The Gown(65)
“When did you arrive in England?” Daniel asked.
Of course she had just taken a huge mouthful of salad. She chewed and chewed, finally managed to swallow, and then ran her tongue over her teeth to make sure they weren’t painted with bits of baby spinach. “On Monday morning. I didn’t do much—just walked around Soho and did my best to shake off my jet lag. Then, yesterday, I went out to Barking, where Nan used to live. I had this silly idea that someone there might remember her, but all the houses on her part of the street were torn down years and years ago.”
“I’m sorry to hear of it.”
“After that I went to the V and A. I wanted to see the Vél d’Hiv embroideries, but . . .”
“But they’re en route to the Tate for Mimi’s retrospective.”
“Yes. It was my fault, really. I should have checked the museum’s website before I went. I did get to meet Zahra, though, and without her help I wouldn’t be sitting here with you now.”
“There is that. So what now?”
She ate another bite of salad as she considered her response. “I’m not sure. I thought of trying to visit the Hartnell workrooms, but what’s the point, really? They closed years and years ago. The building probably looks totally different inside.”
“It’s actually been preserved quite well. Would you like to go? The current tenants are happy to let people visit as long as they have a bit of warning.”
“Really? That would be amazing.” Heather was tempted to reach beneath the table and pinch her leg, hard, just to make sure she wasn’t having an incredibly detailed dream.
“We can go today if you like. I’ll ring them up as soon as we finish lunch.”
He made it sound like it was nothing. As if he honestly didn’t mind spending almost the entire day listening to a near stranger and showing her around London. If he had come to her in search of answers, would she have been so accommodating?
“Why are you going to so much trouble? And don’t say you didn’t have anything better to do. One of my best friends is a university professor, and she’s always researching or writing or marking essays. Sunita hardly ever takes a day off.”
His answering smile was understanding. “I know I said that Mimi can be reticent, and she is. All the same, she’s told me most of her story, and to my knowledge she hasn’t kept any great secrets in regard to her past. But you have so little of your nan. Only a few fragments, really, compared to what Mimi has shared with me. Why wouldn’t I want to help you?”
With that, he rose from the table and went over to the bar. To pay for their lunch, she realized belatedly.
“Don’t even think about it,” he said when he returned. “I asked you to lunch. If you like, you can stand me a coffee when we’re finished at Hartnell.” He lifted their raincoats from the hook behind their table, folded them over his arm, and together they ventured out into the afternoon sun.
“If you don’t mind standing here a minute I’ll ring up the boutique. Just to make sure someone is in.”
Heather waited as he talked to someone called Belinda, and she tried, not very successfully, to avoid staring at him. She’d met men who were arguably better-looking than Daniel, but they were never as interesting or nice or funny. And his eyes. It was hard to think straight when he was looking at her with those silver-blue eyes.
“There. That’s sorted,” he finally said. “The boutique manager is in and we can wander around upstairs as much as we like. You don’t mind walking there, do you? It’s not very far.”
“I don’t mind at all.”
The streets were narrow, with equally modest sidewalks, and again and again Heather found herself brushing against Daniel’s side as she tried to avoid other pedestrians. He didn’t seem to object, and at one point, when she was about to step off the curb into oncoming traffic, he swiftly reached across her back and took hold of her in a sort of sideways hug.
“Not just yet,” he cautioned. “What would I tell Mimi if I let you get run down?”
Once the way was clear he let his arm fall away, but the echo of his touch lingered, and she couldn’t be sure if she welcomed or deplored the current of sensation that continued to hum so distractingly just under her skin.
He kept the conversation going as they walked, at first by recounting some of the history of Soho and its surrounding neighborhoods, and then by asking her about her flight and the hotel on Frith Street. And then, though she’d have happily kept walking for another hour, they were turning onto the ungainly assortment of old and new buildings that was Bruton Street. When they were about halfway along the block, Daniel stopped and motioned for her to look up. Just opposite, at number 26, was the main entrance for Hartnell. It was a grand sort of art deco affair, faced with dark green stone that looked a bit like marble, and both above the entrance and high on the white-painted fa?ade the designer’s surname was displayed in large capital letters.
“Where do we go in?” Heather asked, seeing how the main floor of the building was taken up by an antiques dealer. Hadn’t Daniel said something about a boutique?
“One door along. Their offices stretch between the two buildings.”
A tall, thin, and alarmingly chic young woman was waiting by the door of the boutique as they entered. The fair Belinda, Heather supposed, and wasn’t at all surprised when Daniel was greeted as if he’d been dipped in chocolate.