‘Yes,’ he said. ‘In fact,’ he continued, encouraged by the sparkle he had brought to her eyes, ‘I think they’re going to be very happy.’
NOVEMBER
Chapter 30
November was a quiet month for Becky but, while her work slowed down, everyone else was busier than ever. Charlie was spending more and more time in his studio or at the gallery with Rachel, Phoebe was buried in exam revision and Ronnie was busy dusting a little sugar over the often-sour residents of the Comptons.
Becky enjoyed the extra time with Dylan while it lasted, knowing calm work phases were often suddenly interrupted by frenetic periods with too many clients demanding results yesterday. Her parents came to stay for a week, which involved shuffling the usual sleeping and bathroom arrangements, but was otherwise a relatively stress-free experience. Nevertheless, she was delighted when Lloyd called and gave her an excuse to get out of the house unaccompanied.
‘Checkmate, my dear. You shall go to the ball.’
She punched the air. ‘Fantastic! Tell me everything.’
‘I would prefer not to discuss this further over the telephone. Would you care to take tea with me tomorrow morning? At Sweet’s Cakes?’
Becky frowned as she agreed to the meeting. Was his anti-phone paranoia further evidence of Lloyd’s shady past or simply an excuse to go out for cake?
The choice of time and venue further unsettled and intrigued her. She had never seen Lloyd in a day-lit venue and wasn’t certain he wouldn’t burst into flames or melt. Secondly, Sweet’s was somewhere she had always seen as a home from home, not the sort of place to meet a man who could well be a retired master villain.
Arriving at Sweet’s early, Becky inspected the window display. The team’s latest work was a series of wedding cakes. These included a stand covered in a hundred heart-shaped cakes, one for every guest, and a simple single tier which was the seat for cute edible models of the bride and groom in their wedding car, complete with ‘Just Married’ sign, balloons and tin cans. In an attempt to give the group a seasonal relevance, the backdrop had been painted a deep blue and starred with a drama of exploding fireworks.
Already unnerved by his choice of venue, Becky was troubled to find Lloyd and Ronnie sitting elbow to elbow, sharing a pot of Earl Grey and cackling like two old ladies in a crocheting circle who had spent all afternoon on the gin.
After some table banging and wheezing, Ronnie calmed down enough to say hello. Shaking her head at Lloyd, she gave him a peck on the cheek and made her way back to the kitchen.
Becky repositioned the seat Ronnie had occupied so she was a comfortable distance from Lloyd and sat down.
‘Quite the ball of fire, your friend,’ he said. ‘Like her extraordinary hair. She has some wonderful stories too. I’m so glad she’ll be coming to the ball.’
‘She will?’
‘Yes. During one of our recent conversations it occurred to Barbara that a cake from Sweet’s was precisely what the event needed.’
‘It occurred to her? Spontaneously?’
‘She is nothing if not a ceaseless fountain of ideas.’ He dabbed at the upturned corners of his mouth with a napkin. ‘Although I had to apologise to Sharon for being unable to get her a full ticket, including the dinner. However, I hope she’ll enjoy the dancing. She’s already promised to save one for me.’ He devoured the remnants of his slice of red velvet, chewing enthusiastically. ‘Before you ask, Barbara was eventually as delighted as we imagined with the proposal and is looking forward to donating a decent-sized canvas.’
Becky nodded. ‘And you have your seat at the top table?’
‘On the left hand of the Supreme Commander herself. And I have secured four more tickets for you and Mr Handren to use as you wish. I’m sure he would like to take the lovely Ms Stone as his guest.’
‘Thank you.’
Lloyd glowed with satisfaction. She asked herself if someone could explode as a result of being overly pleased with himself. But then this was Lloyd, and so implosion would be more likely: he wasn’t one to make indiscreet messes.
She eyed his hair, then the gold ring. She had to ask. ‘You don’t own a cat do you?’
‘No.’ If he were perplexed by her non sequitur, he didn’t show it. ‘I’m not a cat person. I have a dog though; a beagle called Ariel. I’ve had him for years.’
Of course he had. What kind of sorcerer would he be otherwise?
Her Prospero finished his tea with a flourish and got to his feet. ‘We’ll talk nearer the event about the finer details, but I’ll let you get on. You’ll need to hurry if you want to talk to Mr Handren before the young Ms Stone does. She’s not going to be too pleased about her mother getting her hands on one of her artist’s paintings. And for nothing.’
Becky waved as Lloyd stepped out of the bakery and straight into his car, the door held open by a uniformed chauffeur. He was right. She should capitalise on Dylan being in safe hands and go to see Charlie straight away.
She got up, slung her bag over her shoulder and was about to follow Lloyd out the door when Ronnie called her back. With her usual lack of ceremony, she bundled Becky into a corner of the kitchen and said, ‘Are you going to see Charlie now to fill him in?’
Becky sighed. Clearly Lloyd had told Ronnie more than she would have liked. ‘Yes.’
‘Good. Ask him to give Mike a call, will you? Mike hasn’t seen him for a couple of weeks because the great artist is always working when he invites him out to play. I think the poor guy is starting to have withdrawal symptoms.’
‘But doesn’t that mean he has more time to spend with you?’
Ronnie waved a hand dismissively, forcing Becky to sway back to get clear of her chunky silver rings. ‘Yes, yes, of course, and that’s good. Although sometimes I think it’s wise for a couple to spend time apart. Especially when they live together. In a small house. With one bathroom.’
Becky held up a hand. ‘Say no more. I’ll have a word.’
‘And …’
Ronnie batted her eyelashes and smiled sweetly. Becky dreaded to think what was coming next. ‘Yes?’
‘Can you get Mike into the ball as well?’ Ronnie chewed the next word and spat it out. ‘Please?’
Unbelievable: from pushy to pleading in under thirty seconds. Becky guessed that was what Lloyd would call ‘fiery’.
‘I can’t see the new year in without him, but I’m dying to go to the ball,’ Ronnie said. ‘And if anyone can get him in, you can.’
‘OK. I’ll try to come up with something. But I want a pile of takeaway cake boxes in return. You know how my mum likes to stockpile them.’
Ronnie squealed and pulled her into a constrictor hug. ‘I knew you could do it. Thanks.’
Sliding back into pushy mode, she manhandled Becky out into the shop. ‘Right. Now get over to Charlie’s and let him know what’s going on before he hears it from someone else.’
Chapter 31
The studio was a productive mess. Two paintings rested on easels close to the storage area wall. In the middle of the space, Charlie was working on a canvas over three foot in length and two in height. The painting was a mixture of brown and red shapes, as if a group of competitive quadrilaterals had got in a tangle playing Twister. There was also a large blank canvas on the floor to the right of Charlie’s work area. It must have been over six feet long and four feet wide. Becky imagined Charlie adopting it as a mattress. Perhaps that was what a painter had to do to get a visit from his muse while he slept.