Page 57 of Kate and Clara's Curious Cornish Craft Shop
I must be the one who looks confused now, because Julian continues to explain: ‘You took my card with my number on … said you’d be in touch so we could talkbusiness?’
Ah, that.
‘I assumed when you didn’t call that you preferred the man to do all the running. You know, the old-fashioned way, so I sent you flowers. I find most women respond well to flowers.’ He directs this comment to Sebastian.
‘I woo-ant reary no,’ Sebastian tries to respond.
‘What did he say?’ Julian asks me.
‘He said he wouldn’t really know.’
‘Ah, not found the delights of the female form yet, young man? Don’t worry, your time will come.’
Both Sebastian and Molly pull equally repulsed faces, but Julian is already looking at me.
‘So, when can I take you out to talk thisbusiness?’ he asks. ‘I’m free tonight? I’ll book us a table at The Lobster Pot – I gather that’s the best restaurant here.’
‘Ah …’ I desperately try to think of a reason why I can’t go, and I’m about to say I have other plans when I stop myself. ‘Yes!’ I say, much to Sebastian and Molly’s utter shock. ‘That would be lovely. What time?’
‘Is eight acceptable to you?’ Julian asks, looking like the cat who’s got the cream.
‘Yes, perfect. I’ll meet you at the restaurant, as long as you can get us a table?’
‘I never have a problem getting a table,’ Julian says confidently. ‘I shall very much look forward to spending the evening with you, Kate.’ He gives a tiny bow. ‘Enjoy the rest of your day, everyone!’ He waves his hand in a sort of flourish and exits smartly through the door.
‘Mum, what are you thinking?’ Molly demands. ‘He’s awful.’
‘Yeh, wafful,’ Sebastian agrees.
‘He might not be too bad if you get to know him,’ I lie. ‘Maybe there’s more to him than there first appears.’
Molly shakes her head in disgust, and Sebastian does his best to tut, but it sounds more like a sucking sort of noise.
What they don’t know and what I can’t tell them is that, for all his pomposity and pretension, Julian’s father was Winston James, and as Winston James painted here in St Felix in the fifties he might have known Arty. If so, Julian might be able to help me put another piece in my sewing-machine puzzle – a piece that might lead me to discover who Clara and Arty really were, and why Jack and I seem to be so involved in their story.
Twenty
While I sit at my dressing table and run the straighteners over my hair, Molly sighs behind me.
‘I still don’t know why you’re going out with this Julian,’ she says, looking sulkily at my reflection. ‘He’s a horrible man.’
‘That’s a bit strong, Molly. He’s not horrible, he’s a bit pompous and full of himself, that’s all. I’m sure underneath all his bluster he’s perfectly nice.’
Molly grimaces and shakes her head. ‘Jack’s much nicer than him.’
‘Quite possibly, but as I seem to be explaining a lot to you lately, just because I’m meeting a man doesn’t automatically make it a date.’
Molly’s phone beeps. She glances at the screen. ‘It’s only Chesney,’ she says. ‘I really thought it was Joel sending you those bunches of flowers, you know,’ she continues with a hint of sadness.
‘We’ve been through this before, Molly,’ I say gently. ‘It was never going to be Joel. He doesn’t know where I am and he won’t be contacting me. I don’t know why you would think he would after all this time.’
Molly looks sheepishly down at the bed.
‘Molly?’ I ask, turning around to look at her properly. ‘What’s going on?’
‘Nothing,’ she says as her phone beeps again. She looks at the screen and then drops it. ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, you’ve only just texted,’ she adds impatiently.
I glance at the phone but my mind is elsewhere. ‘Molly, why would you think that Joel was the one sending me flowers?’
