The Darkest Hour (46 page)

‘We were at home in bed.’

‘And do you know a Mr Derek Hemingway?’

Christopher looked blank. ‘No.’

‘Or,’ the inspector consulted a piece of paper, ‘a Mrs Lucy Standish?’

‘I want to marry your sister.’ Tony was sitting opposite Ralph in The Unicorn bar. The continuing run of bad weather meant they were grounded for the time being, as was, presumably, the enemy. ‘I don’t know where I am with her any more. And I miss her so much. To keep everything above board, I want your permission to ask her. I can’t ask your father, he will only say no. I know why he has taken against me, and I understand that Eddie is threatening everybody, but I need to be with her and I need to know that she wants to be with me! I love her so much. We can be married by special licence and if you are there it will make it respectable.’

Ralph shook his head. ‘I’m not sure that’s right, Tony.’ He picked up his glass. ‘I’m not sure she wants to rush into this, however much she loves you.’ If she loves you, he almost added. He wasn’t sure now. ‘She adores Daddy and she won’t want to risk him getting angry. You do know how ill he is, don’t you? Can’t you just put it all off for a bit?’

Tony’s shoulders slumped. ‘Supposing I give her a ring? Then she will know I mean it.’ He sat back on his seat, his face a picture of anguish. ‘I have one. I asked my mother to send Grandmother’s ring down to me. It was always going to be for the girl I marry. It is very pretty. I think Evie would like it. I’ll tell her not to show it to anyone. Eddie mustn’t see it, or your father, but we would be secretly engaged.’

Ralph pursed his lips. ‘It’s an idea, certainly.’

‘But how am I going to ask her if she won’t see me?’

‘Write to her and I will see she gets the letter. That way there can be no mistake. I will guarantee to give it to her personally and I will bring her reply. How about that?’

It had to be up to them to sort this out but he could help, he could let them have one more chance to see each other. Didn’t he owe them both that much? Ralph sighed as from the rain-swept night outside the air raid siren began its eerie wail. ‘I don’t believe it,’ he said. ‘Not in this weather. It will be a false alarm.’

Tony smiled for the first time. ‘There hasn’t been a raid for days. I reckon they have forgotten about us.’ He sat forward. ‘Ralph, there is a rumour my squadron is going to be posted. I have to know before I go. Supposing they send us back to Scotland?’

‘Write the letter. If you go to Scotland perhaps that would be a good thing. If Evie wants to marry you she can jump on a train and meet you up there. You could go to Gretna.’

For a moment the two young men held each other’s gaze.

‘Write it now so I can take it with me,’ Ralph said at last. ‘Ask for a bit of paper at the bar.’

A sheet of notepaper and an envelope were produced and Tony retired with it to the corner. Barely half the people drinking had left to seek the air raid shelters. The others downed their beers steadfastly, half an eye on the blacked-out windows and door. There was no noise of overhead planes and only ten minutes later the all clear sounded.

‘Here.’ Tony folded the letter into the envelope and wrote Evie’s name on it. ‘Shall I give you the ring?’

‘You have it here?’ Ralph stared at him

‘I’ve carried it since my mother sent it. Just in case.’ Tony rummaged in his battledress and felt in an inner pocket. The pretty sapphire ring sparkled in the dim light of the bar. ‘Tell her I will put it on her finger myself when she says yes.’ He grinned weakly. ‘Remind her about the milkwort flower. I’ve told her this is the last chance, Ralph. If she says no, that will be it. If she chooses her dad and Eddie over me, I won’t push her any more; I can’t fight them unless she wants me to. I won’t ask again.’ He pushed back the chair. ‘I don’t want the ring back. There will never be anyone else. Let’s go. You can drop me off.’

As he climbed out of the Morgan at the gate to Westhampnett Tony stooped to Ralph’s window. ‘If I don’t hear from her I will know it is all off this time. That will be it. I will go back to Scotland and she will never see or hear from me again. You will persuade her, won’t you?’

Ralph nodded. He raised his thumb. ‘I might not get up there for a few days, but don’t worry, I’ll see she gets the letter.’ He couldn’t promise any more than that.

Huw walked up the stairs ahead of Lucy. Behind them, Robin followed them into the kitchen and straight through into the studio. The skylights were open and sunshine poured into the room.

‘It’s clear.’ Huw turned to Lucy. ‘He has gone.’

‘How do you know?’ Her mouth was dry.

‘I can feel it. But Robin and I agree, the painting should not return here, and maybe you would be more comfortable staying with us a little bit longer.’

‘I want you to take another week or so off, Luce.’ Robin folded his arms. ‘This has all been an awful strain on you.’

The police had arrived at ten a.m. and Robin had hesitantly told them where Lucy was staying. Maggie had sat with Lucy when they told her of George’s death. Her alibi for Friday night was cast iron – she had been on the train by six, still had a receipt for coffee from Victoria Station, and another for the train ticket. She had spent the evening with Huw and Maggie and one of the churchwardens and his wife who had come to supper and stayed till almost midnight. She had been able to tell them nothing about George other than that he had been going to the opera that evening. Her sadness for the loss of someone who to her had been kind and friendly was compounded by the irreplaceable loss of information about Evie’s life.

Juliette rang them later at the vicarage. ‘Frances told me. The police took them up to town to see if anything had been stolen, which of course they didn’t know, and then they had to go and identify him. It is just so awful.’

‘So they think it was a robbery?’ Maggie had passed the phone to Lucy.

‘They don’t know, but one of Evie’s paintings was badly damaged. It was lying on the floor when they went into the house. Obviously George wouldn’t have done it. There was no sign he was trying to move it or anything. He would have had to stand on something and there was nothing near him. They think maybe he disturbed someone who was trying to steal it. They will know more after the post mortem.’

After she had hung up the phone Lucy looked at Maggie and grimaced. ‘You don’t think …?’ She hesitated for a moment. ‘The entity who tried to destroy Evie’s painting in my studio. You don’t think he had turned his attention to George? You don’t think he followed me to London?’ The colour had drained from her face. ‘Huw was so sure it had left the studio. Did I take it with me? Did I cause George’s death?’

‘Don’t even think about it, Lucy.’ Maggie shook her head. ‘It was probably some low-life scum who followed him home.’ She gave a sad smile. ‘Don’t tell Huw I said that. I know I should forgive and understand but I get angry! This sort of thing is so needless!’

‘And now he will never make friends with Mike,’ Lucy said wistfully.

‘No, but you can tell Mike that was his wish. That will help them both.’

Lucy sighed. ‘I suppose I have to speak to Mike.’

‘Of course you do. Ring him today. At once.’

‘And that will help George how?’

‘It will ease his way. He died suddenly and unprepared. He will have left unfinished business amongst which is his relationship with you and Mike.’

‘Oh great! So now he is going to haunt me as well!’

‘No. Sorry.’ Maggie ran her fingers through her hair. ‘I shouldn’t have said that. Ring Mike, Lucy.’

Mike picked up her call at once. ‘Lucy? Where are you?’

‘Staying in Chilverly.’

‘Mum rang and told me about George. It’s terrible. Listen, I am at Rosebank Cottage. I have taken a few days off from the office. I can work from here if necessary. Can you come over? We need to talk.’

Lucy felt a lightening of her spirits. ‘Is Charlotte there?’ she asked cautiously.

‘No.’

They met two hours later. As they sat in the living room of the cottage Lucy could hear the quiet roar of an ancient Hoover upstairs, thudding over the carpets on the uneven boards. ‘Dolly’s day?’ She smiled.

‘Not usually. She has to go to the dentist again tomorrow. She will be glad to see you. She said she would make us some coffee as soon as you arrived.’ He sat down on the sofa and in the light from the window she saw the strain on his face. ‘I didn’t realise you had gone to see George. I didn’t realise he was well enough to see anyone.’

‘Perhaps he wasn’t,’ she responded sadly. ‘I would hate to think I could have been responsible in any way for his death. He had a bad heart, I gather.’

‘But you didn’t upset him, did you?’

‘Of course not.’ She was indignant. ‘We were going to meet again and he was going to tell me lots of stories about Evie. He was looking forward to going to the opera that evening. He was fine. Cheerful. The only thing that had made him sad was the estrangement from the family, and, Mike, he was so keen to meet you and be friends with you. He seemed so upset about his difficult relationship with your father. He implied it was Johnny’s choice, not his.’ She shook her head. ‘He was going to show me his pictures. He had several that Evie had given him over the years and now I suppose they will go to Christopher.’ She scowled. ‘Sorry. That sounded awful. It must confirm your worst suspicions of me.’

‘About that,’ Mike put in. ‘I’m sorry. We got off on the wrong foot about Christopher and his accusations about your painting –’ He broke off as Dolly came in with a tray. Lucy hadn’t noticed that the sound of vacuuming had stopped. Mike changed the subject swiftly. ‘Dolly, do you remember George living here?’ He pounced on one of Dolly’s homemade biscuits and then as a second thought passed one to Lucy.

‘Of course I do.’ Dolly nodded emphatically. ‘He was a bit younger than your father who had gone off to university when they first moved here. He was a nice boy, George. There was a terrible row over him living here, of course. Evie’s husband wanted him to stay with him in London. George ran away from his father’s house and came down on the train by himself. I suppose he was about fifteen, and he hitchhiked here from Chichester. I can still remember Evie hugging him and telling him he didn’t have to go back. His father used to beat him. Mr Edward came after him, of course, but there was nothing he could do.’

Mike and Lucy looked shocked. ‘He never mentioned that,’ Lucy said.

‘Well, he wouldn’t. He was terrified of his father, though. I remember one day when they thought Mr Edward was coming down to take George back to London by force. Evie sent George to stay with some school friends and she nerved herself to have a fight about it, but Mr Edward never came. I’m not sure if he actually threatened to go to court but I think if he did he gave up for some reason. I don’t think it was ever mentioned again. George was a gentle boy, quite sensitive. Artistic like his mother.’ She bit her lip. ‘How very sad that he could have come down here. He loved this house, but when Mr Johnny inherited it, that was that.’

‘But he told me that his father left him all his money?’ Lucy queried.

‘Oh, yes, Mr Edward was very rich, according to Evie.’ Dolly seemed to have lost her usual reserve. ‘He never gave her any money to support the two boys. He was a penny-pinching sort of a man.’ She pursed her lips. ‘But he left it all to George. Never a penny piece to Johnny.’

After Dolly went back to work Mike suggested they go to the pub for a sandwich. ‘Peace offering. Please. Can we start again?’ he said. As they sat in the courtyard at the back of the pub he made his suggestion. ‘There is a spare room at the cottage, you know. You could stay if you wanted to be closer to the studio. It would save you having to drive back and forth. How much do you reckon is still there to look through?’

She still hadn’t told him about the ghost. All she had said was that Robin had suggested she take a few days off to concentrate on the book. Mike hadn’t asked why she was staying with Huw and Maggie and she wondered suddenly whether his mother had told him what had been going on. She glanced up. He was cutting a wedge of cheese and didn’t notice. He looked tired and there were deep dark circles under his eyes.

‘There is a lot more than I first thought,’ she said carefully. ‘I suppose it would save time if I could stay over here occasionally. But what would Charlotte think?’

She saw his face tighten. ‘There is no reason why she should find out.’

‘Obviously I wouldn’t be here next time she came.’

‘No.’

He pushed his chair back abruptly. ‘Would you like another glass of wine?’

She nodded. Subject changed and off limits. Interesting.

Lucy had found another batch of letters. Evie had obviously had no system whatsoever for filing things at any point in her life. This time they were in an old torn brown foolscap envelope which was labelled
Galleries
. Excitedly Lucy carried it over to the table and pulled out a wedge, not of gallery details but a stack of personal letters held together with a rusty metal paperclip.

Hitching the stool closer she sat down and carefully removed the clip.

Ralph had gulped down his early morning tea as he shaved and dressed. It was as he was leaving the room that he remembered Tony’s letter and the ring. He still hadn’t had a chance to get up to Box Wood Farm. His only day off he had gone into Chichester to meet Sylvie. One of these days he would introduce her to the rest of the family, but not yet. Life at Box Wood was too complicated. He didn’t want to risk upsetting his father, though why a sweet girl like Sylvie would do that he wasn’t sure. Evie was causing enough trouble for now. He hesitated then took the letter and the ring out of his pocket and stuffed them into the drawer of the cabinet beside his bed. His silver St Christopher had become entangled with the ring. For a moment he hesitated, about to put the medal back in his pocket but a voice called him from the corridor and leaving it where it was he hurried out and followed the others down the stairs.