Page 31 of The Last Night in London
Alexander stood and bowed formally. “It has been my pleasure.”
Eva smiled noncommittally, then allowed Sophia to lead her away.
The rest of the evening passed in a blur. Later, Eva couldn’t recall anybody’s names or what they had had to eat, what the conversation had been about or what she had said. All she could remember was the nearness of Graham, his leg pressed against hers beneath the table, and the unnerving silver eyes of the man whose stares she did her best to avoid for the duration of the party.
CHAPTER 10
LONDON
MAY 2019
The doorbell rang, and I looked up from my laptop, where I’d been jotting down descriptions and anecdotes to attach to the outfits Precious, Arabella, and I had so far decided upon for the exhibition. Dresses, skirts, jackets, and gowns lay scattered around me on the bed, and as I stood to answer the door, a peach satin gown slid off onto the floor.
As I bent to pick it up, I let my fingers stroke the fabric, still soft and supple eighty years since it had been last worn. I placed it next to a one-shouldered black tulle confection and was tempted to touch that, too. I’d learned a new appreciation for fashion just by talking with Precious and taking notes, which was surprising, considering my usual attire of jeans and button-downs. I’d even come up with a new title for the exhibition and the article that Arabella loved:War & Beauty: The World of Fashion in a World at War.
I loved everything about this assignment. I loved talking with Precious and learning about the fashion industry of the late nineteen thirties and nineteen forties, and I loved the beautiful clothes that surrounded me. I loved everything except the presence of Colin Eliot.
As Arabella had promised, he worked long hours. Though it hadbeen only three nights so far, I’d figured out that if I ate early, I could be in my room before he came home. But even after the first night, I’d found myself waiting for the sound of his key in the door. I resented him for that, which, I could admit to myself, was ridiculous. It might even have been unfair.
The doorbell rang again, and I moved to answer it, a little skip to my walk. It was Saturday, and Colin had mentioned the night before that he usually went into the office for at least part of the day. I was expecting Arabella, who’d also had to go into the office but was planning to deliver the Sainsbury’s bags, which we’d forgotten in the boot of her car after visiting Penelope.
As I opened the door, I heard a familiar growling coming from the kitchen. I turned to see Oscar pulling on a red plaid leash and Laura on the other end of it. Arabella closed the door, then bent down to scratch him behind the ears, the little dog keeping a watchful eye on me.
“I am sorry,” Laura said, shortening the leash so she could walk around us. “He loves Colin and therefore loves Arabella—he must be able to smell that they’re related or something. Maybe he’s jealous of you and the attention Colin is redirecting.”
“Oh, no.” I shook my head fervently. “There’s no attention there, trust me. Oscar can clear his mind of that idea. Maybe he just needs time to adjust.”
Oscar was now sitting quietly at Arabella’s feet, looking up at me with a sweet expression. “Oh, so we’re going to be friends now?” I bent down to let him sniff my hand, and he growled in the back of his throat. I immediately jerked back.
“We’ll keep trying,” Laura said. “We’re off for walkies now. George is with Colin, and Miss Dubose has already had her breakfast and is resting. I’ll see you later.”
We said our good-byes; then Arabella turned to me with a grin. “At least George likes you. Of course, he likes everyone, but it’s a start, isn’t it?”
Before I could think of a response, a door at the rear of the flat opened, and George bounded down the long hallway and greeted mewith paws on my shoulders and long tongue laps on my face. Colin approached from behind him, wearing what could be described only as a hostile expression, and pulled the dog gently back by his collar.
“That’s enough, George.” With a far less friendly tone, he said, “How was your visit to Surrey, ladies?” It was more of an accusation than a question.
Arabella brushed away a blond curl that had slipped in front of her eyes. “It was lovely. Thanks. Aunt Penelope was charming as always and made us a delicious quiche.” She handed him one of the Sainsbury’s bags and indicated the second, which she’d placed by the door. “Be a dear and bring these into the dining room. If you’ve got a few minutes, you can help us sort.”
“I don’t think that will be necessary, Arabella,” I said. “It’s what I’m here for, remember?”
For a moment it appeared as if Colin wanted to say something. Then he reached over and picked up the bags before following Arabella into the dining room. I hadn’t spent much time in this room yet. The highly polished mahogany table could easily have sat twelve people in comfort.
“Now, this is a table,” I said. “It would have been perfect for my five siblings and me—that’s for sure. Easier to clean up, anyway. All of the thrown food would have missed its target, except anything thrown by Joey—he’s a baseball player.”
Almost against its will, Colin’s mouth twitched. “Five siblings sounds like a lot of commotion.”
“Imagine sharing one bathroom with five people and fighting to ride in the front seat of the minivan. Made me wish I was an only child many times.”
“Your poor mother. She must be a saint.”
I felt Arabella’s eyes on me, but I didn’t look at her. The familiar bruise ached, unused to being touched. I was usually more prepared for unexpected blows. “Yes. She is indeed a saint.” I bent over one of the bags and pulled out what appeared to be a stationery box wrapped in a ribbon that might have once been bright red. Keeping my eyes down, I said, “She died when I was fourteen.”
The room was silent except for the soft padding of George’s paws as he walked into the room and lay down at my feet.
“I’m sorry,” Colin said. He didn’t say any more, as if he knew that no further words would excuse, explain, or diminish the loss of my mother. And I was left wondering what had happened in his own life to make him understand that.
“Thank you.” Eager to talk about anything else, I pulled out a stack of photographs from the bag and placed them on the table next to the stationery box.
