Folly's Child (9 page)

‘It's just that I don't like wasting my energy worrying about things I can do nothing about,' Sally said matter-of-factly. ‘Please, Harriet. I have had it up to here!' She drew an imaginary line across the base of her throat, brushing her double-strand pearl choker. ‘ Can't we just leave it?'

Harriet sighed. ‘No, I don't think we can. I called in to see Dad before coming here and while I was there an insurance investigator called Tom O'Neill came to see him. The same man was at my flat last night asking questions and for all I know his next visit will be here, to see you, so …' She broke off. Sally's hand was clutching at her pearls now and she had turned very pale beneath her makeup. ‘Sally, are you all right?' she asked swiftly.

‘An insurance investigator, you say?' Sally repeated in a shocked voice.

‘That's right. There was a big pay-out on Mom's life, wasn't there? Well, the insurance company seem to have got it into their heads that if Greg Martin is alive Mom might be too. They're more or less accusing us of some kind of fraud.'

‘My God,' Sally said.

‘It's not the end of the world,' Harriet exclaimed, irritated by Sally's uncharacteristic behaviour. ‘As Dad said, we have nothing to hide and hopefully he'll soon realise that and go away. But it's pretty unpleasant, especially for Dad, to have all this raked up. He's under a terrible strain.'

‘Aren't we all?' Sally said faintly.

‘Perhaps, but it's different for us,' Harriet said, mindful of what her father had told her. ‘She was his wife, after all.'

‘And your mother. And my sister.'

‘Yes, I know that. But all the same … I think we should do all we can to support him. Sally, are you listening to what I'm saying?'

Sally was staring into space, still plucking at her pearl choker in agitation. A tiny muscle was working near her mouth, making her lip tremble.

‘I knew something like this would happen,' she whispered. ‘It's what I've been afraid of.'

Harriet stared at her.

‘I suppose it's inevitable,' she conceded. ‘ But there's no point getting so worked up about it. I just wanted to warn you, that's all. And to ask you to support Dad.'

‘Yes.' Sally collected herself. ‘I expect you'd like to bath and change, Harriet. You must be exhausted. And I was going to try to get hold of Mark. I'll ask Danny to bring up your things.'

‘It's all right, I can manage them. Don't bother Danny.' Danny was the chauffeur. Harriet picked up her hold-all and escaped. She was puzzled by Sally's reaction. Anger, yes, she'd expected that. But Sally had seemed really upset, not at all her usual contained self. She was getting quite neurotic, Harriet reflected, and the same thought occurred to her now as she checked her image in the full length mirror, tucking her camisole top more neatly in at the waist of her pants and straightening the ornamental clasp of the loose belt she had fastened around her hips. She only hoped Sally was able to get hold of Mark. It would be nice to see him and his presence would lighten things. Mark always managed to be deliciously irreverent, no matter how heavy things got. It was the English in him, she supposed, that laid-back refusal to take himself – or anyone else – seriously.

Somewhere in the house a telephone was ringing. Harriet took no notice of it but a minute or two later there was a tap at her door and a maid stood there with one of the portable receivers – there was no extension in Harriet's room.

‘For me?' she asked, surprised. The maid nodded. Harriet waited until the door had closed after her and flicked the button, feeling oddly apprehensive. The last thirty-six hours had held too many unpleasant shocks for comfort. ‘Hello?'

‘Harriet – it's me.'

‘Nick!'

‘Hi. I'm just about to go to bed and I thought I'd ring and see how things are with you.'

‘Oh, I'm fine.'

‘You arrived safely then?' He sounded so close he might almost have been in the next room instead of the other side of the Atlantic ocean.

‘Yes. I've seen Dad and we shall soon be having dinner.'

‘Good. Tired, I expect?'

‘Exhausted.'

‘But otherwise all right?'

‘Yes.' There was a silence. There was really nothing else to say.

‘I won't keep you then. I just thought I'd let you know I was thinking of you.'

‘Thanks, Nick, it was sweet of you.'

‘OK. Take care then, Harriet. And keep in touch.'

The slight sense of claustrophobia he could always arouse in her stirred. ‘Yes. Goodnight, Nick. Thanks again for ringing.'

Then he was gone and she held the receiver for a moment feeling unexpectedly bereft. He was so good to her. So caring. Why couldn't she let him in to that private part of herself that sometimes cried out for – what? But she couldn't. Nick was there for her and she was grateful, but that was all. The moment she knew it she didn't want him any more, simple as that. What the hell is the matter with me? Harriet wondered briefly.

She glanced at her watch. Half an hour or so to dinner. She might as well go down, have a pre-dinner drink with Sally and see if her father was home yet.

Halfway down the stairs she heard voices and through the partly-open drawing-room door caught a glimpse of Sally in peacock-blue cashmere and the tall figure of a young man, fair hair above a chestnut brown suede jacket. Her heart leaped and she ran the rest of the way like a child in her delight.

‘Mark! Oh, it's so good to see you!'

‘Hey, steady!' He set down his glass and hugged her. ‘Fancy you being in New York too. What a turn-up for the books!'

‘I know. But I had to come. You've heard the news, of course.'

‘Yes. I talked to Sally on the telephone last night. It must have come as one hell of a shock for you, Skeeter.' It was his nickname for her; he had started calling her that when she was small and it had stuck even though she was now a respectable five-feet-seven.

‘For all of us.' She glanced at Sally, but her aunt seemed to have regained her composure. ‘Is Dad home yet?'

‘No. I hope he's not going, to be much longer.'

‘I left him with an insurance investigator,' Harriet explained to Mark.

‘Mark – get Harriet a drink,' Sally said. ‘I'm going to ask Jane to hold dinner back a bit.' She hurried out, but not before Harriet had seen the haunted look was back in her eyes.

‘What will you have, Skeeter?' Mark asked.

‘Oh – better make it Martini. I've already had one telling-off from Dad today for drinking Scotch. If he finds me at it again he'll be convinced I'm on the slippery slope.'

‘Right.' He poured it for her and watched with one eyebrow raised as she gulped at it. ‘It's all been a bit bloody, I gather.'

‘Yep.' She brought him up to date with what had happened. ‘Your mother seems to have taken it pretty badly', she concluded.

‘Yes, she does look a bit grey for her doesn't she? Of course she was very close to Paula, I understand. Anyway, let's talk about something quite different. What have you been up to?'

She told him about Paris and her new assignment for
Focus Now
.

‘And what about you?' she asked. ‘How is the advertising business?'

‘Booming. I think I've just sewn up a deal on a new account.'

‘Good for you!' She looked at him over the top of her glass. ‘You're spending a good deal of time in New York now, Mark. I thought you were in love with London.'

‘I'm in love with wherever the business is. And at the moment it's in New York.'

‘Are you sure that's the real reason? It's not that you're deliberately staying away from London by any chance is it?'

He tossed back his drink. ‘Now why should I do that?'

‘Oh I could think of several reasons.' She eyed him shrewdly. ‘But I think the most likely is that it has something to do with a girl.'

The moment she said it she knew she had hit the nail on the head. It was there in his expression though he feigned bored impatience.

‘Now why the hell should you think that?'

‘Feminine intuition. Who was it, Mark? What went wrong? You must have cared an awful lot about her to deliberately stay away from London because of her. Now wait a minute – it wouldn't be that young fashion designer, would it? The one with the place over in Whitechapel?'

He set his glass down sharply. ‘ What do you know about her?'

‘Nothing really. Just that someone told me you'd been seeing her. It is her, isn't it? Oh come on, Mark, you can tell me!'

‘Hasn't it occurred to you, Skeeter, that I might not want to? Being my step-sister doesn't give you a God-given right to know all my business.' His tone was still laconic but she heard the undertones and was warned. Mark could bite if upset – and of course he was quite right, she shouldn't pry into what was none of her business.

‘Sorry,' she said.

‘It's all right.' But he still looked a little spiky. The girl must have given him the elbow, Harriet decided. Most unusual – where Mark was concerned it was usually the other way round.

‘Shall we have another drink?' he suggested.

She hesitated, then pushed her glass towards him.

‘Why not? If Dad is going to brand me an alcoholic I might as well have the game as well as the name!'

When Hugo returned home dinner was served as soon as he had had time to change. It was a sombre meal in spite of Mark's presence. Hugo looked even more tired and strained than he had earlier, Harriet thought, and Sally was edgy and preoccupied though she seemed greatly relieved when Hugo told her that the insurance investigator, Tom O'Neill, had seemed satisfied with what he had been able to tell him and had not expressed any desire for a further interview or the need to come to the house to speak to Sally.

‘He tells me he is going straight on to Australia to see Greg,' Hugo said. ‘Let's hope the whole thing ends there. Though somehow I doubt it.'

‘Why? Why should you doubt it?' Sally demanded. Harriet noticed her hands were shaking.

‘Because the son of a bitch won't let up while he thinks there is the slightest chance of getting back his quarter of a million,' Hugo said.

‘Then why don't you just give it to him?' Sally suggested. ‘It would be worth it, Hugo, to get him off our backs.'

‘If that were the case he could have it and welcome. But it would simply look like an admission of guilt and I'm damned if I'm going to do that when I've nothing to hide.'

‘Sydney, New South Wales,' Harriet said irrelevantly. They all looked at her questioningly and she explained: ‘I was just thinking aloud'.

‘You're not still entertaining this foolish idea of going to Australia to try to see Greg Martin yourself, I hope,' Hugo said sharply.

‘Yes', Harriet said. ‘I am. I'm sorry, Dad, but I can't see it the way you do. I'm not prepared to simply brush it under the carpet and try to pretend it hasn't happened. I want to find out the truth.'

‘For goodness' sake, Harriet, don't do anything so foolish …' Sally had turned pale again. ‘You don't want to see Greg!'

‘It'll be a wasted journey. If he's in police custody as he may well be by now they'll never let her see him,' Hugo said.

‘I intend to try.'

‘All I can say is I hope you weren't too rude to that insurance investigator then,' Mark put in drily. ‘If you want to see Greg then he's got to be your best chance. You should persuade him to let you pose as his secretary or something.'

‘Oh for heaven's sake, Mark, do you have to make everything into a joke?' Harriet demanded.

‘I'm not joking – I'm perfectly serious. He'll be given access to Martin, I should think. He is a professional investigator, after all.'

‘I wouldn't ask him for help if I were on a sinking ship and he was the only one with a lifebelt!' Harriet said decisively.

At that moment Sally knocked over her glass of wine. It ran in a red river across the polished table top and cascaded onto her peacock-blue cashmere skirt. She leaped up, dabbing at it with a napkin.

‘Oh no! It'll be ruined! I must take it off at once and give it to Donna so that she can rinse it …' She hurried from the room.

‘Sally is in one hell of a state,' Mark said easily. ‘This business has made her really jumpy. She's not herself at all.'

‘Is it surprising?' Hugo snapped. ‘I should have thought anyone with a grain of sensitivity would realise how painful it is for all of us to have this all raked up again. As if it wasn't bad enough for us to live through it once …'

Harriet stood up. ‘I'll go and see if she's all right. I don't want any more dinner. I am honestly not hungry.'

‘Neither I think are any of us,' Hugo observed.

In her room Sally eventually managed to get out of her dress though her hands were trembling so much she had great difficulty with the zipper. Then she kicked it away and sank onto the bed covering her face with her hands.

God in heaven, where was this nightmare going to end? Was it really only the day before yesterday when everything had been so pleasant and normal? When she had been able to plan her charity lunches and her dinner parties, go shopping, gossip with friends, look at her life and know that at last she had achieved all she had ever wanted, even if sometimes it was a little lonely, a little empty? Now in every corner, wherever she looked, the ghosts of the past seemed to be congregating to mock her until she felt sure she must be going mad.

A tap at the door and without waiting for her answer it opened a fraction. ‘ Sally?' It was Harriet's voice, Harriet's anxious face peeping round. ‘Are you all right?'

‘Yes.' Somehow she got a hold of herself and went to pick up her dress. ‘How could I be so clumsy?'