A Family Concern (16 page)

The terrace was bounded by a low stone wall, and a flight of steps led down through a grassy bank to the lawn some four feet below. On either side of the garden, crescent-shaped beds held dwarf conifers and variegated evergreens, with, scattered among them, the bravely flying flags of a few late dahlias.

‘I knew Freya wouldn't come,' Kate remarked, as they started down the steps. ‘We can hardly ever get her into the garden, and when we do manage it, she'll never go more than a few feet beyond the terrace.'

Rona looked at her in surprise. ‘Why is that?'

‘Search me. She maintains that she's “been there, done that”.'

‘But a garden's changing all the time, from season to season.'

‘She says she can see as much as she needs to from the house. I've given up trying to persuade her, though I thought she might make an exception today, since you're here.'

‘Has she always been like that?' Rona asked curiously.

‘You'll have to ask Lewis, but certainly for as long as I've known her. And the odd thing is that she loves Matthew's garden; the two of them work in it together.'

‘I wonder if it's part and parcel of the same thing,' Rona mused. ‘A leftover of being timid, and so on. What time of year was it that Mrs Tarlton left?'

Kate looked surprised. ‘What's that got to do with anything?'

‘I'm trying to build up a mental picture.'

‘Actually, it was September. I know, because Lewis told me it was the week after his thirteenth birthday.'

They walked slowly down the garden, and Gus, running ahead, lifted his leg against some bushes. Rona apologized, but Kate only laughed.

‘No inhibitions!' she said. ‘Mustn't it be wonderful?'

Rona was revelling in the spaciousness of the wide lawn and spreading flower beds, the gazebo and the little water feature. But shadows were already gathering round the edges, the sun was low in the sky, and a breeze had sprung up, making them shiver. As they reached the bottom of the garden, Kate turned to go back.

‘Do you ever go through there?' Rona nodded towards the gate in the wall.

‘No, the bolts are rusted solid. I keep meaning to have them freed, because in spring, the bluebells out there are spectacular.'

They started to walk up the darkening garden to the lighted windows of the house.

‘What do you think?' Kate asked abruptly. ‘Will you be able to do anything?'

‘I can ask questions, but so could anyone else.'

‘But you'd have a new slant on it, not being personally involved. We really are very grateful, Rona.'

‘I'll do what I can, but no promises and no guarantees.'

‘That's as much as anyone can ask,' Kate said, and they went back into the welcome warmth of the house.

Rona was surprised, when the phone rang at six, to find Max on the line. He usually phoned after the class, about ten o'clock.

‘Hi, there,' he said.

‘Hello! I wasn't expecting you so soon.'

‘Well, I've got the studio all set up, so I thought I'd ring now.' A pause, almost as though he was waiting for her to say something. Then, ‘How was your day?'

‘Quite interesting. Kate invited me to tea to meet Freya, and she was telling me about her dreams. I'm not long home.'

‘I shouldn't get involved, if I were you. Minds are tricky things, and you could end up doing actual damage.'

‘That's what I told them, but they're insisting I go ahead. I said I'd see the nanny, anyway. She might fill in a few gaps.'

When he made no further comment, she asked, ‘How about you? Did you finish the Guild Street sketches?'

‘Almost.' Another pause. ‘I presume you've not spoken to Lindsey today.'

Rona frowned. ‘No, why?'

‘Just that on the way to the Gallery, I was cornered by Adele Yarborough, who invited herself to join me. And Lindsey was there.'

Rona felt herself go hot. ‘You had coffee with Adele?'

‘I've just said so. Obviously it was pure chance, meeting her in the street like that, but Lindsey seemed to put a different interpretation on it.'

Yes, Rona thought, she would; as she would have herself, she admitted, had she been the one to see them.

Max said a little impatiently, ‘Rona?'

‘What do you want me to say?'

‘That you believe it wasn't premeditated. I know how you are about Adele.'

‘You've said what happened, and I believe you.' Her voice sounded stilted, even to herself.

‘No questions?' His had an edge to it.

‘No.'
But if you've anything to tell me, I'm listening
.

‘Right.' He drew a deep breath, and she realized he hadn't relished the prospect of telling her – in fact, probably wouldn't have done so, had Lindsey not seen them. And that was a less than comfortable thought. ‘Well, I'd better get something to eat before the hordes descend.'

‘Yes.'

‘Speak to you tomorrow.'

‘Yes,' she said again. ‘Goodnight.'

‘Goodnight.'

Lindsey was lying on the bed with Jonathan's arm round her, agonizing over the chance meeting.

‘I don't know what to do!' she moaned, for the third time. ‘Do I tell Ro, or not? Max will probably say something, thinking I will, and then she'll wonder why I didn't tell her sooner.'

Jonathan sighed. He regarded these interludes as a pleasant way to unwind after the day's work, and was already bored with discussing Max Allerdyce. He was not, in any case, particularly enamoured of Lindsey's sister – understandably, he felt, since she had once tricked him into having lunch with her, in order to accuse him of murder.

‘Jonathan?' Lindsey twisted her head to look up at him. ‘What do you think I should do?'

‘Oh, now if
that's
all you're worrying about, I've all sorts of ideas!' he said, propping himself on one elbow and running his finger down the length of her throat.

She caught hold of his hand. ‘About Rona, idiot! Be serious!'

‘I am. Very serious.' He bit her lip gently, but she turned her head away and he sighed. ‘All right, we're obviously not going to get anywhere till you've sorted this out. So my advice, for what it's worth, is, before you go rushing in to report what you obviously consider a breach of faith, be quite sure Max hadn't told her in advance that he was meeting this woman.'

‘Oh!' Lindsey sounded a little deflated. ‘He looked very guilty,' she added in mitigation.

‘With you glaring at him, I'm not surprised. On the other hand, it could be that you're not the only one who saw them, in which case, I'd guess she'd rather hear it from you than anyone else.'

‘So you think I
should
tell her? But she'll still wonder why I didn't phone straight away. Damn it, it was this morning that I saw them! And Max rings her every evening; I really ought to get in first.'

‘I trust you're not thinking of interrupting this idyll to phone now? As you know, our time is limited, and I've been patient quite long enough.'

Lindsey smiled. ‘So you have, darling. I'll wait till you've gone, and then—'

But the rest of her intention was lost as his mouth fastened over hers.

Cicely Ryder, chief receptionist at the Clarendon, tapped on the door of the private sitting room where Stephen and Ruth Fairfax were relaxing over a pre-dinner drink.

‘I'm sorry to bother you,' she began worriedly, ‘but I'm afraid we have a problem.'

‘What is it, Cicely?'

‘Mrs Jacobs has just reported that her Jacqmar scarf is missing. She says she left it on a chair in her room when she came in this afternoon, and when she went back to change for dinner, it wasn't there.'

Ruth frowned. ‘Who's the chambermaid on her floor?'

‘Franny. She swears she hasn't seen it.'

‘It's quite likely,' Stephen remarked, ‘that she only
thinks
she left it there. It'll probably turn up in her handbag or shopping bag. Or, of course, she could have lost it while she was out.'

‘But you can't tell her that!' Ruth put in with a smile. ‘Has anyone else been in her room?'

‘She says not.'

‘Well, assure her we'll look into it, and ask Franny to search under the beds and behind doors when she does the room in the morning.'

Cicely nodded and withdrew.

Stephen watched her go, a furrow between his brows. ‘I hope to God we're not in for a spate of missing articles. That kind of thing does nothing for our reputation.'

‘Let's not anticipate trouble,' Ruth said comfortingly. ‘I'm sure it'll turn up.'

Stephen looked across at her fondly. In the forty-odd years they'd been married, she had filled out a little and her dark hair had threads of grey, but essentially she was still the serious, sweet-faced girl he'd fallen in love with.

On an impulse he got up, went over to her, and dropped a kiss on the top of her head.

She looked up in surprise. ‘What was that for?'

‘Just to say I don't know what I'd do without you.'

She smiled. ‘I've no intention of your finding out,' she said.

When Lindsey phoned, some forty minutes after Max, it was Rona who broached the subject.

‘Well!' she said. ‘Better late than never!'

‘You know? Max told you?'

‘Of course he told me. He seemed to think you'd have got in first. Why didn't you, Linz?'

‘I've been agonizing over it all day. He swore there was nothing in it—'

‘But you think there was?'

‘Oh God, Rona, I don't know. What I
do
know is that they were sitting behind a pillar, and when I appeared, Max went scarlet.'

‘I suppose you gave him a shock,' Rona said with a dry mouth.

‘No doubt of it. And Prissy Miss immediately leapt to his defence with a catalogue of explanations. I could see he'd willingly have cut her tongue out.'

Rona said, ‘If it had been an assignation, he would hardly have taken her to the Gallery. I never go there without seeing someone I know.'

‘I'm sure you're right,' Lindsey said uncertainly. ‘But what would
you
have done, if you'd seen Hugh with someone while we were still together?'

After a minute, Rona said flatly, ‘I don't know. The same as you, I suppose.' But, she thought, Hugh really
had
been having an affair, which had ultimately led to their divorce. She felt suddenly cold.

‘Your love life as complicated as ever?' she asked lightly.

Lindsey laughed. ‘Gloriously so!'

‘Just don't burn your fingers,' Rona said.

It took her a long time to go to sleep that night.

T
he following morning, Rona phoned Stapleton House and asked to speak to Miss Violet Gray. Minutes later, a frail voice came on the line.

‘I don't know you, do I?' it demanded querulously.

‘No, but I've been asked to see you by the Tarlton family,' Rona explained, stretching the truth a little. ‘I'm writing an article on the firm, but what I really want—'

‘The Tarltons?' The old voice brightened. ‘How are they all? I haven't seen them for a while.'

‘They're well, I think.' Rona hesitated, unwilling to embark on Freya's problems over the phone. ‘Would it be all right if I come along this afternoon?'

‘Very well, if you'd like to. I take a nap after lunch, but any time after three would be convenient.'

‘Thank you very much, Miss Gray. I look forward to meeting you.'

After she rang off, Rona glanced at the very brief notes she'd made on Freya.

Mother left home when she was three. Allegedly traumatized by this; character changed, didn't speak for weeks, etc.

Brought up by Nanny Gray and her aunt, Jan Tarlton.

Father adored her and still does.

Brother Lewis ten years her senior.

Nightmares started at age 12/13 but gradually stopped. Started again two months ago. They concern fear of falling, hearing sobs, and the French song.

Won't go down the garden at her family home.

Lives with boyfriend Matthew, and helps in his garden.

The garden thing was curious, she reflected. Could it have any bearing on the dreams? Freya herself had made no mention of it. Come to that, would Miss Gray even know about the dreams? It was unlikely; Freya was twelve or thirteen when she first experienced them, and the nanny would have been long gone. She might be able to shed some light on them, though.

Before she could stop it, Rona's mind veered again to Max, and the abrupt end to their conversation the previous evening. She was being unreasonable, she told herself. In the circumstances, there was nothing else he could have done. He was guilty only of concern for a woman he thought abused, and frustrated that he could do nothing about it. Adele, on the other hand, Rona had long suspected of deviousness, and it was quite likely she was playing on Max's sympathy. Rona had warned him of this before, but he hadn't believed her. Perhaps, in the wake of this latest embarrassment, he would take more notice.

She lifted the phone and pressed the number for Farthings.

‘Max Allerdyce.'

‘Rona Parish.'

‘Ah! Not ringing up to chastise me, are you?'

‘Far from it; I'm ringing to suggest we meet for lunch.'

‘Sounds good to me.'

‘At the Gallery,' she said deliberately.

‘As in getting back on the horse?'

‘Something like that. Twelve thirty? I'm due at Stapleton House at three.'

‘That'll be a barrel of laughs. Fine, twelve thirty it is. See you.'

‘See you,' she echoed.

Mrs Jacobs' scarf had not turned up, despite a thorough search of her room by her chambermaid. Ruth had asked tactfully when she last remembered seeing it, and been told uncompromisingly that it was when she had draped it over the back of the chair before going down for tea. Ruth instructed that a notice be put on the board in the foyer, describing the scarf, and asking anyone who found it to return it to its owner. Mrs Jacobs was not mollified, commenting that no one was likely to respond, since it would amount to an admission of being in her room.