Katherine Woodfine - The Painted Dragon

Winking at the other two, Joe said in a very serious voice: ‘Blimey, Lil. You’re awful grand these days. I’m surprised you think we’re fit to associate with someone so fancy.’

Lil gave a little squeak of indignation, and threw the bag of toffees at him, spilling sweets everywhere. Joe coolly picked one up, unwrapped it and popped it into his mouth, making them all laugh.

Sophie laughed too. She sometimes found it hard to believe that the Joe they knew today – still rather quiet, but with a very definite sense of humour – was the same down-and-out vagabond she had once seen begging outside Sinclair’s. Now, he was respected for his skill with the horses, and well liked by all the stable boys. Since the summer, he had been spending more time with Lil: indeed, the girls in the Millinery Department had all been asking Sophie if it was true that they were ‘walking out’ together.

Sophie had just shrugged and smiled. ‘They’re friends. We all are.’

‘Well, you wouldn’t catch me stepping out with a groom,’ said assistant buyer, Edith, in a superior tone. ‘I like a man with prospects. ’

‘Didn’t that Joe used to be some kind of a criminal ?’ chimed in Ellie.

‘Ooh, he never did!’ squeaked Minnie, delighted by this titbit of scandal.

Sophie had given her short shrift, but now she found herself wondering what Jack would make of his sister spending time with a young man who, it was true, had once been part of the Baron’s gang. Joe was her friend and she trusted him as much as she would trust anyone in the world. But how might someone who didn’t know him feel about his history?

It was Joe who asked now: ‘When do we get to meet this famous brother of yours?’

Lil smiled at him, and shrugged. ‘I haven’t the faintest,’ she said. ‘He was awfully keen to meet you all when he arrived – wasn’t he, Sophie? But I haven’t heard a peep out of him for days. I suppose he must be busy at the art school.’

Outside, a clock began to strike the hour. ‘I think I’d better go,’ said Billy, getting to his feet reluctantly. ‘Uncle Sid’s coming round for tea tonight and Mum wanted me to stop at the grocer’s on the way home.’

‘Me too,’ said Joe. ‘The Gaffer’ll be wondering where I’ve got to.’

‘And I have to get to the theatre,’ added Lil. ‘Why don’t you walk with me?’ she suggested to Sophie. ‘It’s on your way home anyway.’

Sophie was only too glad to agree. She didn’t want their jolly afternoon to be over just yet – and besides, Jack’s sudden arrival meant that she and Lil hadn’t had as much chance to talk over tea as she had hoped. But as they walked towards the theatre, she soon found that her brother was the only thing that Lil wanted to talk about.

‘I still can’t believe Jack has left Oxford! He’s always been such a goody two shoes. You know, top of the class at school, captain of the cricket team and all that sort of rot.’ She paused for a moment. ‘But then, in another way, I suppose I’m not exactly surprised. He’s always had a way of managing to do exactly what he wants.’

As they approached the theatre, she was still talking: ‘I am awfully glad he’s here though. It will be fun to have him in London – just as long as he isn’t going to start trying to boss me around. I just hope he likes Joe – and Billy, of course – and that they like him.’ She looked over at Sophie slyly. ‘He liked you awfully, you know.’

‘Oh don’t be silly.’

‘He did! He told me so on the way home.’

By now they had come to the stage door, and it was time to say goodbye. Sophie turned away from the bright lights of the theatre, and headed back towards her lodgings. For once though, she didn’t stop to collect the evening paper. She wasn’t thinking about the Baron – instead, she found herself turning over the memory of meeting Jack Rose. Surely he couldn’t really have told Lil that he liked her awfully? In spite of her long day in the Millinery Department, she found that she was, after all, feeling rather cheerful.

PART II

Green Dragon

Painted in approximately 1455, this rare surviving painting from Casselli’s ‘Dragon Sequence’ was given as a wedding gift to Her Majesty Queen Victoria by her husband, Prince Albert of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha . . .

Randolph Lyle, A Short History of the Royal Art Collection , 1901 (from the Spencer Institute Library)

CHAPTER SEVEN

Leo paused for a moment, tapping her pen against the paper, unsure what else to say. She had never been very good at putting her feelings into words. What’s more, it was difficult to express just how different her life was here in London to life at Winter Hall. There, the fields and woods would be golden now and the air would smell of smoke and moss. Father and Vincent would be preparing for their autumn shooting parties; Mother would be packing for her European trip.

But autumn meant something else to Leo now. It meant rain on the windows of the Antiques Room in the morning; afternoons spent walking through the grand spaces of London’s museums and galleries; or sitting on the rug before the fire in her room, reading art history books. It meant a jumble of raincoats and umbrellas on the underground railway in the morning; the steamed-up windows of the little tea shop around the corner from the Spencer, where all the art students went to eat buns and drink endless cups of coffee.

Most of all, it meant long hours working in the studio. Professor Jarvis was working them all hard, but no matter how much effort she put in, Leo had found she could not entirely avoid the sharp edge of his tongue. His criticisms rattled her confidence – and she knew she was not the only one. A couple of the other first-year students had left, unable to handle Professor Jarvis’s acid remarks – but Leo kept on, refusing to allow herself to be discouraged.

When she was not at the Spencer, she was usually at Sinclair’s. Working on Mr Lyle’s exhibition had turned out to be more enjoyable than she had expected. It was fun spending time at the beautiful department store, but most of all, she had been surprised by how much she had enjoyed the chance to get to know the other students who were helping with the exhibition – particularly Jack Rose and the red-haired, freckled boy, Tom Smith, who everyone called ‘Smitty’ – though she was still a little intimidated by their outspoken friend, Connie.

Now, as she sat in her room, hesitating over how to say all this in her letter to Lady Tremayne, she found herself thinking back to that afternoon, when Mr Lyle had gathered the students together to see the unwrapping of one of the most important works in the exhibition. It had arrived earlier that day in a large motor van painted with the Royal crest, and two men had personally delivered it into Mr Lyle’s own hands. Usually Mr Lyle allowed the students to unwrap the paintings, wearing white cotton gloves and following his careful instructions, but this particular painting was so precious that he was handling it himself. The students had gathered in a semi-circle around him to watch.

‘This is one of the finest pieces in our exhibition,’ he had said, as he gently removed the painting from its wrappings, and stared at it reverently. ‘I am honoured to say that His Majesty the King himself has lent us this magnificent piece.’