Getting The Picture (19 page)

Yours sincerely,

Martin

142.
letter from martin morris to mo griffiths

Dear Mo,

Personally I thought my letter to Nell was a little too much, but I hear it's done the trick. Angie is coming home. George has just let slip that she will be here in six weeks' time. I'd prefer tomorrow, but at least she's on her way.

Poor Robyn has written me a letter of apology. Under duress, of course, but I'm being magnanimous. I would feel sorry for her if I wasn't convinced these are all useful lessons she is learning. I don't think she will make the same mistake of being so trusting ever again, and I am sure in time she will be grateful to me.

My only sadness is that Marta must have lied about me because the boys next door say they are not allowed to talk to me anymore because I am apparently ‘creepy'. Marta's replacement has taken to glowering at me and ushering them inside every time I go out to the garden. She is a hefty Swede, all blond hair and teeth. Now, there is no crying at night, and it feels lonely all over again up on my top floor.

M

143.
answer phone message from george griffiths to angie griffiths

Angie, this is George Griffiths, your father.

Your sister has told me of your plans finally to visit us and I am very pleased. Let's hope that this time no last-minute work meetings occur. I only wish the circumstances could be happier.

Thanks to Martin's intervention and levelheadedness, and because none of us can get to the bottom of what she wanted from Martin's room, we have agreed to try to forget Robyn's lapse.

I am not convinced this is the right way forward, but if there is any good side to this situation, it is that I have managed to persuade Nell that the girl needs to see her father. It appears that Martin has been giving her private coaching. They did not want to tell me until Robyn had learned some of the poems your mother loved so much, although I will confide in you that I am perplexed that they would think this would be something I might enjoy. Although you girls have laughed at me for it, haven't I always said that no good will come from poetry? It is not the stuff of everyday life.

I hope you will not mind me saying that I wish you were coming here sooner. To dress a cat up in a black beret and striped T-shirt and sell it as a postcard seems typically French and very unnatural to me. I am disturbed that you might think it funny, and am starting to wonder if you have been teasing me with all your cards. In which case, I will try to see the joke. Perhaps a sense of humour is a valuable asset in these difficult times.

Your father

144.
letter from florence oliver to lizzie corn

Dear Lizzie,

I know I am getting out of turn with our letter writing but I need your urgent counsel, pet. You see, last week Martin found Robyn in his room. He was worried in case Robyn had found his stack of photographs, and concerned she might not understand properly what they were, what with her being so young.

So he told George who of course hit the roof. Not about the photographs. In fact, it turns out he is quite the connoisseur of those, fancy, but it seems he already had suspicions that Robyn had been stealing from HIS room, so he put two and two together and made five. But the thing is, Lizzie, I know – and you know – that it was ME taking things from George's room, not poor Robyn.

So what am I to do? Do I say something, and risk all those hours I've spent talking investments with George, or do I let Robyn stew?

Martin says he has no hard feelings against Robyn, but of course he doesn't know about me either. Mind, George keeps going on about some seeds, and I know I never took those. But what would a teenage girl want with gardening?

It has hit Nell hard. Well, I suppose it would what with that man she was so keen on being a policeman. Martin says we should concentrate on her, and maybe find her a new boyfriend, he says. Apparently I got it wrong about the policeman.

‘Us?' I asked him. ‘Where are we going to find someone Nell's age?'

But then who should walk into the room but Steve Jenkins. ‘Are you thinking what I'm thinking?' I nudged Martin, but he shook his head.

‘George really wouldn't like it,' he said.

‘Nell might,' I said, ‘because he's a sight for sore eyes, is Steve. Got plans too, you can tell. He needs a mature woman.' I nudged him again, but somehow my elbow must have hit his rib in the wrong way because he yelped, and Steve came running over to see what the trouble was, and obviously we couldn't carry on our little conversation then.

And now as I write this letter, I don't think I am going to mention stealing from his room to George. What's in the past is in the past, and what good will raking over it again bring? Besides, we need to be looking forward to the future. Now Sophi has gone back to college, I imagine Steve is a bit lonely. Imagine if we had a wedding. Wouldn't that be lovely?

Any news on that front from Troy and Laurie, by the way? It might just be the answer to your problems. I should think little Amy would love to be a bridesmaid and it would be a way of making Laurie appreciate you more. All girls need their mothers at weddings, even if it is their third trot up the aisle.

I do hope she will be a bit more friendly towards you soon.

Yours aye,

Flo

145.
email from nell baker to angie griffiths

I called James last night, and said we had to work this out together. That if we weren't careful, Robyn would go completely to the bad. He did that
now, now,
tutting thing he does, so I told him to shut up. And that I was bringing Robyn to him the next weekend and like it or not the two of them were going to learn to have some kind of relationship. Dad's right. We've let Robyn have her own way for far too long.

I should have done this years ago. The strange thing is that Robyn seems relieved too. And at work, Mark caught me smiling. ‘More flowers?' he said, so I told him what had happened and he said if I was free over the weekend, maybe I'd like to go walking with him. I would. It feels as if I haven't done anything apart from work, look after Robyn, or listen to Dad moan for years.

And OK, he's not exactly the corporate giant Dad always planned for me, or even an architect like James, but he makes me laugh. Besides, who else am I going to find in Bedfordshire?

So you're really coming this time, are you? I must say I'm surprised that Mr. Married Frog is letting you off the leash for a bit. Especially now. He does know about the baby, doesn't he? I suppose the French do these things differently.

146.
letter from martin morris to mo griffiths

Dear Mo,

Knowing I am going to meet Angie at last made me nervous. At breakfast my cup just slipped out of my hands and crashed down to the floor. My trousers were covered in tea, Susan Reed shouted, and Steve came fussing around with a dishcloth.

‘Good job you're not Brenda or I would be arresting you for feeling me up.' I tried to make a joke of it but no one else smiled so I stopped. I was feeling a bit shaky, to be honest. And grateful the tea was only lukewarm.

‘Martin, are you all right?' Mrs Oliver kept fussing, and even Keith Crosbie came blinking in from his books to see what the commotion was all about.

Do you think Angie and I will get on? I can't ask Robyn because it seems she and I aren't talking at the moment. Everybody else has agreed to put her little forage in my room behind them, but apparently she's finding it difficult. George even told me he thought it better for everyone if she didn't come to Pilgrim House for a bit. Better for who? Not me, that's for sure, now her little escapade has done the trick.

I wish my hands would stop shaking. I'm going into town this afternoon to pick up the photographs I took of Mrs. Oliver. Time was when I would have walked all the way to the shops, enjoyed looking into the windows of all the houses I passed and seeing the lives on show, but I'm too tired these days. Even an afternoon listening to your husband nattering on makes me sleepy. We need some jollying up here. Perhaps this plan to pair Nell up with Steve will keep us busy until Angie arrives.

M

147.
letter from florence to lizzie corn

Dear Lizzie,

Rejoice! Hang out the flags. Let me do a jig for you.

Annabel has come back to us.

There we all were sitting around dozing in the afternoon, when she walked into the room just as if she'd never been away. She even did her little curtsey bob, so it wasn't like when Elizabeth Rogers came back that time and she was statue-like from the pills. No, Annabel took her seat, folded down her dress over her knees in that little-girl way of hers, and beamed around at us.

Helen and Catherine were with me. ‘Annabel,' Helen said, with not a touch of mischief in her voice for once, ‘it's good to see you.' And it was. I wanted to rush over to the other side of the room and kiss her. She was like a blessing showing us we could cheat the other side a little too. The four of us just smiled at each other. Little Annabel. Who would have thought she'd have the one to beat them all.

So now we are back to a full house and life feels a bit more settled.

It's just what we need after the upset we had with Robyn. Martin says our job is to keep George busy, and he says I'm a genius with my idea of organizing a committee to get Nell together with Steve, but the thing is, Lizzie, I can't remember suggesting this exactly. I've been a bit worried I'm going a bit forgetful. Perhaps I did take the seeds from George's room? I still feel bad about not saying anything about Robyn, although Martin blames himself. He says he might have taken being a father figure to the girl too far. I might ask Martin what he thinks about her joining our little committee. It would be a way of getting her back on good terms with everyone.

But listen to me, going on about our little problems when you're having such a rotten time yourself, although I still can't agree with you going to the school to tell on Troy. What were you hoping to achieve? When I mentioned it to Brenda, she said that massaging is very trendy now. Almost medical. But here's hoping Cora calms down soon, and stops all her belly-aching. The children will get bored after a while, I'm sure, and if you were to take them to the shops a few times, they will forget about that puppet theatre Cora made for them, and you will be their favourite again. You are their proper relative, after all. Whereas she is just a step.

I'm sorry Troy got so het up about the bingo. Is bingo gambling? Just a bit of fun I would have thought, and you weren't to know that Brian would force Amy to give him her pocket money for winning.

The other thing I'm thinking of, Lizzie, have you still got Frank's ceremonial knife? The kiddies would love that, especially if you told them a few of the stories Graham and Frank told us about their fighting days. Remember how they used to make us scream! It would make them respect their granddaddy, and Laurie did love her daddy so much, didn't she? I seethed inside myself when I read that Cora had asked Laurie to call her Mum. As if she didn't have the best mother already.

Still, you and I, pet, we've battled with worse, and at least we're thinking now to think of how to get our own back. I think it was the photo session that did it for me. I don't want to put that feisty girl I was in front of the camera away now.

Yours aye,

Flo

148.
note from florence oliver to martin morris

I have been thinking that if you ever wanted another photographic session, then I wouldn't mind. Just you and me. Apart from that, we are having a little celebration tonight for Annabel coming home. Six o'clock in the sitting room.

149.
letter from martin morris to robyn baker

Dear Robyn,

Thank you for your letter of apology which I am happy to accept in the spirit with which it was written. I am very glad we will have the chance to be friends again, and I wondered if you would like to come to Pilgrim House next Thursday after school for tea with me, your grandfather, and Mrs. Oliver. It will be a chance to show we have put unpleasant things behind us.

With best wishes as always,

Martin

150.
letter from martin morris to mo griffiths

Dear Mo,

Everyone is always going on here about how good-looking this Steve Jenkins is, but I have never seen the appeal of the male body. There's a beauty in a woman's shape, a lack if you like, that makes the lines just soft enough for photographs. You can capture the way the light and the dark plays on the skin. It's not about exposing the body, nothing to do with just taking off clothes and snapping away. No, it's about creating a dream. One in which you can almost taste the desire of both parties, although I can't believe that women would ever really desire in the same way a man does. It's always seemed to me that what a woman likes most is for a man to take control of the loving. A woman needs to be cared for, and a man needs to do that caring. A woman to be looked at, a man to look.

Call me old-fashioned if you like, but I always knew you liked me watching you. There would be times when I'd be standing outside your house, and I'd catch sight of your shadow behind the net curtains you put up, and I'd know you were moving just for me. I hated those curtains at first, thought you were shutting me out, but then I realised that, if I looked very hard, I could see you better. It would be just as it was in my best photographs. My customers never actually saw the breasts, the triangle between the legs, but they knew what was there and they knew that if they took one step further, if they crossed the line, all of the woman could be theirs. It was important to leave it as their decision. That's what it felt you were doing to me. I could have crossed the line, walked up your path and rang your doorbell, but somehow there was always tomorrow. And then I'd be there again the next day, watching, and I'd see a bit more. And so it went on. I could shut out the others, see, from where I was standing in the street. I could make out your silhouette, but not George's, or Nell's, or even Angie's. So I saw what I liked.