Page 45 of The Christmas Retreat
‘She was beautiful,’ I agreed, remembering that lovely, Pre-Raphaelite profile of the dying woman in the car. ‘And Nerys was right, she was a very talented sculptor.’
‘Nanny said she’d probably gone to heaven, because she wasn’t bad enough for the other place,’ Cariad confided.
‘I’m sure she’s right,’ I said feebly.
‘Yes …’ She eyed me sideways. ‘Daddy was surprised to find you here, wasn’t he? Butnicesurprised. He never said he’d met you before, even though he knew you were my favourite author!’
‘Maybe he forgot? It was only a brief meeting at a party, years and years ago.’
‘I don’tthinkhe’d forgotten. And he likes you, Ginny, I can tell.’
‘Since we’ve hardly exchanged a word since I got here, I don’t know how you work that one out!’ I said lightly and got up to leave. ‘I’d better go and get ready for dinner.’
‘And I’m going to have a shower because I smell of horse,’ said Cariad. ‘If I’m down late, don’t let that Kate woman wolf all the canapés.’
‘I don’t think I could really stop her; she’s built like a bulldozer,’ I said without thinking, and Cariad giggled.
14
In a Heartbeat
As I made my way down to the sitting room later, I thought it might be nice to give a Christmas present to Cariad, although I wasn’t sure what. I’d already had my annual book from Evie, and Liv had, as usual, sent me nice, eco-friendly toiletries, so I wasn’t expecting any more Christmas gifts. But then, I felt Christmas should be a special time for children and it would be lovely to celebrate it with Cariad and share in her excitement.
Cariad must have showered at the speed of light, because she dashed into the room, her hair still damp, before Kate had even reached for the nearest plate of canapés.
Everyone who had gathered there the night before was present by then, including Noel, who seemed to be on very good terms with Evie.
Nerys announced generally about my mother and I being distantly related to the Caradoc family and that she’d already told Timon and Rhys.
‘Of course, the connection is way, way back on the family tree,’ I put in hastily.
‘Evie told me,’ said Noel. ‘And about her search for information on the summer of 1919 when her grandmother Arwen Madoc was at Triskelion. She was an artist and Evie means to write a biography of her.’
‘Since she died very young, it will be more of a joint biography with the artist she lived with in Cornwall, Milly Vane,’ explained Evie. ‘Noel found me a couple of articles and also a small book about the artists who visited or lived in the St Melangell area, especially between the wars, when it had a kind of heyday. I’m interested in any other female artist who may have been working here then, too, for future biographies.’
‘I’ll see what else I can find,’ said Noel. ‘And the voluntary curator of the little folk museum in St Melangell is a friend of mine, so we could go there together tomorrow, if you wish, and see if he can dig out anything else to fill in the picture.’
‘Great idea,’ said Evie.
‘And perhaps you, Nerys, might have some helpful information about Cosmo Caradoc at the time of Arwen’s visit. There may be old documents,’ Noel suggested.
‘I’m afraid there won’t be much. There was no Pepys in the family to jot down the daily doings at Triskelion,’ Nerys said. ‘But Cosmo’s career is well documented, and he is included in several books about artists of his era.’
‘I’ve only just started to research his life and work, since discovering our connection and the time Arwen spent here,’ agreed Evie. ‘But I’m certain there must be a little more to find out about the summer of Arwen’s visit to add depth to my biographical notes.’
‘Since my great-grandfather died in a tragic accident at the end of that summer, it’s not a time we usually care to dwell on,’ said Nerys, and then, clearly eager to change the subject, wenton: ‘I hope the extra table in your room was suitable for what you wanted, Evie?’
‘Perfect, and it was kind of Rhys and Tudor to carry it up.’
‘No problem,’ said Rhys.
‘What did you want an extra table for, Ma?’ I asked curiously.
‘I brought my hard drive and two monitors, so I can get down to some serious work. Laptops are so confining.’
‘I don’t find it so,’ said Kate, through a mouthful of the last savoury tartlet, which she had snatched from under Cariad’s nose.
‘But writing a novel is somewhat different from my work,’ Evie said.
