Chapter 44. Dolly Birds
Scarlet felt less surprised about the story Pelham had shared about some woman “setting up base camp at Ian’s town residence.” Too young and too footloose to be Margalo but Scarlet felt confident that the BBC doubtless pullulated with skimpily attired, pretty young things, all skimpily paid of course, in desperate need of a London bolt-hole with “all found”; girls who would adore offering comfort to a handsome, lonely man whose wife had abandoned him. What had Ian called them? Dolly birds? Unfortunately, judging by Candi’s hospital records, these poor women failed to reckon with just how “abandoned” Ian actually was!
A two storey “maisonette” (with balcony!) in central London – that girl probably felt fortunate indeed. He could have his cake and eat it too – nanny, housekeeper and girlfriend all mixed together! So probably unpaid? Worse and worse, poor thing. And it sounded just like Ian, thinking himself so clever for dangling before Scarlet just how easily and cheaply she could be replaced.
The most bothersome aspect of all this news was how little it seemed he really knew the girl he had married! Scarlet found this new picture of Ian repellant rather than inciting. She couldn’t imagine Pom putting some girl in hospital!
But if she was honest with herself, hadn’t Ian’s aura of danger been a large part of his attraction when they were in college? She knew her rivals thought so. But around children such explosive potential seemed suddenly very unappealing. Maybe I just grew up, thought Scarlet.
Scarlet might be a mystery to her husband, but Scarlet felt she understood Candi all too well. It was Scarlet whom Candi yearned to supplant, Scarlet whom in fact she wanted to be. She had made that very clear in Foyle’s – she was angling to become Mrs. Wye. Poor Candi may have felt that throwing over her job and even being injured by him made Ian “owe” her something. Candi didn’t realize that it was Scarlet’s personal power that she envied, and not the power Scarlet acquired as a wife, if any. But it’s my “power” as a confident, educated woman with a sense of my own value, she thought.
Candi didn’t know herself – or Ian – or even marriage – well enough to realize she’d made the worst possible decision. Scarlet wondered if she should reach out to David Pourfoyle, Candi’s abandoned husband. He must be a wreck. In hindsight, all these actions and reactions seemed so easy to categorize. Look at the mistakes Scarlet herself had made – allowing herself to become the “country wife” – a benefit more honored in fantasy than reality. In Ian’s eyes women cheapened themselves by becoming “convenient”. And Candi hadn’t even insisted on a ring! How could she – married to someone else.
The phone rang again, and since Scarlet was sitting right there, she answered it.
“Er – Scarlet?” Pom’s unmistakable voice.
Scarlet felt an enormous gush of relief.
“It’s for me,” she said to Enid’s, “And who’s that now?”
Enid signed off with a harried, “Very well then.”
“Your life appears to be heating up,” said Pom. “Who was that, if I may enquire?”
“It’s a long story. I hired a nanny and she turned into a godsend. In fact, she’s been rather – taken over by Miss Bottomley.”
“So you’re still in nanny straits?”
“No, Mrs. Rumson can tackle both jobs – quite well, so far, I believe. She’s the most fantastic cook! Miss Bottomley’s eating like a rescued castaway.”
“Well, she really is one, isn’t she? Anyway, I phoned to say I’m back in town – Freddie did a bang-up job on my car – and wondered if we could dine? Or does divorce case forfend?”
I’ve got to get my emotions under control, thought Scarlet. She was rocketing between the ecstasy of seeing him again – the embarrassment of feeling the depth of that need – and her dashed hopes over Pelham’s lawyerly injunction.
She was rescued by a brilliant idea.
“I say,” she proposed, “What do you know about art?”
“A lot,” said Pom. “I hope.”
‘Would you be willing to do a job for Miss Bottomley?”
“Anything at all.”
“Why don’t you come to dinner tonight and make an aesthetic inventory of her paintings? She’s got a lot here.”
Pom sounded intrigued. “An aesthetic inventory?”
“Certainly.. She inherited all this stuff and she has insurance policies and inventories and that sort of thing, but she doesn’t care about these works and she never looks at them. Perhaps they would be better off in some museum and she could decorate her walls with…something more modern. Something of her own choice, that gives her meaning and pleasure.”
“Oh, I see. What a fun idea! I couldn’t charge money of course. This would be strictly friend-to-friend. I mean, otherwise my conflicts of interest would be too opprobrious.”
Scarlet laughed. “Too, too opprobrious.”
“Shall we say seven?”
“We’d better say six. There’s old ladies and infants to consider. Unless you can’t.”
“Oh, but I can.”
And just like that, Scarlet was happy again. Lovely Pom!
She found Enid and Miss Bottomley in the kitchen playing the card game “crazy eights.”
“I do love this game,” said Miss Bottomley enthusiastically.
Nick was just starting to fuss so Scarlet picked him up, snuffling up his delightful talcum-y smell. She was certain that he recognized her and was gazing up at her trustingly.
“I wonder if I might invite Pom to dinner,” she inquired shyly.
“Oh, your delightful friend! I do like him so.” Miss Bottomley smacked an eight down on the table and declared “Hearts. You’ll like him too,” she told Enid.
“Do you think he’d like spaghetti Bolognese?” inquired the chef.
“I know for a fact he loves anything Italian.”
“What fun!” exclaimed Enid. “Would you like me to take Nick?”
“No, I need fresh air. I think I’ll take him walking. Miss Bottomley, Pom is willing to take a friendly look at your pictures and perhaps suggest some moderns you might buy. Would you like that?”
“Scarlet, you have the best ideas!” declared Miss Bottomley. “These daubs are so DREARY. Do you know in my bedroom there was a picture of a cow. I ask you! Who would want a picture like that? I had it moved of course – exchanged for boring old flowers but that’s hardly better. It would buck everyone up to see a bit of color. The previous owner’s taste seems all dark green and mud brown. Dreadful stuff.”
And expensive to insure, thought Scarlet.
“I’m so glad you feel that way,” she said, taking Nick to get changed. “It would be fun looking for new stuff. Perhaps we could attend some openings and shows.”
“Auctions!” Miss Bottomley brightened. “Let’s go to auctions! Auctions are so thrilling, don’t you find?”
Alysse Aallyn 
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