Page 8 of The Wedding Dress Repair Shop
‘Because she was avid to know who I was having tea with?’ I suggested.
‘You look as if you’ve been drinking more than just tea,’ he said, eyes narrowing suspiciously.
‘I have – champagne!Oodlesof champagne,’ I said. ‘Isn’t “oodles” a lovely word? I don’t think I’ve ever used it before.’
‘Are youdrunk?’
‘No, just a bit fuzzy round the edges. And you can tell Mummy itwasn’ta man I was having tea with – though it certainly wouldn’t have been any of her business if it was – but Honey Fairford.’
‘Honey Fairford?’ he echoed. ‘But … when you told me you’d realized you must be related to her and I suggested you contact her, you refused point-blank!’
‘Of course I did! I mean, she’s a very famous novelist and probably gets people claiming to be long-lost relatives all the time.’
‘So, how come you ended up having tea with her, then?’
‘I went to the V&A after work and George – you know, my friend from the costume department – introduced us. He’d told her all about me. She’s staying at Claridge’s, so she invited me back with her for tea. She’s very tall and her hair is quite short, so I suppose from behind, across a crowded room, your mothermighthave mistaken her for a man.’
Especially since Mummy had the kind of mind that would jump immediately to that conclusion.
Marco visibly untensed and looked interested. ‘Well, even if you didn’t write to her, I’m glad you’ve met at last. I mean, she’s such a mega-bestselling author that she must beloaded, and the family connection could potentially be useful with the publicity for my new play.’
I stared at him in astonishment. ‘Marco, we can only be very distantly connected, and it was kind of her to invite me to tea so we could get to know each other better, but I mean, she’s not about to take out adoption papers or anything! And nor,’ I added firmly, ‘do I think she’s likely to want to help you promote your play.’
Ignoring this, he got up and began pacing the room again. Behind him, in the open doorway to the kitchen, the skinny blue-grey wraith of a cat materialized and, eyes malevolently fixed on the hated intruder’s back, pulled a hideous face, just like that Munch paintingThe Scream. Then he vanished again, with only the faint rattle of the cat flap on to the fire escape indicating he’d actually been there and I hadn’t imagined him.
Marco, lost in his own thoughts, had heard nothing. ‘She might agree, if it promoted her novels, too,’ he suggested. ‘I told you the fact that I am engaged to a descendant of the Regency actress who inspired my new play would make a great publicity angle, and the story of your discovery that you’re along-lost relative of Honey Fairford would be the icing on the cake.’
‘I really don’t think she’d like being used as a promotional tool andIcertainly wouldn’t want my private life used in that way, Marco,’ I said crossly. ‘I’d prefer my connections with Rosa-May Garland and Honey Fairford kept out of it – and our wedding, too, because I want it to be small, quiet and strictly private.’
‘You’resounworldly and naïve,’ he told me impatiently. ‘You want my play to be a huge success, don’t you?’
‘Of course I do! And I’m sure it will be – entirely on its own merits.’
He stopped pacing for a moment and looked at me searchingly. ‘Do youreallythink so?’
These occasional glimpses of his underlying lack of confidence in his work were one of the things that endeared him to me – heneededme – and I hastened to reassure him.
‘Yes! It’s a brilliant play and it’ll have so much more popular appeal than your previous ones.’
‘Oh –popular,’ he said, as though it was a dirty word, which it was among some of his more highbrow friends, but I knew he was pleased.
‘Perhaps I could justmentionin the publicity that I was inspired by the exhibition, after being taken to see it by my fiancée, a descendant of the famous actress,’ he conceded. ‘Although if Honey Fairford did agree to let us use her connection with you, too …’
‘You can ask her, if you want to – I’m certainly not!’ I told him.
‘It would give the play a boost, even if it only came out later, when we got married,’ he mused.
‘If the play is still running by the time we actually set thedate,’ I said slightly acidly, but I don’t think he’d heard a word I said.
‘Perhaps she’d even like to come to the wedding?’ he continued.
We appeared to have gone round in a circle and he still seemed unable to understand where I was coming from.
‘Who says romance is dead?’ I commented sardonically. ‘And I don’t somehow think Honey is a big fan of weddings.’
‘Did you get her contact details?’ he asked, single-mindedly.
‘Yes, but I’m not sharing them with you. If you want to contact her, you can do it through her agent.’
