Chapter 44

Jim stayed at Cleveland House for the rest of the week, and he didn't get in touch. I missed him. One morning, I typed out a message on my phone.

How's it going?

He didn't reply until the evening.

Okay. How are you?

When are you coming back?

I'm covering someone now who's gone on annual leave so don't know. Maybe next week.

Oh, it's not the same without you

He didn't reply.

I carried on preparing for the exhibition, but I didn't hear from Tabitha and so started to put together a display that wouldn't need her to visit Margaret. It was disappointing, but if she didn't want to come over I couldn't make her. I'd written to Margaret to tell her not to get her hopes up, but that I was still working on persuading Tabitha to visit.

Jim came back on the Friday, and I heard him unlocking his front door. Would he come and see me? Should I go and say hello to him? He seemed to be avoiding me and there wasn't a lot I could do about it. I decided to leave him to it. If he wanted to see me, he would. The weekend passed with me hearing him move around next door. One night, I heard Samantha's voice and went to sleep downstairs on the sofa. The thought of them seeing each other again grated, but he'd made his decision.

He didn't knock to ask for milk, or whether I wanted to have a drink with him or a takeaway. I continued to immerse myself in my art by painting the sketches I'd drawn in Florence – one of the Ponte Vecchio, and another of the view from the top of the Duomo. And I spent some time in the garden, watering and deadheading the flowers with a new pair of secateurs I'd treated myself to, and I planted some herbs: basil, mint and rosemary, three herbs I used often when cooking. I removed the limescale from between tiles on the bathroom wall and around the sink. I put some plants on the windowsill and bought candles to go round the bath, and started to take long baths every night before bed. I was living my best life, remembering the saying, ‘Dolce far niente', and I didn't need Jim or anyone else to make it better. I couldn't help missing him though.

When Monday came, I still hadn't seen Jim, so I went to find him at the shed, but he wasn't there. I sent him a message. It was time we talked.

Hello stranger. Hope you're okay?

The three dots danced.

Hi, I meant to tell you, I'm working at Cleveland House until further notice. I need to take a break from Gatley Hall.

This was gut-wrenching. Who knew when I'd see him next? I'd just have to hope he'd come back to me when he was ready.

It was a lovely time of year at Gatley Hall with all the flowers blooming, and I started to take longer walks before breakfast and at lunchtimes, and after work too as it was lighter later. I'd sometimes take my dinner down to the lake and sit on a bench by a rhododendron bush, its hot-pink flowers in full bloom. Then I'd feed the ducks with stale bread. Sometimes, I'd take photos and do some sketching. The time alone was therapeutic, and I could feel myself healing from those awful weeks in the run-up to Christmas and changing into a future version of myself. I was beginning to enjoy a simpler life. I bought a cookery book and taught myself how to make bread and pasta. And I made healthy salads. In the evening, I'd often sit in the patio garden with a glass of wine and a book, or I'd do more sketching. I was beginning to build a small following on Instagram as I posted my photos, drawings and paintings and got to know other artists and photographers online.

One morning I saw an artist post a photograph of Florence, saying she was doing a month-long art course and how wonderful it was. This made me think. Could I do one of these courses? I felt as though I wasn't done with Florence yet. The thought of spending a month there, painting all day and enjoying the city, seemed self-indulgent. But why not? Miles and I had spent money on holidays in hotels where we just lay by the pool all day and ate there in the evenings. We'd rarely explored the local towns and I'd always found this kind of holiday unfulfilling. And it seemed a waste not to find out more about local culture and to see the places that were only minutes away from the hotel. I googled the course and the price was more affordable than expected. I looked at the dates available and there was a course in June, after the exhibition had opened. Would Rosalind give me the time off? I'd probably have to take two weeks unpaid so as not to use all of my annual leave at once, if she did agree to it. I decided to mull it over some more, and pluck up the courage to ask.

The week before the exhibition, months of hard work came to fruition at last. The builders had done a fine job, repainting the servants' quarters in magnolia, and the flagstone floors were gleaming. The below stairs rooms were almost ready to go on show, and I just needed to add the finishing touches. We weren't opening all of the rooms to visitors, as it was too expensive – some would open the following year, and I'd be charged with managing that project too. For this exhibition we'd open the servants' hall, the laundry room, the housekeeper's parlour, the still room and the kitchen. I'd arranged for furniture and objects to be brought from storage, and the copper pots looked especially beautiful and shiny, all lined up on the kitchen counter. As the servants' hall was the biggest room, that was where I arranged the display about Margaret's story. I'd sent Tabitha a follow-up email the previous week, but still no reply. Like Jim, she had obviously made her decision.

That week, I also set up Luca's portrait on its easel. I displayed photographs of Luca in Florence, the servants by the Christmas tree, Margaret and Tom's wedding. And of course there was Margaret's letter. I added Lady Violet's copy of A Room with a View. Without Tabitha's visit, though, I couldn't include the brooch or any mention of Jim being her son. And even if she did come over, Jim would need to give me permission to include information about him. I wasn't sure how he'd feel about that, but how I'd love to include a photo of him next to Luca. Jim and I hadn't stayed in touch during his time at Cleveland House and it felt as though our friendship was over and done. I would just have to get over it.

With only a few days until the exhibition started, an email from Tabitha popped up on my phone.

Dear Claire,

Thank you for your emails and sorry for taking so long to reply. I've been thinking a great deal since your visit and have decided to come tomorrow. I'd like to see Margaret, and also to try and talk to Jim. I'll keep you updated.

Regards,

Lucia

I was so happy about this, and I immediately called Hyacinth Place and left a message for Margaret. There was a chance I'd fulfil Margaret's wish before the exhibition started and that was an exciting prospect. As soon as I knew more, I'd arrange for Tabitha and me to visit her.