Family Secrets (9 page)

She
pulled her hand away abruptly. “You’re joking! I don’t want to know anything about that hateful man and his rubbish paintings.”

Lawrence
sighed. “Right - I wish I could convince you that he wasn’t all bad, Rhianna. Whatever happened between him and your father must have been very serious, I agree, but I have to judge Reg from the way he treated me. And - just for the record - he was a good artist.”

“Well,
if the stuff at
Wisteria
Lodge
is anything to go by, my father was ten times better than him,” she said pettishly. “I thought the paintings were drab and totally uninspiring.”

He
spread his hands. “Well, I’ll grant you they’re not his best work, but in his day, his work was popular and respected. If it hadn’t been for your grandfather, I would never have got off the ground as an artist.”

She
stared at him. “So how did you get to know him – through Tina?”

“No,
actually it was the other way round. I was working in a large office block in London. Reg had been commissioned to do some murals for the entrance foyer and the boardroom. I think if you could have seen them you’d have change your mind about his work.”

“If
you say so.” She slowly dissected a strawberry.

“We
had a sort of unveiling ceremony. You know the sort of thing – wine and nibbles. Letitia didn’t like going to London so Tina went in her place. That’s how I came to meet her and Reg.”

He
paused to drink some wine and Rhianna asked, “So that was it? Love at first sight?”

He
shook his head. “No – Reg offered to take a look at my work and told me about a summer school he was running in Kent. I managed to get a place on it. He was a good teacher – helpful and constructive. He pointed me in the right direction and I’ll always be grateful for that.”

He
paused choosing his words carefully. “We kept in touch and, when he had an exhibition the next time round, included some of my work. Tina was there and - inevitably - we got chatting and, well, the rest’s history.”

Rhianna
was silent, as she reflected that her grandfather had been prepared to help others, but not his own son. Perhaps he’d been trying to salve a guilty conscience. Her mother had told her that when she and her father were first married it had been difficult to make ends meet.

Over
cappuccinos, Lawrence wished the subject of Reg Delroy had never come up. It was obvious that Rhianna was prejudiced towards her grandfather and blamed him for the family break up.

Lawrence
stared into his coffee. Perhaps if he’d been in her shoes he would have reacted in the same way. He knew he was lucky coming from such a close family. He hoped that one day Letitia would feel able to talk to Rhianna about what had happened all those years ago; even though she obviously didn’t know the exact truth herself.

It
was like treading on eggshells where Rhianna was concerned. He realised that he would have to go very gently. It was a pity because Reg had been a very approachable, likeable sort of guy.

Rhianna was very like him – feisty and spirited, but Lawrence could hardly tell her that. He racked his brains for a way of introducing a less controversial topic of conversation.

“Fiona
was telling me you might be running some art classes,” he said, suddenly inspired.

Relieved,
she got on to a safer topic and outlined their ideas.

It
was quite late when they arrived back at her home. She was wondering if she ought to ask him in for another coffee, but he solved the problem for her by saying, “I look forward to seeing you on Friday, Rhia. Thanks for this evening.”

And,
leaning across, he gave her a gentle kiss on the mouth, leaving her aching with longing.

*

Thursday was quiet. Rhianna loaded up her car with online orders and set off to the post office. After that, she spent a good part of the day finishing her oil painting of Brookhurst. She was pleased with the result. It showed the duck-pond with a row of cottages in the background and the church spire. A typical rural scene. She intended to give it to Letitia as a present when the exhibition was over.

She’d
just decided to pack away and call it a day when the gallery phone rang.

”Am
I speaking to Rhianna Soames?” came a woman’s voice.

She
sighed. Not that again! This was getting beyond a joke.

“No, there’s no-one of that name is here. This is Rhianna Delroy… And you are?”

The
woman at the other end of the line ignored this and said impatiently.

“
Soames
,
Delroy
– whatever you call yourself. I’d like to give you a word of advice. Don’t interfere in matters that don’t concern you. I’d leave well alone, if you know what’s good for you.”

Rhianna
felt cold. She took a grip on herself. “Who are you and what do you want?” she asked, almost in a whisper. But the phone went dead.

Rhianna’s
hand was shaking. She made herself a coffee and taking it upstairs, packed away. The caller had withheld her number. If she phoned back again Rhianna decided she’d inform the police.

*

“It must have been some nutter,” Fiona said, when Rhianna told her about the incident the following morning. “Someone who’s got a grudge because we wouldn’t exhibit her work. D’you remember that eccentric woman with orange hair, who got uptight because we didn’t go into raptures over those weird animal pictures she’d painted?”

Rhianna
grinned. “Oh, yes – bizarre cats with spectacles and giraffes with twigs for necks all in odd colours. It definitely wasn’t her. I’d have recognised her voice. It was very distinctive. Anyway, it more likely to do with Brookhurst and that newspaper article. Letitia sent me a copy and it refers to me as
Miss
Soames
.”

“Well,
there you go then. Best to forget it,” Fiona advised.

“Mmm
– you’re probably right. “ Rhianna surveyed her friend who was particularly perky that morning.

“I
take it you had a good time yesterday?”

Fiona’s
eyes held a dreamy look. “The best. We went to that new exhibition at
Tate
Modern
, had a leisurely lunch and a walk by the river. Then we went to see a romantic film…So what about you? How was your hot date on Wednesday night?”

“Cool,”
she told Fiona, “as in the opposite of hot. Although, in all fairness; it was a great meal and venue and enjoyable to begin with. Unfortunately, Laurie was determined to tell me all about my grandfather and what a great guy he was.”

Fiona
clapped her hand to her head. “That obviously went down like a lead balloon! Look, don’t take this the wrong way, Rhia. I know your Dad was a lovely chap and you hate the thought he might have done anything in the past to change that view, but – well, maybe he wasn’t quite as perfect as you thought.”

Rhianna
gasped. “Fiona, that’s a horrible thing to say. How could you!”

“Look
I’m just trying to be objective – what was it my old gran said – being the devil’s advocate – something like that. I mean you’re bound to be biased and we both know your Dad was one of the good guys when we knew him, but neither you nor Laurie know what happened between Joe and his father to cause the rift. It was obviously something mega.”

“I
won’t hear a single word against my father,” Rhianna said firmly, feeling tightness in her throat.

“And
obviously Laurie feels the same way about your grandfather so it looks like it’s stale mate.”

Seeing
her friend’s expression, Fiona said, “Come on, Rhia - you’ve got a lot of your Dad in you. You dig your heels in - if you think you’re right. He did the same. Perhaps both Joe and your grandfather were equally to blame in some way. It’s just a pity your grandmother refuses to talk about it.”

Rhianna
pursed her lips. “Perhaps she only got to know one side of the story…let’s get on, shall we? We need to decide when we’re going to change the exhibition and what’s going up next. Any ideas?”

“Perhaps
we ought to leave Matt’s stuff up for a bit longer than a month - after all - today is
Red
Letter
Day
!”

Rhianna
stared at her. “Now what are you talking about?”

“That
article in the local paper. Shall I go and get us a couple of copies before they’re all snapped up or will you?”

Rhianna
had completely forgotten about it. She rushed over to the newsagents and purchased several copies of the local paper.

It was a good feature and Fiona was quite right. The added publicity generated a sudden spurt of interest in the gallery. People popped in and out all morning. Rhianna pinned up the article on a notice board near the door. She decided she’d send a copy to Letitia and that Laurie might like one too because there was a lovely photograph of Katie.

It
wasn’t until they were snatching a quick breather that she suddenly realised she’d completely forgotten to mention Lawrence’s request for a meeting to Fiona.

Fiona
echoed her own thoughts. “That sounds mysterious. What on earth can he want to talk to us about?”

“I
have absolutely no idea, but he’s coming early afternoon so that he can take a look at that portrait of Anna Soames first of all.”

“Well,
I suppose that’s one up on showing him your etchings,” Fiona jested and, although it was a well-worn joke Rhianna was forced to laugh. She’d been up in the attic and taken the picture from its hiding place and placed it in the guest room all ready for Lawrence to inspect.

Anna’s
eyes seemed to follow her round the room and gave her the shivers. She’d studied the picture closely but couldn’t see anything special about it, except that the frame had obviously come from another painting. Try as she might, she still couldn’t find a signature.

She
wished more than ever that her father had told her about the secret of the painting during his life-time. He obviously hadn’t been able to part with it, but neither had he wanted to talk about it.

Chapter Eight

A steady procession of parents came into the gallery during the morning, carrying copies of the local newspaper and wanting to know if Fiona and Rhianna had seen the feature. They were all delighted with the photographs.

Around one o’clock an elated Matthew Collins rushed in.

“I
don’t know how to thank you guys enough for what you’ve done to promote my work. It’s awesome!” he told them, grinning broadly.

He was just giving them both a hug when Lawrence arrived. They all stood chatting for a few minutes.

“Brilliant article,” Matt said again. “Must dash – class at two.”

“Well, someone’s happy,” Lawrence commented.

“Yes he’s absolutely made up. It’s great publicity for him,” Fiona said.

“And for us too, of course.” Rhianna picked up her bag.

“I thought we’d take a look at the portrait now, whilst it’s still light and then we’ll come back here for the meeting around three - if that’s OK, Fi.”

“Absolutely, but can you get me something to eat first to save me putting the closed sign up?”

Rhianna popped across the road to the bakers’ to return, a few minutes later, with a selection of goodies. At home, she quickly put the kettle on for coffee and assembled plates and cutlery.

Lawrence was studying the paintings on the sitting-room walls when she brought the lunch in.

“Are these
all
your father’s?” he wanted to know.

She set down the tray. “Yes, apart from those two which are mine.”

“Well, you’re no mean artist yourself, Rhia,” he said in admiration, as he viewed the two seascapes of Cornwall.

She felt a warm glow of pleasure that he liked them.

“We used to go to Cornwall on family holidays when I was a child and my Dad and I went down there a few years back. The place where we used to stay is still as sleepy as ever.”

He
helped himself to a pasty. “These look delicious. I was thinking - perhaps we could explore Kent a bit - take Letitia with us. Have you ever been to the Romney Marsh and Dungeness?”

She
shook her head. “I’ve heard of it but I’ve never been there. Wasn’t it renowned for smuggling?”

“Certainly was. It’s very lovely in a wild sort of way. So flat that you can see for miles. You either fall in love with the place or hate it. It’s an attraction for artists.”

“Sounds fascinating.” She indicated the plate of sandwiches. “Tuck in.”

Presently,
she led the way upstairs and into the room where she’d put the portrait of Anna Soames. She whipped off the cover and he stood staring at it for several minutes, without saying a word, a strange expression on his face.

“What’s wrong?” she asked at length.

He shook his head. “It’s just a bit of a shock, that’s all. Tina is so like her mother, it’s amazing. She’s got her colouring and features.”

“And what about her eyes?” Rhianna wanted to know.

“No,
Tina’s eyes are a paler blue. I see what you mean about Anna’s. They
are
penetrating.”

He
picked up the painting and took it over to the window. There was silence whilst he examined it, holding it first one way and then the other.

“Do
you think it’s one of your father’s?” he asked at length.

She
shook her head. “No, I did wonder that briefly, but I realise now; it’s definitely not his style and Letitia agrees. I’ve got some sketches he did of Anna. They’re quite different.”

Lawrence
suspected who the artist of the painting was, but needed to be sure.

“Most
artists sign their work, as you well know. It adds authenticity to the painting - so it’s just a question of using one’s eyes to find the signature.”

“I’ve
had a good look, but I can’t find a signature anywhere,” she told him impatiently.

“Mmm,
well if the artist is who I think he is then it’s got to be here somewhere…gotcher!” he exclaimed a moment later. “It’s here practically concealed on the sleeve of Anna’s dress. R.J. D. Your grandfather - Reginald Joseph Delroy.”

“Now,
why doesn’t that surprise me? Let me see.” She peered over his shoulder to where he was pointing.

He
was still studying the portrait. “I suspect Letitia knew that all along.”

Rhianna
frowned. “So why didn’t she tell us?”

He
shrugged. “Who knows? I expect she had her reasons – wanted to know if we could suss it out for ourselves, I suppose.”

“OK, well, now that we, or rather
you
have, what does it tell us? Can you see anything about it that’s so special?” she asked anxiously.

Lawrence didn’t reply for a moment, keeping her on tenterhooks.

“It’s actually a very fine portrait. But no, there’s nothing at all. The frame is interesting though - just like you said… It’s an antique and doesn’t really go with the painting, does it?”

“That’s what I thought. I suppose it belonged to another painting.”

“Perhaps it was someone other than your grandfather who had it framed. Reg was a bit of a joker. Always hid his signature.”

He was still studying the portrait. “She was a lovely looking woman, wasn’t she.”

“Yes, I suppose she was. It must have been sad for Christina - not knowing either of her parents.”

He nodded. “But Betty and Derek Soames made up for it and, when they died, your grandparents became her guardians. She certainly didn’t lack for love. There is one thing, Rhia…”

She looked at him questioningly.

“Now, that you know your grandfather painted it, wouldn’t you change your mind about his ability as an artist?”

“Well, I grant you he’s better at portraits than landscapes,” she conceded, reluctantly.

Lawrence grinned. “I suppose that’s a start.”

Suddenly,
she was in his arms while his lips gently brushed her throat and neck, and then, as his mouth moved onto hers in a kiss that sent her senses reeling; she entered a wonderful world where there were just the two of them and time stood still.

*

“Well, you two took your time,” Fiona greeted them. “Good job you gave me some lunch or I could easily have faded away. It’s been manic here. Hardly time to breathe.”

“Sorr
y,” Rhianna told her, avoiding her inquisitive gaze. “Anyway, Lawrence has found a signature on that painting. The artist was my grandfather, Reginald Delroy.”

“Well,
that solves that mystery. We’ll close up just as soon as we can, but as you can, see we’re very popular this afternoon. The article’s certainly generated some interest.”

“That
can’t be bad,” Lawrence commented.

Parents
were dropping in on their way home from school to have a word about the article or take another look round the gallery. Three signed up for Rhianna’s decoupage taster session and there were several enquiries about art classes. Things were definitely looking up for the gallery.

It
was another half hour before they could close up. Rhianna made some tea and grabbed the box of cakes she’d secreted at the bottom of the fridge.

“OK,”
Fiona said ,as they sat at one of the tables at the back of the gallery. “The suspense is killing me, Laurie. Fire ahead!”

She
helped herself to a strawberry cupcake and peeled off the case.

Lawrence
settled himself more comfortably on the stool.

“Well,
you can say
no
, if you like, but I had a sudden idea that might benefit us all. I like the way the pair of you work and, from what I’ve seen of the gallery, it’s got a lot going for it - so I was wondering how you would feel about me exhibiting some of my paintings here?”

There
was a surprised pause. “Wow – that’s an interesting proposition,” Fiona said, and turned to Rhianna who was looking at Lawrence as if she’d been struck dumb.

Her mind was working overtime. Was this the true reason why Lawrence had been so keen to look round the gallery and befriend them? Had he seen it as a way of promoting his own work? Fiona gave her a nudge, unable to understand why she didn’t say anything.

“Rhia
– what do you think?”

Rhianna
pulled herself together with an effort. It would be churlish to refuse him just because she had doubts about why he’d befriended her. She tried not to think about his recent kisses. There was a lump in her throat as she replied flatly, “Yes, why not? It’s a great idea. Of course, we’d need to see some of your work. Have you brought any of it with you?”

He
got to his feet. “Absolutely, I’ve got half a dozen paintings in the car. I’ll go and get them, shall I?”

As
soon as Lawrence had left the gallery, Fiona turned to her friend in amazement.

“Whatever’s
the problem, Rhia? I thought you’d be made up that Laurie wants to exhibit his paintings here. You might have managed to sound enthusiastic, but you certainly don’t look it - I know you only too well. If you’ve got reservations speak or remain silent! After all, we haven’t actually got anyone new lined up for the next slot, have we?”

Rhianna
found it difficult to put into words how she felt and had no intention of telling Fiona about the kiss which had meant a lot to her, even if it hadn’t to Laurie. She was hurt to think he was playing fast and loose with her emotions.

“I’m
just wondering if he’s been inveigling himself into our company and taking advantage of our friendship, so that he could gain a foothold for his work,” she said slowly.

Fiona
gasped. “Rhianna, is this all to do with his friendship with your grandfather and relationship with Tina?”

Rhianna
sighed heavily. “No – yes – oh, I don’t know. Everything’s happening so fast. It’s all topsy turvy, as Dad would have said, and I can’t think straight.”

“Well,
we haven’t seen his work yet. It might be garbage,” Fiona said consolingly.

*

But it wasn’t. They sat staring in admiration and delight at the beautifully executed watercolours in pastel shades, mainly of Brookhurst. It would be ridiculous to turn him away because of personal feelings. Rhianna decided to keep everything on a professional footing from now on. She mustn’t let her personal feelings influence her decision in any way.

“These
are lovely, Laurie,” she told him sincerely. “About how many pictures have you got?”

“Around
twenty or twenty five - if I borrowed some back that I’ve sold. Would that be sufficient?”

He
was watching her face intently, as if anxious for her approval.

“It
would fill this back wall easily,” Fiona said, relieved that Rhianna had liked what she’d seen as much as herself. “We always do our best to promote the work of local artists. The only concern I have is that a number of your paintings are of Brookhurst and most people round here wouldn’t even have heard of the place.”

“Well,
that’s easily remedied,” Laurie said, his face creasing into a smile. “I’ve got a few more at home of Bucks and St Albans if that would qualify.”

“I
don’t see why not,” Rhianna told him. “You live near enough to qualify as a local artist, but that doesn’t mean that all the work has to be local too. After all, my next exhibition will be photographs and one or two paintings of Brookhurst. The only difference would be that I’m not proposing to sell them on this occasion.”

They
sorted out terms and conditions and came to an arrangement about the layout of the exhibition.

When
Lawrence got up to leave, he touched Rhianna’s arm, “I’ll be in touch about our next trip to Brookhurst.”

She
nodded. “Right, I’ll wait to hear from you then,” she said coolly and turned away to collect up the used mugs.

*

Lawrence rang Letitia that evening. “I wanted to let you know that I’ve just seen the painting of the
Woman
in
Blue
.”

“Really
- and did you find the signature?” she asked eagerly.

“Yes,
it was well and truly hidden in a crease on the sleeve of Anna’s dress. The artist was Reg, but I suspect you knew that already, didn’t you, Tish?”

There
was a pause. “Yes, Laurie, I did, but I needed everyone to be sure. You see, I only had a glimpse of it and it was a very long time ago. Did you - um - did anything strike you?”

It
was Lawrence’s turn to hesitate. “Well, yes, actually – look, I think we should discuss all this when I next come to Brookhurst, don’t you?”

“If
you say so dear – did Rhianna make any comment over her grandfather being the artist?”