The Butterfly Box (41 page)

‘Old,’ Federica replied and blushed.

‘Okay, how old. Fifty?’

‘No, more like late thirties.’

‘Hmm, that’s old,’ Flester agreed, but she couldn’t hide her admiration.

‘But mature, confident, settled,’ Federica breathed and bit her lip anxiously.

‘You mean, rich and secure. Someone who will look after you and take away all your troubles with one twinkle of an engagement ring.’ She laughed.

‘No, just more grown up than the boys I usually meet.’

‘God, how exciting. I can’t believe it,’ Hester enthused, clasping her hands together.

‘Neither can I.’

‘What are you going to do?’

‘I don’t know.’ Federica sighed and a shudder of excitement momentarily debilitated her whole body. ‘I don’t think I’ll get much sleep tonight.’

‘Oh, your fickle heart,’ Hester laughed, getting up slowly.

‘What do you mean?’

‘To think you were in love with Sam,’ she said, smiling at her friend. ‘I was rather hoping he’d make you into a proper member of our family.’

‘Oh, really, Hester,’ Federica replied dismissively, shaking her head. ‘That childhood crush was over long ago.’

‘Well, it’s certainly over now, isn’t it?’ she said. Then she shrugged her shoulders in resignation before leaving Federica alone with her thoughts.

The following day Federica arrived at the shop with her cheeks aflame, fearing that everyone would know Torquil had sent her those gifts the night before. But Greta demanded a department meeting and gave them all an angry lecture about how to behave on the shop floor and how not to stand in huddles gossiping when there were customers to be looked after. No one noticed Federica’s furtive eyes as they shifted from one face to the next before settling on the carpet where they relaxed their focus and hovered in the space between the floor and the vivid images of Torquil that she caressed secretly in her mind.

When the doors opened at ten Federica received a telephone call. She picked up the receiver with a thumping heart.

‘Good morning,’ said Torquil in a buoyant voice. ‘Did you receive my gifts?’ ‘Yes,’ Federica replied, trying to sound calm. ‘You shouldn’t have.’

‘Of course not. But it gave me pleasure,’ he replied, touched by her obvious

nervousness.

 

Thank you.’

‘I know it’s a little hasty, but I couldn’t help myself. Will you forgive me?’

Federica laughed to cover her embarrassment. ‘Of course.’

‘I know this is also a bit hasty, but will you allow me to take you out tonight?’

‘Oh, I ..

‘Please don’t say no, you’ll break my heart,’ he pleaded.

‘Well ..

‘It’s the only way I can get to know you. I can’t keep coming into the shop, can I?’

Federica giggled. ‘Okay, that would be lovely,’ she agreed, fanning her face with the pad of order forms.

‘I’ll pick you up at eight at your flat. I’ve something special planned for you,’ he said. ‘Wear something warm.’

‘Okay,’ she replied, curious to know the nature of a surprise that required her to wear ‘something warm’.

‘I’ll see you then,’ he added.

Federica put down the telephone and stood staring about her as if the world

suddenly looked different. It frightened her.

When Greta summoned Federica into her office, she knew her boss had found out about the call and began to apologize, anxious not to lose her job. But Greta silenced her with a single slice of her cold blue eyes. ‘It must not happen again. You know all the telephone calls are monitored in this company. It is for your own good that I tell you.’

‘I’m sorry,' said Federica.

‘If you want to receive a personal call you must tell them to telephone you at lunchtime in the staff quarters. If it is urgent they can call my office and I will pass on a message. If everyone in the company received personal calls no one would be on the floor. Do I make myself clear?’

‘Yes, Greta.’

‘Good. I don’t want to have this conversation again.’

Federica was too afraid of upsetting Harriet to tell her about Torquil. So she went about her day as normal, hiding the churnings of a stomach turned to liquid and the rapid pumping of her heart that gave her twice as much energy as

everyone else. By the afternoon she could barely concentrate on even the simplest task and was relieved when she was finally able to calm her nerves in the scented water of a deep aromatherapy bath.

Molly cancelled the drinks she had planned with a couple of friends from university and hovered with her sister by the window to catch a glimpse of the dark stranger who was courting their friend.

Federica had nothing glamorous to wear. Her wardrobe consisted of sensible work suits. So Molly leant her a cream cashmere polo neck to go with black jeans and Hester offered her the new sheepskin coat she had bought in Harvey Nichols. But when the shiny Porsche drew up outside the flat and the immaculately dressed Torquil stepped out in a pair of black suede trousers, which he wore over boots, Molly knew someone would have to take Federica in hand.

‘Christ, he’s a knock-out,’ Molly exclaimed, her mouth agape.

Hester rushed to her sister’s side. ‘Wow, Fede, is it really him?’ she squealed in amazement. ‘You lucky thing.’

Federica stalled by the door, trembling. ‘I’m so nervous, I feel sick,’ she said hoarsely. ‘I won’t know what to say.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ said Molly sharply. ‘Of course you’ll know what to say. Just because he’s handsome doesn’t mean he’s different from everyone else. He’s probably just as nervous.’

‘Enjoy it, Fede,’ said Hester encouragingly. ‘Let him entertain you, that’s what Mummy always says.’

‘He’s bloody gorgeous,’ Molly sighed, lighting a cigarette and wishing he had seen her first. ‘Just don’t be innocent. He’ll be expecting a sophisticate.’ ‘Oh, God, Molly,’ she wailed. ‘You’re making me even more nervous.’

‘Well, if you don’t go out now he’ll drive off and that’ll be that,’ Molly added bossily. ‘Go on!’

When Federica descended the steps onto the street, her pale face and anxious eyes were illuminated by the incandescence of the street lamps and Torquil felt as if his stomach was floating inside his belly, lifting him off the ground. She walked up to him with the same shy smile that had made his spirits soar the day before. He greeted her with a kiss and smelt the sweet scent of ylang-ylang that she had put into her bath. ‘You look beautiful,’ he breathed and noticed the colour sting her cheeks with pleasure. Then he opened the door and

watched her settle onto the tanned leather seat. As he closed it and walked around to the other side of the car he cast his eyes up to the window where the faces of Molly and Hester were pressed up against the glass and waved. To his amusement the faces disappeared like a couple of apparitions.

‘I’m glad you dressed warmly,’ he said, turning the key in the ignition and pulling out into the road.

‘Where are we going?’ she asked.

‘Surprise,’ he replied and she watched his profile as he grinned with satisfaction.

‘You like surprises, don’t you?’ she said.

‘As long as I’m the one doing the surprising. Don’t ever think about surprising me. I won’t like it.’

‘I’ll remember that.’

 

They drove along the Embankment towards Parliament Square. It was a cold, dry night. The sky sparkled above the hazy glow of a city that is never dark and the crescent of the moon floated on the surface of the Thames like the ghost of a sunken ship. Federica could not have hoped for a more romantic night. She

opened the window and let the cool air brush away her nervousness. Torquil parked the car and pulled a wicker basket and rug out of the trunk.

‘What’s that for?’ she asked in amusement.

‘All part of the surprise,’ he said, raising an eyebrow. ‘Follow me and you’ll find out.’ She followed him to a gap in the wall beside the Thames and descended the damp steps towards a pretty red boat that bobbed up and down on the swell. An old skipper waited with the same philosophical patience as the men of the sea that Federica had grown up with in Polperro and she felt a breath of nostalgia. He nodded to her without smiling and extended his rough hand to help her down onto the deck. She accepted his assistance and stepped onto the boat. Torquil climbed up to the front and threw the rug down.

‘There, come on up, we’re going for a long ride,’ he said, watching her smile in delight. He took her hand to steady her. ‘It’s much more fun over here, we can see where we’re going for a start,’ he said, moving the picnic basket.

‘I can’t believe you’ve organized this for me,’ she exclaimed, sitting down.

‘I want to impress you,’ he replied truthfully. ‘Okay, Jack, we’re ready to roll,’ he shouted to the skipper who tapped his cap and disappeared behind the controls. The engine roared before settling into a gentle rattle and they made their

way down the moonlit Thames.

Torquil settled down beside her and opened the basket. ‘Let’s start with a glass of champagne, shall we?’ he said, handing her a crystal glass. ‘Have you ever been on the Thames?’

‘Only in the car along the Embankment.’ She laughed.

‘Good. I’m glad this is a first,’ he said, pouring the champagne into her glass.

‘It’s such a stunning night, did you organize that too?’

‘I did my best.’

‘You did well.’

‘I did well finding you,’ he said softly, tapping her glass with his. ‘Here’s to us.’

Federica sipped the champagne and swallowed her reservations. ‘I gather you met my uncle,’ he said, raising an eyebrow.

‘Yes,’ she replied carefully, not wishing to comment on the toad-like man who stalked the shop with an inflated self-importance that was both unnecessary and absurd.

‘He liked you.’

‘Oh?’

‘He has very good taste. He’s perceptive about people. That quality runs in the family.’ Then he looked at her with predatory eyes, admiring her lack of sophistication. ‘You’re too innocent to have been brought up in London. Were you raised in Chile?’

‘Only until I was seven, then I was brought up in Cornwall.’

‘From the sublime to the ridiculous,’ he chuckled. ‘That’s why you’re different. A bit Latin, a bit Cornish. Something of a mongrel,’ he joked. ‘I like mongrels,’ he added, draining his glass. ‘I’m not a mongrel. I hope you like pure-blooded Englishmen.’

‘Of course I like Englishmen. I don’t know many Latin men. I left when I was young,’ she explained.

‘And now you’re old,’ he smirked. ‘I’d hazard a guess that you’re eighteen,’ he said, taking the bottle out of the basket and refilling their glasses.

‘You’re right,’ she replied in surprise. ‘Do you know everything?’

‘Like I said, I’m a perceptive old devil.’ He put on a cockney accent.

Federica laughed. ‘Then, I guess you’re about thirty-five,’ she said and sipped the champagne.

‘Wrong, I’m afraid, I’m much older than that. I’m thirty-eight. Far too old for you.’

Federica felt her stomach plummet with disappointment. She wondered what he meant by that and if he really felt he was too old for her, why had he asked her out in the first place?

‘Let’s have something to eat,’ he suggested, pulling out a couple of plates of toast, foie gras and caviar.

The boat moved slowly down the Thames, under bridges which cast ominous shadows over the water, past the Tower of London and on into the darkness. They ate the picnic and opened another bottle of champagne. ‘I was brought up by my father and stepmother, my natural mother died when I was a little boy,’ Torquil said casually.

‘I’m so sorry,’ said Federica, feeling the full extent of his loss. Although her father hadn’t died he had barely shown much sign of life in the last ten years.

‘Oh, I was too small to understand and then Cynthia came along. She’s been a good mother to me. You see, she was unable to bear children so she adored me to compensate. Being an only child I’ve been spoilt all my life.’ He said this

with a chuckle, omitting to mention that Cynthia’s love was at times claustrophobic and his father’s overbearing.

‘I think you probably deserve it. You must have suffered terribly,’ she said, and squeezed his arm compassionately.

He frowned at her. ‘You’ve suffered, haven’t you?’ he said gently, tilting his head to one side. ‘Do you want to talk about it?’

Federica found herself letting him into her life. Her tongue loosened with the alcohol and the beauty of the surroundings, allowing all the pain to slip out uncensored. She hadn’t meant to, but there was something in his eyes and his smile that drew her to him. He seemed to see right through her, slicing away her defences with each piercing gaze and understanding what he saw. ‘You poor darling thing,’ he said, noticing that she had begun to shiver and putting an arm around her shoulders. ‘You need someone to look after you. I grew up with too much love, you’ve grown up with too little.’

‘Not at all,’ she said, attempting to blink away the light feeling in her head. ‘I’ve been very lucky.’

‘Don’t fool yourself, sweetness, everyone needs a mother and a father. If

you’re lucky like me to have a wonderful stepparent, that can make up for the loss of a natural parent in many ways. But Arthur’s obviously not a patch on your father.’

‘He certainly isn’t!’ she exclaimed hotly. ‘I can’t stand him.’

‘Well, it’s time you had someone to think about
you
for a change. Your mother didn’t think about you when she left Chile, did she? Your father didn’t put you first either. You need someone to put
you
first.’ He pulled out another rug and wrapped it around her. She suddenly felt emotional but didn’t know whether it was because she was talking about her father or because he had said that he was too old for her. She wanted to tell him that he wasn’t too old for her, but she didn’t have the courage. Silently she opened her heart to him and hoped that he might notice.

‘Don’t be sad,’ he whispered, watching her eyes glitter like the water of the Thames.

She shook her head. ‘Oh, I’m not sad,’ she replied and smiled wistfully. ‘I’m very happy. I’m happy to be here sharing this beautiful night with you. You’ve been sweet listening to me. Don’t get the wrong idea. I’ve had a magical childhood and I’ve been very happy. Some people, like you, suffer the death of a

parent, sometimes a whole family. I really have nothing to complain about. Papa’s not dead, is he?’

‘No, he’s not dead, just thoughtless,’ he said, squeezing her. ‘I’m going to make you very happy,’ he avowed. He lifted her chin with his hand and wiped away her melancholy with his thumb. ‘I’ve found you now,’ he said before kissing her salty lips. She responded with eagerness as his rough face scratched at her skin and his wet lips parted hers to penetrate her innocence and claim it for himself. In those moments of intimacy Federica forgot Sam’s tender kisses because she had finally found a man who promised to love her and protect her and erase the scars of abandonment.