Be Careful What You Wish For: The Clifton Chronicles 4 (25 page)

‘Are you by any chance proposing again, Clive? Because that’s the third time this week.’

‘You noticed. Yes, I am, and I was hoping you’d come up to Lincolnshire with me at the weekend and meet my parents, so we can make it official.’

‘I’d love to,’ said Jessica, throwing her arms around him.

‘Mind you, there’s someone I’ll have to visit before you can come to Lincolnshire,’ said Clive. ‘So don’t pack yet.’

‘It was good of you to see me at such short notice, sir.’

Harry was impressed. He could see that the young man had gone to a lot of trouble. He’d turned up on time, was wearing a jacket and tie, and his shoes shone as if he was on parade. He was
clearly very nervous, so Harry tried to put him at ease.

‘Your letter said that you wanted to see me about an important matter, so it has to be one of two things.’

‘It’s quite simple really, sir,’ said Clive. ‘I’d like permission to ask for your daughter’s hand in marriage.’

‘How sublimely old-fashioned.’

‘It’s no more than Jessica would expect of me.’

‘Don’t you feel you’re both a little young to be thinking about getting married? Perhaps you should wait, at least until Jessica graduates from the RA.’

‘With respect, sir, Sebastian tells me that I’m older than you were when you proposed to Mrs Clifton.’

‘True, but that was at a time of war.’

‘I hope I don’t have to go to war, sir, just to prove how much I love your daughter.’

Harry laughed. ‘Well, I suppose as a prospective father-in-law I ought to ask about your prospects. Jessica tells me you weren’t offered a place at the RA schools.’

‘I’m pretty sure that didn’t come as a surprise to you, sir.’

Harry smiled. ‘So what have you been up to since you left the Slade?’

‘I’ve been working at an advertising agency, Curtis Bell and Getty, in their design department.’

‘Is that well paid?’

‘No, sir. My salary is four hundred pounds a year, but my father tops it up with an allowance of another thousand, and my parents gave me the lease on a flat in Chelsea as a twenty-first
birthday present. So we’ll have more than enough.’

‘You do realize that painting is, and always will be, Jessica’s first love, and she’ll never allow anything to get in the way of her career, as this family became aware on the
day she stepped into our lives.’

‘I too am well aware of that, sir, and I’ll do everything in my power to make sure she fulfils her ambition. It would be crazy not to, with her talent.’

‘I’m glad you feel that way,’ said Harry. ‘But despite her great talent, there’s an insecurity there that you will, at times, have to handle with compassion and
understanding.’

‘I’m also well aware of that, sir, and it’s something I enjoy doing for her. It makes me feel very special.’

‘Can I ask how your parents feel about you wanting to marry my daughter?’

‘My mother’s a great fan of yours, as well as an admirer of your wife.’

‘But do they realize we’re not Jessica’s parents?’

‘Oh yes, but, as Dad says, that’s hardly her fault.’

‘And have you told them you want to marry Jessica?’

‘No, sir, but we’re going up to Louth this weekend, when I intend to, although I can’t imagine it will come as much of a surprise.’

‘Then all that’s left for me to do is to wish you every happiness together. If there is a kinder, more loving girl in the world, I’ve yet to meet her. But perhaps every father
feels that way.’

‘I’m well aware that I’ll never be good enough for her, but I swear I won’t let her down.’

‘I’m sure you won’t,’ said Harry, ‘but I have to warn you there’s another side to that coin. She’s a sensitive young woman, and if you were ever to lose
her trust, you’d lose her.’

‘I’d never do anything to let that happen, believe me.’

‘I’m sure you mean that. So why don’t you ring me if she says yes.’

‘I most certainly will, sir,’ said Clive as Harry rose from his chair. ‘If you don’t hear from me by Sunday night, it means she will have turned me down.
Again.’

‘Again?’ said Harry.

‘Yes. I’ve proposed to Jess several times already,’ admitted Clive, ‘and she’s always turned me down. I get the feeling that there’s something she’s
worried about and doesn’t want to discuss. Assuming it’s not me, I was rather hoping you might be able to throw some light on it.’

Harry hesitated for some time before he said, ‘I’m having lunch with Jessica tomorrow, so may I suggest you have a word with her before you travel up to Lincolnshire, and certainly
before you break the news to your parents.’

‘If you feel that’s necessary, sir, of course I will.’

‘I think it might be wise in the circumstances,’ said Harry as his wife walked into the room.

‘Am I to understand that congratulations are in order?’

Emma asked, which made Harry wonder if his wife had been listening to their conversation. ‘If so, I couldn’t be more pleased.’

‘Not quite yet, Mrs Clifton. But let’s hope it will be official by the weekend. If it is, I’ll try to prove worthy of your and Mr Clifton’s confidence.’ Turning
back to Harry, he added, ‘It was kind of you to see me, sir.’

The two men shook hands.

‘Drive carefully,’ said Harry, as if he was talking to his own son.

He and Emma stood by the window and watched as Clive got into his car.

‘So you’ve finally decided to tell Jessica who her father is?’

‘Clive left me with no choice,’ said Harry as the car disappeared down the drive and out through the gates of the Manor House. ‘And heaven knows how the young man will react
when he discovers the truth.’

‘I’m much more worried about how Jessica will react,’ said Emma.

‘I
HATE THE
A1,’ said Jessica. ‘It always brings back so many unhappy memories.’

‘Did they ever get to the bottom of what really happened that day?’ asked Clive as he overtook a lorry. Jessica glanced to her left and then looked back. ‘What are you
doing?’

‘Just checking,’ she said. ‘The coroner’s verdict was accidental death. But I know Seb still blames himself for Bruno’s death.’

‘But that’s just not fair, as both of us know.’

‘Tell Seb that,’ said Jessica.

‘Where did your father take you to lunch yesterday?’ asked Clive, wanting to change the subject.

‘I had to cancel at the last minute. My tutor wanted to discuss which pictures I should enter for the RA summer exhibition. So Dad’s taking me to lunch on Monday, although I must
admit he sounded disappointed.’

‘Perhaps there was something in particular he wanted to talk about.’

‘Nothing that can’t wait until Monday.’

‘So which picture did you and your tutor pick?’

‘
Smog Two
.’

‘Good choice!’

‘Mr Dunstan seems confident the RA will consider it.’

‘Was that the painting I saw propped up against the wall in the flat just before we left?’

‘Yes. I’d intended to give it to your mother as a present this weekend, but unfortunately all the entries for the exhibition have to be in by next Thursday.’

‘She’ll be proud to see her future daughter-in-law’s painting displayed alongside the RAs.’

‘Over ten thousand pictures are submitted to the RA every year, and only a few hundred are chosen, so don’t start sending out the invitations yet.’ Jessica looked to the left
and back again as Clive passed another lorry. ‘Do your parents have any idea why we’re coming up this weekend?’

‘I couldn’t have dropped a much bigger hint, like, I want you to meet the girl I’m going to spend the rest of my life with.’

‘But what if they don’t like me?’

‘They’ll adore you, and who cares if they don’t? I couldn’t love you any more than I do now.’

‘You’re so sweet,’ said Jessica, leaning over and kissing him on the cheek. ‘But I’d care if your parents weren’t sure. After all, you’re their only
son, so they’re bound to be a little protective, nervous even.’

‘Nothing makes Mother nervous, and Dad won’t need any convincing once he’s met you.’

‘I wish I had your mother’s self-confidence.’

‘She can’t help herself, dear thing. She went to Roedean, where the only thing they teach you is how to become engaged to a member of the aristocracy, and as she ended up marrying
the fish-paste king, she’ll be excited by the idea of your family being joined to ours.’

‘Does your father care about that sort of thing?’

‘Hell no. The factory workers call him Bob, which Mother disapproves of. And they’ve made him president of everything within a twenty-mile radius of the house, from the Louth Snooker
Club to the Cleethorpes Choral Society, and the poor man’s colour blind and tone deaf.’

‘I can’t wait to meet him,’ said Jessica as Clive turned off the A1 and began to follow the signs for Mablethorpe.

Although Clive continued to chat away, he could sense that Jessica was becoming more and more nervous as each mile went by, and the moment they drove through the gates of Mablethorpe Hall she
stopped talking altogether.

‘Oh my God,’ said Jessica eventually, as they continued down a wide drive that boasted tall, elegant elms on either side as far as the eye could see. ‘You didn’t tell me
you lived in a castle.’

‘Dad only bought the estate because it was owned by the Earl of Mablethorpe, who tried to put my grandfather out of business at the turn of the century, although I suspect he also wanted
to impress my mother.’

‘Well, I’m impressed,’ said Jessica as a three-storey Palladian mansion loomed up in front of them.

‘Yes, I must admit you’ve got to sell a few jars of fish paste to buy a pile like this.’

Jessica laughed, but stopped laughing when the front door opened and a butler appeared, followed by two footmen who ran down the steps to open the boot and unload their bags.

‘I don’t have enough luggage for half a footman,’ whispered Jessica.

Clive opened the passenger door for her, but she wouldn’t budge. He took her hand and coaxed her up the steps and through the front door of the house, to find Mr and Mrs Bingham waiting in
the hall.

Jessica thought her legs were going to give way when she first saw Clive’s mother; so elegant, so sophisticated, so self-assured. Mrs Bingham stepped forward to greet her with a friendly
smile.

‘It’s so wonderful to meet you at last,’ she gushed, kissing Jessica on both cheeks. ‘Clive’s told us so much about you.’

Clive’s father shook her warmly by the hand and said, ‘I must say, young lady, Clive didn’t exaggerate, you’re as pretty as a picture.’

Clive burst out laughing. ‘I hope not, Dad. Jessica’s latest painting is called
Smog Two
.’

Jessica clung on to Clive’s hand as their hosts led them into the drawing room, and she only began to relax when she saw a portrait of Clive, which she’d painted for his birthday not
long after they met, hanging above the mantelpiece.

‘I’m hoping you’ll paint a picture of me one day.’

‘Jessica doesn’t do that sort of thing any longer, Dad.’

‘I’d love to, Mr Bingham.’

As Jessica sat down next to Clive on the sofa, the drawing-room door opened and the butler reappeared, followed by a maid carrying a large silver tray, with a silver teapot and two large plates
of sandwiches.

‘Cucumber, tomato and cheese, madam,’ said the butler.

‘But, you’ll note, no fish paste,’ whispered Clive.

Jessica nervously ate everything she was offered, while Mrs Bingham chatted away about her busy life and how she never seemed to have a moment to spare. She didn’t seem to notice when
Jessica began to draw an outline of Clive’s father on the back of a napkin, which she intended to finish off once she was alone in the bedroom.

‘We’ll have a quiet supper this evening, just the family,’ she said, before offering Jessica another sandwich. ‘But, tomorrow, I’ve planned a celebration dinner
– just a few friends who can’t wait to meet you.’

Clive squeezed Jessica’s hand, aware that she hated being the centre of attention.

‘It’s very kind of you to go to so much trouble, Mrs Bingham.’

‘Please call me Priscilla. We don’t stand on ceremony in this house.’

‘And my friends call me Bob,’ said Mr Bingham, as he handed her a slice of Victoria sponge.

By the time Jessica was shown up to her room an hour later, she wondered what she’d been worrying about. It was only when she saw her clothes had been unpacked and hung up in the wardrobe
that she began to panic.

‘What’s the problem, Jess?’

‘I can just about survive having to change for supper this evening, but I have nothing to wear for a formal dinner party tomorrow night.’

‘I wouldn’t worry about that, because I have a feeling Mother plans to take you shopping in the morning.’

‘But I couldn’t let her buy me anything when I haven’t even given her a present.’

‘Believe me, she only wants to show you off, and she’ll get far more pleasure out of it than you will. Just think of it as a crate of fish paste.’

Jessica laughed, and by the time they went up to bed after supper, she had relaxed so much that she was still chatting happily away.