Page 52 of The Christmas Invitation
‘Shining a light into dark corners of your life is all part of writing a good memoir,’ he told her.
‘That’s poetic, that is,’ said Den.
Teddy seemed to be fighting sleep, his eyes closing and then jerking open again. Any minute now Tottie would notice and whisk him off to bed.
‘You know, I always felt a little guilty that I inherited the part of my mother’s money that was secured to her when she married,’ said Henry. ‘I know she did that because George, as the elder son, would have Underhill, and she thought it would make it all fair. But my investments all flourished and I ended up a lot better off than he did.’
‘He’d have been fine if he’d lived within his means, but once you start spending your capital it’s a slippery slope,’ Clara said. ‘And that dreadful old crony of his, Piers Marten, just encouraged him. They were always off to Monte Carlo or the Riviera, and even when they were home they spent most of their time at racecourses.’
‘You’re right, my dear,’ Henry agreed.
‘I had a rich and generous aunt,’ Clara told me. ‘She left all her money divided between myself and my sister, Bridget. That’s how we managed to buy the Red House and come back to Starstone Edge.’
‘And it’s all worked out wonderfully well,’ said Tottie. ‘Happily ever after!’ She rose. ‘Come on, Teddy, before you fall asleep in your chair. Time to go to bed.’
His protests were half-hearted and he was borne away with the promise that Henry would come up and read to him when he was in bed.
Henry and Clara were still reminiscing about their Oxford student days when we went through to the drawing room and I became increasingly aware that there was some event, or mystery, in their shared past that they were not talking about, an elephant tiptoeing round the room.
Or maybe even round the house? Perhaps that was what had jarred open the studio door and set the old clock ticking?
I told Henry that I’d like to make a start on his portrait as soon as possible, or some initial sketches, at least.
‘I’d like you to pose in the studio – if you don’t mind – on the dais and with Lass sitting at your feet.’
‘Or, more likely,onmy feet. She does have a way of pinning one down.’
‘My portrait seems to have taken shape so rapidly,’ said Clara, when Henry had gone up to read another instalment ofThe Water Babiesto Teddy, and Tottie had brought in fresh coffee. Den was right: she did make it very badly.
‘Your face only needs one more session at most and then a little more work on the hands,’ I agreed. ‘It’s just background and final touches after that.’
‘Well, you did tell me you were a quick worker. I just hadn’t realized it wasthisfast!’
‘It’s all a matter of style. If I was painting a traditional oil portrait, I’d be building it up slowly in layers over time, but my technique is more impressionistic. That’s why I told you I could probably complete both portraits by the time of the Solstice.’
‘I expect you could, but you might as well take your time over the finishing process and then I hope you’ll relax andenjoy Christmas with us. There’s no real need for you to rush off, is there?’
Little did she know!
Then she startled me by saying thoughtfully, ‘I thought you and Lex were old friends, but you don’t seem to have much to say to each other – though, of course, heisvery quiet and intense.’
The last part was probably due to his being eaten up by guilt, but it was just as well she hadn’t heard what we were talking about among the Norwegian pines!
‘Since he was in the year above me in college, we didn’t know each other very well,’ I told her, which certainly seemed to have been true. ‘I did sit for Lisa for a clay portrait head, though – she was good at those. And so kind and sweet and funny, as well as being beautiful.’
She’d seemed to have it all. What happened had been so cruel.
I’d sat for her in my first term, when I was still at the stage of infatuation where I blushed every time I saw Lex. I’m sure she noticed; it just didn’t bother her, and why should it? He wasn’t likely to look at anyone else when he had Lisa, and anyway, mine was a humble first love, adoring from afar. I’d got over it long before I met Rollo.
‘Yes, Lisa was a lovely and very talented young woman,’ agreed Clara. ‘It was a complete tragedy for both of them, though since they were only in their early twenties when they married, I do sometimes wonder how things would have worked out in the long term.’
‘I think my sudden arrival brought all the memories back again,’ I said. ‘I do feel a bit guilty about that.’
‘But you couldn’t help that, my dear. Don’t forget, he sees Alan and Lisa’s sister, Tara, almost every day, so it’s not as if there isn’t a constant reminder already.’
No, I thought, but I’d dredged up a different bit of memory and a muddy extra layer of guilt.
Since I couldn’t keep my eyelids open any longer I went off early to bed, feeling that climbing the stairs was a bit like scaling the Matterhorn and wishing I could climb on the back of the big wooden eagle and be carried up there in a swish of wings.
