Chapter twenty four:

April Showers

A week later it was April.

Trudy pinned Rose's hair to perfection as she watched her friend through the mirror. Rose's eyes were vacant; concealing the pain which she felt in her heart. The sickness feeling was still very present in her stomach.

''There we go, Miss.''

Rose broke her stare with the mirror and pressed her lips together. She lacked motivation. ''Thank you, Trudy.''

''Would you like me to go check on your mother?'' Trudy offered.

''Yes, thank you.''

Trudy nodded before proceeding. She left Rose facing herself in the mirror. It had been exactly a week since she and Jack had last spoke. She hadn't realised until now just how big of a hole he had left her with. She had found herself spending more time with her mother since the morning after the art gallery. They had attended endless parties, galleries and afternoon teas. Both of them bonding over something which they didn't expect to. Ruth had accepted that Cal was not the perfect husband and that the marriage would never be a happy one. Ruth had stood by and seen her daughter make the same mistake which she had. She had married someone she didn't love but that was business.

Rose quietly headed to the wardrobe where she found several new dresses which she had purchased over the past week. She ran her delicate hand over the many materials. New colours jumped out at her and she touched down the velvet of one dress and the lace of another. Her mind could not focus on one thing. All what filled her head was what she had with Jack; those strong, intense feelings which shook her to her very core. He had come into her life so full of mystery and he had claimed her heart wholly and her heart still remained with him.

Tears filled her eyes, as they did when she thought of him. He had extracted the negativity from her life and made her believe that anything is possible. His presence was so powerful, his touch made her feel as though she was the only woman in the world, for she felt she was truly loved.

An overwhelming jolt of pain hit her stomach and she grasped it in agony. She whimpered as she fell back against her wardrobe. The heartbreak physically hurt her. The pit of her stomach ached as she emptied herself of tears and even then she felt no release. Her breath was ragged, her vision blurry and it was then Trudy found her...broken and crying. Immediately she came to Rose, for a week she had kept the pent-up anger and pain hidden going over every detail of their time together in her mind. The naked sketches etched into her brain. Trudy opened her arms and Rose gratefully cried into her shoulder. It was then Trudy stopped been her maid and became her friend once again.

''There, there.'' She soothed her but her sobs didn't cease.

''I love him, Trudy.'' She cried, burying her face.

Trudy stroked Rose's hair. She needn't ask questions for she wasn't stupid. She may have turned a blind eye but she knew what had been going on for some time. Rose had fallen in love with Jack just as he had her.

''He loves you too, I just know it.''

Rose pulled away, her eyes puffy and red, her makeup ruined. ''But Trudy there has been other women.''

Trudy stroked Rose's face, seeing the pain etched into it. ''Is this true?''

Rose nodded her head.

''He says he didn't enjoy them physically but there were drawings, of women, with lack of clothing.'' She wiped her face feeling the pain rise in her throat. ''Is it terrible to think of it as wrong?''

''Oh no, Rose you love him.'' Trudy took a handkerchief from the pouch of her apron. She carefully dabbed the spot of tears on Rose's face. ''Of course it is a hurtful thing. A woman's body is to be shared with her lover alone. If I was in the same shoes, I certainly wouldn't be happy about it.''

Rose could tell with the tone of her voice that there was more to it. ''Trudy?''

''Miss, he is a great, great man. He loves you, which is obvious.'' Trudy bit her lip. ''Perhaps words need to be exchanged to clear the matter up in full. You may not forget it but when you two of you are together, you are purely happy.''

Rose sniffed as her tears subsided a little. She turned her attention to the window where a slight breeze entered through the slightly open window. She slowly walked towards the billowing net and glanced out onto the street of Paris. Tiny people made their way about doing their daily business and then one person in particular stood out. He was wearing a brown shirt; black work trousers and a rucksack was thrown over his shoulder. It was Jack. Tears brimmed in her eyes as she took a deep breath to not ruin her makeup.

Jack was heading to Giverny. During the last week he had spent his time in Paris working on his art. He had spent the majority of time alone. He knew that Paris wasn't for him. Dottism and Cubism was taking over. Not many people were interested in portraits anymore but still he would not give in and each day he would head a little further a field, exploring the place which he had hoped would appreciate his work. Just a little.

Once Jack had left the hotel, he took out a battered map. It was one which Antoinette had given him. He mentally remembered her instructions in his head and then set off. The journey would take hours, perhaps the full day. His legs were used to walking from years of not using any other mode of transport. The day was warm enough for him to roll up his sleeves and there wasn't any apparent sign of rain.

The path to Giverny when he reached the town of Vernon was laid along the line of an old railway track and ran through fields and past cottage gardens. He followed a path beyond the church and by the river. After resting for a moment beside a railway bridge, he threw his ruck-sack on the floor and pulled a readymade cigarette from his case. His lit it, taking in the smoke and feeling a wave of relief overcome him.

He plunged his hands into his pocket, taking in the surroundings. It was quiet, only the birds sang in the trees and the lovely breeze which caused the grass in the fields to billow. It was utter bliss out here. He wished that Rose could experience this with him.

He had tried several times to speak to her, each time she had shunned him sending Trudy with the warning to not speak to her. Cal had found less need for him, for his time had been spent with his wife most of the time and it seemed all Jack had been needed for was to follow Rose. Jack had not seen him for two days. He had spent a few days with Fae and Antoinette and they had become unlikely friends; they shared a passion for art. Jack entertained them with stories of his struggles in America and of his love for Rose even though it had now become a broken story.

Seconds later the track began to vibrate, an indication that a train was coming. Quickly, he picked up his rucksack and continued his journey along the dusty road. He paused for a moment to watch the train pass. He remembered the days he would jump onto moving trains to hitch a ride to the next town and jump off them when he had reached the destination. He had only been caught once and in that case he had apologised for not having any money.

He took another puff from his cigarette. It would be another mile or so before he spotted the famous pink crushed brick façade of Monet's house. Some of his most famous paintings were of his garden in Giverny, famous for its rectangular Clos Normand, with archways of climbing plants entwined around coloured shrubs, and the water garden with the Japanese bridge, the pond with the water lily, the wisterias and the azaleas. Jack picked up his pace into a sprint. He was actually at Claude Monet's home.

Back at the hotel, Trudy struggled with the huge parcel which she balanced in her arms as they arrived back after an afternoon shopping. As soon as a member of staff saw her they took it from her arms right away. Beads of sweat shined on her forehead. Ruth handed her parasol to Trudy to put away as she was helped up the steps of the hotel followed closely by Rose.

''Shopping again I see, ladies?'' The hotel manager Abelard said with a grin.

''Of course.'' Ruth nodded. ''Perhaps next time we could lend the hands of one of your men? Poor Trudy must be parched.''

''I am all right, ma'am.'' She puffed.

''Get the girl a drink.'' Rose ordered. ''I am to proceed to my room mother to prepare for dinner this evening.''

Rose crossed the reception area alone. She removed the pink hat from her head and carried it in her hands along with her purse. She headed for the elevator.

''Good afternoon, Miss.'' The operator greeted her.

''Hello, again.'' She smiled.

''I see Mr. Hockley is absent once again.'' Rose turned to the operator.

''My husband doesn't care for shopping very much.''

He nodded, realising that she didn't appreciate the gossip. It was seconds later when they arrived on the floor where Rose's suite was. The air was cooler up there with no windows and she sighed as she walked down the corridor to the room. The area was empty and she appreciated the silence. As she turned the corner, she found Jack sitting outside of her suite. Her stomach flipped, she certainly hadn't expected to see him. Memories of Trudy's words from that morning came back to her but she hadn't had time to mentally apply it to herself. She hadn't a clue what she would say.

As soon as he caught sight of her he got to his feet and plunged his hands into his pockets. He was quiet for a moment as she came to him. She didn't open the door right away instead she stood beside him. They searched each other's face for some sort of answer. The faces which they had come to know so well. They were so familiar but yet so strained. Tears brimmed in her eyes and she looked away as they almost fell. She refused to do this here out in the corridor.

''What can I do for you, Jack?'' She opened her purse as she tried to find her room key.

''I have something which I would like to show you. Would you consider coming with me?''

She held the key in her hand, she could feel herself shaking. ''To where?''

''I cannot tell you that.''

She sighed frustrated as she put the key in the lock and turned it before opening the door to her suite.

''No Jack, please leave.''

He placed his hand on the door so that she could not close it. ''Rose, please. I have so much to show you. We can go at sunset.'' He whispered. His eyes pleaded with hers. Why was she so torn? He had hurt her so badly and yet he was still such a weakness.

''Jack...I...''

He came closer to her. ''Do you remember the night at the gallery, Rose? When we talked about Water Lilies by Monet?'' He leant in to touch her face. ''Today I saw the real thing in Giverny. I saw him working, Rose.''

She saw the excitement in his eyes, the desperation in his voice. She was torn between her heart and her head. Which one was logical? He saw her struggle knowing that he still had an effect on her. Even if they could never be, he would still help her to escape this life which suppressed her so badly.

''Jack, I have to dress for dinner.''

As much as he didn't want to. He knew he had to leave.

Jack returned to Giverny, he lay amongst the shrubs down past the river. Monet's house was in full view and he smoked a cigarette as he rested against his pack. He held a piece of charcoal in one hand and paper in the other. He had planned to write a letter to Rose, to explain the things which she refused to listen to and so far, he had not managed more than three words. The feelings should not be written down on paper, they should be spoken and listened to. He threw the paper and charcoal to one side and felt his own frustration once again. How could he make her see that nothing ever happened with Fae and Antoinette?

He had made a decision to never see them again. He would return the map to Antoinette along with some of the money which he had earned. He had planned to give it to some under privileged charity and Fae and Annie certainly deserved a better life for they had taught him a lesson which he needed to learn.