Lady of Hay

Epilogue Two

Paris-January 1986

Judy was wearing a 1920s dress sewn with thousands of reflecting beads, her red hair brushed into a glossy cap over her forehead as she mingled with the guests. The paintings looked good. She was pleased with the exhibition, even more pleased with the catalogue, which under George Chippen’s tender nursing had already gone into two reprints before preview day. There had been a huge demand for Tim Heacham’s final piece of work.

Behind her Pete Leveson was supervising the champagne. She smiled at him over her shoulder. They had been married three days before.

Catching her eye, he put down the bottle he was holding and reached out for her hand. “Happy?”

She nodded.

“There’s a huge crowd. I can’t believe we asked this many.”

“I don’t care how many come. Just as long as everyone enjoys themselves.”

Behind them, in the doorway, Bet Gunning flourished her invitation and took a glass of champagne from the nearest tray. Threading her way toward them, she smiled at Pete. “So are you going to write this exhibition up for me as well?”

“Try to stop me.” Pete stepped forward and gave her a kiss. “Aren’t Nick and Jo with you?”

Bet took a sip of champagne. “They changed their plans,” she said. “When they got back from the States on Wednesday they decided to go straight on to Hay-on-Wye” She glanced at Pete with a sudden glimmer of malicious humor. “Perhaps I owe you this one, Peter. I think they’ve gone to get married.”

“I see.” Pete chuckled. “And the story comes full circle.”

“As good stories always must.” Bet smiled. “I for one will drink to them.”

“And to the baby.” Judy lifted her glass innocently.

“What baby?” Bet swung around on her. “Jo is supposed to be writing a book!”

“I’m sure the two are not mutually exclusive,” Judy purred. “It’s due at the beginning of May. Nick called us from New York to tell us.”

“And being the sweet, charitable girl she is,” Pete said softly, “Judy couldn’t help but start wondering.”

“Wondering?” Bet echoed. She looked at Judy suspiciously.

Judy smiled. “The way I see it, there are two candidates for paternity. Nick or King John.”

Bet took a sip from her glass. “For that matter, dear old Tim and the handsome Earl of Clare could also put in a claim, I suspect,” she said softly.

Judy raised an eyebrow. “So-” She whistled through her teeth.

“And you’ve both forgotten William de Braose himself,” Pete put in.

They all looked at each other in silence for a moment. Then Pete raised his glass. “Well, here’s to Jo, God bless her,” he said. “To her safe confinement and to the total discretion of the press!”