Chapter Forty-Five

Dorothy and Bobby had just left Gloria’s flat, having spent an hour playing with Hope and spoiling her rotten. She was in a particularly excitable mood as, so she had told them several times, it was just three days before Santa visited.

‘So,’ Bobby said, taking hold of Dorothy’s hand as they walked along Borough Road, ‘Helen’s still not sure who it was that gave us the note?’

‘I think she’s pretty convinced it has to be someone working for her grandfather,’ Dorothy said. ‘Perhaps Thomas, the driver, or one of the maids who might have overheard something or worked out what Mr Havelock was up to. It’s proving it, though, isn’t it? Whoever it was, they’re sure to deny it until they’re blue in the face if they’re ever asked. Who would dare get on the bad side of Mr Havelock – a man who’s prepared to poison his wife?’

They crossed the road and made their way to the museum.

‘She doesn’t think it could be Eddy or Agatha?’ Bobby asked. ‘She seems pretty convinced they were a part of it all – which would suggest they might have wanted to put a stop to it.’

‘Perhaps,’ Dorothy said. ‘Although Helen said the look of guilt on both their faces when she went round there made her think otherwise.’

‘So, it looks like it will remain a mystery,’ Bobby mused as they walked up the steps.

‘One which Helen is determined to solve, no matter how long it takes.’ Dorothy laughed. ‘And no one is in any doubt that she will.’

Bobby smiled, thinking that his soon-to-be stepsister was one very determined woman when she put her mind to something.

He pulled open the heavy door to the entrance of the museum.

‘Oh, it’s lovely and warm in here,’ Dorothy said as she walked into the foyer. Her last few words, though, were obliterated by the ear-splitting sound of a toddler who was refusing to get off Wallace, the museum’s stuffed lion. The more his mother tried to get him off, the more he screamed.

Dorothy pointed to the main art gallery and hurried past the exasperated mother and red-faced child, who was gripping poor Wallace’s mane as if his life depended on it. The lion’s Christmas hat had been knocked off and was lying next to his front paw.

As soon as the door to the gallery closed behind them, Dorothy exhaled dramatically.

‘Oh. My. God. What a racket!’

Bobby laughed. ‘Nothing like the sound of a screaming infant.’

‘You can say that again,’ Dorothy said, looking around the high-ceilinged room, which was filled with the largest oil paintings she had ever seen. ‘Thank goodness there’s no toddlers having tantrums here.’

‘No one at all, in fact,’ Bobby said, glancing round.

They started to walk towards a magnificent gilt-framed oil painting of a ship riding high on turbulent waters.

‘You know,’ Dorothy said suddenly, ‘I’ve been thinking a lot lately.’

‘About?’ Bobby asked.

‘About lots of things really. Life … The way society is …’ Dorothy’s voice trailed off.

‘Sounds very serious?’ Bobby asked.

‘I guess it is.’ Dorothy let out a short laugh. ‘I have my moments.’

‘Go on,’ Bobby encouraged. ‘This sounds intriguing.’

‘Mmm, I don’t know if intriguing is the word you’ll use when you hear what’s been going through my mind.’

Just then, the curator opened the door and the sound of the toddler’s crying once again pierced the air.

Dorothy laughed. ‘Simply put, I don’t think I want all that.’

‘What’s “all that”?’ Bobby asked as they ambled towards the next work of art.

‘Screaming children,’ Dorothy said. She gave Bobby a sideways glance. ‘The whole family thing.’ She paused. ‘Marriage.’

‘Really?’ Bobby asked, shocked.

Dorothy was quiet. She’d shocked herself lately with how she was thinking, never mind Bobby.

Bobby looked at Dorothy and forced a smile, not wanting her to see his disappointment at her sudden confession. ‘Not all children are like that one out there,’ he argued. They had now reached another huge oil painting, this one showing an armada of British ships setting sail.

‘I don’t think that came out right,’ Dorothy said. ‘It’s not just the children, it’s everything that goes alongside them.’

‘Is that why you turned Toby down? Because you don’t really want to get married?’

‘No,’ Dorothy said without hesitation.

Bobby’s face showed his relief.

‘I turned Toby down because of you,’ she said, laughing.

Bobby smiled.

‘So, you’re adamant you really don’t want to get married?’ Bobby said, his focus on Dorothy. Watching her expression.

‘I don’t think it’s just about not wanting to get married,’ Dorothy said. ‘I think it’s more about me not wanting to live a traditional life.’

Dorothy turned her attention to a beautiful painting of Venice.

‘You’ve seen so much of the world,’ she said. ‘You’ve had all that excitement. So, I’m guessing you’re happy to settle down.’

Bobby laughed, causing the curator, who had settled in the leather chair by the door, to scowl over at them.

‘I don’t know if I’m ready for my slippers and pipe yet.’ Bobby dropped his voice to a whisper as he guided Dorothy back out into the main hallway. The mother and child had now gone. The quietness of the museum had resumed.

Seeing the sign to the ‘Foreign Exhibits’, Bobby took Dorothy’s hand. ‘Come on, let’s go and pretend we’re somewhere else. In some faraway land, batting off the mosquitoes and getting burned by the midday sun.’

‘Sounds lovely – the midday sun, not getting bit or burned,’ Dorothy said, raising her face to the ceiling lights and pretending to revel in the sun’s rays.

As they entered the small exhibition room, Bobby turned to Dorothy.

‘I was just thinking,’ he said, with a playful smile. ‘If you’re not sure about marriage and keeping to tradition, then does that mean you’re having second thoughts … about other things?’

Dorothy looked at him, puzzled.

Bobby raised his eyebrows.

‘Oh, Bobby.’ She laughed loudly and batted him on the arm. ‘You never give up, do you!’

He chuckled. ‘It’s your fault for being so irresistible.’

As they sauntered along, looking at bows and arrows and hand-made jewellery brought back from faraway places, Bobby put his arm around Dorothy and kissed her ear.

‘So, when we run off to live in sin, where would you like to go first?’ he asked.

They walked past a mannequin dressed in a straw skirt.

‘How about Hawaii?’ Dorothy suggested.

‘Hawaii it is,’ Bobby said, noting that Dorothy had not objected to the suggestion that they live in sin.

Seeing a bench, Bobby guided Dorothy towards it and they sat down. ‘Do you think what happened with your mam is making you feel the way you do about getting married?’ he asked. ‘I mean, her first marriage was violent and her second isn’t exactly … well … one that I think you’d want.’

‘Too right,’ Dorothy said.

‘Do you think that might have made you change your mind?’ Bobby tried to sound casual. Dorothy’s comments on marriage had floored him, though he was trying his hardest not to let it show.

‘I don’t know if it’s made me change my mind,’ Dorothy said, her tone now serious. ‘I think what happened that day at the house, it just got me thinking – and, well, I kept on thinking. Thinking about everything … all those other marriages, and the way women are, or are expected to be … and I’m not sure if that’s what I want – what is expected. I think I want more.’ She looked at Bobby. ‘Doesn’t what happened with your mam and dad make you think?’

Bobby let out a slightly bitter-sounding laugh. ‘It made me think that what they had was the complete opposite of what I’d want out of a marriage.’

They sat for a moment. Both pensive.

‘Come on,’ Dorothy said finally, standing up. ‘Let’s go and treat ourselves to a hot chocolate at Meng’s.’

‘Sounds like a plan,’ said Bobby. ‘And you can tell me more about any other thoughts you might have been having lately.’

As they made their way out, Bobby put his arm around Dorothy’s waist and pulled her close. The woman he loved clearly wanted to venture down the road less travelled.

Well, there was no way she was going to do it on her own.

He would be with her every step of the way.