Country Plot (35 page)

No, Xander cared about Kitty, she was sure. She remembered the evening they'd had, the three of them, in front of the fire. They'd been so happy. It had been wonderful to hear Xander laugh. He'd even made silly jokes. Perhaps the stuffed shirt wasn't really him: perhaps it had been thrust on him by events. They were all governed by circumstance – the circumstance, for one thing, of just happening to meet the right person at the right time. It was all very well for Kitty to say there were men out there, but how did you actually get to meet them? That was the perennial problem. If you went to a pub, you met the sort of men who go to pubs. Ditto clubs, night classes, gyms – all the places the agony aunts told you to hang out. But what if you just wanted a . . . a . . . well, a Mr Right, to cut to the chase? A real human being, who just happened to fit into all your odd curves and angles? What then? You couldn't join a Real Human Being club.

She turned into the back lane down to the village, and the dogs at once dragged her, straining every fibre, to a large viburnum bush which was the equivalent, to them, of the students' union notice board in the university common room. Extensive sniffing ensued, and she waited, hands in pockets, staring at nothing, while they read all the notes and decided where to leave their own. And suddenly she realized she wasn't staring at nothing, but at Xander, walking towards her. He wasn't in his business suit, but in a very nice pair of chinos and a dark blue, short-sleeved shirt, with a jumper tied round his neck. If Patrick had ever appeared wearing a jumper that way she'd have laughed herself sick, but it seemed perfectly all right when Xander did it. And then she sighed and braced herself for the harangue of the day.

‘I was just coming to see you,' he said when he was a few yards off.

‘All right. What have I done this time?' she said. ‘Have at me. Spare the rod and spoil the child.'

He stopped and looked at her with a concerned expression. ‘Is that how I seem to you? Like a stern parent?'

‘Not the parent bit,' she said. Surprise – he didn't
sound
as if he was going to lecture her! ‘You're not that much older than me. But I do seem to get a telling off every time you appear.'

‘I'm sorry. I was in rather a bad mood at the Buckminsters'.'

‘I noticed.'

‘That wasn't meant for an excuse,' he said. ‘In fact, the reason I was coming to see you was to apologize.'

The dogs had finished with Central Exchange and looked suggestively up the road. ‘I'm bound for the post office for Kitty,' Jenna said. ‘Can we walk and talk?'

‘I'd like that,' he said, and he sounded as if he meant it literally.

But he said nothing for some time as they walked up the lane, in the scent of damp grass and lilac, and with the sound of birdsong all around. Actually, it was quite nice walking with him without talking, quite pleasant and chummy; but she felt at last that she ought to help him get started, so she said, ‘I'm really getting to love this place.'

‘Are you?' he said, sounding surprised, but pleased, too.

‘What's not to love? Fresh air, green stuff everywhere, dogs to walk – and I've never heard so many birds at one time. I wish I knew more about them. What's that one over there, for instance – the trilly, thrilly one? It's not a nightingale, is it?'

‘Not likely,' he said. He listened and said, ‘Over there? That's a wren. Amazing volume of sound, isn't it, from such a tiny bird. Have you never heard a nightingale?'

‘I haven't spent much time in Berkeley Square.'

He smiled. ‘I don't think they'd be singing there, either. They're woodland birds. In a few weeks they'll be singing night and day in Chiddingfold Woods, near where I live. Amazing sound. I'll take you one evening, if you like.'

She shook her head mentally, thinking when it came to mood swings, this man could out-menopause a fifty-year-old woman. But she said neutrally, ‘I'd like that.'

He walked on a few paces, staring at his feet and giving off an aura of awkwardness. Then he said, ‘I wanted to apologize for attacking you at the Buckminsters' party. I thought you'd deliberately kept me out of the loop about this scheme of yours.'

‘Why on earth would you think that?' she said.
Because it was what Caroline told you,
she thought.

He didn't answer that question. Instead he put one of his own. ‘But why
didn't
you tell me about it?' he said.

She glanced at him. ‘I didn't tell anyone until I had it all worked out. Then I told Kitty, and she told you the next time she saw you, which was actually the next day, if I remember, so you weren't in ignorance for long.'

‘But you could have called me in for the discussion, like Bill. I could have helped.'

‘It was for Kitty to decide that, not me,' Jenna said. So that's what had hurt him – he had been
told
, not consulted. ‘Bill was on the spot, that's all. And of course she wants your help – we all do. What puzzles me is why Caroline's so against the scheme, she managed to persuade you, too.'

He looked away from her and she saw the tips of his ears turn red. ‘I don't want to discuss Caroline with you,' he said in a low voice. ‘I don't think anyone would be doing themselves justice that way.'

‘Suits me,' Jenna said cheerfully. ‘As long as you don't discuss me with her.'

Another awkward silence.

‘For the record,' Jenna said, breaking it, ‘I think the scheme
will
work, and Kitty will make enough money to stay at Holtby, and I think she'll be very happy, and not stressed into a decline, or whatever it is that's supposed to happen to her.'

‘I think so too,' he said, very low.

Well, for goodness' sake!
Jenna thought.
Mr Consistent
. Aloud she said only, ‘Good.'

‘Look,' he said, although he didn't. ‘I thought you were – well, you were a stranger, I didn't know anything about you, and suddenly you and Kitty were so thick, and I was—'

‘Jealous,' she put in.

‘What?' He was startled into looking at her. ‘No, not jealous, of course not. I was wary, that's all. I wondered if you had some ulterior motive. I hoped – I hoped you were what you seemed.'

And someone else convinced you I wasn't
. ‘I like Kitty,' she said. ‘I just want to help her.'

‘I know. I believe that now, and I'm sorry. I hope you can forgive me.'

‘Already done,' she said briskly. She smiled and stuck out her hand, and he looked surprised, but took it. His hand was large and firm and warm and dry, extremely male, a hand to trust, and a hand to enjoy touching. She looked into his eyes and imagined . . . she shivered.
No!
Don't go there!

He was still holding her hand. ‘I wish—' He began. He didn't seem to be able to go on. She drew her hand back and he let it go. ‘I wish we could have got off on the right foot from the beginning,' he said, but in such a different voice that it didn't sound as if that was what he had been going to stay.

‘Better late than never,' she said.
God, why am I speaking in clichés?

‘It's nice of you to take it that way,' he said; and now he was just heartbreakingly polite. ‘I'm going away tonight for a few days,' he went on. ‘I don't know exactly how long I'll be away. But you won't be gone before I come back?'

‘I'm staying until the grand opening,' she said. ‘Mid-June.'

‘Oh, I'll be back before then. It's – it's a buying trip. Just a few days. Up north. Lots of bargains still to be picked up in Lancashire and Northumberland. And I might stop off in London on my way back.'

‘Well – have fun,' she said, not knowing what was the appropriate send-off.

‘I wanted to see you before I left. I didn't want to leave it that way – I wanted to know if we could part as friends.'

‘As friends? Yes, of course,' Jenna said. ‘You do believe I'm not trying to rook Kitty or anything like that, then?'

‘Of course. I'm sorry I ever suggested it.'

‘Fine. Friends it is, then.'

They walked on in silence. He seemed depressed – or perhaps it was only thoughtful. When they turned into the village street, he stopped and said, ‘Well, you're going to the post office? I'm going the other way, back to my car.'

‘It must be fun, a buying trip,' she said. ‘The thrill of the chase, spotting your prey, fighting off the opposition. A mixture of skill, cunning and aggression. Primordial stuff.'

He laughed in a puzzled way, as if he hadn't expected to be able to. ‘Is that how you see it? Most people would think it would be dull.'

‘I always look for the fun in a job.'

‘It's a good attitude,' he said. ‘I used to be like that, once.'

‘So what changed?' she said, daringly.

His smile faded. ‘Life, I suppose. People – letting you down.'

Back to Stephanie
, she thought.
Or was it Caroline?
Had he seen through her at last?
Now there's a thought!
‘Change them,' she said. ‘New life, new people. Whatever it takes.' She mimed a one-two in the air. ‘Go down fighting. A right hook to the chin of circumstance, and a left cross to the jaw of bad luck.'

‘That was a right cross and a left hook,' he informed her.

‘He's down on the ground, whatever it was,' she said. ‘You can't win if you don't take part – and I'm going to leave now, before I embarrass myself with any more clichés.'

‘Every journey begins with a single step,' he said, so solemnly she didn't know if he was joking with her or had missed the whole point. She
so
hoped, as she headed with the dogs for the post office, that it was the former.

Jenna went into Wenchester on Saturday morning and was glad to find Ms Pearson – ‘Oh, call me Nicky, please!' – on site. She invited Jenna into her office for a cup of coffee, and Jenna looked round with interest at the museum back rooms that the public never got to see. ‘Apart from administration – and there's a lot of that, believe me! – we do preservation work and research. Ninety per cent of our time is spent out of sight. It was pure chance you caught me out there, really.'

‘I'm glad I did,' said Jenna, and over a cup of coffee (the real thing, from a personal machine – these eggheady types did themselves all right) she explained her scheme and put her question. ‘It's a bit cheeky of me, really,' she concluded, ‘because I'm asking for your time on a voluntary basis. We can't afford to pay you, but I did just hope you might do it out of interest. There's such a lot of china in the house, of all sorts.'

‘But of course I'll do it,' Nicky said at once. ‘I'd love to see inside a house like that,
before
it's all tidied up for the public. Whenever I get to a National Trust place or whatever, it's always the closed rooms I want to see, and the backstairs, and the attics. Promise me I can look everywhere, and I'm your woman.'

‘Absolutely everywhere,' Jenna promised with a laugh. ‘We even have some cellars.'

‘And the thought of all those ceramics is making my mouth water.' She grinned. ‘You never know, I might find a really valuable piece nobody's noticed, worth so much you won't have to open to the public after all.'

Interestingly, Jenna felt a sharp pang of disappointment at the thought of not opening; but she said, ‘I don't think that's likely, do you? Can china be that valuable?'

‘Oh yes,' said Nicky. ‘Some rare Chinese pieces can go into hundreds of thousands; and rare domestic pieces can easily be worth in the tens.'

‘Well, we won't set our sights too high. If you can just pick out the best and most interesting for the cabinets and tell me what to put in the notes. It could be quite a long job, though.'

‘And I have a full-time job here,' Nicky said. ‘But I'm off next Saturday – I have one on and one off – and I could make a start then, if you like? And then there's Sunday and evenings, if I don't finish.'

‘Next Saturday would be great,' said Jenna. ‘We'll feed you coffee and cake and lunch and tea, and if you'd like to stay on for dinner, we'll break out the good wine.'

Nicky laughed. ‘Let's see how we go. Too much of the good wine, and I won't be able to drive home.'

‘We have nine bedrooms,' Jenna mentioned.

‘But I have two little dogs at home.'

‘Even better – bring them with you. They'll love it! Four acres to run around in, and two big new best friends.'

‘That sounds like fun. I'll bring them, then, if you're sure it won't be a nuisance. I hate leaving them shut up all day. What sort are your big dogs? Are they friendly?'

‘Heinz fifty-seven. Very friendly. They're supposed to be guard dogs, but they'd probably only lick a burglar into submission.'

Coming out into the sunny main street of Wenchester, Jenna was surprised – and yet, on reflection, was she, really? – to see Harry sitting on the stone balustrade at the bottom of the steps.

‘What an amazing coincidence, finding you here,' she said drily.

He looked sheepish. ‘As a matter of fact, it's not
quite
such a coincidence as it may at first appear.'

‘You're spoiling my illusions. How did you know I was here?'

‘I rang Holtby asking to speak to you, but Kitty said you were at the museum in Wenchester, and said it with an air of triumph that suggests she has you earmarked for some other man. Who is it, Red? You two-timin' me, sister?' He twirled an imaginary gun. ‘Cos the Belminster Kid don't take that from any dame.'

She ignored all that. ‘It's a long way to come just to tell me you knew where I was.'

‘Long way? It's only five miles, if that. I thought you might like to come out and play, that's all. It's a lovely day, too nice to slave indoors over a hot computer.'