A Family Concern (10 page)

‘I haven't liked to probe too deeply – Lewis is still a bit touchy about it – but I gather Velma was always flighty, and this wasn't by any means the first affair she'd had.'

‘She went off with another man?'

‘Oh yes. I think, from what Jan let drop once, that she'd left Robert before, when Lewis was about five, and that time she stayed away for a couple of months. I don't know whether she came back of her own volition, if her lover dumped her, or if Robert went in search of her.'

She paused and took a sip of wine. ‘The sad thing is that I think he still loves her, even after all this time. Lewis said he kept hoping for years that she'd come back.'

‘Did they know who she'd gone off with?'

‘No. Years later, Robert told Lewis she'd left a note saying she was in love with someone else, that this time she was leaving for good, and not to try to find her, because they were going abroad.'

Rona was silent for a moment. Then she said tentatively, ‘You say this had a traumatic effect on Freya. In what way?'

‘Apparently she turned overnight from a happy, confident child to a timid little creature who hid in corners. Lewis said she didn't even
speak
for weeks. Eventually they took her to a child psychologist, who gave the opinion that she was suffering trauma over her mother's desertion.'

‘Feasible, I suppose.'

‘Personally,' Kate said slowly, ‘I'm not convinced. From what Lewis says, Velma was never a doting mother, and they were largely brought up by Nanny Gray, who'd been with the Tarltons when Bruce and Robert were born. Velma's going didn't alter Freya's routine in the slightest: she was still in her own home, still had her father, who, then as now, adored her, and Nanny, who was her anchor. So why should she have reacted so violently?'

‘But surely all this can't have any bearing on what's happening now?'

‘According to psychologists, it can. Childhood traumas can be resurrected at any time, sometimes with disastrous results.'

‘You say this edginess has increased over the last few weeks. What are the symptoms, exactly?'

‘It's hard to pin down. I don't think she's sleeping well, though she hasn't actually said so, and now that she's moved in with her boyfriend there's no way of checking.'

‘Could there be trouble with the boyfriend?'

‘Doubtful. He's a nice guy, and they seem very happy together.'

‘So what other symptoms are there, apart from not sleeping well, which you're not sure about?'

Kate smiled ruefully. ‘If you're insinuating I've not much of a case, you're right. It's a nebulous feeling, that's all, but the whole family's suffering from it.'

‘They've treated Freya with kid gloves all her life?'

‘Not exactly kid gloves, but they do tend to tread softly round her, try not to upset her and so on. I think they're terrified she might have another relapse. She did have a rather rocky spell when she was twelve or thirteen, but it didn't come to anything.'

‘What caused that?'

‘They never found out, but again I think her sleeping was affected.'

‘Nightmares?'

‘Quite possibly, but everyone has them from time to time. We don't all go into a decline.'

A touch of waspishness, Rona noted, and steered her next question in a different direction. ‘What about Lewis? Did his mother's leaving affect him?'

‘Not to the same extent, but then he's ten years older.'

Rona raised her eyebrows. ‘That's quite a gap! Was Freya an afterthought?'

Kate grimaced. ‘More like a mistake, from what I gather. As I said, Velma wasn't exactly maternal; if Robert hadn't been so keen for a family, I doubt if she'd have had any.'

‘And after she'd gone, Freya was looked after by the nanny,' Rona recapped thoughtfully.

‘Just as she always had been. Jan stepped in, too, and became a mother-figure for both children. That's why there's a close bond between them.'

Their lunch finally arrived, and they began their meal in silence.

Thinking over their conversation, Rona wondered guiltily if she'd asked too many questions; an occupational hazard, she knew. To remedy matters, she now changed the subject.

‘I'm considering a series of articles on long-established family businesses here in Marsborough. There's Tarlton's, of course, and the Clarendon, and Willows' Furniture, for a start. What do you think?'

‘It's a great idea! Free publicity! What more could we ask?'

‘I suppose you have archives or something, of how the firm began?'

‘Bruce has sheaves of papers locked away, though I don't know exactly what they are. Probably just the bare bones – stock, prices, suppliers and so on, from year one – but he and Robert could fill you in on human-interest stories. They often talk about the old days and what a character their grandfather was.'

‘That's exactly what I was hoping for. I'd have to clear it with my editor, but I'm pretty sure he'd give me the go-ahead. In a way, it would be doing for Marsborough what I did for Buckford, and there's been a very good response to that. People are more and more interested in local history these days.'

Talk moved on to other matters, and they were preparing to leave when Kate reverted to the topic that had brought them there. ‘Well, it's been lovely seeing you. The only drawback is that we didn't get much further on what's wrong with Freya. I'll ask her about the tune, and see what she says.'

She looked up suddenly, her face brightening. ‘Rona, I've just had a thought! Could
you
talk to her? As part of your research into the family? You're good at unearthing things, aren't you?'

‘Oh, now look,' Rona began hastily, ‘I don't want to intrude on people's private problems. I already feel guilty about asking so many questions.'

‘Oh, nonsense. And, don't you see, it could help her! She might find it easier to talk to someone outside the family.'

‘But even if I do start researching – and it's by no means definite – I'd begin, obviously, at the beginning, and it would be some time before I got down to the present generation.'

‘You could get round that, I'm sure,' Kate said dismissively.

‘I'm not a psychologist, Kate.'

‘The one she saw didn't do her much good. I'd bet if anyone can find out what's troubling her, you can.'

‘But you say she may have told her aunt. If so, she'll know what to do. I can't go butting in.'

‘Well, we'll see what develops.' Kate smiled wryly. ‘It seems I also find it easier to talk to someone who's not family. Sorry for the way I've been bending your ear.'

‘I wish I'd been more help,' Rona said.

Rona made a detour on the way home, in order to call in at the offices of
Chiltern Life
. As usual, the receptionist welcomed them with a smile, willingly taking Gus's lead while Rona went upstairs to Barnie's office.

‘How's my favourite journalist?' he greeted her. ‘Dinah was asking at breakfast if I'd seen you lately; your ears must have been burning.'

The Trents, though older than Rona and Max, were good friends, and the two couples met socially on a fairly regular basis.

‘How is she, and Melissa and the children?'

Barnie's married daughter, who lived in the States, was staying with them for a few months while her husband worked in the Gulf.

‘Dinah and Mel are fine, and the kids are getting noisier by the hour. Or perhaps it only seems so!'

Rona smiled. ‘You old grump! Mitch will be coming over soon, surely?'

‘Yes, he has two weeks' leave over Christmas. Dinah was saying we must have a get-together while he's with us. Now, I'm a busy man, so enough of these pleasantries. Have you finished the parent-search articles?'

‘I'll drop the third one in tomorrow – it just needs polishing – and I'm seeing a fourth possibility on Thursday. That should wrap it up nicely. What I wanted to speak to you about, though, is another series I'm contemplating.'

Barnie gave a gruff laugh. ‘That's my girl – always one step ahead! All right, then, shoot.'

Rona explained her idea, emphasizing the interest in local history and the number of old-established firms in the town. ‘It might work best as an occasional series,' she concluded, ‘say an article every three or four months. But we could do a centre pull-out, as we did for the Buckford ones, in case people wanted to keep them. What do you think?'

‘It sounds very promising, certainly. But could you gather enough information to make a go of it?'

‘Oh, I think so, by the time you take in family histories. There should be plenty of anecdotes over the years. Anyway, they don't need to be very long, do they?'

‘No, but if they're short, you'll need more of them to make it worthwhile.'

‘I don't think numbers would be a problem. Many of the solicitors and accountants have been here since the year dot; I remember Lindsey going with Hugh to his firm's seventy-fifth anniversary.'

‘Right, as long as you don't tread on any toes, you're on, but I'm not getting caught up in libel suits!'

Which, Rona acknowledged inwardly, was a timely warning before she took on the Tarltons. Velma's desertion and Freya's problems were likely to remain very definitely off limits.

Lindsey looked up from her computer as, following a cursory knock, Jonathan Hurst came into the room, closing the door behind him. He walked over to the desk, rested both hands on its surface and leaned forward until his face was only inches from hers.

Lindsey's pulse quickened. She knew she was playing with fire – she didn't need Rona to tell her that. Like herself, Jonathan was a partner in Chase Mortimer, the firm of solicitors where they worked, and if the other partners – or anyone else for that matter – learned of their liaison, both their careers would suffer. Quite apart from the fact that he was a married man with two children. Yet when she looked at him, at the quizzical grey eyes, the fair, greying hair falling over his brow as he bent forward, the humorous twist to his mouth, her resolutions faltered and she made no strenuous effort to resurrect them.

‘Free this evening?' he asked.

She hesitated. Hugh had mentioned phoning, but no definite arrangement had been made. And Hugh, she thought with a sigh, was an added complication. Why
did
she allow herself to get into these situations?

‘I think so. Why, are you?'

‘I've managed to wangle a couple of hours, time enough to go back to your flat.'

‘But not stay for dinner?'

‘Sorry, sweetheart, my presence is required at home. We've some people coming; it wasn't easy getting the couple of hours.'

Lindsey said stiffly, ‘Well, if you're sure you can spare the time.'

He gave a low laugh and, reaching forward, brushed his fingers lightly across her breast.

‘I'm sure,' he said.

Since Gus had had little exercise that day, Rona delayed her return home still further and took him to Furze Hill Park, where they passed a pleasant hour in the large, uncultivated section at the upper end, Gus romping over the grass and sniffing out new scents, and Rona, not having his ball to hand, throwing sticks for his retrieval.

It was beginning to get dark when they finally turned into Lightbourne Avenue, and she was surprised to find a van parked outside her gate. As they came nearer, she saw it belonged to the florist, Camellia, and the delivery man was just returning down the path. He nodded towards the house.

‘I couldn't get round the back, so I left the flowers on the step.'

‘Thank you, but are you sure they're for me?'

‘Allerdyce? That the name?'

‘That's right.'

‘They're yours, then. Enjoy!' And he climbed into his van, switched on his headlights, and drove away.

Rona let herself and Gus into the house, and bent to pick up the bouquet. Who could be sending her flowers? She carried them down to the kitchen, laid them on the table, and extracted the tiny envelope pinned to the cellophane. It was addressed to Mr and Mrs Allerdyce. Curiouser and curiouser. Rona slit it open and withdrew the little card.

With apologies for any embarrassment caused
, she read. And the signature was Freya Tarlton.

T
om lay in bed for some time on Tuesday morning, staring up at the guest-room ceiling. The previous evening, he had hosted a reception for branch managers and the senior partners of key clients, all accompanied by their wives, in order to bid each of them a personal farewell, and had been touched by the expressions of thanks and appreciation he'd received. Dorothy, Stephen and Ruth Fairfax had been among the guests, and he'd been caught off guard when Stephen mentioned seeing Avril at the Clarendon.

‘She said you'd left her alone, so the family was taking pity on her,' Stephen reported with a smile.

Tom had managed to smile back and make a noncommittal reply, surprised Rona hadn't warned him in advance, till he realized she wasn't to know he'd be meeting Fairfax. All the same, Stephen must have wondered why, since Avril was obviously well the previous day, she was not with him that evening, and the remembered comment about his leaving her might be given more weight. Ah well, by the end of the week all need for secrecy would have passed.

He stretched, letting his eyes move slowly round the room. Odd to think he'd spend only three more nights in this house, to which he had brought Avril as a bride. Come to think of it, he'd better make a start on packing up his things. Apart from clothes and personal items, there were a lot of official papers and documents in the desk in the dining room that would need sorting through. He'd make a start on them today, he resolved, since he wasn't going into the bank. No doubt a substantial amount could be thrown out, but most would need shredding first, and the only shredder he had to hand was a small electric one; it was to be hoped it would prove up to the task.