Next Door to Murder (14 page)

‘I'm off to Yorkshire for a couple of days on Thursday,' Rona told Max on the phone that evening. ‘I'll have to polish my tiara in readiness!'

‘Just the one night?'

‘Yes; I'll be spending it, would you believe, at the Roxford Arms. And as it's Thursday to Friday, it won't interfere with your evenings at home.'

‘If we'd not been away so recently, I'd have come with you, and taken the chance of some landscape painting. It's a while since I did any.'

‘That would have been great. Is there no way you could manage it?'

‘Afraid not; I'm still making up for lost time on the holiday.'

After her salad supper – an easy option during the summer months – Rona went up to her study to make a few notes for the Yorkshire trip. The room felt stuffy, and as she pushed open the window, she saw Louise in the garden next door, and, on impulse, called down to her.

Louise started on hearing her name, looking first towards the back door of the house, before, as Rona called again, locating her.

‘I've been wanting to speak to you.' Rona lowered her voice slightly as Louise moved nearer. ‘Could you come round for a few minutes?'

‘Well, I . . .' Louise looked about her, as though seeking an excuse.

‘For a glass of wine, perhaps?'

‘I don't really—'

Inspiration suddenly came. ‘I've something to tell you.'

Louise looked up at her for a long minute, before nodding and going into the house.

Rona ran downstairs, and had the front door open by the time she turned in the gateway. She still had an oddly detached air about her, but her skin was faintly sun-burned, contrasting with the whiteness of their first meeting. She dropped the cigarette she was holding on to the path, and ground it out before coming into the house.

‘How are things?' Rona asked her, gesturing her towards the sitting room.

‘Much as before.' Louise paused on the threshold. ‘What a lovely room! I can't believe this house is the same as ours!'

‘We knocked down dividing walls,' Rona said. ‘On three floors, actually. Now, sit down and I'll get the wine.'

When she returned with a chilled bottle and two glasses, Louise was studying the paintings on the wall.

‘Are these your husband's?' she asked. ‘He's an artist, isn't he?'

‘He's an artist, and they're his paintings in that he chose them, but he didn't paint them. He doesn't like displaying his own work, and most of it is commissioned anyway, or else sells pretty quickly. We have one in our bedroom, but that's all.'

‘It must be wonderful to have a gift like that.'

She sat down and took the glass Rona offered her. ‘Is he home? I wouldn't want to intrude.'

‘No, he won't be back tonight.'

‘He's away?' Louise seemed surprised. ‘I thought I saw him in town at lunchtime.'

Rona sighed; yet again an explanation was called for. ‘He's not away, but he has a studio nearby, and when he has evening classes, he sleeps over. It's easier that way.'

Louise didn't look convinced, and Rona expanded her explanation. ‘When we both worked from home, it was like Jack Spratt and his wife. Max likes to listen to music at full volume while he paints; I need complete quiet when I write. Then there were students and sitters always coming round, and as the studio's on the top floor, I was the one who had to keep breaking off what I was doing to let them in.'

She raised her shoulders in a shrug of resignation. ‘So, in the interests of preserving our marriage, we bought the cottage, where he can make as much noise as he likes. And, as I said, on the evenings he teaches – three times a week – he stays over there.'

Louise offered no comment. Instead, abandoning the subject, she said, ‘You have something to tell me?'

‘Yes, but first, I was wondering if you'd been able to find out anything about your earlier life?'

The other woman's fingers tightened on the glass. ‘I said too much the other day; please forget it.'

Rona ignored that. ‘You were going to try the Internet?'

‘I didn't have any luck,' Louise said briefly.

‘The records weren't there? I thought—'

‘Oh, I found the right website. I'd asked my parents – casually, of course – the date of our wedding, and presumed it would have taken place where we'd lived, but I drew a complete blank. So then I tried dates before and after, but still with no luck. There was absolutely no record of either Louise Franks or Kevin Stacey, under either marriage or divorce.'

Rona sipped her wine, her mind racing. ‘What about your birth certificate?'

Louise shook her head, not meeting her eyes.

‘A blank there, too?'

‘I didn't look,' Louise said in a low voice.

‘But why not? If you could—'

Louise flung her head back, making Rona jump. ‘Don't you
see
, Rona? I'm
frightened
to look for it! If there's no record of that either, it might mean—'

‘Mean what?' Rona prompted, when she didn't go on.

‘That I don't exist,' Louise said in a whisper.

Rona leant forward quickly and put a hand on hers. ‘That's nonsense, and you know it.' She paused. ‘Haven't your parents got a copy?'

‘It was conveniently lost in the fire, along with everything else. So – what did you want to tell me?'

Rona reflected a moment. Did she really want to become further embroiled in this? Her momentary inspiration of a few minutes ago now seemed the height of foolishness.

‘Well?' Louise demanded impatiently.

Rona took the plunge. ‘I'm going up to Harrogate on Thursday.'

Louise stared at her speechlessly.

‘It's to do with the research I'm working on, but I wondered if, while I'm there, you'd like me to have a look round, see if I can find out anything?'

A smile flooded Louise's face, totally altering her appearance. ‘Oh, Rona, would you? That would be wonderful.'

‘I can look in the electoral registers – I did that for one of my other projects – but I'd need to know the road you lived in. The records are arranged by districts, not by names.'

She looked at Louise expectantly, but her momentary joy had faded, to be replaced by doubt. ‘I'd have to ask them, and give some sort of reason for doing so.'

‘Surely you can think of something; say you're trying to exercise your memory.'

They were interrupted by the phone ringing in the hall, and immediately Louise stood up, setting her half-empty glass on the coffee table.

‘I won't keep you,' she said quickly. ‘Obviously, I'd be very grateful for anything you can find out in Harrogate. Thursday, you said? I'll do my best to get the address before you go.'

And before Rona had time to do more than nod, Louise had preceded her into the hall, and disappeared out of the front door. An abrupt end to the conversation, Rona reflected as she picked up the phone, but at least she'd made the offer. And really, if Louise chose to ignore it, so much the better.

‘Hi there, honey-bun.' It was her father.

‘Hello, Pops.' Rona struggled to detach her thoughts from Louise. ‘How are you?'

‘Fine, but it seems a while since we touched base. Not since your birthday, in fact.'

‘Oh, Pops, I'm sorry. Time seems to rush past. You'll be pleased to hear I've started work again.'

‘That's splendid. Who have you got under the knife this time?'

She laughed protestingly. ‘I'm not that bad! Actually, it's the Willow family.'

‘Ah! The descendants of the barrow-boy!' It was a well-known Marsborough legend.

‘Not to mention the landed gentry.'

‘Oh, yes; there's a title there somewhere, isn't there?'

‘Indeed there is, and to make sure it's not overlooked, I have to go up to Harrogate on Thursday, to interview them.'

‘Really? I'd have thought any family links would be lost in the sands of time.'

‘They are, to everyone except Julian Willow, who's clinging to them by his fingernails.'

‘You'll be back by the weekend, though? Catherine and I were hoping you, Max and Lindsey could join us for Sunday lunch.'

‘I can't speak for Linz, but as far as I know, Max and I are free, and we'd love to come.'

‘Catherine's inviting her family, too, so it will be quite a gathering.'

The baby-worship session Lindsey was dreading.

‘That'll be good; I look forward to seeing Daniel and Jenny again. And little Alice, of course.'

‘Twelve thirty at Catherine's, then, unless I hear from you. We can catch up then.'

He rang off, and Rona, her intentions of note-making going by the board, went back into the sitting room, where her eyes instantly fell on Louise's half-full glass. She stood looking at it for a moment, then, with a sigh, poured more wine into her own, and turned on the television.

Eight

J
ulian had made the appointment for her, and although the Roxfords wouldn't be free to see her till four, Rona decided to make an early start, to give herself a chance to look round before meeting the family. She'd learned that the house was open to the public, which seemed an ideal way of gleaning some background information.

It was a humid, hazy day, with no direct sunshine to make driving difficult. The traffic was fairly light, and she made good time. She stopped somewhere on the Yorkshire borders for a sandwich, and reached the village of Ottersby at one thirty. By her reckoning, it was roughly ten miles north of Harrogate, and some two miles from Roxford Hall.

Having registered at the Roxford Arms and been shown to her room, she changed from her casual travelling clothes into a dress she felt more suitable for interviewing a lord and lady, and, on returning downstairs, asked the friendly landlady for directions to the Hall.

‘You can't miss it, love,' she was told, in a comfortable Yorkshire accent. ‘Straight up the road out of the village, and after a mile you'll see the walls of the estate. The gates are a mile or two further on.'

She looked at the clock above the bar. ‘They don't open till two, but it'll be after that by the time you get there.'

Rona, who'd no intention of admitting she'd be interviewing the owners, thanked her and went back to the car. This was a lovely spot, she thought, looking about her, and Max would have had difficulty choosing which aspect to paint, had he been able to accompany her. Rolling moorland stretched away on either side, and the baaing of sheep reached her on the still air. Momentarily, she wished Gus was here, and they could have set off together to explore this new terrain. Another time, perhaps, but this trip was strictly business, and she had work to do.

With a sigh, she got back in the car and set off up the road towards the Hall. As she'd been told, high grey stone walls soon appeared on her left, running alongside the road for a couple of miles before they were broken by a pair of wrought-iron gates which, to her relief, stood open.

Rona turned into them and followed a winding drive between copper beech trees until the house came into view, a large, rambling stone building with an impressive tower at one end. A signpost directed her to the right, in the direction of the car park, where a kiosk guarded its entrance.

‘House and gardens, or gardens only?' she was asked.

‘Both, please.' She handed over her money, was given a ticket and a plan of the gardens in exchange, and directed to a place in the car park, which was already filling up. As she got out, she realized to her annoyance that since she wouldn't be returning to the car till after the interview, she'd have to take her briefcase with her.

Feeling slightly overdressed in this rural setting, Rona set off along the gravel path, following the groups of twos and threes who were heading in the same direction. As they approached the house, they were being shepherded together by an efficient-looking woman with a clipboard.

‘I'd like to tell you a few facts about the house before you go in,' she was saying, as Rona joined the fringes of the group. ‘It was built in 1560 by Sir Jasper Harris for the first Lord Roxford, and the same family have lived here ever since. It's still a family home, and the private apartments are in the east wing.'

She moved on to architectural details of the exterior, including the tower, the windows, and the motto carved over the main door, and the small group obediently looked upwards, to the right or to the left, attempting to follow the various points described.

‘The Great Hall might look familiar,' the guide continued, ‘as it's been used as the background to several recent films and television adaptations. A notable feature of the house is the superb wood carving throughout, particularly on the front of the minstrel gallery, the door lintels and fireplace surrounds, some of which is attributed to Grinling Gibbons.'

The woman smiled as she looked round the group. ‘You won't be surprised to hear Queen Elizabeth the First visited Roxford on several occasions, and the room still known as the Queen's Bedchamber contains the four-poster in which she slept.

‘There are fine collections of porcelain, furniture and portraits, to which succeeding generations have contributed, and the wedding dress of Lady Georgina Roxford, wife of the fourth Earl, is on display in one of the bedrooms. So, ladies and gentlemen, you are now free to take your time going through the house. There are attendants in every room, and they'll be happy to answer any queries you might have. It only remains for me to say that snacks and afternoon teas are served in the old tithe barn, which you'll find signposted when you leave the house.'

She nodded at them in benign dismissal. ‘Enjoy your visit.'

Rona followed the slow-moving group up the steps and into a marble-floored lobby, where they were required to show their admission tickets. A smiling attendant held out her hand for Rona's briefcase.