‘That was very cold-hearted!’ Eva exclaimed. Yet however unkind she thought it was, it did bear out some of the things her old friends had hinted at about Flora.
‘It was fair enough, being asked to pay rent,’ Patrick sighed. ‘I didn’t mind that. What upset me most was that she believed it was she alone who had suffered in losing our baby. I felt the pain just as badly as she did, and she shut me out at a time when we should’ve been grieving together. I forgave her so much in our time together, but I could never forgive her for that.’
‘So what happened then?’
‘I duly paid rent to her solicitor for some weeks. Not another word from Flora. Then out of the blue I got an eviction notice. That was the last straw. I was very bitter, and for a while I was tempted to refuse to leave – just to spite her. But I’d been thinking of going to Canada, anyway. And on balance I realized it made more sense to sever all connections with her and go. So I went. Some time later – well over a year, I’d say – I heard from a friend that she was back here in this house with Andrew Patterson and they had a baby girl. But if Patterson came along after your birth, then she must have met your father while she was in Scotland.’
‘I hoped it would be you,’ Eva said in a small voice. ‘You see, I bought Mr Bear Goes Camping and got carried away, thinking my father was Mr Bear.’
He smiled. ‘Strangely enough, Flora’s pet name for me was Mr Bear.’ He looked a little embarrassed at admitting that. ‘I often wondered if she ever looked at the Mr Bear books and thought about our time here together. She was the successful one. I wasn’t doing very well selling my stuff, so I worked as a meter reader for the electricity board to keep my end up. But we were so very happy before she lost our baby. I decorated the little room upstairs with a frieze of bears, though I expect she painted over it.’
‘She didn’t,’ Eva exclaimed. ‘It’s still there. I’ve repainted the room, but I left it in place because it’s lovely. I thought Mum had painted it for me. But now I know it was done by you, I’ll keep it for ever.’
‘Oh, Eva,’ he sighed. ‘I’d have been so proud to call you my daughter, and I’m really glad you like Mr Bear. I also wish I could shine more light on to the time after Flora left me, to make things better for you.’
Eva felt a rush of affection for this nice man, and she couldn’t help but think her mother would have been a great deal happier with him than she ever was with Andrew.
‘You’ve done that just by coming here. After what you’ve told me, I wouldn’t have blamed you if you wanted nothing to do with her daughter.’
He shook his head in denial. ‘Flora was the big love of my life, and I’d have been a very odd sort of man if I had no curiosity about what happened to her. When I got back from Canada I asked friends about her and was told she’d married Patterson and moved away. I spoke to one or two gallery owners who had exhibited her work in the past, and they seemed baffled as to why she hadn’t been in touch with them. You said she didn’t tell you about her earlier success, but did she carry on painting?’
‘No, the only things she ever painted were pictures for us kids. I don’t understand it either, we only had one oil painting of hers at home. Like I said, she never talked about her past, never even gave us a hint she’d once had exhibitions of her work. The paintings here are ones I found up in the attic. Lauren said that maybe once she had children she felt no further urge to paint.’
‘I suppose that could be the explanation, though I can’t think of any other artist who gave up painting all together. But enough of Flora … tell me what you work at. I can see you’re artistic by the decor of the house. Do you paint and draw too?’
‘No, I’m useless at it. But I suppose I am artistic in that I’ve always liked sewing and handicrafts, and now interior design too,’ she said with a grin. ‘Back in Cheltenham I worked in telephone sales for a mail-order fashion company. I was involved with every aspect of that company, and I really loved it. I was working here in a bistro, but there was an unpleasant incident there and I decided to take a month off and get the house fixed up.’
A little later, Eva got the box of her mother’s things down to show him. She lifted out the necklace and asked if he had made it.
‘Yes, I did,’ he said, his face lighting up. ‘Fancy her keeping it!’
‘It’s beautiful,’ Eva said. ‘And if it’s any consolation to you, it must have meant a lot to Mum too, because all the things in this box appear to have some special significance.’
She showed him the watercolour of the cottage, and he said it was the same cottage she’d sent him a picture of. ‘I can’t be absolutely certain after all this time but I’m pretty sure she said it was in Pitlochry.’
‘What about this row of shops?’ she asked him, holding out the photograph. ‘There’s a painting of it too.’
Patrick shook his head. ‘I haven’t a clue. Maybe she knew someone who lived there, or stayed there herself for a while. But I really can’t imagine why she would paint such a dreary scene, I only ever knew her go for vivid or very beautiful subjects.’
‘I’ve got a feeling that place is important,’ Eva said thoughtfully. ‘I’ve been working through her diaries, but so far I haven’t found anything that ties it in. But then they are quite hard to read – awful scrawl, and so many initials instead of names.’
He grinned. ‘I can imagine. She used to leave notes like that to me, and sometimes I hadn’t a clue what she was trying to tell me. I can remember her scribbling in a diary, she even joked that if anyone ever tried to read it they’d be baffled.’
‘Well, she’s succeeded in baffling me.’ Eva laughed.
Patrick picked up the necklace and fastened it around her neck. ‘You should wear this. I might not be your father, but I’d like you to keep some room in your life for me. I haven’t got any children of my own, and I think Flora would like me to take you under my wing.’
‘I’d like that,’ she said, smiling up at him. ‘And I love the necklace.’
‘Good, because it was made with love and therefore a powerful amulet. But let’s talk about you and your career. I think you should train in interior design. You’ve got a flair for it.’
‘Really?’ It was odd that he’d picked up on the one thing she kept thinking she’d like to do. ‘I’ve really enjoyed doing this place up, and I’ve got quite good at doing jobs such as putting up curtain poles, shelves and things. But surely you need to know more than that?’
‘Having a good eye for colour and design is the main requirement. That’s inborn – it can’t really be taught. But there are courses on the other skills you need, and how to go about making a career in design. I had a girlfriend back in Canada who was an interior designer. People who have money but very little imagination employ them. They oversee the making of curtains, the choice of wallpaper and furniture, sometimes even do up the whole house.’
Eva liked the sound of that. ‘So where would I find a course to take?’
‘Many of the art colleges run them, though I imagine most start in September or October. I’ll make some inquiries for you. I expect you could get a grant for it too. But from what you’ve told me, Eva, ever since Flora died you’ve been pushing yourself too hard. What was this incident at your work?’
She blushed, wishing she hadn’t told him that. She was quite over it now and mostly wished she hadn’t even called the police, as when the court case came up she knew it would be unpleasant. ‘A man made a nuisance of himself,’ she said quickly. ‘He turned up here and barged his way in, and the upshot was that he assaulted me.’
‘You poor girl!’ he exclaimed. ‘I hope you called the police?’
She felt she had to explain now, and added that she wished she hadn’t involved the police.
‘You can’t let men get away with such things,’ he said sternly. ‘I think you should take yourself off on a holiday and recharge your batteries.’
‘I wouldn’t know where to go.’ She laughed. ‘Besides, I’m mor
e or less having a holiday now, doing nothing but lying in the sun and pottering around the garden.’
‘It’s a change of scene that rests you,’ he said firmly. ‘You could go up to Scotland to see if you can find that cottage your mother painted. You might discover your real father there. But more importantly, to quote Flora, you need to “find yourself”.’
Eva laughed. ‘Very Sixties, “Peace and Love”! But haven’t I already found myself by coming to live here?’
‘In part. You’ve become independent, and your creative side has emerged, but you are still being held back by all these questions you have about Flora. Until they are answered to your satisfaction, or you decide they are no longer important to you, you won’t be totally your own person.’
‘So how will a holiday achieve that?’
‘It will give you time to relax, reflect and take stock. Find out what’s important to you and what isn’t.’
‘I’ll think about that one,’ she said. ‘Now let’s have some lunch, shall we?’
She made a tuna salad and they ate it in the garden. Patrick had been to Italy recently, and he talked about the works of art he’d seen in Florence and Rome with such enthusiasm and awe that she wished she could see them too and resolved to get some art books from the library to learn more about the artists he mentioned. They discussed fiction too, and although their tastes were mostly very different, they both loved Tom Sharpe’s books and reminded each other of the parts they’d found funniest.
Eva could never have had such a conversation with Andrew. He had often sneered at the things she said and belittled all her attempts to try anything new. But she felt totally at ease with Patrick and liked the fact that he was interested in her, what she thought about, her interests and goals. He also seemed to really understand how it felt to be cut off from family.
Sophie hadn’t responded to any of her letters. Ben had come down the previous weekend, but it soon became obvious that he saw her house as just somewhere to stay so he could visit old friends, not to spend time with her. On the Saturday night he went off, and didn’t come back till midday on Sunday. She had been very hurt and disappointed but she didn’t say so, because she didn’t want to lose him all together.
She told Patrick a little of this. ‘Ben moved up to Leeds a while back, but he’s gone back home to Cheltenham for a bit of a holiday. And to try to straighten Sophie out, because apparently she’s running wild. But it seems Andrew’s got this woman staying at the house most of the time, and Ben couldn’t stop ranting about her. He thinks his dad is totally insensitive to his and Sophie’s feelings, and that’s why Sophie’s playing up. He says that once university starts in October he’s got no intention of going home ever again.’
‘You must let them get on with their lives,’ Patrick said calmly. ‘The way Andrew treated you was despicable, so you don’t have to feel responsible for his children. A pretty girl like you should be out with boyfriends, not worrying about a half-sister whose own father should be doing that. Have you got a boyfriend?’
‘There is someone, but he’s just a friend.’ And she went on to tell him how she had met Phil. ‘He’s really nice – fun, interesting and kind.’
He smiled and raised one eyebrow. ‘Is he the reason you are reluctant to take a holiday?’
‘No,’ Eva said, but she felt herself blush. ‘It isn’t a romance, just a friendship. I make dinner for him, we go to the pictures and to the pub. I really like him, he’s such good company, but that’s all.’
‘That sounds very much like how it was with your mother and me when we first met,’ Patrick said. ‘I accepted that I had to go along with her terms. But I wanted more.’
‘I don’t think Phil does.’
‘Oh really!’ Patrick smirked. ‘Men don’t usually go for the “just good friends” thing. I think it’s more likely he’s biding his time, because he’s waiting for your bruises to heal. You have been hurt by someone other than Andrew, haven’t you?’
She was a little surprised that he’d homed in on that, but then he was very perceptive about everything. So she told him about Tod. ‘I’m over it now,’ she said quickly. ‘Actually, I can’t really believe that I reacted the way I did – after all, I’d only known him a short while.’
‘Coming so soon after your mum’s death, your reaction wasn’t surprising,’ he said, crossing his arms and looking at her thoughtfully. ‘You probably were very needy and intense, and men do get frightened by that. But if you want my honest opinion, Eva, I’d say Tod did you more good than harm. He made you happy and boosted your confidence when you needed it most. Remember that, and forget how it ended. I’m a firm believer that everything happens to us for a purpose. You ran here because of Tod and, as it turned out, that’s a good thing.’
‘You are very wise,’ she said.
‘It comes of having made every mistake in the book,’ he admitted ruefully. ‘If I could go back and do it all again, the one thing I would do differently is not to hop into bed with people too quickly. You make rash promises, you let lust cloud your vision. There was a lot to be said for old-fashioned courtship. It’s good to get to know someone really well before you sleep with them. Perhaps your friend Phil thinks that too.’
She got out the old photograph album that was in Flora’s box. As Patrick turned the pages he was able to tell her that the very old couple were her great-grandparents. ‘That’s your grandmother,’ he said, stopping at a very faded picture of a woman standing beneath a tree wearing an apron over her clothes. Next, he paused at a man in a cloth cap and tweed jacket leading a horse. ‘This is your grandfather. I think Flora was closer to him than to her mother, who she said was very neurotic.’ He turned the pages till he came to one of her grandfather standing by a gate with a very gaunt-looking woman. ‘That’s your grandfather’s sister. I can’t remember her name, but Flora said she was very stern. She looks it, doesn’t she? Of course they are all dead now. And as Flora was an only child, and her aunt was a spinster, I don’t think you have any more relatives.’
They moved on then to the books of sketches of children. Patrick smiled at them. ‘We both had the idea of illustrating children’s books back then,’ he said, ‘but it’s a hard field to get into. I was lucky in that Mabel, the writer of the Mr Bear books, was a friend and insisted I illustrate them for her. Without her guidance I doubt I’d have become a success. She was able to tell me what small children and their mothers like in illustrations. But Flora wasn’t the kind to take any guidance from people. She believed a writer should fit the story around her illustrations, and it doesn’t work like that.’
Eva didn’t expect Patrick to pore over the diaries with her, but she opened up one to illustrate how confusing they were with no dates, no names and barely a hint of where Flora was at the time of writing.
Patrick put on a pair of reading glasses and frowned as he tried to read. ‘I’m none the wiser,’ he said. ‘I remember the Bistingo. She worked there in the evenings – it was somewhere in Bayswater, I think – but I never went there. These people she mentions must have been casual friends she made there, I don’t think she even told me about them. Like I said before, she took a perverse delight in being obscure. I think it was partly because her mother used to pry into her life as a teenager. So good luck with trying to pin her down, Eva – I suspect it would tax a professional code breaker.’
Patrick finally left at five. He only lived in Chiswick but he said he had to get home early, as he had some important work to do. He left a card with his telephone number and address and said she could call him any time.
‘I’d like to take you out to dinner next weekend,’ he said, giving her a hug. ‘We’ll go somewhere very swish so you can dress up. You might not be my biological daughter, but I’d have been thrilled if you were. So if you want me to be a stand-in dad, and boss you around, I’m happy to fill the role.’
She stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. ‘OK, Mr Bear, the job is yours. All I can say is that Mum was a
mug to ever leave you.’
As she waved him off at the door she felt warm inside. She now had a far greater sense of who Flora had been, at least in her youth. She might still have a great many questions to find the answers to, but it was a good start.
Chapter Thirteen
Through the rain Eva spotted a road sign up ahead which said it was seven miles to Carlisle. She straightened up her aching back in relief; she should have taken Phil’s advice and stopped for the night in Lancashire, or even gone to see Ben in Leeds, instead of pushing on this far in one day.
But even if she was tired and aching from the long drive, she felt good about leaving London to go to Scotland. She didn’t wish to run into Myles again, and she needed to think about her future.
Meeting Patrick had been marvellous; she would put him second only to Phil in the list of people she felt lucky to have in her corner. She’d had several chats on the phone with him since their first meeting. And he’d taken her out to dinner, which had been a real treat.
His words about Phil’s feelings for her had stayed with her too. He could be right that Phil really did want to be more than just a friend, because he’d called round to see her yesterday evening as she was packing.
‘How would you feel if I suggested I joined you up in Scotland?’ he asked a little sheepishly.
‘I’d tell you to get lost,’ she joked. Seeing his face fall, she was quick to tell him that was supposed to be funny. ‘I’d love it. But aren’t you busy at work?’