The Peacock Emporium(55)
Suzanna cringed.
“Fairley-Hulme.”
Jessie turned to Suzanna. “You’re a Fairley-Hulme?”
Vivi nodded. “Yes, she is. One of three.”
“Off the Dereward estate? You never said.”
Suzanna felt oddly caught out. “Why would I?” she said, a little sharply. “I don’t live on the estate. Strictly speaking, I’m a Peacock.”
“Yes, but—”
“It’s only a name.” Suzanna’s relief—that the tension between her and Jessie had cleared—dissipated. She felt as if her family had physically intruded.
Jessie’s gaze flickered between the two women, and settled back on the counter in front of her. “Still. It’s all making sense now. I love the picture,” she said to Vivi.
“Picture?”
“The portrait. Suzanna was going to put it up in here but she thinks it doesn’t look right. I’ve heard about your family’s portraits. Do you still let people in to see them in the summer?”
Jessie turned toward the painting, still sitting behind the legs of the counter. Vivi saw it, and flushed. “Oh, no, dear. That’s not me. It—that’s Athene—”
“Vivi’s not my real mum,” interjected Suzanna. “My real mum died when I was born.”
Jessie did not speak, as if she was waiting for something to be added. But Vivi was now staring at the portrait, and Suzanna appeared to be thinking about something else. “No, now I see. Different hair. And everything . . .” Jessie trailed off, conscious that no one was listening.
Eventually Vivi broke the silence, tearing her gaze from the painting and rising to her feet. She placed her empty coffee cup carefully on the counter in front of Jessie. “Yes. Well. I’d better be off. I promised I’d drive Rosemary to see one of her old friends in Clare. She’ll be wondering where I am.” She pulled her silk scarf more tightly round her neck. “I just wanted to stop by and say hello.”
“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Fairley-Hulme. Pop by again soon. You can try one of our flavored coffees.”
Vivi made as if to pay at the till, but Jessie waved her away. “Don’t be silly,” she said. “You’re family.”
“You—you’re very kind.” Vivi picked up her handbag and moved toward the door. Then she turned back to Suzanna. “Listen, darling. I was wondering. Why don’t you and Neil come to supper one night this week? Not a huge affair, like last time. Just a simple supper. It would be so lovely to see you.”
Suzanna was tidying the magazines in the rack. “Neil doesn’t get back till late.”
“Come by yourself, then. We’d so love to have you. Rosemary’s had . . . a difficult time, lately. And I know you’d cheer her up.”
“Sorry, Mum. I’m really busy.”
“Just you and me, then?”
Suzanna hadn’t meant to be snappy, but something about the business with the surnames, or perhaps it was the portrait, had made her irritable. “Look, Mum, I told you. I have to do bookkeeping and all sorts of things after work now. I don’t really get evenings to myself. Some other time, yes?”
Vivi buried her discomfort under a wavering smile. She placed a hand on the door handle and knocked a swinging mobile as she stepped backward, so that she had to brush it away from her head. “Right. Of course. Lovely to meet you, Jessie. Good luck with the shop.”
Suzanna buried herself back in her magazines, refusing to meet Jessie’s eyes. As Vivi exited, they could hear her muttering, as if to herself, even when she was out of the door. “Yes, it’s really looking marvelous . . .”
“Jess,” said Suzanna, several minutes later. “Do me a favor.” She glanced up. Jessie was still looking at her steadily from over the counter. “Don’t talk about it. To customers, I mean. Me being a Fairley-Hulme.” She rubbed at her nose. “I just don’t want it . . . becoming an issue.”
Jessie’s expression was blank. “You’re the boss,” she said.
* * *
—
“You’ll never guess where I’m going.”
Neil had burst in on her, and Suzanna, although largely concealed by bubbles, felt curiously exposed. One of the worst things about leaving their London flat had been having to share a bathroom. She fought the urge to ask him if he’d mind stepping outside. “Where?”
“Shooting. With your brother.” He lifted his arms, cocking an imaginary rifle.
“It’s the wrong time of year.”
“Not now. On the first one of the next season. He rang me up this morning, said they’ve got a spare place. He’s going to lend me a gun and all the gear.”
“But you don’t shoot.”
“He’s well aware that I’m a beginner, Suze.”
Suzanna frowned at her feet, which were just visible at the other end of the bath. “Just doesn’t seem like your thing.”
Neil loosened his tie, made a face at himself in the mirror as he examined some ancient shaving cut. “To tell you the truth, I’m looking forward to it. I’ve missed getting out and about since we lost the gym memberships. It’ll be good to do something a bit active.”
“Shooting’s hardly running the four-minute mile.”