Page 34 of Save Us
I look at the colored pencils lying on the table in front of me and reach for a pale gray. I twist it and turn it indecisively, thinking about Mum and asking myself what she’d have done if it had been her.
“I didn’t even know that you and Mum used to draw together,” I say, finally looking at Ophelia.
“All the time,” she replies, dropping into the armchair beside me.
“What kind of stuff? Just clothes, or other things too?”
Ophelia laughs quietly. “Mainly clothes. But your mum used to draw comics. Some of them were hysterical.”
“Really?” I can’t imagine that. Mum was always so serious, always focused on the big picture.
“Cordelia was much more lighthearted before she stepped into our father’s shoes, and she’d sometimes allow herself to have fun. To make jokes.”
I try to picture what Mum must have looked like in those days—casual clothes, messy red hair, sketchbook in her lap. Tomy surprise, it’s easier than I expected. A warm feeling fills my stomach, and I have to clear my throat, cough away the lump that’s formed.
“I wish I’d known her like that.”
The music that’s still blasting from the speakers feels wrong now. It doesn’t fit this serious conversation.
“There are photos from back then—of her and the comics. Your mum left all her albums here. I can find them for you if you like.”
“I’d love to see them. Thank you,” I say quietly.
Ophelia pushes my pad slowly to and fro on the desk.
“We used to make plans together, for what we wanted to do with Beaufort’s one day,” she continues after a while. “The designs you used to come up with when you were little…” A cautious smile plays around her lips. She glances at me. “Your mum and I used to have the same dream. A women’s collection. Taking the firm in a new direction.”
“What changed?” I ask.
“She met Mortimer. And let him and your grandfather convince her not to break with tradition. For a long time, I hoped she’d eventually change her mind and get me back on board, but…” Ophelia shrugs. “Apparently, she didn’t want that.”
For a moment, the silence spreads between us, and we both listen to the guitar chords of the song that’s playing.
Then I cough. “Do you think you’ll get the chance to make that happen?”
“Now that Cordelia…isn’t around, I don’t think so, no.” She swallows hard. “Did you know that my name wasn’t even mentioned in her will?”
I inhale sharply. “No way! No, I didn’t.”
I wasn’t there when the will was read. Dad left all that stuff to the lawyers, which was fine by me. I didn’t want to know what Mum had left me. All I wanted was for her to come back.
“She left everything to Mortimer. The company traditions mattered so much to her, so incredibly much, and yet she did that, breaking decades of family history.”
“What do you mean?” I ask with a frown.
“For generations, Beaufort’s has been handed down to the closest living relative. Like Dad did to Cordelia. Which means that she ought to have left the company either to you two, or to me.”
“I can’t believe it,” I say, confused. “Why would she do that?”
“They were an unbeatable team for over twenty years. I guess she wanted to be certain that things would keep running the way she had in mind.”
I’m about to answer when the doorbell rings loudly, making us jump. Ophelia waves a hand, presumably meaning that this conversation isn’t over, even as she gets up and heads for the door.
Less than thirty seconds later, I hear my name being called up the stairs. I prick up my ears. “Yes?”
“You’ve got a visitor!”
I stand up with a frown. I glance at my watch. It’s half past eight. Could it be Cyril? James told me they’d talked about me.
