Rogue in Porcelain (2 page)

‘So you dined with the Scarlet Woman?' drawled Jonathan Hurst. ‘So much for your principles!'

Lindsey flushed. ‘As you well know, principles are a luxury I can't afford. Still, she's making Pops happy, I'll say that for her, and Mum seems to be doing fine without him.'

‘What's she like then, this woman who's been bugging you so much?'

‘She seems quite pleasant, but nothing out of the ordinary. She's an ex-head, though, so she might have hidden depths. Come to think of it, it must have been quite an ordeal for her, having us all together for the first time. To give her her due, she handled it very well.'

‘So she's won you over.' Jonathan removed his arm from her shoulders to look at his watch. ‘Time to make a move, sadly. I've an appointment at two thirty.'

Lindsey lay back and watched him as he padded, naked, to her bathroom. She and Jonathan were partners in a firm of Marsborough solicitors, and these snatched lunchtime sessions, confined to the days when she worked from home, were often all they could manage. For Jonathan had an unsuspecting wife and children, a fact Lindsey preferred not to dwell on.

And then, she thought despairingly, there was Hugh. He'd arranged to be transferred back to Marsborough, confident they would get together again, and been both hurt and furious when she'd refused to have him back. Which didn't mean they weren't still strongly attracted to each other. There was no denying she needed a man in her life, but at the moment her association with Jonathan filled the bill, exciting her with its aura of secrecy and wrongdoing, and giving her the strength to keep Hugh at arm's length. Playing with fire, Rona called it, and she could be right.

Reluctantly Lindsey climbed out of bed and reached for her dressing gown.

‘They're taking bets on the new product at school,' Harry Curzon remarked at breakfast the next morning. ‘And they won't believe I don't know what it is. I feel like a real jerk.'

‘Would you tell them, if you did know?' his sister asked through a mouthful of cornflakes.

‘Of course not, idiot!'

‘There you are, then,' she said enigmatically.

Their parents exchanged a glance. ‘You'd better hurry,' Anna said. ‘The bus will be here in five minutes.'

‘Dad?' Harry persisted. ‘Surely all the family should be in on it?'

‘Very definitely not,' Edward said firmly. ‘The more people who know, the more chance there is of it getting out. Though you wouldn't disclose it intentionally, there are experienced people out there hell-bent on worming it out of us ahead of time, and they get up to all sorts of tricks. You're much better off not knowing, believe me. Your mother doesn't, nor either of your aunts. Sometimes I wish I didn't myself!'

Becca pushed back her chair. ‘I left my French book upstairs. Have I time to get it?'

‘If you run,' her mother said. ‘And Harry –' as her son opened his mouth to argue further – ‘enough! You'll miss the bus.'

With bad grace, he stood up, stuffed the last piece of toast in his mouth, and bent to retrieve his satchel.

‘See you,' he muttered indistinctly, and as Becca came clattering down the stairs, they left the house together, the front door slamming behind them.

‘And now,' Edward said, ‘perhaps I can have my second cup of coffee in peace.'

Anna poured it. ‘I have to say, I'll be glad when the announcement can be made,' she said. ‘All this cloak and dagger stuff's becoming quite a strain.'

‘Only another six months, and all will be revealed.'

‘Was that true, about underhand tricks being employed?'

‘Only too true; believe me, industrial espionage is alive and well.' Edward drained his cup. ‘By the way, there's a board meeting after work, so I'll be late back. You eat with the kids and leave me something in the oven. I've a business lunch, so I shan't want much.'

She nodded, lifted her face for his kiss, and, as he too left the house, stood up and began to clear the table. What would be the reaction, she wondered, when the news did break? Edward had hinted at a revolutionary product that could turn the industry on its head. In which case, by no means everyone would welcome it.

The sound of the back door reached her, followed by the inevitable ‘Cooee!'

Anna picked up the tray and carried it into the kitchen. ‘Morning, Betty,' she said.

‘Morning, Mrs Curzon.' Her cleaner was tying an apron round her ample waist. ‘Anything special you want doing today?'

‘The silver could do with a polish, if you've time.'

‘Righto. Oh, and I meant to tell you, we're getting low on floor polish.'

‘I'll put it on my list.'

The woman flashed her a glance. ‘My sister-in-law – the one that lives in Chilswood – says there's a lot of guessing going on about what they're up to at the pottery. People have even been going through the dustbins.'

Thank God for shredders, Anna thought. ‘Really?' she said evenly. ‘I don't know what the panic is; they'll know soon enough.'

‘That's what I told her,' Betty answered righteously, and, standing her bucket in the sink, she turned on the taps.

Anna, on her way upstairs, wondered if Edward knew of the dustbin-raiders. He hadn't mentioned it. Perhaps it was all part and parcel of the industrial espionage campaign. The thought left an unpleasant feeling, and she was glad she was meeting Sally and Emma, fellow Curzon wives, for lunch. Unlike the men, who of necessity saw each other every day, the women of the family met only occasionally, each otherwise engaged in her own pursuits. Today was to be one of those times. It would be interesting, Anna thought, to hear what Sally had to say; she lived and worked in Chilswood, so her ear was correspondingly closer to the ground.

Rona had just left the post office when her mobile rang, and she juggled dog lead and handbag in an effort to retrieve it.

‘Pops? Hi; could you speak up – I'm on Guild Street and there's a lot of traffic.'

‘Just a brief message, sweetie. I phoned Charles Curzon to ask whom you should approach with your idea.'

‘Oh, thanks. And who did he suggest?'

‘Finlay Curzon. It seems he's their Sales and Marketing Director.'

‘Where does he fit in the family hierarchy?'

‘Charles referred to him as his nephew, but that's not strictly accurate. I happen to know Finlay's father was Charles's cousin, which would make Finlay his first cousin once removed.'

‘I'll settle for nephew! So what happens next?' A bus lumbered past, obliterating her father's voice. ‘Sorry, could you say that again?'

‘He suggests you write to Finlay at the pottery – they're out at Chilswood, of course – outlining what you have in mind and asking for an appointment. You don't need anything from me – Charles will explain who you are. He doesn't foresee any difficulty; on the contrary, he thinks it would help build public interest in the lead-up to the anniversary.'

‘That's great. Thanks, Pops.'

‘Where are you off to at the moment?'

‘The Bacchus, to meet Linz for lunch.'

‘Well, enjoy yourselves, and give her my love.'

Lindsey was already seated in one of the booths, and bent to pat the dog as he padded past her and settled under the table.

‘Pops sends his love,' Rona told her. ‘He's just rung with the name of a contact at Curzon.'

‘You're not letting the grass grow, are you?'

‘Well, as he said, with this anniversary coming up, it's the ideal time to go for it.' She glanced at the menu in her sister's hand. ‘Have you decided what you're having?'

Lindsey passed it across. ‘I'm torn between hot chicken salad and moules marinière.'

‘I'll go for deep-fried mushrooms with garlic mayo. And a bottle of Chablis?'

‘Fine. And I'll settle for the salad.'

They gave their order, asked for the wine to be brought straight away, and looked across at each other.

‘So,' Rona began. ‘How are things? Talk was pretty general the other evening.'

‘Probably just as well!'

‘Love life still complicated?'

‘As ever.'

‘Pops registered your remark about the Curzon dinner service.'

‘Yes, I realized that. Well, he knows Hugh and I still see each other.'

‘Is that all you do?'

‘Pretty much, though he's invited me to go to Lucy's with him next weekend.'

Lucy Partridge was Hugh's sister, who lived in Guildford.

‘Will you go?'

Lindsey shrugged. ‘Might as well, I suppose. Jonathan plays Happy Families at weekends.'

‘Don't you think you're being unfair to Hugh, keeping him dangling?'

Lindsey raised her eyebrows. ‘Am I hearing right?
You
championing
Hugh
?'

‘We mightn't see eye to eye, but I still think you treat him badly.'

They paused while the waiter opened a bottle of wine and poured some into their glasses.

As he moved away, Lindsey said, ‘He keeps coming back for more. And, to be realistic, he
is
the safer bet, long-term. Nothing's ever going to come of the thing with Jonathan – we both know that.'

‘That's a pretty cold-blooded assessment.'

‘But true.' Lindsey sipped her wine.

‘You do realize that if you go to Lucy's, Hugh will expect you to sleep with him?'

‘Of course.'

Rona stared at her for a moment and, meeting her eyes, Lindsey laughed.

‘You despair of me, don't you, but once in a while is fine. The perfect arrangement was when he worked in Guildford and only came up at weekends. The point is, I don't want him around day in, day out – or even night in, night out. That's when we start to grate on each other. Also, I've got used to having my own space.'

She looked consideringly at her sister. ‘You've got it just about right, I reckon, with Max sleeping at Farthings three nights a week. That, I could cope with.'

‘But it's because of our work schedules, not because we don't want to be together.'

‘I know that, but the result's the same. Half the week you can do your own thing – change into your nightie at seven o'clock if you feel like it, and have supper on a tray in front of the telly. Or not eat till ten, then read in bed till you fall asleep with the light on.'

‘All of which you can do, too.'

‘At the moment, yes, that's my point. A part-time lover suits me fine.'

‘Or husband?'

‘Part-time husbands are harder to find.'

Their food arrived, and for a while they ate in silence. Beneath the table, the golden retriever shifted position, resting his heavy head on Rona's foot.

‘Have you seen Mum this week?' she asked.

‘No, but I phoned on Wednesday, to tell her we were going to Pops's. I thought it might somehow get back to her.'

‘Was she OK about it?'

‘Yes, fine. In fact, she seemed more interested in the problems she's having with the plumbers.'

‘What now?'

‘Oh, just more of the same; they never come when they say they will, and she spends all morning hanging round waiting for them, when she should be at the library.' Lindsey refilled their glasses. ‘Did she mention that she's decided not to have a couple as PGs?'

‘No? Why, exactly?'

‘Partly my doing; I told her she'd be unlikely to find one. With a double income, they'd be much more likely to rent till they could afford to buy. Also, if, God forbid, there should be any falling out, she'd be better having to deal with just one person.'

‘It's strange, to think of someone else living in the house,' Rona said reflectively.

Lindsey shrugged. ‘It's not as if either of us is likely to go back. And if we
did
want to spend the odd night there, our rooms are still available. Incidentally, when we spoke, Mum said she's going to ask us round for supper, probably on one of Max's class nights, so there'd just be the three of us.'

‘All girls together?' Rona asked with a raised eyebrow.

‘Nothing wrong with that,' Lindsey said briskly. She toyed for a moment with the stem of her wine glass, then looked up, meeting her sister's eyes. ‘Can you keep a secret?'

‘Don't I always?'

‘I've met someone who's rather intriguing.'

Rona put down her fork. ‘So that's why you're so blasé about the Jonathan affair being short-lived.'

‘I didn't say short-lived, I said not long-term. They're not the same.'

‘I hope this one's not married?'

‘I've no idea. No, really –' in response to Rona's grunt of disbelief – ‘I've not even spoken to him.'

‘Then you can't say you've met him, can you, let alone know if he's intriguing or not.'

‘I just do. I have an instinct for these things.'

‘Don't tell me: it was the “across a crowded room” syndrome.'

‘You can scoff. All I'm saying at this stage is, watch this space.'

‘You're incorrigible,' Rona said resignedly.

Finlay Curzon glanced at his watch, stretched, and switched off his computer, more than ready for his lunch break. It was very wearing, having continually to fend off questions on Genesis, when all his marketing instincts balked at the prevarication. This was the anniversary
year
, after all; why wait till the actual date to launch it?

He made his way to the lift and went down two floors to the directors' dining room. Though it retained its name, it was in fact where all the senior staff met for lunch, providing a valuable opportunity to discuss views and hammer out problems.

Finlay joined his three cousins at one end of the table, feeling some of his tensions ease.

‘Steak and kidney pie today,' Sam commented. ‘That'll temper the March winds!'