The Darkest Hour (54 page)

David stared at him. ‘Me?’

‘You. Don’t tell me you don’t know how. You’ve cleaned up enough pictures in your time, you old rogue.’ Eddie gave a thin smile. ‘Call it portrait of a girl, and sell it to a dealer as far away as you can. We’ll go fifty-fifty on it.’

‘But you know you could get far more if it is put on the market as a Lucas.’ David was confused and not a little suspicious.

‘I know. But I happen to love my wife. She is preoccupied with the new baby at the moment, so hopefully she will forget about it.’ Eddie stood up and dusted his hands together. He had not looked at Evie’s baby for two days after he was born, had not come home the first night. If her parents thought it strange they said nothing. They were at her bedside and fulsome with their adoration and that was all she wanted. When Eddie finally came upstairs to look at the boy who everyone thought was his son he grunted a few words of congratulation and left the room. He had not brought mother or child any gifts.

Now, he gazed down at the picture again. ‘It should make a good price. I’ll look forward to hearing from you when the deed is done.’

David Fuller began to paint out the figure of the airman behind Evie’s shoulder that same evening. He did it carefully, with feather-light strokes of the brush, well aware that at any time the thin layer of paint could be removed by someone who knew what they were doing. The overpainting was not good. The quality of paint was inferior now; Evie had obviously used pre-war oils which were of a far better consistency, but once it was dry it probably wouldn’t show. He covered the blank section of the canvas with cloud in a fair imitation of Evie’s sky and stood back to admire it, then he rang one of his best customers, a collector who lived in the Downs some sixteen miles away. ‘I’ve got something for you,’ he said with a huge smile. ‘Quite an interesting story attached to it. Come in as soon as you can.’

It was agreed that the painting would stay under cover until the end of the war. The price paid was one hundred guineas. David pocketed fifty and split the remaining sum with Eddie. Evie did not notice that the picture had gone for another three months. She had no reason to disbelieve Eddie when he told her he had found it one day when collecting another painting from her studio, and that he had burned it. The tears she wept were private tears, snuffled miserably into Johnny’s soft hair as he clung to her breast.

Robin was seated at the desk at the back of the gallery when Lucy pushed open the door and went in.

‘Luce! How are you?’ He leaped to his feet and gave her a hug. ‘It’s so good to see you. Are you ready to come home?’

Lucy nodded. ‘How is it upstairs?’

‘It’s OK.’ He caught her hand. ‘Come up while the shop is empty. We’ve been doing rather well, the last few days. I’ve sold another two paintings and there is someone interested in your little sculpture in the window there.’

She followed him up, unable to suppress the small tremor of nervousness as she climbed the stairs. The flat was spotless and the kitchen full of sunlight. She glanced at the door of the studio. ‘Is it alright?’

‘As far as I can tell. Your friend Maggie came in yesterday. She opened all the windows and did some magical mumbo jumbo.’ He gave a broad smile. ‘I can’t see what it achieved but the whole place has felt marvellous ever since. I think your evil guy has gone elsewhere.’

‘I need to know what it was he was trying to do, Robin. He came here for a purpose. To destroy the picture. I’ve found out much more about the family in the last few days.’ Lucy walked towards the door and pushed it open. The studio was neat and tidy and, like the kitchen, full of sunlight. She walked over to the skylight and pushed it open further. ‘Apparently Tony Anderson died. It was so sad. He was killed in Scotland. Evie seems to have married Eddie Marston on the rebound shortly afterwards. The picture shows her happy with Tony, so maybe someone wants that happy time forgotten.’

‘Eddie?’

She nodded thoughtfully. ‘I am beginning to wonder if it might be him.’

‘When did he die?’

‘That’s easy. In 1989.’

‘So he lived until relatively recently.’

She nodded. ‘Could he be our bad guy? From my research he is beginning to come over as a bit of a bully. Quite unpleasant, in fact. I think he was born in about 1912. So he was seventy-seven when he died. I don’t think there is an age limit on being a ghost, is there?’ She grimaced. ‘How strange that we have two ghosts. Ralph, who was only twenty-one and possibly Eddie, in his seventies.’

‘So, what unfinished business did Eddie leave? Isn’t that what your ghostbuster friends say is the reason for somebody haunting? He was obviously angry about something. Very angry. Angry enough to rage about it even though he’s dead.’

‘It’s Tony. It must be. He’s the catalyst. It all fits. We found the picture of him and I’ve begun to dig into the past. Either he just hated Tony so much he wants him forgotten forever, or there is something else he wants hidden.’ In the cold light of day she had discounted her theory that the portrait of Tony resembled Mike. She had taken her photo out into the daylight and scrutinised it carefully. Whatever passing resemblance she had seen in the lamplight the night before had gone.

‘And Ralph?’

‘I think Ralph wants us to know about it.’

‘A cosmic battle.’ Robin shook his head sceptically. ‘It sounds far-fetched.’

‘The whole ghost thing sounds far-fetched,’ Lucy said crossly. ‘But listen. This has not just happened to us. Ralph haunted Johnny Marston. Juliette, his widow, told me. Literally, as a ghost and in nightmares.’

‘So why can’t your mates Maggie and Huw interview these two guys and find out what they are on about and tell them to shake hands. It is all in the past.’

Lucy nodded glumly. ‘I suppose it is. Or is it that it is still going on?’ She felt herself grow suddenly cold. ‘My interference has summoned them back. I’ve stirred it up again.’

That evening she went back to the leather folder and found amongst a load of other stuff a letter folded very small and tucked into the back flap. Once again it was dated 1941, shortly after Johnny was born.

Ambleside, June 1941

Dear Evie,

I was so excited to hear you had had a little boy. What wonderful news. You and Eddie must be so thrilled. Thank you for the photos. What a darling! I suppose all small babies have fair hair? What a joy it must be for you and your parents. I was so pleased you have called him after Ralph. Your brother would have been so proud of his nephew. And I am so proud to have been asked to be his godmother. Thank you. Tell me as soon as you have a date for the christening and I will be there to hold John Ralph over the font. Don’t forget to make lots of sketches of him and save one for me. Now you are so famous it will be very exciting to have a genuine Evelyn Lucas on the wall! (I’m not jealous – honestly!)

Make sure you give me time to get back to Sussex. It’s an awful long way and I will have to find a way round poor old London. I’m so looking forward to seeing you, and my godson.

With all my love,

Sarah

With a gasp of excitement Lucy read the letter again and reached for her list of Dramatis Personae. Sarah Besant was one of Evie’s friends from the Royal College of Art, which had been evacuated from South Kensington to Cumbria in December 1940 to try and escape the London Blitz. And there was a date at the top of the letter. She glanced from her list of characters in Evie’s life to her sketched timeline, and back at her photo of the portrait. So, Evie had had an eight-month baby. She chewed her lip thoughtfully. Why had Sarah Besant made the point about the baby having fair hair? Was that just a chance remark from an artist who presumably had an eye for such details, or was that a hint that she knew Johnny was Tony Anderson’s child? Poor Tony Anderson, who appeared to have been killed soon after he was posted with his squadron back to Scotland in December 1940.

That might explain a lot.

The next account she read jumped the story forward by three years.

‘Where have you been?’ Evie greeted Eddie at the door of the kitchen. She was feeling sick and exhausted, and Johnny had been running round all day out of control. Her parents had gone into Chichester and she was well aware that her last painting was weeks overdue for an exhibition which was being planned for the autumn. ‘Have you been out with that woman?’

Eddie stared at her blankly. ‘What woman?’ He took off his greatcoat and, pushing past Johnny, who was playing with a small wooden horse, hung it from the peg on the back of the kitchen door. ‘Don’t be so stupid, Evie. When have I time to see any women?’

Did he still not realise that she had gone to see Lavinia Gresham before Johnny was born? She had been so sure that Lavinia would tell him, but the expected explosion of fury had never come. There were plenty of other things which set him off, above all her protective adoration of her son, but on the whole he kept away from the farmhouse. The conception of the new baby was the result of an evening after the whole family had been sampling some homemade ale at a dance in the village hall. Evie had become quite giggly and flirtatious – not with him, it had to be said, but with a young soldier on leave with his parents in the next village – and Eddie’s anger had exploded in the privacy of their bedroom later that night. What had occurred was undeniably rape; the next day Evie had told him that she never wanted to share a bed with him again, and although he had ignored that angry tearful plea he had slept resolutely with his back to her ever since.

‘Lavinia!’ She glared at him. ‘Did you think I didn’t know about her? I’ve known for years!’

Eddie looked astonished for a moment. Then his face darkened. ‘So, you’ve been prying into my affairs?’

‘Prying?’ she said furiously. ‘You carry her photo with you everywhere. It is hardly tactful!’

He laughed. ‘Well, my married life at home is not exactly rewarding, Evie, darling,’ he said. ‘Of course I go elsewhere. I’ve known Lavinia since we were teenagers. She is warm and loving and doesn’t argue every time she opens her mouth.’ He walked past her and went out into the hall. She heard him run up the stairs and, suddenly too angry to care, she went up after him leaving Johnny crying bitterly behind her.

‘So, you don’t deny it?’ she cried, following him into their bedroom.

‘No, of course I don’t deny it.’

‘Why don’t we get divorced then?’ she screamed. ‘That would suit me fine and leave you to marry her, if she’s so warm and loving!’

‘I will never divorce you, Evie.’ He froze suddenly, looking at her. ‘So don’t mention such a thing again. Do you hear me?’

Behind them the door opened and Johnny peered in. ‘Mummy?’ The little voice sounded scared. Neither adult paid him any attention.

‘Are you threatening me?’ Evie asked coldly. Suddenly she was in total control of her temper.

‘I do believe I am.’ Eddie held her gaze, his expression full of contempt.

‘Mummy?’ The little boy was clinging to her skirt now.

‘I think it might be a good thing if you left this house,’ Evie said calmly. She stooped and swung Johnny off his feet.

‘Put that child down.’ Eddie stepped towards her.

‘And if I don’t?’

‘Then I might hit him by mistake.’

She stared at him in horror. ‘Get out!’

Eddie lunged at her, pulling Johnny from her arms and throwing him none too gently onto the bed. The child let out a piercing scream as Eddie raised his hand and slapped Evie across the face, hard. Off balance, she lost her footing and crashed against the corner of the chest of drawers. She let out a cry of agony as she collapsed onto the floor, clutching her stomach. With a look of total disgust Eddie turned and walked out of the room as Johnny climbed off the bed and ran to his mother, sobbing bitterly.

‘Eddie!’ Evie’s voice rose in panic. ‘Eddie, come back. I’m bleeding.’

All she heard was the thump of his footsteps as he ran down the stairs.

Mike put his key into the lock at Rosebank and pushed open the door. There was someone in the kitchen and he felt his spirits rise in anticipation. ‘Lucy?’

‘It’s me, Mr Mike,’ Dolly called back. Of course, Lucy’s car would have been in the lane if it was her. He walked in and stared round. ‘Good heavens, what is going on?’ The kitchen table was stacked high with dusty boxes and cases.

Dolly sat down heavily on one of the kitchen stools and let out a sigh. ‘I’m going through everything of Evie’s, like you told me. There is much more than I thought. I got young Bob Parsons from the pub to come and go up into the attic for me and out in the mower shed.’

Mike sat down opposite her. ‘Has Lucy seen all this?’

Dolly shook her head. ‘I haven’t seen her for several days.’ She gave him a stern look. ‘Did you and she have a quarrel?’

‘No.’ He gave her a fond smile. ‘Far from it. It’s just I’ve been busy, and so, I guess has she. Shall we ring her and tell her you’ve found all this?’

Dolly looked doubtful. ‘I’m going through it first. I’ll put the stuff I think she should have on one side. She doesn’t want to be doing with Evie’s old clothes and things.’