When she arrived at the Yellow Orchid, she found that her brother had already retired for the evening, leaving his staff to run the cafe. It was a quiet evening, the pianist the only musical entertainment for the few patrons, so she did not blame him. Vernon had worked hard to make his business a success and it was only in the last year or so that he’d begun to take the occasional evening away from the cafe floor. She teased him that he was getting old and he reminded her that she was the older twin, by exactly eleven minutes. Usually, that rejoinder seemed all too appropriate; she did feel her age. But now, with thoughts of what might come with Evelyn filling her thoughts, she had a new energy.
Clive, who was standing at the bar when she arrived, directed her upstairs with a friendly greeting. She found Vernon relaxing in an armchair, his feet propped on a matching footstool. He was reading the newspaper, the room bathed in a gentle lamplight. He put the newspaper down when he heard her enter.
“Sister, dear!” he said. “Just when I was beginning to think you weren’t coming to call after all.”
“I said I would. I’m only late because everyone had something they needed me—and no one else—to do today.” Jos sat down in another chair, facing Vernon. “How’s your day been?”
“Oh, not so bad. Business is quiet but I don’t mind that. I did have a visitor earlier, looking for you.”
“Who?”
“Evie Hopkins. She left a note, here.” Vernon picked up a folded piece of paper from the table at his side and leaned across to give it to her.
Jos took it quickly and read the few words inside. “Thank you. Did she say what she wanted?” The note was remarkably unhelpful, although it made her heart glad to know that Evelyn had wanted to see her.
“Not really. I think she was missing you and just wanted to say hello. It must be rather odd for her, after all, to spend one night with you, change her whole world, and then have to keep quiet about it and continue to make conversation with Lilian and James.”
Jos read the note again and then levelled her gaze at Vernon. He played the fool, but he was capable of wisdom and insight. “Do you think I should go and see her?”
“No.” Vernon’s response was definite. “You’re going to see her in a couple of days, after all. I think the note has served its purpose—she’s let you know that she’s thinking about you. That will sustain her until Christmas, I’m sure.”
Jos raised an eyebrow. “How do you know for certain?” Her first instinct was to go and find Evelyn now, reassure her, tell her that she missed her too. Which was a first for her, she realised. She did not usually miss women when she was not with them.
“I don’t”—Vernon shrugged—“but what are you going to do, knock on the door and explain yourself to James and Lilian Grainger?”
“It’s unlikely,” Jos acknowledged, “although I still don’t understand why they disapprove quite so much of me when Lilian is clearly very approving of you.”
Vernon laughed gently. “Lilian doesn’t know what she approves or disapproves of. Just lately she’s been even worse. I’m considering disentangling myself from her, I confess.”
“That’s most unlike you. Usually you wait until the ladies tire of you or see you with one of their friends and slap you.”
“True enough. But Lilian is growing to be hard work. And I dislike her disapproval of you. She was fun for a while, and very energetic, but I’ve had to hear too many of her arduous views on the world now.” Vernon sighed.
“She’s one of your stars,” Jos pointed out.
“London is full of women who can hold a tune and dance a Charleston. Besides, I’m all for amicable separations. She can still sing here, if she wants.” Vernon did not sound concerned. Jos envied his ability to separate his emotions from his day-to-day life. She’d never managed it, despite many years of trying. “She was here today, just as Evie was leaving, and it was awfully tiresome. She’s so endlessly bright and lively, but so prone to snapping if I make a wrong move. It’s not like we feel anything for each other. The woman’s using me every bit as much as I’m using her. One of us needs to draw a line under it.”
“How very mature of you,” Jos said, with gentle sarcasm.
“Not really. I’d marry her and be eternally unhappy if I wanted to grow up,” Vernon said. “But we were talking about you, and your Devonshire beauty. I think she’s rather wonderful, by the way. You have far better judgement than I do.”
“Thank you. I don’t think that was ever in question though.” Jos looked down at the letter again. “She said she misses me.”
“And?”
“It worries me. What does it mean?”
“That she misses you, I expect. Don’t you miss her?” Apparently, it was simple in Vernon’s mind.
“Actually, I do. And that’s strange.” Jos frowned.
“Only for you, Jos. I’m led to believe that most couples miss their other half at some stage.”
Jos rolled her eyes. “Is that supposed to be advice?”
Vernon shrugged. “Not really. Just my thoughts. I think you have something good. Don’t ruin it.”
“Like I usually do, you mean?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I mean. You know it.”
“But what if it only seems right because she’s so innocent? I don’t mean that as any insult to her, of course, but you must see it too. Everything’s new to her—it will take her time to form an opinion, to understand the world around
