A Family Concern (15 page)

He worked steadily for a couple of hours, until his fingers were too cold to function properly, and he decided to take a break and go along to the Gallery for a warming coffee. And it was as he was crossing the road that a breathless voice behind him said hesitantly, ‘Mr Allerdyce? Max?' and he turned to find himself face to face with Adele Yarborough.

His first reaction was embarrassment, remembering how he'd pushed up her sleeve to expose the bruises, and her subsequent flight from the house. But before he could speak, she rushed in with her own apology.

‘I behaved very foolishly last week,' she began.

‘On the contrary, I'd no right to do what I did.'

She gave him a tremulous smile. ‘I know it was because you were worried about me.'

She'd fallen into step with him as he walked along the pavement, and he wondered uneasily how he was going to get rid of her before they reached the Gallery. Though he needed a physical break, he didn't want his line of thought interrupted, and had intended, over coffee, to plan the angles of the next set of sketches.

‘Are you feeling better now?' he asked inanely.

‘Not really. I'm not sleeping too well, which doesn't help. This morning I felt so tired I shouted at Nick, and he went off to school in a strop. I've had a conscience about it all morning.'

‘He probably forgot as soon as he was out of the door.'

They'd reached the iron staircase leading up to the café, and he cast about for some way of ending the conversation. ‘Try taking a sedative,' he suggested. ‘I'm sure that'll help. See you on Wednesday, then.'

But she did not, as he'd hoped, walk on. ‘Are you going up for a coffee? I'm on the way there myself.'

Max swore silently, but there was no escape. ‘Then we'll have one together,' he decreed with false heartiness, and motioned her ahead of him up the staircase.

Once in the Gallery, he instinctively chose a table half-hidden behind a pillar; worried as he was about Adele, he'd no wish to be seen with her in public. Meanwhile, she'd slipped off her coat with its fur collar, to reveal a pale blue angora sweater. As always, she wore no jewellery apart from a watch and her wedding ring. The cool air had stung colour into her usually pale cheeks, her hair was windblown, and it struck Max uncomfortably that she looked very pretty.

She ordered café latte, he espresso, and they sat in a pool of silence, surrounded by laughter and chat from the adjacent tables. Please, Max prayed silently, don't let me see anyone I know!

But even as the thought formed, a voice above him said acidly, ‘Well,
hello
Max! And Adele, too!'; and to his horror, he looked up to meet Lindsey's accusing gaze.

Unwelcome colour seeped into his face, but before he could speak, Adele rushed into an over-abundance of explanations that would have aroused suspicions in the most trustful of minds – which Lindsey's certainly was not.

‘We just bumped into each other in the street,' she gushed. ‘Wasn't that a coincidence? I'd no idea Max would be there – I thought he'd be ensconced in his studio, painting furiously! But it turned out he was coming for a coffee, and as I was too, it – well, it just seemed natural to join up.'

Max found his voice at last. ‘And why aren't
you
at your desk, Lindsey?' he asked drily.

‘I'm on my way back after visiting a client, but they make better coffee here than they do in the office. Well, I must be on my way. Give my love to Rona,' she added pointedly, and with a nod to them both, she walked quickly out of the café.

Damn and double-damn! Max thought. He glanced at Adele, who was watching him with an amused glint in her eye.

‘Will you get into trouble?' she asked with mock concern.

He said stiffly, ‘I don't have to account for my move-ments.' Which, he realized as soon as he'd spoken, was hardly a wise comment.

She leaned across the table and put a slender hand on his wrist. ‘I'm sorry, Max. I realize I've made things awkward for you. Put the blame on me.'

‘There's no blame attached to anyone. We're having a cup of coffee, that's all.'

‘Yes,' she said, eyes demurely dropping again as she sat back in her chair. ‘All the same, I do feel better after seeing you. I always do. Would it be possible, do you think, for us to meet every now and then, just for coffee or a drink or something? There wouldn't be any harm in it, would there?'

‘It wouldn't be very sensible, though. If you're really in need of help, there are professional people you could contact.' He paused. ‘Look, about those bruises—'

In an instant she was on her feet, shrugging on her coat. ‘Thanks for the coffee,' she said rapidly. ‘See you on Wednesday.'

And before he could draw breath, she was gone.

Max's coffee was ice-cold before he finally looked up and asked for the bill.

The promise of early morning was upheld, and mellow sunshine lit the last leaves to russet and gold as Rona and Gus walked down the road to collect the car.

Once out of the confines of the town, Guild Street metamorphosed into Belmont Road, leading eventually to the suburb where Rona had grown up and where her mother still lived. On its way there, it passed occasional small groups of houses, one or two shopping parades and the odd school, and just beyond one of these clusters was the turning Rona was looking for.

As Kate had said, Brindley Grove was a cul-de-sac, though a footpath alongside the house facing her gave pedestrian access to the road behind. The gates of the house were open, and Rona drove through them, parking next to a small red sports car. Kate came out to meet her, followed by Freya Tarlton.

‘Good to see you, Rona. You've met Freya, of course.'

‘Yes.' Rona smiled at the girl. ‘It was sweet of you to send flowers.'

‘I was highly embarrassed by the whole episode.'

Gus, recognizing Kate, was scratching at the side window and wagging his tail. It had the desired effect.

‘I see his paw's better,' she commented. ‘Do bring him in with you.'

‘If you're sure.' Rona opened the rear door and Gus bounded out, licking the hand Kate held out to him. Rona was looking up at the stone house in front of them. ‘I didn't know you lived in such grand surroundings.'

‘It's the family home,' Kate replied. ‘Soon after we were married, Robert made it over to Lewis and Freya, and since she didn't want to live here, Lewis bought her out. Come inside.'

‘Where does he live now, your father-in-law?' Rona asked, as they went up the steps.

‘Above the shop, would you believe, and no one can shift him. He loves it there.'

Kate led the way into a large sitting room overlooking a long back garden. Beyond the far wall, Rona could see the woods she'd mentioned. A trolley bearing cups and saucers stood by the open fire, and Kate excused herself to bring in the tea.

Rona turned from the window to find Freya watching her.

‘Did Kate tell you I'm hoping to do some articles about family businesses?'

‘Yes. It should be … interesting.'

‘And I also told her,' continued Kate, coming in with the teapot, ‘that you might be able to help with her dreams.'

‘Oh Kate, I did say—'

Kate waved an airy hand. ‘It can't do any harm, and Freya wouldn't have come if she'd not been prepared to talk about it.'

Rona glanced uneasily at the girl, but she replied quietly, ‘I've told them I won't see a doctor, but I'll try almost anything else. And through no fault of your own, you're already involved.'

‘I have to warn you, I'm not even remotely qualified in this field.'

‘But you're good at working things out,' Kate argued. ‘Go on, Rona, give it a try. You can see it's getting Freya down.'

‘All right, I'll try, but I honestly don't think it'll do any good.'

Kate passed her a cup of tea and a plate of sandwiches. ‘Off you go, then.'

‘I suppose the first thing to ask,' Rona began reluctantly, ‘is how long you've been having these dreams?'

‘For a couple of months this time, but I had a bout several years ago, and as far as I remember they were much the same.'

‘What helped you over them last time?'

‘They just fizzled out. But they weren't nearly as detailed as they are now, and what's frightening is that each time I have the dream, it unfolds a bit more.'

‘You think you're falling, is that right?'

Freya said slowly, ‘I'm hiding somewhere quite high up – in a hay loft, perhaps, or at the top of a ladder. I can hear this tune—'

‘“Auprès de ma blonde”?'

‘You know it?'

‘My husband recognized it. How exactly do you hear it? Is it on the radio, for instance, or is someone humming it?'

‘Do you know,' Freya said slowly, ‘I've never stopped to analyse that; it's just a sound in my head. But …' she frowned in concentration. ‘… I
think
someone is whistling it. Anyway, it goes on for some time, and then there are voices, getting more and more angry.' She closed her eyes tightly, and Kate and Rona sat immobile, waiting for her to continue. ‘Then there's a gap,' Freya went on at last, ‘and after that, I can hear a man sobbing.'

‘How do you know it's a man?'

‘I'm not sure – I just do. Then I want to sneeze, which I know would give me away, so I pinch my nose to try to stop it, but because I'm only hanging on by one hand, I start to slip.' There was another silence, then she said flatly, ‘And that's about it, really.'

‘You said there was a gap before you heard the sobbing. You mean you can't remember that bit?'

‘No; I've tried to, but I get very upset and start shaking like mad, so I have to stop.'

Rona took the sandwich Kate was offering her. ‘When these dreams started, can you think of anything that could have triggered them off?'

Freya shook her head. ‘They came out of the blue.'

‘And you have them every night?'

‘Yes; probably because I now expect to.'

‘Aren't dreams like this caused by childhood traumas?' Kate prompted.

‘That's one interpretation, but I read somewhere that the mind is trying to make sense of something, and often misinterprets it.'

‘The theory last time was that they were caused by her mother leaving her; could there be any truth in that?'

‘Kate!' Rona protested helplessly. ‘I've no more idea than you have!' Then, since they were both looking at her expectantly, she continued, ‘I was told you were quite ill when she went. Can you remember that?'

‘No, I only know what I've been told.'

Kate topped up her tea. ‘Lewis says you changed overnight from an outgoing little tomboy to jumping at shadows.'

‘I know.'

‘And that you either wouldn't or couldn't speak for weeks afterwards. But Freya, from what I've heard your mother didn't have much to do with you anyway. So why should her going have such an effect?'

‘I've no idea,' Freya said woodenly.

‘You were close to your nanny?' Rona asked, and the girl's face brightened.

‘Yes, very. I still see her from time to time.'

‘Where's she living now?'

‘In a residential home; Stapleton House, near Chesham.'

‘I know it,' Rona said. It was an expensive establishment, and she guessed the Tarltons must be footing the bills. ‘Have you asked her why it should have affected you?'

‘No, it upsets her to talk about it. She was Daddy's nanny when he was little, and she never forgave Mummy for going off and leaving him.'

‘She might talk to you,' Kate said eagerly.

Rona had been thinking the same thing. ‘Would you mind if I went to see her?'

Freya shook her head. ‘Her name's Violet Gray – Miss, of course. But I don't think you'll get much out of her.'

After a minute, Rona said, ‘Does the rest of the family know you're talking to me? I don't want to feel I'm going behind their backs.'

‘Lewis knows, of course,' Kate replied, ‘and I told Jan and Robert. They weren't too keen on the idea, but agreed anything's worth a try if it helps Freya.' Kate flashed her a glance. ‘I also told them about the articles you're planning,' she added. ‘I hope you don't mind?'

Rona would have preferred to make the first approach herself, but the damage was done. ‘What did they think about it?'

‘Generally in favour, though I gather some subjects would be off-limits.'

Rona nodded. ‘Though if I'm to try to get to the bottom of the dreams, I'll have to ask about Mrs Tarlton.'

‘I think they realize that, but it won't be for publication.'

‘Understood.' She turned back to Freya, who was staring into the fire. ‘Is there anything else you can tell me?'

‘I don't think so.'

‘Then we'll leave any more questions till I've spoken to Miss Gray and your relatives. With luck, we might have a clearer picture.'

When they'd finished tea, Rona's glance returned to the window. ‘Could I have a look at the garden before it gets dark?' she asked. ‘Ours is only the size of a pocket-handkerchief.'

‘It's not at its best this time of year,' Kate answered, ‘but you're welcome to have a wander. I'll come with you. Freya?'

‘You go ahead, I'll clear away the tea things.'

‘Oh, leave them; I'll—'

‘Really, I'd like to. You two go – please.'

Kate shrugged, and as Freya began to stack the plates on the trolley, she unlocked the French windows and Rona and Gus followed her outside. Beyond the window was a wide terrace containing several terracotta urns, emptied now of their summer flowers, and a black wrought-iron table and chairs.

‘We really ought to put those in the shed over winter,' Kate commented, ‘but Lewis says it's not worth moving them.'