Page 21 of Searching for Mr Tilney

‘The Sound of Music, isn’t it?’ Roger replied, putting his paper down to wink at me.

‘No, that’s not it, though he does like singing Climb Every Mountain … it’s one of the Judy Garland ones … you know, Roger, the one where he falls in love with the girl next door.’

‘Meet me in St Louis?’

Ellen beamed. ‘That’s the one … I love the idea of two people coming together like that. It makes me cry every time I watch it … and Piers too, though perhaps he wouldn’t like me to tell you that. I always tease him, but not too much. He’s such a lovely boy and so sensitive. Caroline, I think you’ll adore him.’

It is hard not to form a pre-conceived picture of Piers, but I do feel I might like him after all. Still, it will mean I’ll have to entertain a complete stranger, whereas I much prefer to be left to my own devices. I want to carry on with my reading and see if I can make any more discoveries about Jane and her family. Also, I don’t think it will be so easy to carry on slipping through time if Piers is with me every second of the day, yet thinking about doing that very thing is utterly laughable. Slipping through time? What planet am I on? And what about Harry? If he does make contact and want to see me, it won’t be possible to do that without being rude and leaving Piers out. All things considered the next couple of weeks don’t look too promising.

***

By the next day, the snow melted enough to make venturing out much more possible. Ellen said she wanted to go into town to buy a Christmas present for Piers, and Roger went off to get the tickets for the ball. When Ellen suggested we buy one or two special items at the antiques market in Guinea Lane, I thought I’d arrived in heaven. We ended up at a stall selling antique jewellery - all manner of trinkets, rings, earrings and brooches glistened under glass on pads of blue velvet.

Ellen picked out an antique Rolex watch for Piers, which she said he’d adore. It was Art Deco in style, from the early 1930s, and I couldn’t help but feel shocked at the price tag. I couldn’t imagine spending so much money on presents, and hoped Ellen would like the simple watercolour painting I’d started of the view down Pulteney Street, which I’d decided to give her and Roger for Christmas.

‘I’d like to see something Georgian next, if you please,’ said Ellen, tapping her painted fingernails over the top of the glass, her own diamonds glittering under artificial light. ‘The sort of jewellery Jane Austen might have worn.’

The stall holder put the boxed watch to one side and pulled out several beautiful pieces - a ruby and pearl brooch, a blue enamel medallion with a rose picked out in diamonds, and a Giardinetti ring in emeralds, sapphires and rubies. She then fetched out a string of coral beads, a rivière necklace of sparkling amethyst, and a gold locket on a chain, designed as an octagon with a circular glass panel.

‘What do you think, Caroline?’ said Ellen. ‘Which would you choose?’

‘Oh, every piece is lovely,’ I said, ‘though I think I’d pick the locket, and the gold one is so unusual.’

‘It’s a simple design, but very elegant,’ said Ellen, ‘I’m glad you like it … we’ll take it. And you don’t have to wait until Christmas, Caroline, you can have your present now.’

I couldn’t find my tongue straight away. ‘Ellen, I couldn’t possibly accept such a gift.’

‘It will go perfectly with your new dress … now, we won’t say any more about it. Roger was most insistent this morning that we should choose a little trifle for your Christmas box.’

I’d never dreamed Ellen was going to be so generous and I was struck once again by her kindness to me, and how I’d been so wrong about her.

Then, she remembered her promise to take me to tea. I really wasn’t sure about going to the Pump Rooms though I was really curious to see Harry. I was beginning to wonder if I’d really upset him in some way, and I felt really nervous to see him in case he thought I was relentlessly chasing after him.

I needn’t have worried. There was still no sign of him as we took our seats, and when a waiter came to take our order, Ellen couldn’t resist asking if Harry was around.

‘Oh no, he’s on holiday, I think. Well, someone said he’d gone back home to Cheltenham so I think he’s having some time off.’

‘And do you know when he’ll be back?’ she persisted. ‘My friend here is counting on him being in Bath.’

I felt my cheeks turn the same colour as the plush red backs of the chairs we were sitting on. Sometimes Ellen is just too much to handle.

‘No, he didn’t say, but I don’t really know him that well. I can ask, if you like.’

‘No, no,’ I said firmly, before Ellen had a chance to insist on it. ‘Really, please don’t go to any trouble.’

The young lad grimaced, and went off to see to our order, while we sat in silence for a moment or two.

‘Perhaps something has happened at home,’ Ellen said. ‘I must say, Caroline, I’ve been very surprised at his behaviour. He seemed such a nice young man, and not to tell you he was going away. Well, it all seems a bit strange, if you ask my opinion.’

‘It was only one date, Ellen. I like Harry, but we’re just friends … we hardly know one another enough to be telling each other everything. It was very kind of him to ask me out, but that’s all it was … a friendly date.’

‘Hmm, I don’t understand young people these days. A good-looking young man like him, and a beautiful girl like you … just made for each other. I can tell you, Roger wasted no time at all making his feelings known about me. Makes me blush to think about it, really. Things weren’t very liberal after the war, but even so, he couldn’t wait to get me into bed.’

I nearly choked on my tea, and as she chattered on, reminiscing about the past and sharing far too much information, I shut myself off from it all. But, Ellen was probably right about Harry - he hadn’t bothered to call round to say he was going back to Cheltenham, or even just to say hello. Misery engulfed me in overwhelming waves. I only seemed aware of the pounding in my head, and the sound of the Tompian clock behind us that started blocking out all other noise, as its rhythmic ticking grew louder. Time slowed down, and for a moment I thought I might faint. The room was spinning, and overwhelming ripples of nausea were making me feel really unwell.

‘Caroline, are you not feeling yourself, my dear?’ she said, taking my hand across the table and patting it. ‘You’re looking very peaky, and washed out.’

I really wasn’t feeling myself in so many ways, and as I looked round the room I couldn’t decide where or in what time I was for a moment. It was probably my mind playing tricks again, but the place seemed full of people in Georgian clothes. I could hear Ellen’s voice, but I felt held between two places at once, as if trapped between two dimensions. It was all over in a minute, but I could see how worried she looked. Ellen bustled me off home as soon as I spoke again, and she and Mrs Partridge, between them, insisted I go to bed.