Without a second of hesitation, I am at her service. Any chance I get to touch her I will take, even if it is just a fleeting caress of her spine as I finish the job. She shivers at my touch and her back prickles with goose bumps, and that’s all the reassurance I need that she is in just as much danger as me.
‘This dress really is beautiful, Ms Riches.’ Beatrice looks at herself and shakes her head as though unable to believe her own beauty. ‘Thank you.’
‘It was made for you, my dear. You really do have a lovely figure when you’re making an effort.’ Beatrice side-eyes me at the backhanded compliment but she takes it with grace and an award-winning smile.
Pulling on the suit, I realise that the colours are almostidentical to the fabric draped over Beatrice. These are a matching set, and I blush a little standing beside her as though we are two halves of the same whole.
‘Now if you can bag a film deal on being best dressed then I reckon you two kids are in with a chance.’ Gran smiles and fluffs Beatrice’s skirt.
‘Suits you, Hollywood,’ she says, turning to me and tugging lightly on the tie.
‘You’re looking all right yourself.’ I wink and she turns away with a grin.
‘Anyway, it fits, it’s lovely, but can I take it off now before I get it all sweaty and smelling of farm?’
Gran nods and Beatrice skips off nervously.
‘That dress wasn’t from my grandad, was it?’ I ask as soon as Beatrice is out of earshot.
‘Your father always told me that I’d be with him by his side when he won. When all that I had given up to raise him had paid off, I’d be right there with him when he collected that award. He never called. He hasn’t called since.’ Her happiness at seeing us both dressed up seems to dwindle as she grows introspective.
‘Why don’t you come with us? To the gala I mean?’ I’m serious, but she laughs.
‘I’m far too old now, my boy. Plus, the farm needs me since you’ve stolen my best hand.’ She sighs and rubs her wrinkled hand along the shoulder pad of the blazer. ‘I’ll be right there with you both when you get that deal and you start clearing up at the awards shows. I promise you.’
Chapter 29
Beatrice
Being back in London doesn’t feel so crushing the second time around. I’m unsure if it’s because I actually look the part this time, or because Arthur hasn’t let go of my hand since we left New York, but I am so full up with hope and excitement that even if the anxiety began to seep in, I don’t think I’d notice.
I suppose it helps that whatever the outcome of tonight, I will be happy. If we get a professional team on board or not, the film will be made, New York will be proud of us, and Arthur Cavendish will be by my side long after the clock strikes midnight.
‘I think I’m going to boke.’ I clutch Arthur by the forearm as he leans forward into a darkened patch of the alleyway. I don’t think he got the same message. We hide in the shadows beside the BFI, as I try and give him a pep talk to hopefully ignite some of his Cavendish charm.
‘Please try not to get it on either of our outfits – your gran is terrifying enough when she’s in a good mood.’ He visibly swallows back his bile and presses his fist to his teeth to suppress the urge to leave his dinner on the pavement.
‘We could just go home, say we got the wrong date, or we changed our minds,’ he rambles, looking at me pleadingly.
‘This isn’t for us, remember?’ I sweep a strand of hair back and the growing length of it reminds me of that night, tidying up the Butcher’s mess and throwing myself at him in the beer garden. The memory only bolsters my confidence. ‘It’s for Jimmy, for Lizzie, for Tommy …’
Tommy. I haven’t stopped thinking about him. I’ve spent so long trying not to think about him at all, pretending like he never existed, and this hurt I feel is all in my head. But now the floodgate is open and he follows me into every room, and every conversation.
It’s a messed-up tale of two halves. On one hand, I am still here, I get to achieve things he never did, I get to live a life he would have been proud of. It makes me grateful every single day that I get the privilege of age, of time. I owe it to him to make the most of the life I have and I appreciate it all in such a way that I never did before. On the other, the guilt eats me alive. It should be him here, not me. He should be living, breathing, dancing, sharing his wealth of ideas with the world. But he never got that chance; he never got the time that I have now. Why should I get to do all of this when he can’t?
‘This whole thing is about doing something for people who can’t be here to do it for themselves. It’s for the peoplewe love,’ I remind him, and myself. As though sensing my thoughts, Arthur pulls me against him and I relax a little into his touch, and he strokes his thumb across the back of my hand in a rhythmic motion that could lull me to sleep if I let it. ‘And even if we fail tonight, Art, we lose nothing.’ I place a soft kiss to his hand and he sighs into it.
‘I spoke to Lizzie on the phone before we left …’
‘How is she?’ I look into his eyes and they swim just like my own.
‘She remembered my voice, and that’s enough for me.’ Still, his thumb sweeps back and forth, not hesitating for even a second in soothing me despite the fact it is him who needs the affection. ‘I tried to tell her about all of this but she just wanted to know where I was and why I wasn’t home with her.’
‘Once we’ve done this, we will take the good news with us and visit her. Together?’ It’s bold for me, to invite myself to visit the one person Art loves most in the world, but just as I begin to backtrack, he speaks again.
‘You’d want that?’ He seems genuinely surprised and his sorrow is interrupted by a little shot of hope for a moment.
‘I’d be honoured to.’
