“Morning,” Molly whispered into Georgina’s ear, only for Georgina to pull the duvet over her head with a groan. “I’m leaving some paracetamol and a coffee here for you.”
Georgina slipped the duvet slowly from over her face and without opening her eyes croaked, “I had the most crazy dream that I was standing in front of everyone declaring that I love you.”
Molly sat on the edge of the bed and smoothed a hand along the line of Georgina’s arm beneath the duvet. “Imagine that.”
Georgina opened her eyes and gave a sleepy smile. “Don’t go to work.”
“Weren’t you once a workaholic?”
“Weren’t you once a rebel?”
Molly laughed. “The most rebellious thing I’ve ever done was run across the road before waiting for the pedestrian crossing lights to flash.”
Georgina sat up and rested the duvet at her lap. “You risked everything to correct injustice. That’s pretty rebellious, if you ask me.”
“None of that was planned. Isn’t rebellion planned? And stop tempting me with your breasts.”
Georgina laughed only to quickly hold her head. “Ow.”
“Yep, ow’s about right. My head feels like rhinos are disco dancing inside it.”
“Then don’t go.”
“I’ll come back for lunch.”
“I’ll have left for London by then.”
“You’re going back today? But it’s Friday.”
“I’ve got meetings just after lunch, I have no choice. I’m sorry.”
Molly gathered Georgina’s hand in her lap. The thought of not waking up with her tomorrow morning caused a dull ache in her chest. “I hate not waking up with you.”
“Even in this ridiculously creaky bed?”
“I shall miss this bed.” Molly pressed the mattress and heard the bed frame creak. “It’s been fun.”
Georgina studied Molly’s face for a moment before nodding. “Lots of fun.”
Molly gazed around the room. Her attention drifted out to the long garden beyond. “I can’t believe that you haven’t had buyers snapping off your hands for this place.” Molly walked over to the window and stared down at the beautiful grounds. She couldn’t have envied anyone more. The new buyers would be so lucky. Molly thought of the memories they would make. Of the laughter. Of the return of life this house had so longed for.
She leaned her head against the cold glass. “I wonder if they’ll put an arbour over the path, just there where it divides, and more seating to catch the evening sun, perhaps?”
“I have had offers.”
Molly looked at Georgina. “You have? You didn’t mention anything.” It looked like Georgina wanted to say something as her eyes flitted over Molly’s face, but then she looked down to the duvet in her lap. Molly quickly added, “Not that it’s any of my business, obviously. So when do you think you might return?”
“Look, I have an idea—why don’t you come over, say, Sunday evening. We could have a picnic in the sitting room. What do you reckon?”
Molly returned to sit on the edge of the bed once more. “You’re not coming back until Sunday night?”
“It’s just there are some things I need to do.”
“Sure.” She must keep it breezy, not needy. Georgina had to leave. It wasn’t her choice—it was just how things were. “And so have I lots to do. I am a very busy woman, I’ll have you know. What time on Sunday? I may just be able to squeeze you in between Countryfile and Antiques Roadshow.”
“Six?”
“I’ve pencilled you in.” With their hands entwined, Molly kissed Georgina goodbye. Reluctant to move away she said, “See you Sunday then.”
“I hate waking up without you too. Just so you know.”
Molly traced her fingertips to the tips of Georgina’s fingers before their hands parted.
Leaving Georgina was sweet agony. As Molly rushed the few hundred yards to work, she couldn’t help but wonder: Would it always be this way?
“Good morning, Molly.” Evelyn’s voice startled her back to the day ahead. As ever, Evelyn looked immaculate. Even the tips of her stilettoes shone as she paused under the portico with her coat resting over her arm.
Molly felt instantly unprepared. Had she even brushed her hair? She hoped she wasn’t wearing the tights with the ladder. “Morning.”
“Could you join me?” Evelyn carried on into the foyer before Molly could reply.
“Yes, of course.” Oh God. Was this about last night? Had they guessed right and Lydia had obliged Evelyn to remove The Hunt from the Wright room? Evelyn would hold her responsible wouldn’t she? Would she think that she had gone behind her back yet again?
Molly hurried after Evelyn giving a breathless, “Hi, Fred,” as they passed by reception.
“Molly. Ms. Fox.” Fred stood up straight.
“I’m expecting the chairman, Fred. Please send him straight up.”
Fred smoothed his shirt against his chest and gave a dutiful nod.
The chairman? “Is this about Edith’s painting?” Molly tried to recapture the breath that was escaping her with every step.
Evelyn’s breath remained steady and alarmingly calm as they reached the corridor. Without breaking her stride Evelyn said, “I have agreed with Lydia Wright’s request in that regard if that’s what you’re asking about. And now as far as I’m concerned that matter is concluded. Understood?”
“Yes, absolutely. So does that mean by any chance…”
They stopped outside Marianne’s office.
Evelyn let out an exasperated sigh. “The Hunt will return to the Victorian gallery and the watercolour of Josephine Brancaster will hang at the beginning of the family portraits in the Wright room. And as we are evidently continuing to discuss it, please make this adjustment with the conclusion of the Edith Hewitt display.”
“At the front of the family portraits?” Molly’s heart skipped with how right that felt. For Edith should be first in every way. “Did Lydia request this?”
Evelyn looked at Molly as if she had completely lost all sense. “No. There is simply no question of me hanging a series of works out of order.” Evelyn popped her head into Marianne’s office. “Three coffees and two further copies of the letter from Estelle Oberon. We’re meeting in the conference room.”
“Estelle Oberon?”
“Yes. Before we come to that. Please shut the door behind you and take a seat.”
Molly sat on the edge of her chair, for nothing about this meeting suggested it would be relaxed.
Evelyn sat back in her seat and folded her arms.
Molly held her breath.
“I would like to share something with you. Take from it what you will.” Evelyn smoothed her hand over her notebook pressing it flat against her desk.
“Okay.” The thought of Evelyn sharing with her couldn’t have been more unsettling, and it certainly wasn’t helping that the voice of the chairman arriving could be heard through the door.
“I was married once.” Evelyn closed her eyes to add, “A long time ago.” She swallowed as if the thought was less a memory and more a regurgitation of something acidic burning in her throat. She pinched at her brow and reopened her eyes to fix on Molly. “I mention this because I was doing very well in my post. There was even talk of promotion. But my husband was offered a job, and well, I dutifully resigned, followed him. It was what you did. And then less than a year later, he left me for some silly girl with a crush on him. Men are so weak, don’t you think? Their egos demanding to be stroked like a cat in heat.”
“I’ve not really given much thought to that question.”
Evelyn shook her head. “Right, yes, of course. But here is the point.” She lifted her palm from her notepad and poked her finger into it stabbing the cover as she said, “Is your job, your career worth less than your partner’s? Are you meant to sacrifice everything and follow them?”
“Is this about Georgina and me? Because if it is, then you’re mistaken. Georgina hasn’t asked me to do anything. Certainly not to leave—”
Evelyn leaned towards Molly slightly. “They don’t ask, Molly. Come in!”
Molly jumped at Evelyn’s raised voice and felt a shudder at her insinuation.
Marianne’s head appeared around the door. “The chairman’s arrived.”
“Marvellous. Shall we?” Evelyn pushed her chair back and gathered her papers.
“Sorry, I still don’t quite understand what you’re implying.”
“Well then, let me put it this way—when someone stands in front of their partner’s friends, colleagues, and employers declaring their love as Georgina saw fit to do last night, then that to me is a clear statement of intent.”
“Is it not just a heartfelt declaration of love?”
“Molly, in many ways your naivety is charming and in many ways blinding. I’ve said all I can.”
Molly’s head spun. Georgina wouldn’t ask Molly to leave her job and move to London. Would she? No, of course she wouldn’t.
Evelyn paused and stood behind her desk with her hand on the back of her chair. “Before we meet with Mark, I want to briefly mention the next matter of interest. As I said, Estelle Oberon has been in touch. I only know of the Oberons by reputation as generous philanthropists. How is it you know them? You see, Estelle mentions you personally in her letter.”
“I met them at the National Portrait Gallery.”
“Networking?”
Was that the same as chatting? “Sort of.”
“Well, you’ll be pleased I’m sure to learn that they wish to donate a not insubstantial amount of money to a project here at the museum related to encouraging young women to engage with their own particular history.”
“Really? That’s awesome.”
“They want the focus on using those histories to empower and underpin the young women’s confidence and well-being. Apparently there is a need, a gap in our programming. I wasn’t aware we had a gap?”
Panic gripped Molly in a tight embrace. “I only mentioned the idea in passing, very briefly. Estelle, Mrs. Oberon, didn’t mention her intention to run with it.”
“Well not only has she run with the idea, she has positively sprinted with enthusiasm. The chairman is delighted. He tells me he has been trying to entice the Oberons for some time. Well done.”
“Oh, it was nothing, really.”
Evelyn placed her hand lightly on Molly’s forearm. “What you achieve is not nothing. Please remember that. Right, let’s go.”
Molly began to follow Evelyn. She could see through the open conference room door the chairman sipping at his coffee with a stray smile on his lips. Evelyn stopped at the threshold to the conference room. In a half whisper she said, “Can we, though, do you suppose, allow the chairman to believe it was his doing, the fruits of his labour, if you will? I think it best.”
It was clear to Molly in that moment that if Evelyn Fox mismanaged one relationship with a man, she had clearly determined never to mismanage another. She had become a master of conceding everything and nothing all at once.
“Of course.” Molly gave an understanding nod.
And then Evelyn did the most peculiar thing. She smiled. It was as if she forgot herself for a moment, because no sooner had her face relaxed into a warm expression, than she quickly turned away to the chairman, her face re-fixing, as if for battle.
“Mark. How wonderful to see you. And you’ve a copy of Estelle Oberon’s letter. I’ve invited Molly to join us. She’s the perfect choice to lead this project. I feel you agree…”
* * *
“I’ve never known the museum, or the square for that matter, so quiet.” Fran ushered Molly to move along the bench to make room for her. “I have had the most pleasant peaceful morning. Not one person asked me where the toilet was or if the embalmed mummy was real.”
“The morning-after phenomenon,” Molly said. “It was such a good night, wasn’t it?”
Fran gave Molly’s hand a quick squeeze. “A very good night. I’m impressed you made it in.”
Molly grimaced and rubbed her forehead. “I was tempted not to. I have the hangover from hell. Thank God I did go in though. Evelyn pounced on me for a meeting with her before I’d even gotten through the door. Honestly I have so much news to tell you.”
“Excellent. Although I’ve never found you lacking in that department.”
“I aim to please. Item one—Edith’s painting will hang in the Wright room after the temporary display has finished.”
“Molly, that’s wonderful. So which Wright threatened Evelyn into that decision?”
“Lydia.”
“Goodness. I love it. Next item please.”
“Do you remember I spent New Year’s in London with Georgina at a party held by the Oberons?”
“How could I forget.”
“Yes, anyway, the Oberons are important patrons—think the Wright Foundation but much, much bigger. It turns out Estelle Oberon is funding a project here at the museum aimed at helping young women engage with their history.”
“That’s excellent. Was this something you’d been hoping for?”
“No, that’s just it—it was a complete surprise. I do remember chatting with Estelle over a glass of wine, and her asking me what my next project was. I said that I wanted to keep developing a diverse museum where every visitor could see themselves reflected. I also mentioned our aspirations for extending our outreach work. It obviously struck a chord with her.”
“I take it Evelyn is pleased.”
“She smiled at me.”
“No? Now that is news.”
They both laughed. Molly gave a whimper of pain and clutched at her forehead.
“I’m never drinking again. The last thing I remember clearly was arriving back with Georgina to her father’s house and sliding down George Wright’s banister.”
“Molly Goode. That’s original woodwork.” Fran’s scolding words did not match her amused expression. “And Georgina? How was she this morning?”
“She could barely open her eyes.”
“Aha. Very telling. I see the for sale sign’s gone. Don’t tell me you’re responsible for that too?”
“What? It has?” Molly shielded her eyes, straining to look for the board. “Georgina didn’t say anything. You know, I could have sworn I narrowly collided with it first thing. It must have been taken down this morning at some point.”
Molly looked at Fran, who just shrugged.
“Come to think of it, Georgina let slip only this morning that she’d had offers.” Molly bit forlornly into her sandwich.
Fran frowned. “Except wouldn’t they just put up a sold subject to contract banner over the for sale notice? Maybe Georgina’s decided not to sell after all.”
Molly shook her head. “I don’t think so. She told me that she literally has nightmares about what happened in that house.”
“Well you know her best. It’s just…”
“What?”
“What puzzles me is if she hates the house so much, why do you both spend so much time there?”
Molly shrugged. “It’s convenient for my work and the train station.”
“It’s practically empty. Trust me, there’s nothing convenient or comfortable about that house. Want an apple?” Molly shook her head. Fran continued, while rooting round in her bag, “My sense is that it means a lot for Georgina to be there, whether she would admit it to herself or not.”
Could Fran be right? But then what if it was Evelyn who was right? And London was all that Georgina had in mind. Maybe it was a private sale that had just gone through and that was that. No more beautiful sitting room to admire, no more stairs to want to dance down, no more coffee in the glamorous kitchen, and no more bedroom where the morning light fell upon the bed where she woke in Georgina’s arms.
“You okay?” Fran stared at Molly with an expression of concern.
“Yes. I was just thinking how much I’ll miss the house.”
“But then you have the girl to compensate, eh?”
“She honestly means everything to me. My work also means the world to me, and I will never stop doing what I do and caring about what I care about but…I know this is going to sound terrible, but I just want to be with her wherever that is, wherever she needs me to go. Is that really weak of me to put her first?”
“No. It’s not weakness.” Fran put her arm around Molly and gave her a squeeze. “It’s love.”