two thousand pounds, on top of your fee.’

‘That’s amazing!’ said Laura when she had taken this in. ‘That’s so kind of him!’ She realised she hadn’t really given much thought to where her next pay cheque was coming from.

‘Dermot told him how much you’d personally done to get him here, before he went to California.’

Laura swallowed, hoping he hadn’t done this in too much detail. ‘Oh. So Jacob Stone’s gone to California?’

‘No, Dermot has. A film deal. Eleanora says it may not come off, but apparently lots of people have been interested for ages and he’s never entertained the idea before. It’s for his first book.’

‘Oh, yes. It would make a lovely film. So what’s changed? Why is he willing to have it made into a film now?’ That was it – she’d never see him again. A part of her wept, even if it was probably for the best.

‘It’s losing his writer’s block, so Eleanora said.’ Fenella frowned. ‘You did know that, didn’t you? It wasn’t just the short story, he’s writing a novel as well.’

Laura felt sick. ‘No I didn’t know that. That’s brilliant news.’ It was but she couldn’t help feeling like a discarded shoe. She’d been useful and now she wasn’t needed any more. And why hadn’t he told her? The fact that he’d hardly had a chance to tell her and that that was mostly her fault was small consolation. Maybe that’s what he’d been trying to tell her on the phone. She’d deleted a couple of messages before she’d even read them. She asked herself now if she’d rather have Dermot, writing and happy but away from her, or with her and blocked. At first it seemed like a Faustian pact she was glad she didn’t have to make, but the more she thought about it, in the grand scheme of things his happiness seemed more important than her own. That was love for you.

‘We were saying – weren’t we, Rupert? – that we must have a party with everyone who’s been involved in the festival. Once we’re not doing back-to-back weddings. We could plan what we’re doing for the festival next year.’

Laura laughed, grateful for the diversion. ‘How you can even think of another festival? This one isn’t over yet.’

The last two events felt a bit anticlimactic to Laura. Everyone was very tired and although the Somerby hospitality flowed as ever, even Fenella was losing her enthusiasm for it a bit. But at last it was just Laura, Rupert and Fenella, back in the kitchen.

‘So, have you got any plans?’ asked Fenella.

‘What? After writing all the thank-you letters, you mean?’ Laura managed a cheery laugh. In fact she had no idea what she would do now. She thought she might go and stay with Grant and look for jobs and flats in his area.

‘Mm.’ Fenella was looking at her rather intensely and Laura felt it must be because she was yearning to have her house to herself again.

‘Well, I thought—’

‘Can I offer you a job? You can have your converted cow shed for as long as you need it.’

Laura got up and put her arm round Fenella’s shoulders. ‘You’ve been brilliant and are so kind, but . . .’

‘Books are your thing?’

‘Told you,’ said Rupert. He was doing the crossword as was his habit.

‘I thought it was worth a try,’ said Fenella, ‘but if you won’t work for me, you must ring Eleanora. She said you were to if you seemed jobless and at a loose end. Are you?’

Laura laughed. ‘I suppose I am, really.’

‘Then she’s got an idea.’ Fenella said this as if the idea might be on the wackier side of totally insane.

‘Oh, hasn’t she gone to the States with Dermot?’

Fenella dismissed this idea. ‘Oh no, she says she’s too old for California. A little light shopping in New York is fine, but Dermot has an American agent as well as an agent for his film rights, so he doesn’t need her.’ She took a breath. ‘Does the thought of ringing her horrify you? You never know with her. Sometimes her ideas are terrific, but sometimes they’re just mad. She suggested that Rupes and I went crocodile-hunting for our honeymoon.’

Laura giggled. Bless Fenella, she was going to miss her. ‘I’ll give her a ring. There’s no harm in finding out what she has in mind. And I’ll call Grant as soon as I’ve done that. Finding a flat will be so much easier, thanks to Jacob Stone’s bonus.’

‘Well, ring Eleanora first,’ said Fenella.

‘Darling!’ said Eleanora, when at last Laura was put through. ‘Come to lunch tomorrow. There’s someone I want you to meet.’

‘Um . . .’ This could mean anything from a nearly blind date to a job opportunity. As Fenella had said, Eleanora was capable of anything.

‘The Grove, at twelve-thirty. That OK? Trains fit in? Don’t try and drive, darling. There’s nowhere to park.’

Laura rang Eleanora’s office a few minutes after this brief phone call to find the address of the restaurant. Eleanora’s advice to Laura not to drive was unnecessary; the thought of a five-hour drive twice in one day made her feel weak. Add lunch with Eleanora and she’d be on her knees.

‘You don’t know what she’s got in mind, do you?’ Laura asked Fenella while the three of them huddled down one end of the kitchen table and ate tinned tomato soup with white bread.

‘Not a clue,’ said Fenella. ‘But she was fantastically impressed by all you did with the festival. Maybe she wants you to run another one.’

‘Let me get over this one first. I—’

‘Hey!’ Rupert shouted. ‘Look at this! There’s a full-page article about us!’

Instantly they were all jostling to read it.

‘And it’s not just about Dermot!’ said Fenella proudly, when she’d read a bit. ‘Listen.
Somerby is to festivals as those delightful boutique hotels are to big chains. Add a literary star who seemed to have dropped out of the firmament to the mix and you have something really special
.’

Laura grabbed the paper now. ‘We need to buy lots of copies and make a scrapbook. Other papers might have articles too. It’ll be so good for next year. We can put extracts in the brochure.’ She felt herself brightening despite her heartache.

‘I’m so glad there’s going to be a next year,’ said Rupert, patting Laura’s shoulder. ‘As long as you run it for us.’

Laura laughed. ‘And in the meantime, I’ve got Eleanora!’

Chapter Twenty-One

Fenella had been firm; Laura was to take a taxi to the restaurant from the station. If it meant she was a little early, well, she could wander round the streets for a bit, as long as she didn’t get lost. The restaurant was in Mayfair so the surrounding shops were only for looking in, not actually entering, but Laura did manage to find her way back to the restaurant when she finally decided the time was right – five minutes after the time for which she was invited, to give Eleanora time to arrive.

Except that Eleanora hadn’t arrived, although when Laura asked for her at least her name was recognised. She was shown to a table and asked if she wanted anything to drink.

‘A glass of white wine and some fizzy water please.’ This way she could have an encouraging slug of neat wine, and then turn it into a spritzer if she wanted to.

The restaurant was full of people who seemed to have very little interest in the food. They were talking business to each other at a hundred miles an hour. There were no couples looking into each other’s eyes, girlfriends exchanging confidences, or mothers and daughters having meaningful talks. Everyone here was working. Laura enjoyed people-watching, and would have had more fun with it today had she not been anxious about the lunch.

What was Eleanora up to? She’d given Laura what had turned out to be her big break, introducing her to Fenella and Rupert and the Somerby Festival. Maybe, as Fen had said, this really was another job opportunity.

As she fiddled with her napkin and adjusted her perfectly aligned knife and fork, Laura reflected on all she had learnt since that first meeting. Up until then all her life’s learning had been through books, fiction mostly. Since then it had been real life, sometimes painfully real.

She deliberately turned her mind away from Dermot. One day she would look back at her time with him and smile, see it for what it was, a lovely introduction to sex and, for her, love. Now it was an aching wound, poisoned by a growing sense of betrayal. Once her feelings of embarrassment and humiliation had lessened a little, a sense that he hadn’t really been mindful of her feelings despite all his ‘concern’ had gradually built inside her. It didn’t make her love him any less or take away the pain but it strengthened her resolve to make every effort she could to get over him, as quickly as mending a broken heart ever could. Having plenty of distractions like lunch today helped.

At last Eleanora appeared with a man probably in his late thirties or early forties in her wake. Laura relaxed. She’d long ago stopped feeling nervous about the actual meeting. She was just worrying about Eleanora not turning up. Now she was here, she relaxed.

‘Darling, this is Gerald O’Brien, another Irishman, but don’t hold that against him.’

Laura had to smile and allowed the man to take her hand. ‘How do you do?’ he said formally. ‘In England people seem awfully keen on kissing each other when they’re introduced, but I’m a bit old-fashioned.’ He smiled apologetically and Laura was touched.

For a few seconds she searched for traces of Dermot’s voice in Gerald O’Brien’s, but she couldn’t find any. Of course there were hundreds of accents and variations of accents from Ireland, but part of her had hoped for some connection with the accent uppermost in her mind.

‘I am too, I think,’ she said, shaking his hand. ‘A bit old-fashioned, I mean.’

Eleanora, having kissed Laura, plumped on to her chair with a little puff of air as if she had descended from a height. ‘I see you’ve started on the wine already, good girl. Let’s have a bottle. I know drinking at lunchtime has quite gone out with the younger crowd, but I still enjoy a glass or two with my lunch.’

She perused the wine list with concentration. Gerald O’Brien and Laura exchanged shy glances. He was not your stereotypical Irishman, thought Laura. He was quite charming enough but he had none of the easy blarney that seemed to ooze from Dermot. She pushed down the familiar ache.

The ordering didn’t take long. Laura had had time to change her mind several times while she was waiting and both Gerald and Eleanora were decisive. The wine came and was poured and Eleanora put her elbows on the table like a woman about to make a statement. Then she caught sight of someone over the other side of the room. ‘Oh my God!’ she said. ‘So sorry – got to table hop although it’s frightfully bad manners – but it’s Susie Blanquette. And she’s with Hubert von Trapp! How dare she? She promised she wouldn’t look at another publisher until she’d finished her novel and had something to sell! We were going to have a beauty parade and now it looks as if she’d going with Hubert. Excuse me. Must stop this!’

Laura found herself smiling. Only Eleanora could leave two quite obviously shy people on their own, at their first meeting, before they could even pretend to know each other well enough to make conversation.