Page 87 of The Extraordinary Florence Stoker

‘That’s two years away yet!’

They sniggered at my indignation. Ellen’s words simply confirmed what I’d quietly decided. Once I turned forty, I’d no longer allow my picture to be captured whether in paint, by Kodak camera or one of those new-fangled Kinetoscope things. If I was to be depicted for posterity, it would be before I became a bag full of wrinkles and liver spots. Unlike Dorian Gray, I had no portrait in the attic to do the ageing for me.

Aware of three sets of eyes upon me, I started, teacup halfway to my mouth. ‘Sorry, what was that?’

‘I was asking after Noel,’ said Lucy gently.

‘I was away with the bog-fairies,’ I apologised. ‘He’s due home from Oxford tomorrow, just for a few days.’

‘Is he enjoying being there now?’ asked Ellen.

‘Depends on what you mean by “enjoy”,’ I admitted, swallowing some tea. The poor lad had been quite homesick when he first became a boarder. ‘He won’t distinguish himself the way his father did at school, but since when is ordinary a sin?’

The women nodded sagely.

‘Bram is already talking about him becoming an accountant and intends to raise the possibility when he’s home.’

‘I think Noel would do well in that occupation,’ said Lucy. ‘You know, where he wasn’t overwhelmed by large numbers of people.’

‘No, just large numbers,’ quipped Ellen.

‘I think you’re right, Lucy.’ I topped up my tea and stirred it distractedly. ‘I sometimes wonder if the kind of busy life Bram and I lead has made him disinclined to seek others. He’s ever been a boy – dear God, a young man!’

There were exclamations of mock horror.

‘Who’s quite content with his own company.’

‘There’s nothing wrong with that!’ exclaimed Violet.

We all began to laugh. Violet disliked being solitary and was always seeking out new friends, lovers and stimulating people. I was beyond flattered she included me among those she preferred.

‘And what’s Bram doing with himself now the theatre’s closed for a while?’ asked Ellen.

‘He’s busy finishing that book he’s been working on since – oh, since before we stayed in Whitby.’

‘That was years ago,’ said Ellen.

I nodded. ‘At least six.’

‘Six!’ exclaimed Lucy and Violet in unison.

‘A bit longer, really. He’s calling it The Un-Dead, though just between us, I think of it as The Book That Will Not Die.’

‘After that long, I’m not surprised,’ said Violet.

‘Is that the Count Dracula one?’ asked Lucy tentatively. She knew how important Bram’s work was to him – they all did and shared my disappointment in the lukewarm reception his books had thus far received.

I sipped my tea. ‘It is. He finished the first draft back in July when we stayed at the Kilmarnock Arms near Cruden Bay again. He loves it there. There’s something about the place that makes the ideas flourish and the words flow.’ I paused, then leaned over, lowering my voice. ‘He tells me it will be full of the supernatural and all kinds of things that seem to be the rage these days.’

‘And vampires,’ said Violet ghoulishly, widening her eyes and gnashing her teeth.

We recoiled in faux horror before bursting into giggles.

‘Bram says he’s going to read the completed manuscript to me after Christmas.’

‘Well, I hope this book brings him the recognition he deserves,’ said Lucy.

‘So do I, Lucy. So do I,’ I sighed.