‘Possibly,’ Nell said. ‘It might have been hanging in Manchester at some point. Why don’t you ring him? I’ll make some coffee.’
So she had, and he too had been excited. ‘Gabriella … your Nell is a wonder. This is such a bonus. I … I know this is a lot to ask, but could you possibly bring that catalogue up to London? It would make my job of finding out about the family much easier. Is that at all possible?’
Startled, Gabby had mumbled, ‘Um … well … could I ring you back on that one?’
Nell had come back into the study, and Gabby replaced the receiver with nervous hands. ‘He was chasing that painting and it did hang in Manchester. Nell, he wants me to rush up to London with the catalogue so that he can take it to the Portrait Gallery with him.’
‘Today?’ Nell asked, startled.
‘Not today, Nell. It’s far too late to catch a train today.’
‘What if we photocopied it and put it in the post tonight. He would, with luck, get it in the morning.’
They looked at each other doubtfully. ‘With luck is the word,’ Gabby said. ‘I told him I’d ring him back. I’ll have to think. It would be much better if you went, actually, Nell. You restored the picture.’
‘Gabby, I’m not haring up to London for a day. Chelsea Flower Show is my next trip. My dear girl, if you feel like a gallivant to the National Portrait Gallery with your Canadian, you go. It might be quite good for you. I can ring my club and book you in for the night, and you can catch the train home the following day.’
Gabby bit her lip, thinking of Charlie. Nell said quietly, ‘Gabby, if you’re worried about the expense or what Charlie will say, don’t. You’re earning your own money. I’ll pay for the night at the club. I’d love to, that’s what it’s for, to be used. If you think it would be fun and you can put up with five hours on a train, go.’
‘Nell … thanks.’
‘Ring him back. I must get to work. I’ll see you at lunchtime.’
‘Gabriella? Thanks for ringing back. I’ve delayed my flight a day and managed to get a meeting with a friend of a colleague at the National Portrait Gallery. If it is the same painting I’ve been trying to trace, it was loaned to the gallery by the Vyvyan family for one of their retrospective exhibitions in 1964.’
‘That’s right. Nell restored it in the early sixties. Just before that exhibition.’
‘She is a star! This is what I love about tracing history, the leads that suddenly appear when you are least expecting them … Gabriella, have you had time to think? Any possibility you could come up to London and go to the gallery with me? It would be so good to have you with me.’
Gabby felt almost angry that his voice could wreak such havoc with her stomach, but she said, ‘I’ll come up on the early train. What time is your appointment with the gallery?’
‘Two-thirty. Can you make it for then?’
‘On the early train I can.’
‘I’ll meet you at Paddington. Let me know the time. Then I’ll take you out to lunch, before we go …’
Gabby wobbled down the speeding train to get a coffee. It was following the sea wall at Teignmouth. In rough weather the waves came up over the sea wall, a great grey tower looming over the trains in a terrifying way before the line was closed.
She could see her reflection in the window and closed her eyes against herself. She could not relax, she felt poised, on the brink of something. She kept visualizing herself getting off the train, walking along the platform to the barrier, looking round for him … then, what? Smiling and waving? Shaking hands? Being businesslike?
How had they parted? What exactly had he said? Gabby tried to remember. People often said things they did not mean. Sometimes they pretended they had not said the things they did not mean.
The countryside raced past and still she could not concentrate on her book. The train followed a canal; rows and rows of bright barges were lined along the banks, bicycles and flowers and pushchairs up on their roofs. A family of ducks were settled on the riverbank, the gander’s bright green feathers glinted in the sun.
She felt rather as she had when she had smoked a joint with Josh, to see what it was like. Everything stood out, bright and separate. Stark and noticeable. Beautiful and highlighted, as if she was marking her trail to a foreign land and must take note in case she could not find her way back. Her limbs felt stiff with anticipation. She made herself breathe deeply, tried to think of nothing outside her direct vision.
Her mind moved to Isabella. What had excited Mark so much about the figurehead that he felt the need to accompany her thousands of miles?
In her imagination Gabby suddenly saw his wrist. The way the long dark fingers lay curled around the smooth face of a female figurehead on Tresco. The way the hairs on his wrist curled into his shirt cuff. She shivered as she remembered how badly she had wanted to touch that place between cuff and wrist, lay a finger there to feel the heat and pulse of him. The heat and pulse of him.
The train swayed and groaned as it gathered speed and she closed her eyes, half-asleep, voices rising and coming to her in small waves.
When they reached Reading, Gabby went to the loo and brushed her hair, put on her pale lipstick which never stayed on. Sprayed herself with something expensive Nell had given her for Christmas. She looked at herself critically. Her dark skin was tanned and devoid of make-up, which, except for lipstick, she never wore. Her eyes, framed by naturally dark lashes, seemed too intense, too blue and nervous. Like a horse about to bolt.
For heaven’s sake. You are just taking him a catalogue. You will have a pleasant lunch, an interesting afternoon, and then … She reached up for her overnight bag and pulled it to her. Then maybe an early drink or supper and he will put you in a taxi for Nell’s club, and you will have enjoyed the day with him and be glad you came.
She got out of her seat as the train slid into Paddington, letting the people in a hurry go in front of her. Then she walked slowly down the platform towards the barrier, holding her ticket. She saw him first because he was tall. He had on cream linen trousers and a crumpled jacket and still looked casually elegant. His eyes were scanning the people pouring towards him, rather anxiously.
Gabby stopped dead in her tracks and watched him. A powerful feeling of familiarity swept through her, so strong and strange was the sensation that she had done all this before. Slowly she moved on towards him and when he caught sight of her his face lit up. Once on the other side of the barrier he hugged her hard.
‘It is so, so good to see you. I guess I couldn’t really believe you would come.’
Gabby laughed. ‘I said I would.’
‘Sure you did. But things can go wrong. Something might have prevented you.’
‘Well, nothing did,’ she said softly.
‘Nothing did,’ he repeated, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips. He hooked her holdall over his shoulder.
‘We’ll take a taxi. I found somewhere to eat near the gallery so we don’t have a panic about getting there.’
It was an Italian restaurant and looked expensive. Gabby was glad she had worn a newish pair of white trousers and a navy denim jacket that Josh loved her in.
Mark openly stared at her. ‘You look wonderful, Gabriella. Just give me a moment, then I will stop gazing at you and order wine.’
A waiter brought them huge menus and Mark ordered two glasses of white wine, remembering this is what she drank.
‘Could I also have some mineral water?’ Gabby asked the waiter.
She