Lady: Impossible (34 page)

‘There’s no such thing, Father. Not naturally, anyway.’
 

I blush, knowing the bouquet must be from Oliver. At the same time, however, the rush of excitement I feel is immediately tempered by the curious sight of Blair holding it out for me. What gets me is that I know his smile is fake. He probably wants to throw the flowers into a vat of acid, yet here he is, doing his job – with a smile on his face.
 

‘Would you like to hold them before I put them in a vase?’ he asks. ‘There’s a card attached as well.’

I’m hurting from this.
 

Oliver. Think of Oliver.

‘Yes, let me take a look.’ I step forward and accept the flowers, my heart pounding as I do so. Suddenly I find myself incapable of reading the card in front of him, thinking it insensitive. ‘Actually, maybe you should find a vase first.’

He accepts the flowers when I hold them back out for him. ‘Yes, m’lady.’

We’re not alone, but I wish we were. I’m distressed by my own silence. I’ve slept with this man, and here he is, the inadvertent middleman between my suitor and me.
 

Father interrupts the moment. ‘Blue roses? I’m sure I’ve heard of them before.’

‘
The Glass Menagerie
,’ Blair and I say in unison.

Embarrassingly, my cheeks become hotter, causing me to cover them with my hands. Blair, however, takes it all in stride.

‘Tennessee Williams, m’lord. Perhaps you’ve seen the play?’

‘Williams, you say? Well, if it’s American theatre, then it’s best not to speak of it near my wife. Let’s just say, she’s not the biggest fan of American culture.’

‘Duly noted, m’lord.’ He steps backwards out of the room. ‘I’ll put these in a vase, m’lady, and deliver them to your room.’

I try to keep my voice steady. ‘Thank you.’

I stare at the empty doorway for much longer than I should. Luckily, when I turn around to face my father again, I find him flicking through the contents of the folder.

‘An assessment of my mistakes.’ He looks up from the paperwork. ‘I hope Carrington isn’t going to be aghast by this. I hear he’s quite the genius.’

I shuffle my feet. ‘Whatever it takes to fix the situation.’

‘Yes. And if it involves digging deeper into my mistakes, then I must accept that reality.’

All I can do is nod, hoping I too can accept whatever reality might be staring me in the face.

Chapter 17:

Abby is absolutely horrified when I tell her about the financial setback, so much so that I have to physically restrain her from running downstairs to the study, where Andrew and my parents are ensconced in a meeting. Two grown women locked in a half-wrestle may sound titillating to some, but it is, in fact, the most ridiculous spectacle.
 

There must be no disruption to the meeting. We have to stay here and talk.

‘Millie, this is terrible! How could Andrew not have told me?’

‘He left it up to me to tell you,’ I say, struggling to hold her by the arms. ‘Jeez, when did you get so strong?’

She thrashes about, hair flicking from side to side in a sort of dignified moshing movement. ‘Yoga arms. Madonna.’

After almost losing my footing, I back up against the doorway and attempt to shut my bedroom door with my foot, only to have the door bang against her snakeskin Louboutins. She yelps, probably from potential shoe damage rather than physical pain.

Shit. ‘Oh my God, I’m so sorry.’
 

Yoga or not, she’s left a little breathless from the battle, stepping back and hopping twice on the unaffected leg. ‘Going for the shoes. Low blow. Classic move.’

‘I really am sorry.’ I recoil when she lunges forward, but then realise she’s going for a hug, not a body-slam. The embrace is exactly what I need – comfort from someone who understands me.

‘You can’t even afford to buy shoes anymore,’ she says, squeezing me tighter.

‘Well, I can, but not from anywhere interesting.’

She releases me, taking me by the hands instead. ‘Maybe Andrew can find a buyer. He has lots of connections. Or maybe Oliver will be so taken by you that he won’t care that the estate doesn’t come as part of the deal. Or maybe
he’ll
be the one to buy it. Show me the flowers and card?’

It’s difficult to muster enthusiasm, even with Oliver’s renewed interest. ‘I moved them downstairs. I stared at them all Monday and yesterday. I nearly went insane with worry: what if he changes his mind again?’

‘Show me, show me, show me. I’m certain he’s your ticket out of this awful mess.’ She shakes her head. ‘I can’t believe this has happened.’

‘Me neither. I feel like a zombie. Not that zombies have to care about their inheritance, as they’re the ones who are dead.’ I pull one of my arms away and place my hand on the doorknob. ‘Promise you won’t run into the meeting.’

‘Cross my heart, hope to die, stick a stick in my eye.’

‘It’s “stick a needle in my eye”.’

‘Yeah, but I don’t like needles.’

‘Right. But you like sticks?’

She stomps her feet impatiently. ‘Show me the flowers!’

With a heavy sigh, I lead us out of the room, the two of us holding hands like best friends in year eight. Every time I look at her, she seems closer to tears. My guess is that she’s wondering how she’d fare if she was in my situation. It’s practically unimaginable.

‘Maybe it’s not as bad as your father thinks,’ she says as we make it to the ground floor.

‘Oh, it’s
definitely
bad. That’s why he was so afraid to tell us.’

I immediately steer her away from the direction of the study, taking her the long way around to the piano room. That’s where I moved the flowers, thinking they’d be happier next to the sunny window instead of overwhelmed in my all too yellow room. However, when we get there, we find Blair in plain clothes, transferring the flowers to a different vase.

He bows his head. ‘Your Ladyship. Mrs Carrington. I’ll soon be out of your way. Just changing the vase – this one is a crystal Baccarat. Apparently it was your grandmother’s, m’lady?’

I drop Abby’s hand, alarmed that he’s still here. It’s his day off. Yet here he is in jeans and a dark-grey V-neck top, carrying out duties as he normally would.

‘Um, I thought you’d left for the day.’
 

‘Oh, I’ll be off soon. Overslept this morning.’ He takes the time to rearrange a few of the orchids, apparently not satisfied with the presentation. ‘I’m no good at this sort of thing. Perhaps you and Mrs Carrington would like to try?’

Abby comes off much brighter than me, though she too seems to be caught off guard. ‘We’ll have a go.’

I wring my hands, not even bothering to hide my anxiety. ‘Yes, we can do that.’

He rewards us with a lopsided grin. I die a little on the inside, hating the continued denial of our trysts and wishing I was free to keep him.

‘Thanks. I don’t want to miss my bus. Well, I already have, but you know what I mean.’ He scratches the back of his neck before digging his hands into his jean pockets, his bare feet adding to the casual look. ‘Anyway, I’d best be off.’
 

I snap my fingers and point to the vase that’s been replaced. ‘Don’t forget that.’

‘Oh, of course.’
 

He turns to pick up the vase, only to be halted by Abby’s voice.

‘No, we’ll take care of that. She was joking. You don’t want to be late for the, uh, public transportation thing.’

I stare blankly at her before returning my attention to Blair. ‘Yes, those buses can be… troublesome.’

I clearly have no idea what I’m talking about. Abby neither. Blair raises his hands and leaves the vase alone, striding past us to get to the doorway.
 

‘M’lady. Mrs Carrington. Have a good day.’

Abby manages to wave. I, on the other hand, continue to gawk, mouth still open after he’s gone.

How can he be this calm around me? Is it easy for him to act this way now? Days and days of indifference, of treating me like any other person. It’s immature of me to sulk, but lately all I’ve wanted to do is scream when he’s around – in a true ‘this is an injustice’ kind of way, rather than an ‘I need One Direction concert tickets’ kind of way.

‘Mills?’

With my shoulders slumped, I plod over to the table where the flowers are. ‘I’m fine, I’m fine.’

‘You are not fine.’ She joins me at the table and puts an arm around my shoulders. ‘Your butler, on the other hand…’

I nudge her in the ribs, pouting. ‘Don’t. I can’t take it today.’

‘All right, no teasing.’ She removes her arm and picks up the card sitting in front of the new vase. ‘May I read?’

‘You may.’
 

She clears her throat and reads out the printed message:

Millie,

How mistaken I was in thinking I could forget you. I’m in Zurich at the moment but, if you’ll let me, I’d like to take you out when I’m home – not for another ten days, unfortunately, but I can call you on Saturday to see if you’re still interested. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy these flowers.

Yours truly,

Oliver

Nerves get the better of me again. I clutch my stomach and slow my breathing. All this sentiment may be for nothing if Andrew’s financial assessment proves direr than expected. Oliver won’t want anything to do with me if complete ruin is on the cards – the tabloids will be all over it like shoppers at a sample sale. I just have to hope that Andrew is confident that selling will leave us with enough funds to continue living comfortably, albeit without Silsbury Hall, and that any ensuing gossip blows over quickly.

‘Have you tried calling him?’ Abby asks, gently placing the card back on the table.

‘Calling? No. I don’t want to seem too keen. Besides, I’m not sure if his mobile will be connected in Switzerland.’

‘I’m sure it would be.’ She pauses to take a closer look at the flowers, moving an orchid to the front. ‘Andrew says clients get very cross when he’s unreachable.’

‘Money does tend to make people edgy.’

‘Very true. Look, I’m no expert, but if you call him before the weekend – finances permitting – I think he’ll be chuffed. Settling things with Al, these flowers and broaching the subject of a date are all good signs.’

‘Definitely good signs.’

She gives me a sidelong glance. ‘You don’t look excited. You can still be excited, even with the terrible news.’

I shrug. ‘It’s called being cautious.’

Not wanting to elaborate, I busy myself with the arrangement, adjusting the height of the orchids until I’m satisfied. Meanwhile, Abby takes interest in the vase, running her fingertips across the intricate crystal and rotating the base when I’m done with the flowers.
 

‘How much do you think it’s worth?’ I ask, admiring how it looks in the white light.

‘Ten thousand, probably. But it’s vintage, so maybe a little more.’

‘I should go around the house valuing everything. Price tag, anyone?’

‘Let’s wait and see how things go. I mean –’ She stops suddenly, apparently distracted by something she’s seen through the window. I follow suit when she cranes her neck to the right, keen to see what’s going on.

I come around to her other side, unable to see what she’s spotted. ‘What?’

‘There’s a girl at the gate. Do you think she’s a girl guide or something?’

She stands aside, allowing me to see through to the gate. There is someone there: a girl pacing up and down and occasionally rubbing her eyes.

‘I think that’s Julie. Blair’s sister.’

‘Really? But Blair just left, didn’t he?’

‘Maybe he hasn’t yet. Maybe she’s waiting for him?’

‘How did she get here? She doesn’t look old enough to drive.’

I mimic Abby’s awkward intonation from before. ‘The, uh, public transportation thing?’

‘Ooh, should we say hello? I think she’s spotted us!’
 

Indeed, Julie has stopped pacing and is now looking in our direction. I’m sure it’s her. She’s wearing the same grey jeans as when I first met her, this time paired with a salmon-pink top.

I hesitate. ‘Blair won’t like it if we talk to her.’

‘If he slept in, and was supposed to leave earlier, then why is she here now?’

‘Hmm. I’ll call him.’

I take my phone out of my skirt pocket and call Blair, who takes until the sixth ring to answer.
 

‘Yes, m’lady?’

‘Where are you right now? Have you left the house?’

‘I’m walking to the bus stop. Is something the matter?’

‘Um, Julie’s here. Were you supposed to meet her?’

‘Julie?’ He certainly sounds shocked. ‘Why is she at the house?’

‘I don’t know. That’s why I’m calling you.’

He groans, obviously not needing this in his day. ‘Bloody hell. I’m walking back now. I’m so sorry about this.’

He hangs up without saying goodbye, like he’s on a TV crime series where there’s no time for that kind of thing. Who knows, maybe he’s walking down the street sporting a pair of aviators and a CSI jacket?
 

I turn to Abby, who’s decided to wave to Julie even though they’ve never met before.
 

‘He’s coming back now.’

She whacks me on the arm, jumping with excitement. ‘Oh look, she waved back!’

‘Yes, children are capable of doing that.’

‘Shouldn’t we go and see if she’s all right?’

I think it over. ‘I suppose so. He can’t have a go at us for checking, surely.’

Actually, he could. But I don’t want to be told off for not acknowledging her, either.

We quickly make our way to the front door and step out onto the garden path, with Julie waving shyly as we approach. Abby falls back, following behind me, either because I’m the one who Julie is familiar with or because she doesn’t really know how to deal with young people.
 

‘Hi, Julie.’ I unlock the gate and swing it open, but am taken aback when I see that she’s been crying. ‘Is everything okay?’

‘Is my brother here?’ she asks, lip quivering.

Oh no. This doesn’t sound good.
 

‘He’s coming back right now. He was about to catch the bus.’