Chapter 46

It was a warm afternoon and I sat in the lounge at Hyacinth Place, the television showing an old black-and-white film. The room was occupied by very old people like me, all waiting for their time to come. My days consisted of eating rather bland meals and swallowing a range of pills to keep me alive. My life could not be more dull. After Tabitha's visit, all I could think about was whether I'd lived a good life. To be mulling over regrets and chances not taken would be sad indeed. I was fortunate to have led a better life than most. I never did return to London to work as a shopgirl, and I never fulfilled my dream of owning a boutique. If I'd been born a few decades later, those opportunities could have been open to me, and I might have had a husband who wasn't so closed off to my having anything of my own.

Despite my unhappy marriage to Tom, I was thankful for my children and grandchildren, and for my niece, Alice, who had done so much for me over the years. And most of all, I was glad that I had the courage to sign up for that Italian class on Thursday evenings. Tom hadn't liked it one bit when I told him I was going, but by then the children had left and the menopause somehow emboldened me, my hormones no longer focused on putting others before myself. I became quite selfish and discovered a more confident version of me existed. Tom made such a fuss that first evening when I was getting ready to leave for the class, and started an argument about my not having made him a proper dinner – I'd made fish fingers with oven chips and frozen peas rather than a home-cooked meal. He tried to stop me from going and having just one thing of my own. But I walked out of that door and got into the car and drove with dogged determination, putting myself first for once.

Meeting Nathan at that class gave me twenty happy years – the happiest I'd ever known. After being with Tom, I had thought love was a myth and that all men were like him. But Nathan was so warm and so kind, and interesting. We would talk for hours about all sorts of things. He had a sense of adventure that made life exciting. We returned to Italy many times in his caravan and those days and nights spent on campsites together were the best days of my life. Who would have thought one could derive such joy from living so simply? All that time spent in the big house in Dorking did not compare.

And then there was Luca. I'd thought I loved him at first sight, but in time I realised it was merely infatuation, for he was a beautiful man with film-star looks. We could barely hold a conversation, for goodness' sake. Over the years I came to believe that he and Lady Violet were meant to have that time together, to bring Tabitha into the world. And in turn she brought her own children. I was so glad to get Lady Violet's brooch into her daughter's hands. Not only had I fulfilled her dying wish, but also I realised my own, and in the process reunited Tabitha with her son.

With my failing memory, I couldn't always recall what I did yesterday, but was able to describe every last detail of those days during the war, of when I saw Taylor and Stone in flames before my eyes, of getting the train to Gatley – I could even still picture everyone in my carriage – and of meeting Tom for the first time, before knowing what he was really like. I could visualise that day Luca saved my life as if it were a film playing at the pictures. And how seeing Luca make love to Lady Violet on the chaise longue broke my heart. But I couldn't tell you what I had for breakfast that morning.

Marjorie, the carer, came over. ‘Claire is here to see you, Margaret,' she said.

‘Oh, Claire from Gatley Hall?'

‘Yes, you asked us to call her and arrange a visit.'

‘Oh? All right.'

After she and Tabitha went home that day, it struck me that I had one more thing to give her.

‘Would you mind bringing me the carrier bag on my dressing table, Marjorie?'

‘No problem, Margaret.'

Claire came to sit down and smiled at me. I was grateful to her for all she'd done.

‘Hello, Claire.'

‘Hello, Margaret.'

Marjorie came back in and handed me the bag.

‘Since you came in with Tabitha, I've been thinking about the exhibition,' I said. ‘When you asked if you could borrow the brooch, I thought about what else I could give you to display.'

‘Oh yes?'

I handed Claire the bag and said, ‘Look inside, I think you'll be pleased with what you find there.'

I opened the bag and took out a black leather notebook.

‘Look inside,' Margaret said.

I turned the first page, and saw that it was a diary, beginning with the words:

A few days ago, a very handsome man called Luca saved my life. Mrs Willis asked me to go and get supplies from Home Farm as Sam's brother was home on leave and as I walked through the fields…

‘Oh Margaret, this is your diary from the war?'

Nodding, she said, ‘Yes, it is.'

‘This is wonderful. Thank you very much.'

She took my hand and gave it a squeeze.

‘You are welcome, my dear. Thank you for all you have done for me, Tabitha and Jim.'

‘It's been a real pleasure. Would you like to come to the exhibition and see everything for yourself?'

‘I'd be delighted,' she said. ‘As long as you can get me there.'

‘Helen will come and get you, I'm sure. We'll arrange it.'

‘All right. Thank you, Claire.'

On the first morning of the exhibition, I went to speak to Rosalind, who was glued to her computer screen. She threw me a glance.

‘Morning, Claire. The brooch story is causing quite a stir,' she said. ‘I've got a couple of local journalists coming down later today. One from the Surrey Standard and one from What's Up, Surrey!'

‘Brilliant,' I said, anxious to get on with what I had to say before I chickened out. ‘I have something to ask you.'

She swivelled round in her chair to face me.

‘I'm all ears,' she said.

‘I was thinking that now the Below Stairs exhibition is done, and I haven't started work on my next project yet…'

‘You're looking to take some annual leave?' she said.

‘Yes.'

‘How much?'

‘Well, it's longer than usual as I haven't had a proper break since my father died, shortly before I started working here.'

‘Yes, I am sorry and do feel that perhaps it wasn't fair of me to pressure you to start here so soon without taking any time off,' Rosalind said.

‘Coming here was exactly what I needed, although it took some time to realise that. Anyway, I've got back into drawing and painting recently – something I used to love doing when I was younger – and it's really helped me to grieve.'

Rosalind nodded. ‘Go on,' she said.

‘I've found an art course in Florence, similar to the one Tabitha did – when I was there, I felt so inspired by the art and the history, and the only thing is, it's a month long, but I was thinking I could take two weeks' annual leave and two weeks unpaid.'

‘Done,' Rosalind said.

‘Really?'

‘Of course. We're all so impressed with the work you've done here already, the way you reunited Tabitha and Mags and the brooch. And you uncovered a wonderful story that we can now use to promote Gatley Hall and get some real press attention. When does it start?'

‘Next week.'

‘All right.'

‘Thank you, Rosalind.'

‘That's fine. Submit the paperwork and we'll get it fast-tracked, okay?'

She turned back round to face her computer screen and I left the room, amazed that she'd agreed. I hadn't expected her to, at all, and felt quite pleased with myself for plucking up the courage to ask.

The first week of the exhibition was a huge success, and the Surrey Standard wrote up a fantastic piece that got picked up by some of the national newspapers. Helen brought Margaret and she beamed as I took her round, her arm linked with mine. She was delighted to see all the work we'd done to bring Gatley's wartime era to life. I felt as though I'd done her proud.