Chapter 43

Jim and I didn't talk much on the flight home. I read A Room with a View, and he watched some football match on his phone. While he was waiting for me to collect my suitcase from the carousel at Gatwick airport, he went to sit down and scrolled his phone. When I approached him, wheeling my case, he looked up and threw me a smile. But it was a smile that didn't show in his eyes, and I sensed something was wrong.

‘What's the matter?' I said.

‘What do you mean?'

‘You look as though you just found something out on your phone.'

‘The big oak in the Dairy Field was blown down during a storm last night.'

I knew how fond he was of that tree.

‘Oh, I'm sorry. That's a real shame.'

‘It was over two hundred years old. A real beauty too.'

‘I remember you telling me that day we went to the gamekeeper's cottage.'

‘Also, this means I'll be thrown straight into getting it sorted out first thing tomorrow.'

‘Not the best end to our trip.'

‘It wasn't the best trip anyway,' he said. I looked at him, and he pressed his lips together.

‘I know.'

Soon we were driving through the gates at Gatley Hall. Jim parked, and wheeled my case back to Rose Cottage, and we nodded and said, ‘Goodnight,' outside our front doors.

I took a shower and went to bed with a cup of tea. In the morning I'd email Tabitha, and do everything I could to persuade her to come over and see Margaret.

When waking up, I felt at home for the first time at Rose Cottage. Being away from Gatley Hall had given me a chance to appreciate my new life. Leaving my job at the Frampton Gallery had been the right decision. Breaking up with Miles had also done me the world of good. Living a slower life and tapping into my creative side with the sketching and painting and taking photos was helping me to grieve for my father. And, although I knew the pain of losing him would never truly go away, it was beginning to lessen. I was grateful to have found a way to alleviate the grief in some small way.

There was still the matter of me and Jim. I hadn't expected anything to happen in Florence, and hoped that one kiss hadn't ruined our friendship. He was almost self-sabotaging by continuing his situationship with Samantha, because there was no future in it. I'd made it clear that with me it was either all or nothing, and that would mean dealing with his emotions. Jim didn't seem ready for any of that. And perhaps I wasn't either after being with Miles for so long. Although I'd loved him, deep down I had known he was wrong for me for the last year or so of us being together. On a subconscious level, I knew he wouldn't provide me with what I wanted – the family I'd never had when growing up. I'd envied my friends at school and university for having siblings and a father who wanted to know them and a mother with maternal instincts. Maybe I'd delayed leaving him because I was afraid of uprooting my whole life. Dad dying and what happened subsequently had pushed me into making the changes I needed.

All I could do was wait for Jim to decide what he wanted. If it was meant to be, it would happen. In the meantime, if he needed a friend to talk through the Tabitha situation with, I'd be there. I would always be there for him and couldn't imagine not having him in my life.

I got out of bed and put on jeans and a t-shirt. The weather wasn't as hot as Italy, but warm enough for short sleeves. Did I really need to wear smart clothes for work every day? They didn't really fit with the laid-back environment at Gatley Hall. Perhaps I'd wear my old work clothes one day a week, just to keep my hand in.

When I stepped outside, I saw the roses had started to bloom and they rambled up the trellis on the wall between the front doors. They were a pastel-pink colour and I leant forwards to inhale their sweet scent. Standing back, I admired how beautiful the cottage looked and took a photo on my phone. It would make a lovely painting. As I walked to the Stables, I noticed that the roses were also blooming in the walled garden. At the Stables, I ordered a takeaway coffee along with a croissant, then went to the office and called Helen.

‘Hello, Claire,' she said.

‘How's it going?' I said.

‘A bit hectic here this morning as I'm dealing with the PR for this oak tree. It's over two hundred years old so it's getting some attention, from the national newspapers as well. I'm writing a press release as we speak and need to update the social media channels. Ed is out there taking photos for us.'

‘Oh, okay.'

‘How was the trip?'

‘It was good, thank you.'

‘A success, then?'

‘Well, we found Tabitha, and I gave her my card. I'm hoping she'll come to England so Margaret can give her the brooch.'

‘I'll message you when I've sent this off and we can meet for lunch?'

‘That sounds great.'

At lunchtime, I went to meet Helen and we bought sandwiches and coffees.

‘Spill the beans then,' she said.

‘Well…' I told her about what had happened with Tabitha, leaving out the part about her being Jim's mother.

‘And Jim?' she said.

‘He's dealing with the tree, obviously, and?—'

‘Did anything happen?'

‘What do you mean?'

‘I was really hoping you two might get together in Florence. You're a much better fit for him than Samantha. He needs a woman like you in his life.'

‘Oh thanks. It's a bit complicated though.'

‘Why?'

‘We're both working through a lot of stuff.'

‘What do you mean?'

‘Well, I'm dealing with my father's death and the split with Miles, and?—'

‘And what has he got to deal with?'

‘He split with his fiancée, didn't he?'

‘That was last June, almost a year ago.'

‘I know, but?—'

‘He should be over that by now.'

‘I'm not sure if he's ready for a relationship. I'm not sure I am either.'

‘There's something you're not telling me, I can see it in your eyes.'

Sighing, I said, ‘If I tell you this, it can't go any further.'

‘My lips are sealed.'

Helen took a sip of her cappuccino.

‘It turns out Tabitha is Jim's mother, the woman who abandoned him when he was a baby.'

She abruptly put down the cup she was holding and some of the coffee spilt onto the table.

‘What! You're kidding?'

‘Nope.'

Helen blotted the coffee with a napkin.

‘I remember Margaret talking about the menopause baby. And that's him. Wow, I can't believe it.' Helen tipped her head to one side as if she was in deep thought. ‘But that's such a coincidence, isn't it? He's living in the house where his mother grew up. Surely, he must have had an inkling?'

‘His father used to bring him to Rose Cottage to see an old family friend, Hilda who worked at the house during the war. I'm assuming that's Mrs Willis?'

‘Yes, Hilda was Mrs Willis and she continued to live at Rose Cottage until she died in the late 1990s.'

‘I thought it had to be. Afterwards, Jim and his dad would go for walks through the countryside. He developed a love for Gatley Hall and so it's not such a coincidence really.'

‘Ah, I see. His father was trying to bring him as close to his mother as he could by spending time in the place where she grew up. But where did Jim think she was all this time?'

‘His dad said Tabitha had emigrated to Australia so that Jim wouldn't ever expect to see her. As you can imagine, he's quite upset by it all.'

‘But why didn't he cotton on when you told him you were looking for Tabitha?'

‘Because it's only Margaret who calls her that. Mr and Mrs Willis preferred Lucy, the English equivalent of her middle name. She's been using Lucia in Italy. As soon as I mentioned that, he worked it out.'

‘Oh.'

Helen tapped her fingers on the table, a writer's mind at work, I guessed, as she processed all the information.

‘I can understand why he's being weird with you at the moment after all of that.'

‘Yes, it's a lot to work through, isn't it?'

‘He needs time.'

‘That's the plan, and, if he needs a friend to talk to, I can be there for him.'

‘I have a hunch you two will work it out. I've seen how you can't take your eyes off each other.'

‘Really?'

‘Yes. You don't always catch him watching you, but I've seen it.'

My face warmed. Did Jim like me more than I'd previously thought?

‘I guess what happens happens.'

‘Only time will tell,' Helen said. ‘Right, I have to get back to work, but call me if you need me.'

‘Thanks. I need to get on with organising this exhibition, and I'm hoping Tabitha will come over and get the brooch. Maybe then she can talk to Jim too.'

‘Okay, keep me updated.'

We cleared our plates and went back to our respective offices. I felt bad betraying Jim's confidence, but had needed to talk to someone. And I trusted that Helen wouldn't let it go any further.

At the office that afternoon I carried on preparing for the Below Stairs exhibition, adding information to my file. It was coming together nicely, and I was excited. The photo I'd taken of Luca in Florence would look really good next to the portrait. With only a few weeks to go, I needed Tabitha to visit soonish and provide an ending to Margaret's story. Before leaving for the day, I sent her an email.

Dear Lucia,

It was nice to meet you in Camona. It would be lovely if you're able to visit Gatley for a couple of days. You could stay at the Old Fox, a nice local pub with rooms and I'd take you to see Margaret – it is her lifelong wish to give you the brooch belonging to your mother.

Best wishes,

Claire Bell

On the way back to Rose Cottage, I went to find Jim in the shed. He was at his desk, tapping away on his keyboard.

‘Hi,' I said.

‘Hi, Claire.'

He continued to look at the screen as I sat in the chair next to him, waiting for him to finish.

‘How have you been today?'

He sighed. ‘I'm very sad about the tree, obviously. It's heartbreaking, really.'

‘I know, and I'm sorry,' I said.

He turned to face me. ‘They need me at Cleveland House because a couple of trees were blown over there during the storm too. So I'll probably be gone for a few days.'

‘Oh, okay.'

‘Claire, I hope you don't mind but I have a few emails to send before packing to go over to Cleveland House tonight. I want to be there first thing in the morning to make an early start.'

Dismissed, I got up. He didn't seem to want to talk to me at all. ‘All right. Well, I'd better get back. Let me know if you need anything,' I said.

‘Thanks, Claire,' he said, rather formally.

I didn't say goodbye as I closed the door behind me. Walking through the rose garden, I felt immensely sad. We'd been so close in Italy and now it was as if we'd never known each other at all. I'd miss him while he was at Cleveland House but hopefully he wouldn't stay there for too long. Back at the cottage, I'd do some sketching of my photos from Florence. I just wanted to think about nothing for a while.