More Than You Know (97 page)

“Jesus.”

“Anyway, I think one of the things that might help is if we can get Eliza’s friend Heather into court. Nice working-class girl, friendship spans the class divide—and I’m delighted we’ve got Matt’s sister on our side as well.”

“Surely she’s exactly the sort of woman he won’t like. Successful, powerful, self-confident—”

“No, no, she’s self-made, you see—”

“Hmm. What about Northcott?”

“He’ll loathe him. I’m wondering about the wisdom of calling him at all. We’ve got the editor and he’s pretty middle-of-the-road socially.”

“What bad luck. What do you think he’ll make of the Italian countess or whatever she is?”

“God knows!”

“What an exquisite place! Wonderful gardens too.”

“You must tell my mother. She does nearly all the work. Come in—and this is Emmie. Emmie, this is Mr. Gilmour.”

“Hallo, Emmie. I’ve heard a lot about you. Is that wild horse Mouse?”

Emmie looked over at the slightly stout Mouse and giggled.

“Yes. Can you ride?”

“I can. But I don’t have time. Or anywhere to keep a horse. Sad. I love it.”

“You could keep it here,” said Emmie consideringly. “Mouse gets lonely; in fact, Granny’s looking out for a Shetland, to keep him company.”

“Sounds excellent. Only thing is, I haven’t got a horse or I’d be down faster than you could say walk-trot-gallop.”

“I like doing walk-trot-gallop,” said Emmie, “only I can’t gallop, so I just walk and trot. I want to have a gymkhana of my own,” she added, “here at Summercourt.”

“That sounds fun.”

“Shall I show you how I do walk and trot?”

“Later on. I’d like that very much. Just now I need to talk to your mother.”

“What about?”

“All sorts of things.”

“The divorce?” said Emmie, and scowled.

“Well, yes, I’m afraid so.”

“It’s so stupid,” she said, and her voice was scornful rather than distressed, Toby Gilmour noticed. “They’re so stupid too.”

“Who, Mummy and Daddy?”

“Yes. I thought they were clever but they’re not, and we all have to be miserable, and a man called a judge will decide what’s going to happen to me. How can he, when he doesn’t know me or what I want. Stupid.”

“Emmie,” said Eliza, “you know I told you you may get a chance to talk to the judge.”

“I don’t suppose he’ll take any notice. You know what I want and you don’t. Horses are much more sensible.”

“I do agree,” said Toby.

“Emmie, Mr. Gilmour and I have to go and have a chat. Granny’s in the kitchen, and she wants you to help her shell some peas.”

“I hate shelling peas.”

“Never mind, they need doing. Now, we won’t be long—”

“And then can I show you walk, trot, and not gallop?” asked Emmie, looking up at Toby.

“Nothing I’d like more. But I might have to take your mother somewhere first.”

“OK.” She shrugged and set off in the direction of the paddock.

“Emmie, I said go and help Granny,” Eliza said; Emmie turned to look at her and gave her a smile of great sweetness.

“And I said I didn’t want to,” she said, and continued on her way.

Eliza looked at Toby.

“She’s a bit … overindulged at the moment.”

“I’m not surprised. I see a great future for her in the law. Clear-thinking, and very good at marshalling her arguments.”

“Oh, don’t. Come into the house; I’ve put coffee in the drawing room. It’s so kind of you to come all this way.”

“Well … it was a bit of a complicated conversation. Best face-to-face. Besides, we might have to go on a journey together.”

“Heather’s not a bit sure he’ll agree,” said Eliza, as Toby’s BMW pulled into the council estate where Heather lived. “It’s down there; look—yes, just park here. Oh, there’s Coral,” she said, jumping out of the car. “Hallo, Coral, why aren’t you at school?”

“Hallo,” said Coral shyly. “I’ve got a cold. Where’s Emmie?”

“With her granny. Coral, this is Mr. Gilmour; we’ve come to see Mummy. Is she inside?”

“Yes, she said to look for you.”

Heather appeared, a baby on her hip.

“Heather, it’s lovely to see you; how are you? This is Toby Gilmour, the barrister, working on the case; Toby, this is Heather Connell.”

“Pleased to meet you,” said Heather.

“And I to meet you,” said Toby. He bowed slightly.

“Well … come through. I’ve made some tea; we could have it in the garden.”

The garden was a work of art: the small lawn mown in stripes, every inch of every bed a riot of roses, dahlias, and irises, and every bed edged painstakingly with pansies. At each corner of the lawn was a piece of box hedge carved into a very neat triangle, and a birdbath stood absolutely in the middle of the lawn. A tortoise sat underneath it.

“A tortoise!” exclaimed Toby. “I used to have one. Coral, I presume it is yours?”

“Yes, he’s called Meths.”

“Short for Methuselah,” said Heather by way of explanation.

“What was your tortoise called?”

“Tort,” said Toby, smiling at her, “which is a sort of law, so it seemed to suit him. My father was a judge.”

“Are you a judge?”

“No, I’m a barrister. That’s a sort of judge in waiting. I hope,” he added.

He was good with children, Eliza thought; she was surprised.

“Now,” said Heather, passing round the biscuits, “I’m afraid I’m not
too hopeful about Alan. He’ll be home at five past five, so you can ask him then.”

“If he does say yes, will you do it?” asked Eliza.

“Yes, I will. I won’t say I’m not scared, but I will …”

“Well done,” said Toby.

At five past five precisely a Ford Consul pulled up into the small drive. Alan Connell got out. He was dressed in a navy blue suit with the jacket buttons all fastened in spite of the extremely warm weather, a white shirt, and a perfectly knotted navy-and-grey-striped tie. His shoes wore a high shine; his hair was combed very precisely from a side parting; even his moustache looked as if it had been combed.

“Good afternoon,” he said, nodding at them. “So you’re Eliza.”

“Yes. How do you do, Mr. Connell. I’m sorry we’re here, intruding on your weekend.”

“It’s not the weekend yet,” said Alan Connell, “not until midnight.”

“No, I suppose not.”

“I’m going up to change. I like to get into casual clothes as soon as I get home. Helps me relax. Then, Heather, perhaps you could get us some tea.”

This time the tea was served in the breakfast room. Alan was now wearing perfectly creased slacks, a short-sleeved shirt pressed carefully open at the neck, and highly polished brown shoes instead of black.

“Right,” he said, “let’s get down to business. I don’t like this; I said Heather wasn’t to appear in court, and I haven’t heard anything yet to make me change my mind.”

“Let me explain,” said Toby. “The point is that the judge we’ve been … allotted … doesn’t like written statements. Indeed, he tends to dismiss them. So Heather’s being there could make all the difference to Eliza’s case. If you could agree to her coming … Of course, I know it’s a long way, but we could arrange to send a car—”

“A car! From here to London?”

“Yes. It would be extremely good of you, and we would want to show how much we appreciated it. There’s a lot at stake, you see—”

“Well, no wonder you lawyers charge such high fees,” said Alan. “I’ve never heard such rubbish; she can go on the train—”

“Oh, but we’d want you to come too,” said Toby, “to keep her company. I imagine you wouldn’t want her to go through it all on her own, bit of an ordeal. And to make sure you were quite happy with everything.”

“Oh. I see. I hadn’t realised you’d want me as well. It would certainly make me feel a lot happier. Of course, I’d have to ask for the time off work, but I imagine it would be considered a bit like jury service. In that you couldn’t refuse?”

“I’m sure. And in the unlikely event of your having to stay, we’d obviously put you both up in a very nice hotel …”

“Very generous of you,” said Alan, and then, clearly anxious not to be seen as a pushover: “No more than I’d expect, of course.”

“And I would like to help, Alan,” Heather said. “Eliza was such a good friend to me.”

“Tell me, Heather, in what way was she such a good friend to you?” asked Toby.

“Eliza’s just the best friend I could ever imagine,” said Heather simply. “She was so kind to us; Coral really loved her; she’s so good with children; and she never complained about giving up that amazing job, although I know she missed it a lot. And later on she was always meeting Coral from school when I was pregnant and not feeling up to it, and doing the shopping—I never had to ask; she just offered—and she used to drive us out to the park for picnics on the holidays. She gave us a TV; she even lent me some money once when … well, when I lost my purse. And she took up our cause with the landlord, argued with the useless plumber, and I know it all went wrong in the end, with the article in the paper, but it wasn’t her fault. And I was so sorry for her when the baby died, and she was so brave, and so generous when I fell pregnant again, very soon after; she said she was so pleased for me; not many people could do that. And when we moved away I missed Eliza so much it was like a huge hole in my life. She’s the sort of person who’d do anything you asked her; I can’t think of anything she’d refuse you …”

There was a silence; Eliza rummaged in her bag for a tissue and blew her nose very hard. Toby, who had been sitting looking at Heather
as if he was bewitched by her, reached out and patted her hand, and even Alan cleared his throat.

“Well,” said Toby, “do you think you could say all that in court? It could make all the difference to Eliza.”

“Of course I could,” said Heather.

“That was brilliant,” said Eliza as they drove away. “I feel a whole lot more hopeful too. I know one swallow doesn’t make a summer and all that—”

“It’s a pretty good harbinger of one, even so. Oh, Christ, look at that traffic. We’re not going to get back for hours at this rate. Are you hungry? Let’s find a nice country inn, then, and have a meal.”

“Haven’t you got to get back to London?”

“No,” he said shortly, “I haven’t. Nothing on at all, all weekend. OK, we’ll drive for an hour, say, and then stop, shall we? Should be somewhere like Buckinghamshire by then. Lovely restaurant at Cookham, down by the river. How would that be?”