He starts to turn away, but I place a quick hand on his arm to stop him. “What is it? You were about to ask me something. Then I saw the decision change in your eyes.”
When he still hesitates, I urge him gently. “Tell me.”
“Are you still upset you haven’t had the chance to help any of the partners?”
Instantly all thoughts of top hat man and Beryl fade. “What do you need me to do?”
“Come with me,” he says, almost without sound.
He takes my hand and we tiptoe out of the ballroom and out the double doors into the back of the house.
“It’s all that online stuff,” he says as we walk. “It’s attracted the attention of someone in Saint Anselm, a mental health charity. A couple of their reps just turned up and asked to speak to the person in charge of thePerllanCentre for Wellbeing.”
“That’s good, isn’t it?”
He frowns. “They’ve been on my radar to contact when we’re a bit more established. Saint Anselm is the leading organisation when it comes to treatment and rehabilitation programmes. If they give me the thumbs up, a lot of other charities will follow.”
He says all this as if there’s a hidden problem.
I search his face as we pause just behind the doors to the café. “So what’s worrying you?”
“I don’t have results to show them; this is our first group. No follow-up research, no documented outcomes. They’ll need more than my word, and I don’t want thePerllansinterviewed. Nothing worse than someone grilling you about your depression.”
Ah!It now makes sense. “You want me to talk to them?”
“You’ve seen the group when they started and how they’ve taken to the hard work. And you’re good at talking without hesitation or repeating yourself and all that.”
He still has hold of my hand; it’s a clue to how worried he must be. I pull free as we push the door open and enter the café. If I’m going to be a reliable third party, I can’t look like his girlfriend.
Chapter Forty
It’s a quick thing. My part, at least.
Osian leaves me alone with the two reps while he pretends to be busy fetching coffees and cakes.
I put on my best chatty TV act and tell them about my own impressions, my fears of causing more harm when I made someone cry, about the two men who barely met my eyes. Then I show them the fans and point to each individual flowerbed that one of thePerllanstook special care of. I make them laugh at the ‘butchery’ of the roses and the competition over whose tulips grew fastest. Finally, I point to the social media campaign that Amani created with Ricky, and I mention Ashe’s request to work here long-term.
Osian obviously can hear because my voice is clear. He’s very pleased; I can see it in the way his face relaxes and the smile in his eyes. When he judges that they’ve heard enough, he comes to join us, bringing his own coffee. “Thank you, Evangeline. We’re keeping you from your lecture.”
I take the hint and leave them to him. A happy, warm feeling swells in my heart as I walk back to the lecture. He called me Evangeline; the name he likes, the bringer of good news. “My Evangeline,” he said that night when we almost kissed.
I almost skip back to the lecture.
Our seats have been stolen. Or at least borrowed.
Shirley and one of the teenagers are sitting, but when Shirley sees me, she gives the younger girl a nudge to give me back my seat.
“What have I missed?” I whisper, sitting down.
“A lot of waffle about tracing birth registers and going round the top floors with a magnifying glass.” She rolls her eyes and shakes her head, making her red curls flutter on top of her head. “Men! They love a long police procedural. It’s only now got interesting.”
“…and this clue was enough.” Professor Jones is saying while the screen flips to show a portrait of a fair-haired woman in Victorian clothes.
“This is Beryl Kendric. In 1840, aged sixteen, she married John Kendric, the heir to the Kendric fortune. John died in 1841, leaving his wife pregnant. Beryl, at 18, became the executor of her son’s inheritance and therefore mistress of Kendric Park.”
I take another look at the picture. It’s hard to see what someone really looks like from an oil painting. She looks pretty – mousey hair in slim braids looped under her ears.
“As the widow of a rich man,” the professor says, “she could have attracted plenty of suitors, but not so. Beryl had literary aspirations. She wanted to be a writer. Remember this was the age of Austen, the Brontë sisters and George Elliot. Beryl became friends with Christina Rossetti and invited her to stay here at the house. We think it was Beryl who started the tradition of making Kendric House a meeting place for artists and writers. It’saround that time that author and scientist Lewis Carroll stayed here and took part in designing the first extension of the house.”
