The bottle of wine had helped Georgina sleep, although it was less helpful in the morning as she squinted at the low winter sun beaming brightly in through Evelyn’s office window.
Georgina stood for a moment looking out at the square and at the empty space where Daisy May would wait for Molly. A raggedy man was sitting on Molly’s bench talking to something or someone or nothing or no one, except maybe the occasional pigeon who pecked around his feet. She looked across to her father’s house standing empty with its proud exterior buffeted by the occasional swirl of dust and drifting litter. Everything looked so desolate. Winter had never felt so bleak.
“Georgina. Thank you so much for calling by.” Evelyn bustled in a little breathless, with her pink cheeks matching her flushed neck.
“Good morning.” Georgina shook Evelyn’s hand. “Would you mind if I lowered this?” Without waiting for a reply she lowered the blind and cast the room in ominous shade.
Evelyn switched on a light. “Not at all. Please make yourself at home.” Evelyn hung up her coat and stroked her hair and clothes into place.
It was eight thirty and Georgina had clearly caught Evelyn off guard. “I’m sorry for arriving unannounced.” Georgina wasn’t sorry—she wasn’t sorry at all. Evelyn was on the back foot and that was precisely where Georgina intended to keep her.
“No, think nothing of it. Please take a seat.” Evelyn settled herself behind her desk and gave a little sigh as if grateful for the protection it offered. “Our door is always open for you, Georgina, anytime. Thank you, Marianne.”
Marianne placed a tray of coffee and biscuits on the table. Evelyn poured them coffee from the cafetière. If she was not mistaken, Evelyn’s hand was shaking slightly.
“Before we go any further”—Evelyn placed a hand against her chest, whether as a gesture of sincerity or in an attempt to calm her heart Georgina couldn’t tell—“I must apologize for the unfortunate confusion at the opening of the Wright room. I trust you have had a chance to read my note of apology and explanation I included in your Christmas card from the museum?”
“I haven’t checked my post.” Georgina took a guarded sip of her coffee. She’d seen that the museum had sent her a Christmas card, care of her father’s address. She’d been using it unopened as a drinks mat.
Evelyn double blinked. “Well I do hope, that is, I trust, that you will forgive this unfortunate”—Evelyn seemed to hold the next word in her mouth as if sucking on a boiled sweet—“misjudgement on our part and accept our sincere apology for any upset we have caused.”
Georgina thought that she might have to painfully extract an apology and was surprised when one came so easily. “Thank you for your apology, Evelyn, which I accept.”
Evelyn visibly relaxed. “That’s a wonderful relief.”
“I do, however, seek your reassurance with regards to Molly Goode.” Georgina’s tone was measured to rest uneasily somewhere between furious and calm.
Evelyn rearranged herself in her chair. “Molly?”
“Yes. I understand she has been suspended.”
“That’s right. There are a number of reasons—”
“I’m not interested in the reasons. I am interested in her immediate reinstatement.”
“May I say I’m a little confused, Georgina. You gave the impression that Molly had misled you in some way. I considered this to be a breach of trust which we will not tolerate at the museum. As a key stakeholder we greatly value your support—”
“And I have greatly valued Molly’s. I now have a better understanding of Molly’s part in matters, and whilst I understand your confusion, I would greatly appreciate her reinstatement.”
Evelyn leaned forward and took a considered sip of coffee. She looked at Georgina with her eyes levelled to hers. “I wonder if this might be an occasion for the museum to seek a little…clarity from yourself as to our relationship with the Wright Foundation, as you see it going forward. Understandably I found your parting words the other night a little disturbing. Notwithstanding my part in that, of course.”
Was Evelyn using Molly’s reinstatement as leverage for what she wanted? “Of course. And yes, I agree. This is indeed the perfect moment to establish some clarity. So let me define for you what the Wright Foundation will be looking for in terms of funding applications going forward. We will want to see museums adhering to their stated aims and delivering upon them.”
Evelyn gave a cautious nod. “That sounds entirely reasonable.”
“I’m glad you think so.” Georgina opened her iPad and retrieved a saved document. “I see that the museum has stated aims which include prioritizing local histories and the acquisition and display of objects which reveal society’s progress.”
Evelyn gave a fidgety, “That’s right.”
“I think there is an excellent opportunity here for the museum to show the Wright Foundation in tangible terms that they intend to deliver on their aims.”
Evelyn had shifted forward to the edge of her seat. “In tangible terms?”
“Let me put it this way—I would be greatly impressed to see Edith Hewitt’s painting of Josephine Brancaster displayed as part of February’s LGBT history month. And I would be equally reassured to find the display remains in place throughout March to become part of the celebrations for women’s history month. The life of Edith Hewitt is a local history that has not been fully explored before and fits the remit very well. I feel sure this is something both Molly and Fran would be pleased to work on.”
Evelyn tilted her head and looked at Georgina, studying her with the care of someone who intended to remember every detail. “LGBT history month?”
Georgina held her gaze. “Yes.”
“No.”
“May I ask, why not?”
“You may. February is too soon to put together a display of any merit. Even March is asking too much, but then I suppose it will please Fran, who has been hovering like a hornet in my ear about a local focus for women’s history month.” Evelyn wafted her hand at her ear as if she could hear the soft hum of the hornet still.
“Surely meeting the February deadline would only require the ready assistance of the records office to lend the necessary objects?”
“What is required remains to be seen. And the narrative, the emphasis of the display would be…?”
“The whole life of Edith Hewitt. Her work and her personal life.”
“I see. And you are insistent upon this?”
“Yes. Very much so. This and something else.”
Evelyn raised her eyebrows. “Something else?”
“The Wright Foundation would be interested to sponsor a project to explore the collections for other similar hidden histories. Obviously for the matter of neglected histories to be dealt with properly, the root cause must also be addressed.” Evelyn raised her pen. Georgina ignored her and continued, “I understand the problem lies primarily at the point of entry with the cataloguing of the objects. Sensitive contextual data such as sexuality, gender, race, and religion are not required to be recorded and are being lost.”
“You seem very well informed.” Evelyn’s tone implied not that I need to ask by whom.
“I make it my business to understand things properly.”
“Well, please rest assured that as an accredited museum we meet all the sector standards in this regard. Furthermore I’m sure you appreciate we do not set the standards, we follow them.”
“I would have thought this museum would prefer to set best practice rather than merely follow it. Or am I mistaken?”
Evelyn’s knuckles grew ever whiter as her grip on her pen tightened. “It goes without saying that this museum regards itself as a leading institution—”
“Excellent. Then I can expect to see the museum leading the way by specifying sexuality, gender, race, and religion as compulsory primary fields in your database.”
Evelyn let out a pained sigh. “If only the delivery of your expectations was as straight forward as we would like. Sadly in many respects our hands are tied, for to redesign at will our generic museum database with its prescribed fields and controlling term lists is…” Evelyn waved her hand in the air searching no doubt for a phrase to match her expression of many shades of agony.
“Completely possible?”
“Well, in theory—”
“Great. And rest assured that the Wright Foundation looks forward to happily untying your hands and supporting this museum to make the theoretical entirely practicable. And may I add, I am surprised to find that you allow your curatorial vision to be constrained by the limitations of a computer database.” Georgina folded her arms.
“One moment. I just need…” Evelyn stood and went to the blinds, lifting them before sliding a window open slightly. She stood for a moment in the thin cold slice of breeze.
Georgina shivered as the winter air chilled her skin.
Evelyn turned around with her expression newly cooled and her demeanour calmed as she leaned against the windowsill, and the blinds lightly knocked against the glass. “Georgina, I must say how much I admire the direction the foundation is moving in. It is very commendable.”
Where was this going? “Thank you.”
“But I would like to clarify that not every project the museum needs to undertake will have a local or minority community focus.”
“And I understand that,” Georgina said. “But let me clarify in turn to say the foundation is more likely to want to work with a museum on the more, shall we say, prestigious applications, if they are making a genuine effort towards meeting the needs and raising the visibility of a diverse audience.”
“I can assure you that the last thing the museum wishes to do is alienate any audience member.”
“That’s good to hear. So we are agreed on the points discussed.”
“I didn’t say that.” Evelyn returned to her seat, tucking her chair firmly under her desk. “Look”—she held her palms up in front of her—“let me think about everything you have highlighted. Why don’t we meet again in the new year. Molly will have returned to work by then—”
“Today.”
“Pardon?”
“I want Molly reinstated today.”
“Today? May I say I am struggling to digest the long list of your requests.”
“Why? Surely I have simply offered to fund your museum and to help the museum meet its aims. I am also correcting an earlier error with regard to Molly.”
Evelyn sat back in her chair. “The best I can do is promise to think about it.”
Georgina stood. “No, I would have thought the best you can do is to put into motion my requests today. Thank you for your time. I’ll see myself out.”
“Georgina.”
Georgina turned back.
With a surprisingly gentle tone, Evelyn said, “Not that I need to say this, but neither of us knows how Molly feels at the moment, and I have come to understand neither do we know what she will do.”
Georgina’s cheeks tingled at the inference of Evelyn’s observation. “Yes. I understand that point.”
“The thing is, Georgina—and I mention this not to be cruel but because I greatly appreciate your continued support—I told Molly to have nothing more to do with you. She didn’t…I’m afraid she didn’t put up much resistance.”
Georgina felt her heart contract and ache. “Thank you, Evelyn.”
Georgina left with the heartbreaking sense that no wiser word had been spoken by more wily a fox.
* * *
“Hello, Molly!”
“Hi, Fred. Happy Christmas! Can’t stop!”
Molly ran across the foyer and up the stairs. She then raced down the corridor to her office. “Have you heard?”
Fran nodded and grinned. “Welcome back, Molly Goode.”
Molly gave Fran a big hug. “Evelyn rang me an hour ago. Do you think she’s banged her head? Reinstating me early is one thing, but I mean, to tell Edith’s story for LGBT history month? Next she’ll be suggesting we hang a rainbow flag outside the museum for the whole of February.” Molly paused. “Oh, maybe we could ask about that?”
“Maybe we should be thankful for the amazing gesture and take a breath and ask ourselves if this sounds like an Evelyn decision.”
Molly shook her head and perched her hip on Fran’s desk. “It sounds nothing like an Evelyn…” Molly paused. In the excitement of being reinstated and with her first task lined up for after the Christmas break to prepare suggestions for a display based on Edith’s life, she had simply overlooked the blindingly obvious. “If Evelyn has asked me to be involved, then does that mean art is involved? You don’t think…?”
Fran reached behind her and lifted Edith’s painting to rest on her desk. “I was asked to collect it half an hour ago. I’d only dropped it off with Georgina yesterday. Such toing and froing, this poor thing and I have travelled further than Michael Palin’s sandals.”
“I don’t understand—why would she?”
Fran smiled affectionately. “For such a bright and talented woman, you can be really quite stupid.”
“Rude. So, what, this was your idea and you persuaded her when you saw her yesterday?”
Fran shook her head. “Granted, I was rather frank with Georgina and put her straight about you. And I did get the impression she might ask for your reinstatement. I honestly didn’t expect all this, though.”
Molly spoke her thoughts aloud. “She’s the reason I have my job back and that Edith’s painting will feature in a display?”
Fran nodded. “If I didn’t know better, I would think that girl might have fallen in love with you.” Fran turned back to continue her work.
Love? Molly’s heart missed a beat. “You think she loves me?”
“That’s the only explanation that makes any sense to me.”
Molly looked at the wrapped painting. But then Georgina hadn’t been in contact—what if this wasn’t love but just sorry and goodbye? And how could you love someone and say the things she did?
“Did she mention me when you saw her today?”
Fran shook her head. “No, but I got the impression she wanted to ask after you but was hesitant to. Instead she apologized to me for putting me out. I thanked her for what she’d done, and she just nodded. I think she was a little embarrassed. And then some silly man kept disturbing us to ask her questions about wine, so I left her to it. You never know—she may call in before she goes back to London.”
“She’s going back today?”
“The house was certainly very empty. She kept saying yesterday that she had to get on. I rather got the impression she was trying to get things over and done with.”
Molly bit her lip. “Right.”
“I’ll cover for you if you want to try and catch her.”
Molly shook her head. “I’m not ready to. I need to think about things. Anyway, playing truant in the first hour of my reinstatement to see a woman I’ve been forbidden from seeing may be just a little bit risky.”
Fran smiled. “You don’t say. Don’t overthink things, though. Sometimes things are just as they seem.”
If that was the case, then things couldn’t be clearer, could they? Georgina was continuing to empty her father’s house, which was now for sale. She had obviously decided that Edith’s painting would be best cared for by the museum, and as far as Molly was concerned, Georgina had given Molly what she wanted. Was it an apology of sorts, or an easing of conscience? Either way it was likely that as far as Georgina would be concerned, everything was concluded.
“Oh, Molly. Wonderful, you’ve arrived so promptly and in jeans.” Evelyn appeared at the doorway, not quite managing to venture in.
Molly quickly stood. “I rushed over.”
“Clearly. Anyway, I’m glad I caught you both. I wanted to let you know that the Wright Foundation has expressed an interest in supporting a project related to identifying histories within the collection that have yet to be revealed.”
Molly and Fran looked at each other.
“Minority histories—that sort of thing. Give this some thought, would you. Georgina Wright seems very keen on this. I was surprised to find that her keenness even extended to correcting, as she saw it, omissions in the cataloguing process. A remarkable amount of insight for a banker, wouldn’t you say?”
Molly looked down at the floor. She could feel Evelyn’s eyes boring into her.
“Fran will be the lead on this project. Anyway, as you were.” Evelyn turned sharply and walked away. The sound of Evelyn’s heels tapping against the floor disappeared down the corridor.
Could she be dreaming? Georgina had raised all of Molly’s concerns with Evelyn and she was planning future projects with the museum. That didn’t sound like goodbye.
* * *
Georgina sat on the bottom but one step of her father’s stairs. It was five thirty. Her things were packed up all around her. Her meetings were completed, and it had been agreed that any tail-end matters she would deal with from London. It was hard to imagine that this was likely the last time she would sit on this step or make coffee in the kitchen or bend at the mat for the post or walk through the front doorway to be greeted by the imposing familiarity of it all. It was hard to imagine that the end could come and feel so small. All that was left to do was stand and walk a few paces and open the front door and leave. No one would see this, and no one would care.
Certainly not Molly, it would seem. Georgina checked her phone for one last time, suppressing the sensation that she was a hopeless fool for imagining that Molly could forgive her.
It was time to leave because wasn’t that what happened when there was no reason to stay?
Autumn 1840
City Walk, Leicester
“So what do you think? Shall we buy it?” William looked at the house, his face lit with excitement.
Josephine stared up at the beautiful building with its grand and yet refined exterior. She glanced along the tree-lined promenade towards the south fields and the race course. “Can we afford it? And what about the new railway line?”
“You’re not to worry about such things.” William rested both hands on her shoulders. “But yes, my client list is full, and your father has agreed to help us, should we need it. And really, in spite of the railway, City Walk is considered to be a most desirable residential area.”
“You’ve spoken with my father?”
“Yes, of course. We have agreed that this could be a fresh start. It has broken both our hearts, Jo, to see you so sad for so long.” William reached for Josephine’s hand and held it against his heart. “And we have so much to be thankful for. This is the place where our family can take root and where generations of Wrights can thrive and flourish.”
Josephine watched the future glint in William’s eyes, like half-buried gold, as he stared wide eyed at the house.
“Yes, this is the place. I shall ask for a viewing.” He turned to Josephine and said with a voice thick with emotion, “Let’s bring Adelaide, even James—we shall make our final decision as a family.”
Were decisions hers any more? Had they ever been hers? An unblemished reputation of good works, a husband of standing, a beautiful family, and now a home of stature. It was what she had chosen. Wasn’t it? This should have been a day of such excitement with the thrill of her future beating alive in her heart. But all Josephine could think about was that this was what she had chosen over Edith, over love. This life, her future, felt so empty in comparison to her time with Edith, which had felt so full. Love would have been enough. Edith had been right. And now everything in all its perfection felt so wrong.
With her head down, Georgina hurried past the museum with her eyes fixed at the leaf-trodden ground.
“Georgina!”
She slowed her pace in surprise. She stopped and turned with her eyes seeking after the sound as if to catch it. There was something in the tone of the shout, something fervent, that it was almost like Georgina was lost and the person shouting was trying to find her.
“Georgina, wait!” Molly shouted again as she ran towards Georgina, stopping with a breathless gasp in front of her. “Are you leaving?”
“I don’t know.” Georgina shook her head. “I honestly don’t know what I’m doing any more. All I know, all I can think about, is how sorry I am. I can’t believe how I have hurt you, the terrible things I said.”
“I hadn’t known what to do myself. And all I know is how panicked I felt when I saw you leaving.” Molly raised her palm to Georgina’s cheek, resting it briefly there. “Does knowing that help at all?”
Georgina nodded and then looked up at Evelyn’s office, at the movement of a shadow, at the sense of her. Molly turned to look as well, dropping her hand from Georgina’s cheek.
“Thank you for going in to battle with her, for Edith, for me,” Molly said.
“That’s just it—I would do anything for you.”
Molly’s eyes filled with tears. “Then don’t leave, as least not tonight.” Molly inched the bags from Georgina’s hold to carry them for her and gestured in the direction of George Wright’s home.
Georgina followed her gaze. “It’s empty.”
Molly shook her head. “It won’t be empty. We’ll be there.”