Page 84 of The Christmas Retreat
‘Of course,’ Timon said. ‘I’ll find you an envelope to put it in.’
When he’d done that, and Evie had cast a last, long lingering look at Cosmo Caradoc’s two late oil paintings, we returned to the hall – just as the phone rang.
Nerys looked at me with a raised eyebrow as she picked it up – and it was only then that I remembered Will. His earlier call had gone completely out of my head.
But it wasn’t him, after all, and I hoped he’d thought better of trying to contact me again, although goodness knew what Verity had said to him!
We returned to the others, Evie looking thoughtful, and I was not surprised when she appeared in my room after we had gone up to bed, wrapped in a purple velvet dressing gown of great lushness, and plumped herself down in one of the chairs.
‘Well, that was interesting,’ she said, tucking the folds of her robe around her feet.
‘The photo of Arwen is a find, but the two paintings by Caradoc were the most surprising. Quite a change from the previous work by him I’ve come across. I can see tomorrow I’ll have to widen my search a bit for his later works.’
‘It seems he wasn’t so stuck in the Victorian style as you thought. Perhaps you’re right, Ma, and he might not have fallen out of favour if he’d had longer to develop his new style of painting.’
‘Possibly. I wonder what Arwen thought of his work. It would be so interesting to know. He was such a renowned painter at that time, yet she herself had already started to develop a more modern style of her own.’
‘Unless there’s something relevant in the Memory Box when you finally get it, I don’t suppose we’ll ever know,’ I said regretfully.
‘Charlotte promised she’d post it this week, so I hope we’ll soon find out.’
She paused, then said, ‘If Will does ring again, I hope you aren’t going to let him sweet-talk you into taking him back.’
‘Of course I’m not! I was a fool to take him back last time. I can see now that it was never going to work.’
‘Good. I thought you wouldn’t … especially now you and Rhys have buried whatever hatchet you had between you. There was obviouslysomething.’
‘We were … a bit at cross purposes when we met briefly,years ago, but it doesn’t matter now, after all this time,’ I said evasively.
‘There’s nothing like a misunderstanding to bring two people together.’
‘We arenottogether – or not in the way you’re implying,’ I said hotly. ‘We’re just … friends. That’s all either of us wants – like you and Noel!’ I added pointedly.
If the barb hit home, she didn’t show it. ‘Ah, but Noel and I didn’t have a hatchet to bury.’
I said stubbornly, ‘Really, Evie, I’m not looking for a relationship with Rhys or anyone else. I just want to find a peaceful place to call my own, so I can—’
‘Sink back into being a reclusive cat lady again?’ she suggested. ‘Of course I believe you, darling – and I’m Titania, Queen of the Fairies!’
She got up with one of her more crocodilian smiles, and then swept out of the room with a swish of velvety skirts.
26
Final Demands
Next morning, once the sun had come out, the snow just slowly sank like deflating meringue, then melted, until only small rims were left around the edges of things, and even those had vanished by the afternoon.
Our party was very depleted at lunch, with Opal and Verity keeping to their rooms, Cariad at the castle and Pearl and Timon at the pottery, where the gallery and cafe had now reopened.
Evie said she’d heard from the local history museum curator that he had found the diary of Gwendoline Sutler, an artist who lived in Seren Bach around the same time as Arwen’s visit, so she was going down after lunch to take a copy of it, or bring it back to scan, depending on how the curator felt about loaning it.
‘Even if there’s no mention of Arwen, I intend writing a life of Gwendoline Sutler too, so it will be useful for that. After her death her companion, Effie Parker – I think read partner for that – gave the local historian who began the museum her friend’s diary and other items, including some paintings and sketches, so later I can explore those, too. I’ll need to make areturn visit to Seren Bach, but Noel says he will always be glad to put me up.’
‘You’d always be welcome to stay here, too,’ said Nerys – rather generously, I thought, since she still seemed wary about what Evie might dig out of the family history.
‘Thank you, but I expect you cherish the times when you haven’t got a house full of retreat guests,’ Evie said, then added to me, ‘By the way, Ginny, Charlotte Vane says she really has now finally sent off the Memory Box.’
Seeing one or two puzzled faces, she explained, ‘Charlotte is the descendant of Milly Vane, Arwen Madoc’s friend, whom she lived with in Cornwall until her death. I think I’ve mentioned her before, and that she has a box of mementoes that Milly kept with her in later life when she had to move into a nursing home.’
