Tamar (11 page)

‘Well, whatever you think best. Can you have it made up? I’m coming back into town next week and I’ll pick it up then. The baby is not due for another two weeks or so, so I expect there will be plenty of time.’ Peter Montgomery favoured Tamar with another of his devastating smiles. ‘Do you have children of your own, Mrs …’

‘Miss,’ replied Tamar. ‘Miss Deane. No, I am not married, Mr Montgomery.’

‘Well, you should be, Miss Deane. Someone is going to be a very lucky man.’

Tamar blushed. ‘Thank you,’ she said quietly, not daring to look at his face, then realised she would have to. ‘Brussels lace is rather expensive, Mr Montgomery. Would you like a quote?’

‘No, whatever it costs is acceptable,’ he replied expansively, producing a card and placing it on the counter. ‘These are my details. I’m sure you’ll do a lovely job. Next week, then? Probably Thursday, I expect. Until then, Miss Deane,’ he said. He returned his hat to his head and left the shop as Tamar stared after him.

Tamar went to supper at Myrna’s the following Sunday and had a thoroughly enjoyable evening catching up with her friends, although she was aghast at Polly’s physical condition.

‘Don’t look at me like that,’ Polly countered. ‘You should have seen me a week ago. I’ve put on pounds!’

‘What’s happened to your voice?’ Tamar asked, incredulous.

‘My voice? Oh, this is my posh accent. I’m a lady now,’ replied Polly, giggling.

Coincidentally and, he insisted, completely on the spur of the moment, John Adams also called in and stayed for a brandy. He and Tamar chatted for some time. John could not stop talking about the operation he had performed on the little girl with the harelip. He was extremely pleased with the result, although it would be some time before the swelling went down and the final effect would be obvious.

‘It will be marvellous, if it works as well as I think it should. Before, her upper gum and teeth were exposed up to her nostrils and she really did look odd. She was teased by the other children to the point where she wouldn’t go outside. Now, she’ll look fairly normal and if it heals well, the scar may not even be very noticeable in a few years. And it will heal well, if her parents take the appropriate care. She needs complete rest and to keep her face immobile while the wound mends. After that, she should be fine. Some decent food wouldn’t go amiss either, but I’ve taken care of that.’

Typical John, thought Myrna. He won’t make a penny out of this, which was one of the reasons she was so fond of him. At the end of the evening John offered to take Tamar back to her lodgings in his new phaeton, and was thrilled when she accepted.

‘Do you think they’ll get together?’ Bronwyn asked Myrna after the couple had been farewelled.

‘No’ unless yon lassie gets her feet on the ground about love in the real world. But she’s no’ stupid. She’ll work it out one day.’

All through the following week Tamar looked forward to Peter Montgomery’s return. The days seemed to crawl by. To her confusion and discomfort, whenever she recalled his smile, or the black hair on the back of his pale hands, she felt her cheeks flush and a ripple of excitement run through her. In a way she was appalled. The man’s wife was about to give birth to their first child, but she could not help what she was feeling.

On the appointed day she waited eagerly all morning, feeling nervous and telling herself she was being silly. When he did not appear, she felt first a sour disappointment, then considerable annoyance with herself, doing her best to put him out of her mind.

He came in two days later, just before closing time. ‘Mr Montgomery,’ she said as calmly as she could as he came through the door. ‘One moment, I’ll fetch your crib set.’

She rushed out the back to fetch the brown paper package containing the beautifully finished bedding. Behind her Peter Montgomery opened his mouth to say something, but Tamar disappeared through the door before he could.

‘Here it is!’ she said when she returned. ‘I hope Mrs Montgomery likes it.’

‘Unlikely,’ he snapped. ‘She died on Tuesday.’

Tamar thought she had misheard him. ‘Pardon me?’

‘I
said
, she died on Tuesday,’ Montgomery repeated angrily. ‘The baby came early and there were complications. They both died.’

‘Oh, I’m
so
sorry, Mr Montgomery,’ Tamar exclaimed, raising her hands to her face.

‘So I don’t want this,’ he continued bitterly, indicating the package on the counter. ‘I’ll pay for it but you can do with it what you want. I never want to see it again.’

He withdrew some money from his pocket and flung it angrily
onto the counter. The coins bounced across the other side and landed on the wooden floor. Peter Montgomery turned and left the shop, leaving Tamar standing behind the counter in open-mouthed shock.

When Mr Ellis learned what had happened, he had a temporary lapse of his usual business prudence and mailed Mr Montgomery’s money back to him.

Several days later, a large arrangement of exotic flowers arrived by messenger for Tamar. A note with it said:

Dear Miss Deane

Please accept my Sincerest Apologies for the way in which I behaved towards you. I am appalled by my actions. The Darkness which has fallen upon me in my hour of grief is obscuring all I see and do. Please consider these blooms a token of my deep Regret regarding the unseemly manner in which I conducted myself. I beg that my inexcusable behaviour has not poisoned your opinion of me.

Yours Most Sincerely,
Peter Montgomery

Perplexed, Tamar placed the flowers in a bucket of water and folded the note carefully. She would show it to Myrna and ask her what she made of it.

C
HAPTER
S
IX

A
s it happened, Tamar was unable to visit Myrna until the following week, on the eve of the move to the house in Dilworth Terrace. When Tamar arrived, she found the hall and parlour filled with trunks and boxes. The girls were running about excitedly, stuffing items into already overflowing cases. Cabbage darted about, his yapping adding to the confusion. Myrna, an island of calm, sat in an armchair smoking a cigarette amidst more boxes in the parlour. She looked up when Tamar came in.

‘Hello, lassie. Come to give us a hand?’

‘Yes, I have,’ said Tamar, perching herself on a trunk and absently holding out her hand for Cabbage to sniff. Since he had settled in, the dog had become very proprietorial and went to some lengths to investigate anyone he considered a stranger. As Tamar had only visited once before, in his opinion she fell into this category.

‘What’s left to do?’ she asked, looking around.

‘No’ a lot, really,’ replied Myrna, standing up. ‘Just the linen. Ye can help us wi’ that if ye like, then come for a ride to the new place. There’s one big load to take over tonight, but we’ll come back here to sleep and take what’s left tomorrow. Have ye met Sven yet?’ she asked.

Tamar shook her head.

‘He’s a new immigrant I hired yesterday, Scandinavian or some such thing. Cannae speak a word o’ English.
Sven
!’ she yelled into the hall.

Almost immediately a very tall, massively built man emerged from the kitchen.

‘Madam?’ he enquired in a deep, rumbling voice.

‘Well, he’s no’
completely
wi’out English,’ amended Myrna. ‘Sven, this is ma good friend, Miss Tamar Deane.’

Sven bowed his head and held out his hand to Tamar. Looking up she shook it and said, ‘It’s very nice to meet you, Sven.’

‘Sven’s going to be ma security manager, driver, and man about the house, aren’t ye, laddie?’

The big man nodded and smiled, although it was obvious he hadn’t fully understood. He was not handsome, but his sheer size demanded attention. At least six foot four, he was well-muscled with a broad chest and bulging arms. His fair, close-cropped head looked oddly balanced on his massive neck, his pale eyes close together above a big, shapeless nose and wide mouth. His large ears stuck out and the lamplight from the hallway shone through them, making them glow pink. He looked menacing, but when he smiled, his countenance was transformed into gentle benevolence.

‘Can ye start loading these onto the cart?’ Myrna asked, pointing first at the trunks and boxes in the hall then outside towards the horse and wagonette on the street. Sven picked up the largest trunk, shouldered it effortlessly and manoeuvred it sideways through the front door and down the path.

‘I think he’ll be a verra handy laddie,’ Myrna said, looking after him. ‘Ye never know when ye might need someone wi’ muscles the size o’ his,’ she added, turning back to Tamar. ‘Anyway, lassie, ye’ve a look on your face like yon wee doggie when he thinks we havnae noticed him pinching a sausage. What’s on your mind?’

Tamar handed Myrna Peter Montgomery’s note and told her
about his visit to the shop after his wife and child had died.

‘I dinnae know the man,’ said Myrna after she read the note. ‘But o’ course he could well move in different circles. I’ll ask John.’

‘No, don’t do that,’ said Tamar quickly.

Myrna looked at her shrewdly. ‘Och, it’s like that, is it? The man’s only just become a widower, lassie. He’ll still be in mourning.’

‘I don’t mean anything like that,’ lied Tamar guiltily. ‘I don’t want to hurt John’s feelings. But what do you think the note means?’

‘I think it means this Peter Montgomery is keeping his options open.’

‘Oh no,’ insisted Tamar vigorously. ‘He was distraught with grief. Heartbroken. I’m sure he didn’t know what he was saying.’

‘Well, if he was distraught, then God only knows what he meant by this,’ Myrna sniffed, handing the note back to Tamar. ‘Ye’ll have to wait and see.’

Tamar stuffed the note into her bag and followed Myrna into the parlour where the girls were packing linen into cases.

An hour later the wagonette was loaded up and they were ready to go. Sven drove with Jessica beside him and the others went with Myrna in her new landau, squashed together with the top down so they could enjoy the mild evening. By the time they reached Parnell, the sky was the colour of Indian ink and a full, yellow moon had risen. On Dilworth Terrace, Myrna pulled into a gate and stopped at the bottom of a driveway which went up the side of a tall, shadowed house.

Tamar stared in awe at the gracious, moonlit building. A large, two-storeyed wooden structure, its front door was close to the street but afforded privacy by a camellia hedge and a wrought-iron fence and gate. A short path led to a wide verandah with a finely turned wooden balustrade, which extended along the front of the house and down both sides. The heavy front door was flanked by stained-glass panes and surmounted by a glass
arch fashioned to resemble sunrays. The second storey had a balcony, also extending around the house but not quite as wide as the verandah below. Both were decorated with intricate wooden fretwork. Many of the sash windows on both floors were almost full-length and almost every room had a set of French doors opening onto the balcony or verandah. At the very top of the house was a large octagonal belvedere, its windows providing views in all directions.

The girls unfolded themselves from the landau and waited for Myrna to unlock the front door and light several incandescent gas lamps on the foyer walls. As Sven took the wagonette up the drive and began to unload, Myrna ushered Tamar inside and smiled when she heard her draw in a sharp breath.

‘It hasnae turned out bad, has it?’

Tamar was speechless. The walls of the spacious foyer were a deep maroon, and the high ceiling with its ornate plaster centrepiece a rich off-white colour. In front of them a wide, carpeted staircase led up to the second floor. To the right of the finely turned bottom newel post stood an erotic but tasteful marble sculpture of a naked woman. Myrna led Tamar into a room to the left of the foyer. ‘This is the salon where customers will be entertained and choose which lady they wish to spend time with.’

It was a large and beautifully decorated corner room, slightly masculine in style but very elegant. There were rich embossed velvet drapes caught at each window, and heavy cream lace curtains. Five deep, plush sofas were arranged in a horseshoe around the large fireplace, with strategically placed side tables and foot stools. Several walnut sideboards stood against the walls, with an expansive mahogany drinks cabinet positioned to one side. The wallpaper was a small, discreet floral and two Venetian mirrors and several semi-erotic paintings hung above the sideboards.

Luxurious carpets covered the polished wooden floor and the
lighting was provided by gas lamps in brass wall brackets and a splendid triple-shaded brass pendant in the centre of the ceiling. After admiring the room, Tamar followed Myrna out past an ornate
étagère
against the wall in the foyer and into another equally elegant room.

‘This is the dining room,’ said Myrna, indicating the gleaming mahogany dining suite. The room featured another large fireplace and the windows were again draped with heavy curtains. ‘For the customers, should they feel a wee bit peckish.’ Leaving the dining room, she showed Tamar into the next room down the hall.

‘In here’s ma office where I’ll be keeping ma business books.’ In the office was an elegant walnut secretary and a matching sideboard, a sofa and several wing chairs with side tables. A patterned rug covered most of the floor. It was a stylish but businesslike room. Tamar made appropriate noises of approval and they carried on down towards the rear of the house.

‘And this is the side entrance. For customers who dinnae want to be seen coming in the front way.’ Myrna unlocked a smaller wood and stained-glass door opening onto the verandah. Like the front door, this one was flanked by a pair of cane stands. Sven was methodically piling the trunks and boxes from the wagonette, and began carrying them inside as Myrna opened the door.

On the opposite side of the hall was an indoor privy for customers. Myrna went into the small room and pulled the chain on the high cistern. The privy flushed with a clanking whoosh. ‘Height o’ luxury and convenience. Cost a pretty penny, too.’