They sat quietly and people around them went about their business, office workers hurrying back to their places of work, women shopping and schoolboys returning to the grammar school after their midday break. Giles commented that it was one of the best schools in England, and then, as if by mutual accord, they rose to wend their way back to their lodgings.
‘Did you pick up your post this morning?’ Giles asked as they walked, and Delia said no, she hadn’t noticed it. She wondered who would write to her; only her agent knew where she was. The thought reminded her that she must write to him to cancel her arrangement with him once and for all.
‘I didn’t mean to pry,’ Giles said. ‘I also had post delivered this morning and happened to see yours. I have a buyer for the York house,’ he added, almost as an afterthought.
‘Really? So soon!’
‘The agents described it as a desirable dwelling, but my only desire was to be rid of it and begin my life again.’
‘So you are at a crossroads,’ she observed quietly. ‘I hope your new life works out the way you want it to, but I also hope that you don’t stray too far away. I – I’d miss our friendship,’ she said softly, and was struck by an unfamiliar emotion; she realized that she would be very sad if he chose to leave. But I must hold my emotions at bay. There should be no expectation of anything but friendship.
He glanced down at her, his gaze lingering. ‘I’ve been making plans,’ he murmured, ‘but they depend on circumstances out of my control, although I shall attempt to scupper any opposition.’
‘Your divorce?’
‘It’s too soon, but I’ve met my lawyers and apprised them of the situation. They’ve told me that divorce proceedings to make the marriage null and void, from decree nisi to absolute, will take approximately eighteen months to complete. Marion and her … paramour, Samuel Ellis, will be arriving in Canada any day now. They travelled separately on the ship, I understand, so as not to precipitate any scandal, but will take the train together to their destination, wherever that might be. I didn’t enquire,’ he added, ‘and therefore will not be able to answer any questions from any parents, hers or mine.’
‘Are you bitter?’ she asked.
‘No!’ he exclaimed. Taking off his hat, he threw it in the air and caught it. ‘I am not, or at least only for the lost unhappy years.’
She laughed. He managed somehow to be able to rise above any trouble or difficulty, or at least not to show them. And yet he was sensitive towards others’ anxieties and not indifferent to their fears – not even, apparently, to those of his wife.
The letter which was waiting for her was from Arthur, with an invitation to pay a weekend visit to his Derbyshire home.
Might I request that you bring our precious boy with you? And as I have also invited your friend Miss Robinson, I would like to ask your friend Dawson if he would be so kind as to be my guest and escort you both. I will of course send the carriage to collect you and bring you home again.
Do say you will come, my dearest Delia. I long to have a fuller conversation with you and welcome you to my home. I wish to introduce you to my mother, and you must promise me that you won’t be nervous of her and her acid tongue.
I look forward to hearing from you soon telling me of a suitable date.
Your ever loving friend, Arthur Crawshaw.
She knocked on Giles’s door to tell him of the invitation. ‘Will you come?’ she asked.
They went downstairs into the residents’ lounge to discuss dates, and Giles said he’d be pleased to accompany them. He suggested the weekend after the next one and put forward the idea that she should travel to Paull during the coming weekend to make arrangements.
‘I’ll write to Jenny,’ she said excitedly, ‘and ask if she’s free.’
But there was a note from Jenny in the afternoon post to say that she had received Arthur’s invitation and suggested the same weekend.
‘I rather think that Jenny received her invitation first,’ Delia mused thoughtfully to Giles. ‘For how has she replied so quickly?’
‘Do you mind?’ Giles asked.
‘Mind?’ Delia looked up. ‘Not in the least. In fact,’ she said thoughtfully, ‘I think they’d make a very good couple. They are both quite self-centred, both enlightened and educated people, and I think if anyone could hold Arthur to account it would be Jenny.’ Then she laughed. ‘But I don’t think there’s much chance of that, more’s the pity. She told me she was a dyed-in-the-wool spinster and wouldn’t ever marry.’
Quizzically he raised his eyebrows. ‘So he wouldn’t be the man for you, Delia? Not even after your long friendship?’
‘No. Ours was a completely platonic friendship, which is all I’ve ever had with any man.’ She spoke without thinking, nor did she notice the easing of tension in his glance. ‘I first met Arthur when Jack – Robin – was little and beginning to get into mischief. When he was a baby, and then a toddler, everyone kept an eye on him when I was on stage, the women and the men; he was such a sweet and adorable child. I wasn’t the only one to think that,’ she added, when she spotted his wry grin. ‘Occasionally the women would take him shopping with them whilst I was in a rehearsal or a matinee and he’d come back with a new toy, but when he got to be three he sometimes escaped and toddled off backstage on
