Cover Your Eyes (20 page)

*

I lay in Tom's bed staring up at the ceiling. The green numbers on the digital clock on the bedside table said 22:30. I could get up and go home now. Tom was lying on his back with his eyes closed. He'd been dozing but I knew he was awake now because he'd put out a hand and was stroking my thigh.

‘Darling Megan,' he murmured. ‘That was …'

‘Mmm,' I said. I didn't want him to say anything. I couldn't say I hadn't enjoyed it, but something was missing. The whole time Tom was asleep, I'd been trying to work out my emotions. Were my memories of Simon getting in the way, somehow? Or not Simon himself, but what I felt about his baby? That hadn't gone away. I came to the conclusion that I didn't deserve to be happy. I hadn't felt as if I deserved to be happy since the abortion. The memories of that time were always there, even though they had been pushed to the back of my mind, especially after I met Simon. For a while I thought I was over it, that I'd forgiven myself, but I hadn't. I thought getting to know Tom would be a help. But even while we were making love, I was on my guard: watching out for the pictures in my head to return: blood, a small curled-up creature that was both a baby and not a baby. Everything was there, and I would never be free of the guilt.

‘You look happy,' Eva said. ‘Has something good happened? Let me guess. The Fosters have found a place to move to.'

Rowena had come into the study with the kind of smile on her face that makes anyone looking at it have to ask a question.

‘No they haven't, more's the pity, but it doesn't really matter. This news is better than that.' Rowena sat down on the sofa, flinging aside cushions as she did so. Eva was at the desk, sorting through the ribbons she and Megan had bought that morning. Metres and metres of glossy satin ribbon in white and silver and gold; more metres of lurex-threaded white and tinselly gold and even some of very palest grey were spread out in front of her. Megan was on a chair beside the desk, putting the elastic bands on the rolled-up bundles to keep them tidy.

‘The estate agent phoned me at work. I didn't want to phone you with the news, but to tell you myself. Luke Fielden's upped the money. He's offering the full asking price now. That's five thousand more than before. Wants me to take the house off the market, which of course I agreed to at once. Isn't that wonderful? I must ring Luke after supper. Tell him how delighted we are.'

Eva tried to smile sincerely, though she felt as though someone had just passed sentence on her. ‘Wonderful,' she said and then added: ‘You must be so relieved.'

‘God, I am. I can't tell you what a huge weight that is off my mind. Now all we need is to get somewhere super for you to live and for the Fosters to find something that suits them so that we can buy their house and then we'll be laughing.'

Eva noticed that Megan had stopped bundling up the ribbons and was sitting very still. She glanced sideways at her. ‘Is something the matter, Megan?' she asked.

‘Oh, gosh, Megan,' Rowena said quickly. ‘I completely forgot to tell you. But I did speak to Conor and just as I'd expected, he agreed with me. I do hope you're not too upset?'

‘No, no I'm fine. Thanks, Rowena.'

Rowena watched Megan leave the room. ‘What's up with her?' she asked.

‘Is something up? I hadn't noticed really.'

Eva put all the ribbons into a plastic bag. Rowena said, ‘We must look out for more places for you to see, mustn't we?'

‘I suppose so,' Eva said. ‘I've been looking at various things myself on the internet.'

‘Have you? Really? How did you get into that?'

‘Dee showed me. I like it. I've been finding some interesting things.'

‘What sort of things?'

‘I look people up on Wikipedia. I Google things.'

‘Such as?'

‘Do you remember Lissa Dovedale?'

‘Well, I know who she was, of course. That model Dad liked taking photos of. The one in the
Ghost
collection, right?'

‘That's the one. Well, she wrote to me the other day.'

‘Really? What's she doing nowadays? What did she say?'

Eva paused. ‘Oh, you know … stuff. But she's in London for a bit. I'm going to have lunch with her on Saturday.'

‘Lovely! It'll be a treat for you. I wonder what she looks like after all these years.'

‘According to Google Images, very much as she used to, but with added wrinkles. Also, she doesn't dye her hair. Salt and pepper with more salt than pepper. And cropped short too. Very chic.'

Eva smiled. Lissa Dovedale's letter was the best thing that had happened to her since the moving business started, but she wasn't going to tell Rowena about that for the moment. There'd be time enough after she'd met Lissa and they'd worked out more of the details. There may also, she reflected, be something to tell Rowena after she'd been round 22 Frobisher Court.

*

‘Is Megan not eating with us tonight?' Eva asked.

‘No, she isn't. I spoke to her when I got home and she said she's eating with Tom Shoreley. He came to pick her up, too, which thrilled Dee and Bridie.'

‘They shouldn't get too excited,' Eva said. ‘I know she's seeing a lot of him but I'm sure it's nothing serious. Megan would have told me.'

She frowned. She'd wanted to make her announcement to everyone and now she'd have to go over everything again when she next saw Megan. But that doesn't matter, she told herself. It's such good news that I won't mind repeating it. ‘You're looking very smart, Ma,' Rowena said. ‘Any special reason? You don't often change for dinner.'

‘Oh, I just felt like it this evening,' Eva said. ‘I've got something to tell you both.' That wasn't quite the truth. She'd decided to dress up as a way of making herself powerful. She'd chosen the clothes specifically to create an impression of someone to be reckoned with. Her silver-and-jade necklace looked good, she thought, against the dark green of her silk blouse and she'd added silver earrings and put her hair up with more than usual care. Feeble old lady was the look she had tried to avoid. With no more than the cursory glance in the mirror that she'd allowed herself, she was pretty confident that she looked as good as she was capable of looking.

‘Sounds a bit ominous,' said Conor, helping himself to more roasted vegetables.

‘Not at all,' said Eva. ‘It's good news for a change.' She put down her knife and fork and dabbed at the corner of her mouth with the napkin. ‘I told you, didn't I, that Lissa Dovedale had written to me?'

Rowena nodded and Conor looked bemused. Eva went on, ‘She's a widow nowadays. Her husband was a wealthy American property developer. Did I tell you?'

‘Doesn't matter, Ma. Go on.'

‘Well, Lissa is opening a Museum of Modern Fashion. In Chalk Farm. She's bought an old Victorian house which is now in the process of being converted. She wants to buy a good few of my dresses to display there. In the Museum. I'd have, she told me, a room given over to my designs. Imagine:
the Eva Conway Room
.'

‘Oh, my God,' said Rowena. ‘That is the most marvellous news. You must be so thrilled. How lovely of Lissa to remember you after all this time.'

Eva smiled and decided not to dwell on the fact that her daughter's remark could be interpreted as meaning:
Not many other people
would
remember you
. Don't be uncharitable, she told herself. Rowena didn't intend it as a put-down, she was almost sure.

‘Yes, it is. It's marvellous. When I meet her, she's going to show me how far they've got with the building. And we'll firm up arrangements. She'll have to come here and choose what she wants to take.'

‘There's going to be some money involved, isn't there?' Conor said.

‘Yes, of course, though we still have to discuss how much each dress is worth. I believe Lissa has an independent consultant who advises her on such matters.'

‘I can give you a hand there too, Ma. Make sure you're getting a good price.'

‘Thanks, Rowena,' Eva said, trying to sound gracious. ‘Lissa said she knew of other people who might be willing to buy anything she doesn't need.' She couldn't help feeling a pang of regret at the thought of her dresses in other cupboards, with other owners. She tried to imagine a time when all she'd have left from everything she'd created was a bunch of memories. Don't be silly, she chided herself. There are files and drawers full of drawings and photographs. Or would Lissa want to buy those too?

‘Well,' said Conor. ‘You're going to be coming into a fair amount of money, I'd have thought. That'll be useful when you're thinking about where to live, won't it?'

Eva nodded. Rowena had been dishing out the plum crumble and was coming back from the fridge with a small jug of cream. Now she said, ‘I hadn't thought of that. But it's true. We can be a bit more ambitious now about what we look at.'

‘That's another thing I wanted to tell you,' Eva said, helping herself to cream. ‘I've made an appointment to look at somewhere. The day I go and meet Lissa. I'll go straight from our lunch.'

‘Really? Oh, Ma, tell us about it. I'll come with you if you like.'

‘No need. Not for the first viewing. Lissa said she'll come with me and if it's nice, there'll be time enough for you to see it and give it your stamp of approval.' She thought: I don't need your approval. I don't need anyone's approval.

‘Okay. Only tell us a bit about it. Where is it?'

‘Chalk Farm.'

Rowena paused with her spoon half way to her mouth. She put it down in the dish and leaned towards Eva. ‘Chalk Farm? That's not exactly on our doorstep. Why ever are you looking there? It's also a very expensive area.'

‘Well, it'll be very near the Museum. I shall be able to visit my dresses.'

‘But what about visiting us? How'll you manage that?'

‘I'll take a bus. Or the Underground. I can get a Freedom Pass.'

‘Oh, for goodness' sake, Ma!'

‘What are you exclaiming about? I love buses and I don't even mind the Tube. And there are taxis, aren't there?'

‘But they're so expensive!'

Eva smiled. ‘You said it yourself. I'll have a lot more disposable income after the sale of my archive. Enough to buy me lots and lots of taxi rides once I'm incapable of driving.'

‘You're being frivolous, Ma! You know what I mean. You should be near us. It makes so much more sense. What if you fall ill? What if we need you to babysit the girls sometimes? How will they come and visit you, if you're the other side of London? Can't you find somewhere closer than Chalk Farm?'

‘Shall we postpone the argument about this till after I've seen the flat in question? We may be arguing to no purpose whatsoever.'

Rowena ate the rest of her plum crumble in silence. Then she said, ‘I suppose you're right. There's no point meeting trouble halfway. But I can't say I'm happy about this. The Museum thing'll be brilliant, I can see, but—'

Eva stood up. ‘Don't worry about it, Rowena. I'm sure all will be well in the end. I'm going up to my room now. I want to make an early start tomorrow. I'm going to go through the dresses and see what's what. Goodnight, both of you.'

‘Goodnight, Ma.'

‘Goodnight, Eva.'

As she left the room, Eva began to imagine the kind of conversation Conor and Rowena would have now that she was no longer there. She smiled at the thought. There's nothing they can really say, she thought. If I've got the money, I can do exactly what I like.

*

Frobisher Court took Eva by surprise, even though she'd seen it on the Rightmove website and had taken the virtual tour of one of the flats. It was a converted Victorian house, set back from the road. A cast-iron gate (opened by Jason, the estate agent who was showing them round) was set into a high hedge.

‘A bit unusual, for this part of London,' Lissa said. ‘I suspect the firm that converted the house must have bought these bushes ready-grown. Isn't it great that you can do that?'

‘I'm so glad you had time to come and look at it with me.' Eva put her arm through Lissa's. The young, very beautiful model she remembered had turned into one of those ultra-thin, super-chic women you saw in the front row of fashion shows and in photographs at the back of
Harper's Bazaar
. Eva had stopped calculating how much Lissa's outfit was worth after she'd noticed the Anya Hindmarch bag which she knew, thanks to
Vogue
, cost more than two thousand pounds. The face was unchanged but much older.

‘I'm like a prune.' Lissa had laughed as she took something from the plate in front of her which held what passed for her lunch. Eva had chosen soup and a roll, followed by a Danish pastry and coffee with cream, but Lissa's choice seemed to consist of nothing but leaves and seeds. ‘I blame the Texas sun,' she added, taking a sip from her lime-flower tisane.

Over lunch, Lissa had spoken of her plans for Eva's dresses.

‘I'll buy some for the Museum, of course, but I think you should hold an auction for all the others. People would be falling over themselves to come. I can arrange it, Eva. I know so many people in the auction business. We can do it together. It'd be fun.'

Eva smiled, ‘Honestly, Lissa, to listen to you, you'd think there was nothing even a bit sad about losing the dresses.'

‘There isn't.' Lissa sounded so definite that she almost managed to convince Eva. ‘What good are they doing in your cupboards, in the dark? Wouldn't you like to think of women wearing them, looking beautiful, being happy, showing off what you've made?'

‘If you put it like that,' Eva said, ‘I can't think of a thing to say against it.'

‘Good! I'm always right, you know.' She took the last sip of her drink and added, ‘Okay! That flat. I can't wait to see it. I adore looking round flats, houses, you name it.'

‘You are just the right person to come with me. I wanted to see it with someone like you who knows what's what before getting Rowena to look at it. It seems too good to be true.'

‘And it's so close to where the Museum's going to be. You could walk down and visit your dresses. I am so excited, Eva! It'll be marvellous when we open.'

Eva nodded. What Lissa had described to her did indeed sound good. They'd met before lunch at a hollowed-out shell of the house which was in the process of being converted into the Museum.

‘I thought you'd like to see where your lovely creations will be living,' said Lissa, moving through empty rooms where workmen were busy knocking down walls, building complicated platforms. ‘To get at the ceilings,' said Lissa. ‘I don't do the details of this, darling. I have a great architect who's in charge of it and he says – it's hard to believe it – this will all be done by the end of next summer. Amazing. I'll show you the sketches over lunch. I wanted you to see the street, the whole thing.'

Eva had loved the street. Sometimes, in London, it was possible to find places like this, away from the main stream of city life, which seemed to have remained untouched for more than a century. Tall, white, stucco-fronted houses and pretty ash trees growing along the pavement gave the impression of a quieter time, in spite of the cars parked in the road. The house which was destined to become the Museum was on a corner and there were already three men at work there, landscaping the space into a garden.