Chapter 8

We stopped at a hotel on the first night of our return, having a shower and a night in a good bed, with someone else cooking our dinner and our breakfast. We knew what each other was thinking. Our future now depended on us, and us alone.

We parked at a caravan park near Paris, and went into Paris on the train, walking around, hand in hand, like lovers through the ages. At a jeweller, I bought Maisie a proper engagement ring. Not overly flash, that wasn’t our way. When we were back in Twyford, we were staggered at the sight of the house when we pulled into the driveway. The garden looked wonderful, and the new gravel crunched under the wheels.

When we unlocked the door, we went through every room as if it was our first visit. The dining room looked crisp and elegant, the lounge was cosy, the kitchen and conservatory were unchanged. The scullery now had a butlers sink and modern taps, the toilet had a new toilet and tiles halfway up the walls. It would just need me to finish the upper walls in paint. We went upstairs to look at the bathroom. It was everything we could have hoped for. We stood there and kissed.

“This is wonderful, darling. There is just the easy rooms to go. They can wait until after the wedding.”

We went down and cleared the van of our clothes, and the left-over food. I pulled the dresser from the wall and checked that everything was still in place. There was a pile of post on the kitchen table for us to look at, along with the door key with an address tag on it. We sat at the table and started to look through the post. Most of them were invitation acceptances. There was an invoice from the plumber, one from the tiler, and another from the gardeners, with a form to fill in to authorise ongoing maintenance.

Maisie was just sitting there, in deep thought, as I called out each one. I looked at her.

“I’m not sure about what Geraldine said. It’s almost my time for a period, I’m going to wait until that happens and then we can try again.”

“What about the details?”

“I don’t want to think about that. Twins! That would be two too much!”

I went over to her and held her.

“Maisie, my darling. Whatever happens, I’ll be there for you. We can get you the best medical help we can. We will be able to afford it. If you are pregnant, we will wait until an ultrasound to find out the number, then we can wait until they can tell us the sex. There will be plenty of time to paint and equip the nursery. We’re a team, and we can move on. Thinking about twin daughters makes me feel squishy inside. We’ll love them and bring them up to be good. Are you with me?”

She nodded and we kissed. She went up to make ready for bed, and I went and made sure the camper was locked, then closed the front door and followed her to the bed. Back in our home, we made love with a fierce passion which would ensure that we would likely be successful, even if Geraldine was wrong.

We had got home a couple of days earlier than expected, but I took the camper back after filling the tank. They asked me if everything was all right, so I told them that it had been good, but that we wanted to come home to get ready for our wedding. I waited until Maisie pulled up and I got in. Our first stop was the accountant, where he gave us the paperwork for the business and the holding company, along with the banking details of both entities.

Next was the estate agent, who had the deeds, properly notarised, along with the welcome letters from the utilities. After that, we went to our furniture supplier and ordered two serving chests for the dining room, in mahogany to match the rest. They would deliver next Monday.

Back home, Maisie called one of her friends, who had put a note in her acceptance. The upshot of that was that they arranged for the friend to pick her up on Saturday and go looking for a wedding dress, and to make an appointment with a salon. I was told to head into London in her car and get myself a good suit in a charcoal colour, which wouldn’t clash with anything she was going to wear.

We had ten days before the wedding, but it looked as if there would be no rest during that time. On Saturday morning, I dressed casually for my drive to London, calling in at the Duke before I went, to organise a reception meal. They had a back room that would sit sixty, so I booked it, telling them that I would give them numbers the following Monday. Then I drove into the city to a wedding outfitters that I had found on the web.

It was strange, as almost everything I was doing had me wondering what Geraldine would think about it. All my early days I had been told that I had no idea, and now I was driving forward with a sense of purpose. Geraldine had told me that she believed in me, Maisie had said the same.

In London, I gave myself over to the salesman, just telling him that the only restriction was the charcoal colour. I walked out of there, two hours later, with an off the rack suit that had been altered to suit my leg and arm lengths. I had to say, that when I looked in the mirror, I thought that I could stand in parliament and not stand out.

When I got home, Maisie was bubbling over.

“You’ll never guess what happened today. We went into the swankiest dress shop in the area, and they asked me where we were getting married. When I told them St. Marys, the lady asked me our address. When I told her, she asked me if Geraldine was still living there. It appears that she knew Geraldine when she was a young girl working with her mother. When I told her that Geraldine had been dead forty years, she said that this was probably why she hadn’t been in to pick up her dresses. She went out the back and returned with two very dusty dress bags. Both dresses were in that album. When I said that one had been worn when she met de Gaule, she told me that if I pay for the storage, I could take them away. I tried both on and both were magnificent. I got both for only fifty pounds/”

She showed me the pictures in the album, and I commented that the jewellery that matched them were in the deposit box. She hugged me and then asked me what I had bought. She chose the dress that would go best with the suit. That’s when I told her I had booked the back room of the Duke for a reception. She hugged me again. We ate at the Duke that night and confirmed the numbers at sixty, having looked at the replies. They wanted a deposit and Maisie said that as it was her day, she would pay for it.

Sunday, we took her car to church and put flowers on the two graves. After the service, we went and cleared all the small items from Maisie’s flat, filling the car. She had rented it furnished, so the only things left had been there when she had taken it. Back home, we stored everything and made lunch. That afternoon, for something completely different, I worked on the painting I had started, while Maisie sat in the recliner and read more of her book. I didn’t know if the smock made a difference or not, but I wasn’t game to find out, so put it on.

I felt calmer as I worked, finishing the painting. Again, it wasn’t much like the one I had started to copy but had more complexity. Maybe it reflected the two me’s that had created the images.

“Darling. I was thinking. We should really have one of Geraldines pictures on the lounge wall.”

“I agree, my love. You go and get them, and we can decide which one. That one has to be there as well, as your first abstract original.”

I moved the dresser to get to the door and brought back the five pictures. We discussed them and picked one to go in the lounge. By the time we had leaned it against the wall of the lounge, the one on the easel was dry enough to move. I would have to get frames for both. I took the remaining four back to the cellar and closed the door, sliding the dresser back.

Back in the conservatory, I folded the easel, spread the drop sheets, and put up the stepladder. I painted the frame while she went to the kitchen to prepare our dinner. It was small brush work, and I was moving the stepladder every ten minutes, but had cleaned the insides of the windows, banished the webs, and painted it down to a level which I could reach from the floor. I went and washed my hands, happy that it was a lot better. I would finish it tomorrow, then most of the ground floor would be completed.

Monday, Maisie was vacuuming upstairs, and I was working in the conservatory when my phone rang. It was the man from the V and A, who wanted to know if he could come around on Wednesday to pick up the vases, as his friend would be flying in on Tuesday evening. I told him that I would rather be paid in pounds sterling, and he said that he would pass that on. When I finished painting the frames, I cleaned up the drop sheets and moved the dresser back to the outside wall. The two serving chests arrived and were put into the dining room. It really looked good now. I wondered about a few pictures for later; still life, maybe. I called the carpet store and told them I had the middle bedroom ready for carpet laying. They said that they had it ready and would be around in the morning.

I put the drop sheets in the cellar and carefully brought out the two vases, placing them on the dining room table. While I had been painting, I had been thinking. Over lunch I told Maisie about my thoughts.

“Maisie. I’ve been thinking about the Yamaha. I haven’t ridden it since you brought the car here. What do you think about me getting rid of it and getting another car? If we have the business take off, we’ll need something to move bits and pieces around. I’ll certainly need something to take my paintings to the gallery. I don’t want a van, but a decent SUV or people mover would work.”

“That would allow me to use mine for the shopping and not tie you down. How would you sell the bike?”

“I thought that I would go to the shop in Reading where I bought it. They may pay me for it, or they may put it in the shop on consignment. Either way, we can go and look afterwards at some dealers.”

So, that afternoon, I coaxed the Yamaha into life, put my riding coat and helmet on, and Maisie followed me into Reading and the bike shop. There, I told them that I wasn’t going to ride any longer and offered it to them. They paid me a bit over half of what I had paid for it, in cash, and I gave them the paperwork and walked away from it. Before taking off my riding coat, I felt in the pockets and pulled out the second ring, which I slid onto the ring finger of my right hand.

Maisie and I then looked in various car yards, not seeing anything that took my fancy, until I spotted a Toyota RAV4 Hybrid at the Toyota dealers. It was moderate milage, but had the rear seats removed at some time, so was perfect for what I wanted. I had a test drive and liked it. I got a very good deal when I told them I would pay with a bank cheque the next day. They said that it would be ready to drive away. I think it may have been there a while.

As we were in Reading, we stopped off at the Game On Pizza to see my parents. They wanted to talk about the quick wedding, and we had to tell them that, although we were now living together, Maisie wasn’t pregnant as far as we knew. We had a small pizza each, and Mum sat with us to find out what we were doing. I said that we had set up a company to design shop layouts and that we were waiting for the green light on a set of shops being developed.

Maisie invited them for dinner on Thursday evening, and Mum accepted the invitation, saying that my sister would be called in earlier. On the way home, we stopped at the supermarket to get extra supplies and some wine that I knew they both liked. We also had to find a shop where we could buy a dozen wine glasses, not having a need for any before.

Tuesday, the carpet people were early and had the room finished by ten. We went to my bank and got a bank cheque to pay for the car. When it was paid for and I had the paperwork, I phoned my insurer to cancel the insurance on the bike, and to start the cover on the car, giving them the details and paying for it over the phone. When they told me I was covered, I drove home, via the artist supplies where I bought the two frames.

That afternoon, I put the frames on the pictures, and we hung them in the lounge. Then I put drop sheets in the downstairs toilet and painted the ceiling and walls. There would be a lot of doors, corridor walls, skirting boards and surrounds to do when I had the time, but, for now, the main surfaces were better.

Wednesday morning, I finished the toilet and packed things away. The visitors came and collected the vases, the museum owner telling me that he had the one that followed them and that the display would show how Pablo persevered with his ideas until he got what he wanted. When they left, I drove to the bank to deposit the cheque. Back at home, I set up the easel with another canvas and lightly sketched an idea that was in my mind. It was a vision that I had seen when we were in Paris.

Thursday was all about having my parents to dinner. We made sure that the house was clean and that we had enough plates, cups and saucers, and cutlery to go round. Maisie had brought a selection of table napkins and rings, as some place mats that she had with pictures of Land’s End on. Because I knew that my mother would want to see everything, we made sure that the bedroom and bathroom were ready for inspection and hung a towel on a rail in the scullery so that you could wash your hands after using the toilet. There was so much detail that I had never been exposed to before. I suppose that I would have to get used to it.

The beef roll was starting to smell good when they arrived. I had peeled the vegetables, and they were ready to go on the cook top. I took their coats and hung them in the small closet next to the front door, discovering a couple of old jackets and some umbrellas that I never knew we had. Neither wanted to sit down before they had inspected the house, so I took them around while Maisie stayed with the cooking.

Nothing much was said, except some comments about how nice the bathroom was, until we got back to the lounge. Mum looked at the paintings and remarked that they were very good, and how lucky we were to know a good artist called Rogue. They were amazed when I told them that I was Rogue, and the semi-abstract next to the picture of Maisie was only finished a few days ago.

Maisie called for us to sit, so I took them to the dining room and poured some wine, then went back to the kitchen to help with the carving. I could hear them talking as I worked, with the phrase ‘how can they afford all this’ cropping up. We carried in the plates, and I went back to fetch the gravy. Dad asked, straight out, how it was that we were living here.

I explained that I had found some drawings in the attic, while I was redecorating for the estate agent. I told them about being told that whatever I found was mine, and that we had sold the drawings and received enough to get the house. I didn’t tell them that we owned it outright; if they thought that we had been able to pay a deposit was good enough. I told them about a future showing of my paintings in London, and that I had been told that they would sell for one and a half thousand each.

That seemed to satisfy them, and we enjoyed the meal. We had organised peaches and ice cream for dessert, a favourite of my father, and went into the lounge with coffee to talk some more. Mum wanted some ‘girl time’ with Maisie, so I took Dad to the Duke for a drink, with him being impressed with how I was greeted as a local. He did me a favour when he asked me how Maisie was going to be taken to the church; something we had not considered. He said that he had a friend who did that kind of work, and he would pay for a car to take her, and then take us to wherever we wanted to go after the reception.

When they had gone home, we stood by the door to wave them off. Then we cleaned up the dinner things while Maisie told me that she had shown Mum the garden while they talked. I washed, and she dried, and it wasn’t long before we were back to normal. There was some wine left in the bottle, so we shared that as we sat in the lounge watching TV.

All day Friday I worked on the new picture. It included Maisie surrounded by Parisian highlights. Pablo had often done something similar, although mine was more realistic. I had the idea that I would alternate my days until the house was done. One day picture, one day house.

After that, time seemed to race by. Saturday, we had an appointment with the preacher, to finalise the service that we wanted. Maisie and her friend went off to London to look for bridal underwear. I made sure that the Toyota was clean and tidy and topped up. We hadn’t organised a honeymoon, expecting to be able to stay at home with some peace and quiet. I expected that we would have some days out, seeing that we had earned them.

Sunday was church and a quiet afternoon. I had opened up the package of five by nines and started playing around with them. Monday I was told that I had to have a haircut, and that the salon was expecting me as they were going to tidy my nails and orifice hairs at the same time. It was strange to be sitting alongside the women as I was worked on, but the operation was declared successful when I got home. Tuesday was Maisie’s turn at the salon, with her bringing home the jewels from the bank.

Wednesday afternoon we got married. I was dressed and then picked up by my old boss, who was going to be my best man. When Maisie arrived in the wedding car, she looked magnificent in the dress and jewels. Her friend was her bridesmaid and looked good as well. The wedding was neatly timed to give everyone enough time to get to the Duke, while Maisie and I were driven away to go home and change.

The reception went well, with everyone eating well and a few drinking very well. There was a record player so they could play a waltz for us. We didn’t do speeches. A lot of the crowd were relatives of mine, who generally commented that they had never thought that they would see the day. A few were from my school days and the removal firm. Others were school and work friends of Maisie. The only one of her relatives was her sister and her family. We had gone to the reception in the Toyota, so drove away in it when we left, leaving the others to enjoy the evening.

In the weeks afterwards, we had some time to ourselves, worked on the house and started the shop projects. I had asked for photos of the new tenants and included a painting of them in the interior décor. Each shop was, as planned, fitted out to suit the purpose. We were paid ten thousand each shop, and we learned how to buy in bulk, the Toyota coming into its own. We were given the details of another project, in Slough, with another ten shops.

I did as I thought I would; one day house, one day artistic, and had enough for my first showing six months later. By that time, Maisie was in her fifth month, with twin girls. Geraldine was right in her predictions. The nursery was now pink, and we had bought two of everything.

The china display case in the lounge now had a selection of twelve original Picasso plates. There were another eight possible originals in the dining room, with the rest proved to be from Madoura but not directly by Picasso. These had gone to the gallery in London.

The house was now finished, inside and out. The outside was done by a professional with the proper equipment. The lounge now has another picture in it, hanging over the fireplace. When we had settled down a bit after the wedding, we finally pulled out the picture that Geraldine had given us. It turned out to be a lifelike picture of Geraldine and Jacqueline, smiling in the evening sunlight, with the countryside of Mougins behind them. Geraldine had the ring that Picasso had given her on her left ring finger, while Jacqueline was wearing the brooch that he had given her, and that she had given Geraldine. It was signed by Picasso and dated nineteen fifty-six. It would make Geraldine twenty-one and Jacqueline close to thirty. It was uncannily close to how we had seen them on the last time Geraldine had appeared to us.

The ring and brooch were now in a display case on the mantlepiece. It had been a highlight when Doc came to visit us, bearing personal invitations to the opening of the new display at the Tate. We wouldn’t be named as the donors, of course, but would be staying behind for a quiet drink with the Tate executive and the new King. That would be needing my wedding suit and Maisie would need something new. Doc took a hard look at the picture, declared that it was a picture that had never been seen, or catalogued. He thought that it was definitely a Picasso, given the provenance, and probably worth several million. We showed him the two photo albums, and he took the early one as a loan for display with the drawings, with all the pictures in it as unseen previously, and of great interest to the scholars.

I was working on my second showing when our twin girls were born. We named them Geraldine and Jacqueline. When my parents were leaving the church, after the christening, my mother turned to me.

“Marcie. You’ve married a wonderful wife and have now given us a pair of gorgeous granddaughters! You have no idea how proud we all are of you and your success!”

Marianne Gregory © 2024