Black Valley (11 page)

‘He’s been good to me, though.’ Elinor spoke as if in answer to her thoughts. ‘Very supportive of my work.’ She paused. ‘But I have to say, I don’t
trust him an inch. He’s completely ruthless. Incredibly ambitious. Couldn’t you see that, when you met him?’

Jess shrugged non-committally, although she knew what Elinor meant. Blake was an alpha male, no doubt about it: good-looking, confident, and with a general air of entitlement. But that
didn’t necessarily make him ruthless.

Elinor lowered her voice, although there was no one in the vicinity. ‘I think he paid someone to come in and steal my painting. Had my mother not been there, it would have been an easy
job. The place wasn’t alarmed, he knew that, and the lock on the door was a cinch to pick – the police told me. I expect he thought his hired hand could slip in, nick it, and slip out
again without too much trouble.’ She paused. ‘But then Ma caught the thief red-handed, and he panicked. That’s where it all went wrong.’

Jess was taken aback. ‘This is quite a serious allegation, Elinor. Don’t you think you should talk to DS Bonetti?’

‘I don’t know.’ She paused. ‘Isobel would be furious with me if I did. And I can’t be sure, of course. But I wouldn’t put it past him. After all, it would be
easy enough for him to get rid of a Gwen John – he’s got connections all over the world. There are lots of collectors who buy stolen work and keep it for private viewing.’

Jess was silent, unsure what to say. She wondered whether Elinor was slipping into paranoia, or whether she really did have cause to suspect her brother-in-law of setting up the break-in. If the
latter were the case, she really ought to persuade her to talk to Bonetti. But for now, it was unclear whether Elinor’s suspicions had any basis in reality. She’d have to wait and see
what transpired.

‘The other thing is, he doesn’t like me being in therapy. Not one little bit.’ Elinor lowered her voice again. ‘He’s been trying to stop me coming, actually. I
think he’s worried about what I might be telling you here. About him.’

Jess remembered the colour draining from Blake’s face when they were introduced, and his hand going limp in hers.

‘Well, he’s not in a position to tell you what to do, is he?’

Elinor didn’t reply.

Jess tried again. ‘Do you want to continue therapy?’

Elinor nodded. ‘Very much so, in the long term.’ She gave a sigh. ‘But right now, I think I need a break. It’s all getting too much for me. I need to get away from
Cardiff. From him. From Isobel too, actually. And that bloody policewoman.’

There was a silence. They both looked out at the river again.

‘There’s this place I know, up in the Black Mountains.’ Elinor’s voice dropped. She seemed almost to be talking to herself. ‘It’s right in the middle of
nowhere, very wild. I thought I might go up and camp there for a little while.’

Jess was alarmed. Elinor appeared to be in such a fragile state of mind. And the weather was so cold. She seemed barely capable of dressing herself properly for a chilly day in the city, let
alone a night outdoors on a windy Welsh mountainside.

‘Don’t you think it’ll be a bit nippy for camping?’ Jess did her best not to show her consternation, though inwardly she was beginning to doubt Elinor’s sanity.

‘I’ve done it before at this time of year. There are a few farms around, barns I can sleep in. It won’t be a problem.’

‘But won’t you be lonely on your own?’

‘Of course not. That’s why I’m going there. To be on my own. I like it.’

‘So whereabouts do you camp?’ Jess didn’t want to pry, but she felt genuinely concerned for Elinor’s safety.

‘Cwm Du.’ Elinor’s voice was almost a whisper, as if she were giving away a secret. ‘It’s not far away. It just seems it.’

Jess had heard of Cwm Du. Black Valley, in English. She’d never been there, but she’d heard it was wild, beautiful, and gloriously unspoilt. She’d often thought of visiting
– it was only an hour or so’s drive away from Cardiff – but she’d never got around to it.

‘There’s a place there where I go to pray, not that I’m religious in the usual sense. It’s a tiny church in a little hamlet. I find it very calming there.’ There
was a pause, and then an anxious look came over her face. ‘Could you keep my session open for me while I’m away? I can pay you, of course.’

‘I’m sure we can sort something out.’ Jess wondered how she could possibly dissuade Elinor from her camping trip. She couldn’t stop her going off, yet she felt most
uneasy about it. Especially as Blake seemed to have been pressurizing Elinor to quit therapy.

‘I hope this is your own decision?’ Jess’s tone was tentative. Something else struck her. Could Elinor be placing herself in serious danger here, not just from the elements but
from her brother-in-law? If Blake really did have something to hide, then who was to say he wouldn’t come after Elinor? It was situations like this that any therapist dreaded. There was no
solid evidence that a crime was about to be committed – in that case she could legitimately inform the police – but still, the thought of Elinor alone in Black Valley scared her. She
wondered if she shouldn’t at the very least consider having a quiet word with Lauren Bonetti, tell her what she knew of Elinor’s plans. There again, it was against her professional
ethics to interfere in her clients’ private lives.

‘Yes. Absolutely. I need to clear my head.’ Elinor’s resolve was firm. ‘It won’t be for long. Just a few days, I think.’

Evidently, Elinor’s mind was made up. She might seem vulnerable, but she could also be very headstrong, like a child. There was a toughness to her, Jess reflected, an imperviousness to
discomfort that would perhaps help her survive the elements out at Cwm Du. All the same . . .

Silence descended. They both gazed out at the river. The cormorant dived again, once more to no avail.

‘It was good having you there at the party,’ Elinor said at last. She hugged the cardigan around her. ‘It made me feel better.’ She paused. ‘What did you think of
the paintings, by the way?’

Jess brought to mind the great black canvasses.

‘They’re not beautiful, are they?’ Elinor leaned towards her a little. She seemed anxious to get her opinion.

‘No. Not exactly. But they were powerful.’ Jess chose her words carefully. ‘In the sense that they conjured up a void. I found them compelling.’

Elinor smiled. ‘Yes, that’s exactly it. You see, art’s a language. It can talk about beauty or ugliness. If it’s apt, if it does the job, there’s a kind of beauty
in that, don’t you think?’

Jess nodded. Then they both fell silent again.

They went on to discuss the practicalities of Elinor’s visit to the retreat. The weather forecast was actually pretty good, and she’d decided to cycle up there, so as to avoid going
by car or public transport. She would hire her camping gear from a local youth hostel when she got there. Jess, who knew nothing whatsoever about camping, felt a mixture of horror and admiration as
Elinor outlined her plan. She tried not to worry, telling herself that Elinor seemed to have plenty of cash at her disposal, and that, remote as it might seem, Cwm Du was hardly out of the reach of
civilization. After all, there were farms dotted all over it, so Elinor told her, and the city itself was not very far away. And if the weather worsened, Elinor reassured her, she could easily find
a caravan to rent from one of the farmers; or, if the worst came to the worst, she could always return home.

Their conversation came to a close, and they gazed out at the river again, watching as the cormorant gave up its quest and flew away.

Jess glanced at her watch, realized their time was up, and told Elinor that the session was at an end. On an impulse, before she left she gave Elinor her mobile number, telling her to call if
she needed help, which was something she very rarely did with her clients.

‘You go back,’ Elinor said. ‘I’ll stay here for a bit.’ She gave Jess a timid smile. She seemed altogether calmer than when they’d arrived.

‘Good luck, then. I hope it all goes well.’ Jess got up to go.

‘Bye, then. Oh.’ Elinor plucked at the cardigan and the scarf she’d borrowed. ‘What shall I do about these?’

‘Keep them for now. You can bring them back at our next session.’

‘Thanks.’ Elinor smiled again. This time, it was a warm, open smile. Jess realized it was the first time she’d seen her look genuinely relaxed and happy. She felt gratified
that their encounter had been helpful. It had been a good idea to bring Elinor down here to the riverside.

Jess said goodbye, and walked off towards the street. When she looked back, she saw Elinor hugging the cardigan around her, her head nestled cosily in the scarf, contentedly watching the
ducks.

Enactment, she said to herself. Otherwise known as actualization. When your client gets you to play a role for them, drawing you into their drama, so that you stop being the therapist –
analysing and interpreting – and become, instead, a docile player in their game, a character in the story of their family dynamic, but entirely under their control. In this case, a nurturing
mother. Or perhaps, more confusingly, a protective twin?

Jess gave a sigh. She was somewhat disappointed in herself for not having realized earlier what was going on. Despite her forlorn air, like all neurotics, Elinor had a way of twisting people
round her little finger, getting exactly what she wanted. She was quite innocent about it, apparently, but that was what always happened: windows had to be opened, cardigans lent, contact numbers
given, rules broken. She’d have to watch out for that in future, Jess told herself.

She gave another sigh, and quickened her pace. When she reached the park gates, she walked out into the street, without looking back at the figure sitting on the bench.

After Elinor’s session, Jess saw three more patients, attended a meeting about the service charges in the building, and went home, stopping at the chemist on the way to
buy Rose a new washbag. Bearing in mind Rose’s new-found disdain for childish things like cuddly animal designs, she chose a rather expensive, sophisticated one, festooned with retro roses,
polka dots, zips and pockets. Then she picked up a few items to put in it – lip gloss, hair elastics, a folding toothbrush – paid for them at the till, and headed back to the car.

As she drove down the familiar roads to the house, it began to rain hard. She turned the windscreen wipers on and off to stop them squeaking, cursing herself inwardly for still not having got
them fixed, and resolving to do so the next day. Where the road dipped down under the trees, she was overtaken by a smart silver-grey saloon, its wheels swishing in the rain. She nearly drove into
a ditch to avoid it, and cursed again, this time out loud. By the time she got home she was feeling tense; Bob was due to drop Rose back any minute, having taken her out again after school, and she
was worried that she was going to be late. Then she saw the silver-grey car parked in the driveway.

She parked her own car in the lane outside, got out with her shopping, and locked it, cutting the lights. As she came up the path, Rose jumped out of the stranger’s car.

‘I’m back.’ She had a big grin on her face. Jess noticed that her hair had been curled into ringlets with a curling iron. She was also wearing pale pink lipstick. She looked
pretty, and a good deal more grown-up than when Jess had seen her earlier in the day.

The tinted window of the car rolled down.

‘Hello,’ the person inside called out, so Jess went over.

‘Lovely to meet you,’ she said, as if expecting Jess to know who she was. And of course, Jess did. This was Tegan, Bob’s new squeeze. She looked much as she had on TV, only
without so much make-up. She was wearing some kind of padded jacket, beige, with a fake-fur collar and a zip up the front. She was pretty, in a conventional sort of way.

‘And you,’ said Jess, standing in the rain, feeling it soak into her collar. ‘Thanks for dropping her back.’

‘No problem. Bob was a bit tied up with work today, so I picked her up from school and had her for the afternoon.’

Jess felt a flush of irritation. So Bob was already palming Rose off on his new girlfriend, was he? Getting her to pick Rose up from school on the days when he was scheduled to do it?

‘Well, I hope she behaved herself.’

‘She was a dream.’

Rose had skipped up the steps to the house, and was standing by the front door.

Tegan leaned her head out of the window, but only a touch, so that she wouldn’t get wet.

‘Bye, Rosie,’ she called, waving. ‘See you soon.’

Rose waved back with enthusiasm.

Tegan gave Jess another wide smile, rolled up the window, and backed out of the drive. Then she was gone.

Jess walked up the path to the house, not bothering to re-park the car in the driveway. When she got to the front door, Rose had already gone in.

‘Had a nice time, darling?’ In the hallway, Jess put down her things, took off her coat, and went over to hug her daughter.

Rose ignored the question. ‘I wish you’d been here when we arrived. We had to wait in the car.’

‘Only five minutes, love.’

Rose turned her head away, grumpily, as her mother bent to kiss her. Jess knew why she was moody. She’d made an enormous effort to be nice to Bob’s new girlfriend, and now that she
was home, the emotional weight of the situation had hit her, and she was coming down with a bump.

‘I stopped to buy you something.’ Jess took out the washbag, and handed it over.

Rose looked at it, but said nothing.

‘I can take it back if you—’

‘It’s fine, Mum.’

‘There are a few little things inside.’

‘Right.’ Rose nodded but she didn’t unzip the bag to have a look. Then she turned and walked up the staircase to her room.

When she was gone, Jess felt tears prick her eyes. It was a trivial thing, and she understood the reasons for it, but the fact that Rose had shown no interest in her small gift had upset her. At
times like this, she missed Bob terribly. In the past, when the girls behaved in hurtful ways, she and Bob would have talked it over, he would have comforted her, and then he would have made her
laugh about it. That was why she still needed him around. She could look after the girls, but sometimes she needed him to look after her.