Page 10 of Mirrors of the Past

‘No. But it could have been. And — and!’ She remembered something and pointed her finger at him. ‘The marbles were definitely broken.’

‘They were not broken. The packaging unravelled. They fell on the ground. I tried to help you pick them up!’

‘I say!’ Elsie finally chipped in and physically placed herself between Viola and Laurie. ‘Is this any way to behave when there could be a small child quite possibly walking into this room at any moment?’

Viola bit back a retort and angrily took a sip of tea. Elsie was correct, of course. Sure, she had issues with that dreadful man, but it wasn’t right to be stashing it up with him in Elsie’s parlour. It was just too bad that he’d walked right in here when she was visiting . . .

‘Beg pardon.’ Laurie spoke stiffly. ‘I just — hoped — it was Fabian or Lily here. When Edwin said a friend. I mean . . .’ He indicated Viola. Viola knew exactly what he meant.

‘I am too Elsie’s friend. Does not mean I have to be your friend . . .’

‘Enough!’ Elsie was actually laughing now. She threw herself back into her seat and put her bare feet smartly on the table in front of her, crossed neatly at the ankles. Viola thought Elsie might take hold of her teacup again, but instead she scrabbled around and picked up a sketchbook and a stick of charcoal. The charcoal started moving swiftly over the paper, which was, Viola now knew, not exactly a nervous habit of Elsie’s — it was more that her mind and her creativity never seemed to rest, and it was simply as much of a habit for Elsie to sketch her friends as they sat in front of her, as it was for anyone else to rub their nose.

‘So, I take it you two have met before?’ Elsie smiled at Laurie. ‘Please. Sit down, vilest sibling.’

Laurie hesitated, then went to the furthest chair from Viola. Viola, despite not wanting to be anywhere near him, was quietly indignant that he had made that choice. She took another sip of tea, trying to focus on something that wasn’t that pale young man sitting stiffly in the chair. She was sure a muscle was twitching in his jaw as he tried not to say anything else. He had the hump all right — but even so . . .

How ignorant!

‘Tell me,’ continued Elsie, a mischievous look in her eyes. ‘How do you really know each other?’

‘Don’t pretend you don’t know,’ said Laurie. ‘It’s true that she walked into me—’ Viola yelped indignantly — ‘and I’m rather certain that Pearl and Ernie already told you that story.’

‘Mmm. Perhaps.’ Elsie clearly wasn’t giving anything else away. ‘But whatever the story is, it’s jolly good that you bumped into each other here today. There’s nothing nicer than having a lovely chat over a cup of tea and meeting new people. Or maybe not-so-new people. Is there?’

Viola saw Laurie narrow his eyes and shake his head in his sister’s direction. She was inclined to agree with the man, but wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. However, she couldn’t actually bring herself to respond to Elsie and lie and agree with her, so she had yet another sip of the tea.

Tea was an acquired taste to her American sensibilities. She much preferred coffee, but when in Rome, and all that . . .

Elsie didn’t seem to care that neither of her guests had agreed with her and blithely chattered on about this and that. Viola found her mind drifting a little and thought about what, in her mind, would be nicer than tea with Laurie Teague. Lots of things, really. She looked at him, not really seeing him, and thought that dancing somewhere like Paris would be much more preferable. She’d commented to Sam when they had been there how she quite wanted to dance at the Moulin Rouge. He’d laughed at her then and said for one thing she was too short, and for another, did she know the reputations of the girls that had danced there in the past?

Viola did, but she didn’t pay it much attention. It just seemed like it would be quite fun, she’d told Sam.

A noise at the door dragged her attention back to the present. For a brief moment she focussed back on Laurie, and he was staring at her with much the same expression as she felt was displayed on her face. She raised her chin and looked away from him. Not interested in you, was what she wanted to portray, and she hoped he understood.

At the door stood a tiny Marigold-shaped whirlwind, along with her father. ‘Aunt Viola!’ the little girl shouted and threw herself at Viola, scrambling onto her lap. Viola just managed to put the cup and saucer down on a small table next to her before Marigold demanded her attention. ‘I thought you’d gone home!’ She took Viola’s chin in her hands and placed a large kiss on Viola’s lips.

‘No, sweetie, I’m still here,’ said Viola, her arms automatically going around the little girl to make sure she didn’t slip off Viola’s sateen frock and slide onto the floor.

‘Yes, and so is Unca Laurie. We saw him out there. We saw him first.’ Marigold pointed at the window that faced onto the square. ‘We saw him first.’ Then she shuffled and wriggled around so Viola had to let go of her, then, deliberately it seemed, used Viola’s long, shiny skirt as a slide. Marigold ended up sitting on the ground. Then she laughed, scrambled to her feet and raced over to Laurie, where she clambered all over him and kissed him too. ‘I think I may very much like a buttered crumpet,’ she told him.

Laurie ruffled her hair and moved her around so she sat on his lap, holding her quite naturally and comfortably. Marigold proceeded to push his nose and his cheeks with her chubby fingers and he pulled faces at her and made noises like a duck, and Marigold shrieked with laughter. Viola wondered how such an uncouth and annoying man knew how to amuse such a little girl, and then remembered that he had several brothers and sisters and cousins, so he’d probably grown up with small people everywhere. Viola was the youngest of three and hadn’t done that. The only experience she had, really, was Pearl’s brood, and even in the short time she’d been at Pearl and Ernie’s, she had somehow acquired a reputation of being Fun Aunt Viola.

She loved it, she really did, but was nowhere near wanting to settle down and do that sort of thing herself.

Louis followed Marigold in and dropped a kiss on Elsie’s hair. Elsie raised her hand and touched his cheek, without even looking away from her daughter and her brother. It was like she knew exactly where his cheek would be, like it was a well-played-out, entirely natural thing to do.

Which, of course, it probably was, even though she left a smudge of charcoal on his face. He didn’t seem to mind.

‘Oh, Viola?’ Elsie suddenly asked. ‘Did you write back to that boy who was so desperately in love with you?’

‘Ugh.’ Viola pulled a face, the uncomfortable memories surfacing. ‘I did. I let him down gently. Or I guess I hope I did. I don’t want to hear from him again.’

‘Viola met a boy in Paris,’ Elsie said to Louis. ‘She had one dance with him, at the Printania Music Gardens, and he fell in love with her. So romantic.’

‘It took me weeks to shake him off!’ said Viola, one eye on Marigold, hoping that she didn’t say anything out of turn in front of the tot. ‘His name was Émile. Said he was a poet or a musician — or an artist.’ She shrugged. ‘Could have been any or all of those occupations. He kept changing it when I looked unimpressed with the latest one he came up with.’

‘If you were that unimpressed with him,’ said Laurie, in a muffled voice. ‘Why did you give him your address?’