Chapter 41. Puzzle Pieces
Thus began the busiest week of Scarlet’s life, but so far, the happiest. The weather was sharp and clear emitting puffy snowflakes; the sky was wide and open and even in London one could see forever. There were visits to the Victoria and Albert museum where Kirby Crousam gave Scarlet, Miss Bottomley and Pom a guided tour. Scarlet had never imagined early, high and late Victoriana could all be equally interesting. They thoroughly enjoyed an auction at Christie’s where Miss Bottomley wanted to bid on everything but allowed herself to be guided to a gorgeous big green and grey Larry Rivers at an excellent price – dinners at Simpson’s, drinks at The Gay Hussar and ices at Largo’s. Miss Bottomley even talked them into attending a pantomime where she clapped as excitedly as a child. The front door had been replaced with a coded lock and two peepholes – one specifically placed at Miss Bottomley’s height – not that she ever bothered to answer the door any more. All three residents approved and declared it “much less bother”. A “panic button” had been installed to start up a loud siren signal anytime the Norfolk Crescent Irregulars felt themselves threatened. Pom behaved like a perfect gentleman, but he looked less haunted and so Scarlet did not have to feel guilty. He studiously avoided body contact with Scarlet but his eyes maintained a reassuring level of joy and promise. Scarlet was mentally relieved but her body was less cooperative – her whole soul ached for him. According to Pelham, the divorce case proceeded swimmingly: Ian had expressed relief to see from their divorce proffer that Scarlet wanted only maintenance for Nick and offered nanny-supervised visitation. Scarlet felt confident Enid was not Ian’s “type”, and that if he pretended that she were, Enid would see through his gambit. “Between you and me I think he’ll sign,” said Pelham. “He’d be a fool not to with what we’ve got on him. Ian will agree to be the guilty party and only the judge will ever have to know the details of the harrowing time you’ve been through. Should be over fairly soon when they accept our bargain.” Scarlet welcomed the days when Miss Bottomley met with Bob Thomas and she was free to drop into Coltsfoot & Briggins and liase with Mr. Mountjoy. She finally met the elusive Jemima Plympton “pleased to meet you I’m sure” and was given an introduction to the printer Cod Prollops & Daughters. She was rejoiced at this Dickensian name and accepted it as a very good omen for their future venture! She had already contacted Francesca Joringel, asking to see her manuscript. The interview she coveted, however, was with Mr. Beebee, head of the advertising firm Coltsfoot & Briggins had used for, quoting Mountjoy, “donkey’s years.” And what she had found out as Mr. Beebee made his pitch caused her to think nobody but a donkey would ever use this firm, but rather than tell them that, she resolved to ask Pom at the first opportunity if he knew anyone in advertising. She had already discovered through happy experience that his art school connections were invaluable. Once again she was lucky. On her way out, she saw a young woman – she couldn’t have been more than twenty – showing a portfolio to the bored receptionist who almost certainly had no clout whatsoever. “I’m sorry,” said the woman frostily in a not-sorry way, “Mr. Beebee’s in meetings.” Scarlet held the door open for her as the girl marched dejectedly out. “You’re casting your pearls before swine,” Scarlet remarked. The girl flushed, “They don’t want to hire a woman, that’s the truth. I doubt they have a single woman working there other than that bloody receptionist.” “The more fools they,” said Scarlet. “That’s what keeps them living in the past like a pack of dinosaurs. And the same thing that happened to the dinosaurs is going to happen to them. The ideas they showed me were hideously hidebound. Positively strangled at birth.” The girl looked at her with more interest as they stepped into the elevator together. “I’m Lalage Sumner-Locke,” she said. “I just finished up at Durham Technical College and my parents gave me two weeks at a hotel as a graduation gift to see if I could get a job in the City.” Scarlet knew this naïve introduction would have told against her anywhere except in front of a member of The Norfolk Crescent Irregulars. “My publishing firm is planning a hardbound reprint of the Miss Clew books of sixty years ago. I wonder if you’d read the books and mock up a advertising plan to get people excited about them.” “I think I’ve heard of those!” gasped Lalage. “My aunt read them through every year. I’d certainly love to try my hand.” And so Lalage Sumer-Locke came to tea in the Norfolk Crescent kitchen, showed everyone her amusing portfolio and was given ten pounds – “This gives me an extra two weeks!” - and a full set of Miss Clew books. “She was lucky to have found you,” commented Enid and the two women cleared up afterwards when Lalage had departed and Miss Bottomley, worn out from a morning with Bob Thomas (“Money’s a terrible responsibility!”) had gone to lie down. “I was lucky to find her! What did you think of the portfolio?” “I loved the Piccadilly swan lording it over the Mayfair ducks! She’s clever, that one!” This cleverness was confirmed when, the very next day, Lalage phoned from the Royal Park Court Hotel (“My parents said I could stay anywhere with Royal in the title”) and suggested she’d also like to illustrate the books. “The illustrations can be part of the advertising,” she said. “We’ll seize on say, ten moments or however many you want – show an exciting scene – and get people caught up in speculation. “Can Miss Clew escape this time? Is Miss Clew’s number up? Can the world exist without Miss Clew?” That sort of thing.” “I love it,” said Scarlet. “How are you getting along with the books?” “I’m loving them so much I have to put them down and force myself to draw. I’m on The Jade Monkey Puzzleright now.” “Keep up the good work,” said Scarlet. She was interrupted by Branner of Palace Security. “That back entrance going to take us longer, miss,” he explained. “We need to sub-contract a masonry job – mortar’s so friable you can put your fist through it.” “So you’ll be opening up the wall, then? How can you keep us safe?” “We’ll hang tarpaulins. And of course, there’s the night guard, ma’am.” Forever after, Scarlet was to regret not demanding extra guards. Was it possible to be too happy? It could make you careless.
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November 2021
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