***
The next evening, Harriet picked out a short black and white patterned silk dress and added opaque tights and black heels with ribbons that tied around her legs. The outfit showed off her sylph like figure to perfection. She asked Caroline to help her with her make-up. Her friend carefully used smoky eyeshadow to accentuate Harriet’s bright green eyes and highlighter to show off her cheekbones. She twisted her dark hair up and secured it with a clip decorated with a filigree butterfly.
Talking about her mother’s disappearance always hurt, but as Caroline worked her magic, Harriet told her the story.
“So your mother just walked out?” Caroline asked in amazement as she sipped her peppermint tea. “You talk about her as though she’s the greatest person ever. Don’t you hate her?”
Harriet struggled to formulate a reply. She’d struggled to understand it herself over the years, but she honestly felt no anger towards her mother.
“I never felt abandoned. She left before I was old enough to really know her, so Aunt Kate was basically my real mother for all practical purposes. Mum was just this magical figure who turned up a few times a year looking beautiful and bringing gifts. People forgive their parents for far worse. Besides, you’d understand if you met her. In fact, I should introduce you sometime. I think the two of you would get on.”
Once she’d finished the make-over, Caroline left for an audition for a student play, still looking confused.
Soon afterwards, Harriet’s phone rang.
“Harriet, it’s me, Kate. I’m just calling to see how your week’s been. Did you have a good night at the Halloween party?”
“Yes, it was quite fun,” she replied, not daring even to hint at what had been going on over the last few days. “Anyway, guess what? Mum’s coming to see me tonight.”
“Please don’t meet her alone,” Kate pleaded. “She just can’t be trusted.”
“She’s my mum, Auntie. I’ve got to see her,” Harriet answered. She chose her words with care, desperate not to hurt the feelings of the woman who’d brought her up. She never could understand the depths of Kate’s dislike for Adelaide. She seemed to be the solitary exception to the rule that everyone who met her loved her.
“Is the new husband coming? I want you to be careful around him Harriet,” her aunt said firmly. “I’m serious.”
“He’s hardly new, Auntie. They’ve been married for sixteen years. I know you’re not a fan, but he’s my stepfather, not some kind of monster.”
Kate steadfastly refused to allow her stepfather, Gus, into the house. Harriet supposed that Kate had always been hurt that her beloved brother’s widow had found someone to replace him so soon after his death.
“Just be careful, that’s all I’m saying.”
“Don’t worry, I’m not about to get utterly corrupted in one evening.”
Kate laughed at this, but it sounded forced.
The conversation left Harriet deflated, but as she set off walking through the darkened city, her earlier excitement returned. A meal at Gee’s cost more than she spent on food in a week and she’d heard great things about it from friends whose parents had taken them there while visiting. Her aunt and uncle lived further away than most people’s London and Home Counties based relatives, so they hadn’t made it down yet. When they did, they’d probably just go for a pub lunch. She’d thought of it as just her mother’s sort of place, but she’d never expected a visit from her.
Usually, Harriet only travelled within Oxford’s central grid of colleges, libraries and student bars, but Gee’s lay a mile or two beyond that. Her feet ached from walking in high heels, but she didn’t dare to face her mother in flats.
On arrival, she stood outside for a moment and admired the ornate glass and wrought iron fronted building. Inside, she could see candle-filled chandeliers hanging from the roof and beautifully decorated tables. A variety of attractive and well-off looking people of all ages appeared to be enjoying themselves.
The doorman took one look at her and led her straight to Adelaide and Gus’ table. He couldn’t take his eyes off her mother.
“Harriet, darling,” she called, the excitement clear in her voice.
She wore a heavy wool dress, high necked but cut above the knees. Like almost all her clothes, it was red, in this case a deep burgundy. Black, open-toed killer heels completed the outfit. Her fingernails and toes matched the dress and she’d slicked on a deep blood red lipstick too. Her mother had been in her mid twenties when she’d given birth to Harriet, meaning she must be in her forties now, but she looked like her slightly older sister.
The two of them embraced. “It’s so great to see you,” Harriet said with a smile.
“You too. I really ought to have visited you before today. Congratulations again on getting into Oxford. I can’t tell you how proud I am of you darling. I hope you’re enjoying it as much as I did.”
Harriet nodded enthusiastically.
Gus had been silent so far, allowing them to have their reunion in peace. After a moment though, he got up and gave her a tentative hug.
“I’m so glad you were able to meet us,” he said. “Your mother has been wanting to do this for weeks and talking about nothing else all day. I’m excited about seeing you for more than five minutes at a time myself.”
“It’s good to see you too. Sorry about the way Kate acts, I’d always have invited you in if it had been up to me.”
On the rare occasions when her mother had visited her at her aunt’s house, Gus had usually dropped her off. She’s always enjoyed seeing him because of his charming greetings and his little presents - usually a Hamleys bear when she’d been younger, and more recently, a book or small piece of jewellery. She’d often thought that it’d be good to get to know him better, but Aunt Kate’s attitude had made that impossible. She suspected he’d offered to help Kate and Richard out financially in the past and been firmly rebuffed. His apparent delight at seeing her today chased away the last of her doubts about whether he’d made her mother choose between them.
“Anyway, how are things at the bank?”
“Up and down, but I’m secure enough. I’ll have to leave early, unfortunately. I’m meeting a client tonight, but I thought I’d at least say hello before leaving you and your mother to catch up.”
“I’ve ordered champagne to celebrate,” Adelaide interrupted, summoning a waiter who appeared immediately and poured out three glasses of Bollinger from a bottle chilling in an elaborate ice bucket. “To my clever and beautiful daughter,” she said and they raised their glasses and drank.
When they’d finished the bottle, Gus made his excuses. He kissed Harriet on the cheek and told her he hoped to see her soon. He kissed Adelaide full on the lips. Usually, such a public display of affection from people in their forties and fifties would have mortified Harriet, but a combination of their film star looks and general aura made it seem romantic and beautiful.
After Gus had left, they made small talk whilst examining the menu. Harriet settled on scallops followed by sea bass, and her mother ordered gravadlax and a rare steak.
The starters smelled fantastic, but as soon as they arrived, her mother became more intense. “I gather that you’ve been invited to the Cavaliers’ Winter Party. That’s fantastic news. It’s such a prestigious society.”
“How on earth do you know that?” Harriet asked. “I have been invited as it happens, but I haven’t decided whether to go yet. The guy who asked me is a bit of a creep.”
“Don’t be silly, darling. You can’t turn down something like that. It doesn’t really matter who you go with. It’s one big party with lots of people. Nothing bad could happen.”
“Where are you getting all of this information from?”
“I went a few times when I was at Oxford. Years ago of course, but I remember it well.”
Harriet studied her mother’s face for any sign that Tom’s comments about the Cavaliers contained a grain of truth, but her smile suggested only e
xcitement at her daughter’s social success.
“You’re going to need a really show-stopping dress if you don’t want to look out of place,” her mother continued.
Worry about George and Tom meant that clothing choices had fallen a long way down Harriet’s list of concerns, but the question of what to wear had crossed her mind. All the female guests would surely have spent a fortune.
“So I bought you a few,” her mother said with a smile. “We’ll try them on later, see what works. You’re about the same size as me, so I found it easy to pick some out.”
They skipped puddings - “Sugar isn’t good for you, darling, and you don’t want to lose your gorgeous figure,”- but drank strong black coffee and a glass of brandy each.
When her mother asked for the bill, the manager wandered over, looking entranced, and explained that it was on the house.
Adelaide laughed lightly at Harriet’s astonishment. “You’d be surprised how often that happens to me.”
She left a large tip and led Harriet out to a Bentley parked by the side of the restaurant complete with a startlingly handsome driver, dressed in a full Edwardian style chauffeur’s outfit. Harriet relaxed into the soft leather seats and tried to act as though this sort of thing happened to her every day. If only it did.
Even through her excitement, the doubly blacked out windows puzzled Harriet. She couldn’t see out anymore than other people could see in. She considered asking Adelaide why the car had been designed that way, but she didn’t want to sound ignorant.
After a while, the car pulled smoothly to a halt. The driver opened first her door and then her mother’s, and helped each of them out in turn.
“Thank you James, you can take a break and collect me at midnight,” Adelaide said.
Harriet found herself just outside the Porters’ Lodge. Students weren’t easily impressed, but she noticed a few glancing at the car with interest and several more staring at her mother.
“Miss French,” said the head porter. “What a surprise to see you again. It’s been years.”
“Mrs French, nowadays. Or indeed, Mrs Piso on occasion. Still, that’s an impressive memory for names and faces you’ve got there.”
“That’s my job, Mrs French. I hope you enjoy seeing your daughter. You really should do it more often.”
Something about the perfectly civilised conversation seemed odd, but Harriet couldn’t put her finger on it. Then she realised. The porter was looking at her mother quite calmly, free from the look of awe that she’d seen on the faces of all the waiters and passing students. He’d also managed to hold a normal, two sided, maybe even reprimanding conversation with her.
Adelaide looked slightly discomfited. “You are going to allow me in, aren’t you?”
“Once a member of the college always a member of the college Mrs French. There’s nothing I or anyone else can do about that.” He turned to Harriet. “Have a nice evening, Miss French.”
With that, Harriet led her mother to her staircase. When they reached her landing, the two long rails of clothing that had appeared outside her room almost made her think she’d come to the wrong place. A smartly dressed woman wearing a Selfridges badge stood there, smiling as though she’d never been happier to be at work.
“What on earth?” Harriet exclaimed.
“Like I said, you need a perfect dress. This is my favourite personal shopper, and here are a selection of things in your size.
“Thanks, I guess. But how did you arrange this?”
“Oh, the usual way. Money and influence,” her mother said with a light laugh.
Harriet hurriedly opened her door and let the woman wheel the clothes rails into her room, wishing she’d tidied up a bit more first.
“As I explained on the phone, we’re looking for one cocktail dress for a party and another that would work for a formal dinner,” Adelaide said. “One should be dramatic and figure hugging. Herve Leger or something. The other should be floaty and romantic. Find some shoes to match. Maybe a couple of Von Furstenberg dresses and similar things too for more casual events.”
The shop assistant nodded enthusiastically. Harriet tried on outfit after outfit as her mother stared at her, hands on hips.
“That’s a gorgeous dress but the wrong colour for your skin tone. That’s pretty, but it doesn’t show off your tiny waist enough. That dress is just plain horrible, don’t even bother trying it on.”
Harriet’s energy rapidly drained away. All of the dresses looked lovely to her. In the end, they settled on an emerald coloured dress with a bandage style top half and a short billowing skirt.
“The colour brings out your eyes perfectly, and the cut really shows off your delicate figure without making you look like a tart,” said Adelaide, her eyes sparking. “Do you like it? Maybe you could wear that one to the Summer Party, assuming they invite you back.”
Harriet nodded. Luckily, she genuinely loved it, but by this stage, she’d have been ready to say yes to anything.
The second dress delighted her even more. Different shades of gold and bronze silk overlaid each other to create an ethereal effect, while tiny crystals subtly covered the bust area. Harriet had never seen a dress quite as beautiful.
“We’ll take a few of the daytime dresses and the ballet pumps as well,” Adelaide told the sales assistant. “It’s not just about a few parties; my daughter needs to start looking her best at all times.”
“Thanks, Mum,” Harriet said, grinning.
After the shop assistant took away the remaining clothes, they had some drinks in her room. Just before midnight, Adelaide glanced at her watch and announced she had to meet Gus and head back to London.
“One more thing though. You shouldn’t be dragging yourself through Oxford. You need to be wearing the right things, going to the right parties. I wish I could help you at every step, but that’s just not viable. So instead, from now on, I’m going to pay a couple of grand into your bank account each month. It’s not much in the scheme of things - I don’t want to make you too spoilt - but it should be enough to live like a queen amongst everyone’s student budgets.”
“Mum, the clothes are fab, but you don’t need to give me that sort of money,” Harriet said. The money could revolutionise her lifestyle, but accepting it would be awkward.
“Don’t be ridiculous, darling. I’m paying it in whatever you say, and I suppose it’s up to you whether you use it or not. I’m your mother; I’m supposed to support you. It’s not the same as accepting money from some patronising do-gooder. Gus and I tried years ago to give your aunt and uncle a large income to ensure they could bring you up properly and they refused. Please don’t be as proud and stubborn as them.”
Harriet hugged her. That confirmed something she’d long suspected. She couldn’t help but wish that her aunt and uncle had taken the money offered. She wasn’t going to make the same mistake.
“I love you Mum,” she said, as she led her out to the Porters’ Lodge. “Thanks for a marvellous evening.”
It struck her with a flash just how much her mother loved her and how much she knew about the world. If her mother wanted her to go to the Cavaliers’ party with George, she would take her advice.
Chapter Seven