‘Jacques who has never responded to any of my letters? Hardly the grand passion.’
In that moment, it all became clear to her. All those emotions she had poured into her letters, the longing and the dreaming; it had just been a fantasy. A silly schoolgirl fantasy. Yes, she had loved Jacques, even if he had never returned the feelings. But what was the point? Why pine after a man who just saw you as a plaything? If men were so very fickle, so unreliable, she might as well direct her affections towards someone who could bring something to the table. Like money. Like security. Like a house with an actual roof and windows, not charred timbers and gaping holes.
‘No,’ she said. ‘I’m not going to throw myself in front of some eligible bachelor just on the strength of his huge mansion in Gloucestershire, but there’s no harm in finding a man who can give us a little more than this.’
They both turned at a rumbling sound coming up the lane and saw the Handses’ red Morris Minor trundle into the yard.
‘Come on, Mother,’ said Georgia, stepping towards the car with purpose. ‘Let’s check you in to the B and B and a nice hot bath. Things will look much clearer in the morning, I promise.’
‘Miss Georgia, Miss Georgia,’ beamed Arthur Hands as he got out of the car. ‘You’ll never believe what has happened. A hotel in Dartmouth has just called and offered us room and board in return for doing their gardening!’
Georgia grinned at him, then allowed herself one last glance back at the farmhouse.
It’s only a house, she said to herself. It’s only bricks and mortar. It was time to leave it behind. It was time to move on. Things could only get better.
23 December 2012
Amy poured two black coffees from the urn in the lobby of the Plaza Athénée and took a welcome sip of one of them. She smiled as the hot liquid slid down her throat. Not only did she need an injection of caffeine to chase away the jet lag, but the thick black liquid reminded her how good coffee always was in New York. It was one of the many things she missed about her home city. She was very glad to be back, even though the winds were bitter and she still hadn’t got any Christmas presents for her folks, with the exception of a tin of cookies her mom loved from Fortnum and Mason that had cost her three days’ worth of tips.
Through the hotel doors she could see Georgia standing on the sidewalk, pulling up the collar of her cashmere overcoat to protect herself from the cold.
‘Here. Coffee. That will warm you up,’ she said, going out to join her.
Georgia eyed the Styrofoam cup and shook her head politely.
‘That’s kind, but no thank you.’
‘Are you sure? A cup of coffee is like the world’s best hand-warmer.’
Amy caught Georgia’s expression and looked down at the cup.
‘Is this one of those finishing school things?’ she said, remembering Georgia’s stories from the previous night.
Georgia smiled.
‘I’m sure it seems horribly old-fashioned to a generation brought up on Starbucks, but we were taught that food and drink should be consumed inside. Unless it’s a picnic, of course.’
Amy stood there holding the cups, not knowing what to do.
‘Ma’am?’
The doorman stepped across and took them from her.
‘I’ll take care of them,’ he said with a wink.
‘Thanks,’ she said, blushing.
When she turned back to Georgia, she saw Alfonse pulling up at the kerb.
‘Where are we going?’ she asked.
‘I thought the Frick this morning,’ said Georgia as Alfonse trotted around to open the door for her. ‘I would rather like to see Van Gogh’s Portrait of a Peasant. Apparently it’s just around the corner, but at my age it might as well be the other side of the city.’
It wasn’t far – six blocks or so – but Amy wasn’t going to complain about being driven in luxury. Besides, she had never been into the Frick Collection, though she had passed the grand building on many occasions, and it seemed fitting somehow to pull up in a town car. The entrance was impressive, with grey stone pillars and wide polished oak doors.
‘Say, you know this used to be one guy’s house?’ said Alfonse, as he opened the car door for Georgia.
‘Henry Clay Frick. He was chairman of Carnegie Steel,’ said Georgia briskly.