Unfinished Portrait (27 page)

He reached out a hand, and she took it. ‘No, I haven't. It's just that I've got to the age when a birthday isn't necessarily something to celebrate.'

‘Surely there's all the more reason to!' she said.

Lindsey stretched luxuriously, glancing out of the window at the wintry sun.

‘There's something gloriously decadent about making love in the afternoon,' she said lazily. ‘You could have stayed last night, you know.'

‘Far be it from me to embarrass your relatives.'

‘They were probably expecting it.'

‘Well, I couldn't take it for granted on my first visit, added to which, your mother was due for coffee this morning.'

‘Not till eleven! Plenty of time to make your getaway!'

‘Was she impressed with the décor?'

‘Very. Come to think of it, you could have met her, too, if you'd stayed, but perhaps you'd had enough of my family for one weekend.' She paused. ‘You did like them, didn't you, Rona and Max?'

‘Very much. I hope it was mutual.'

‘I'll phone Ro tomorrow and find out.'

He laughed. ‘And report back?'

‘It depends what she says!'

‘She seemed very interested in our Scottish holidays,' Dominic said reflectively. ‘Has she some connection up there?'

‘Not that I know of. I'll ask her about that, too.'

‘Not on my account, please. It's none of my business.'

‘But it is mine.'

‘How do you make that out?'

‘She's my twin,' Lindsey said illogically.

She slipped off the bed and padded over to the window. Across the road the park rolled away down the hill, and beyond it, the roofs and steeples of Marsborough glinted in the November sunshine. The trees were bare now, their naked branches stencilled against a pale sky, and in the park below, children were flying kites, bright splashes of colour in a monochrome landscape.

Dominic came up behind her, slipping his arms round her and resting his chin on the top of her head. ‘Not a bad outlook, is it?' he said complacently.

‘It's wonderful, especially from this height. With the house being at the top of the hill, and you at the top of the house, you get a double bonus.'

‘Talking of bonuses,' Dominic said softly in her ear, ‘how about coming back to bed?'

It was a family rule that work was banned at weekends, but when Max left for the studio the next morning, Rona went straight to the study and switched on the computer. Ever since the dinner party, she had been wondering about the house in . . . Craiglea, wasn't it? She'd only half-listened when Dominic spoke of it, the Ryders not having been mentioned at that point, and after questioning him once, she'd not dared ask him to repeat it. Perhaps the phone book would help?

She googled Telephone Directory, Residential Numbers, the BT Phone Book, then typed Ryder under Surname, and Craiglea under Location, and held her breath. And behold a box appeared, giving the name GL Ryder, and not only the number, but – unlooked-for bonus – the address: 57 The Esplanade, Craiglea, Dunbartonshire.

For some minutes she sat staring at it before, with a dry mouth, lifting the phone and tapping it out, holding her breath as she listened to the ringing all those miles away. But the minutes stretched out – two, three – and she released her breath as her spurt of hope withered and died.

Was Elspeth listening to that same ringing? If so, it was clear she was not going to answer it. Nor did a machine cut in; presumably, if the Ryders were seldom there, there was little point in having one. Disappointed and frustrated, Rona ended the call.

‘Hi there! Just phoning to thank you for a lovely meal on Saturday.'

‘Ro! I was on the point of calling you. Glad you enjoyed it.'

‘Sorry we left you with all that washing-up!'

‘The dishwasher turned up trumps, and I left the rest till morning.'

‘Wise decision. Incidentally, we passed the limousine, just along the road.'

‘Dominic being discreet! What did you both think of him?'

‘Very impressed. Max says you shouldn't let him slip through your fingers.'

‘Does he, indeed? Well, you'll be pleased to know he liked you, too. He did wonder, though, why you were so interested in the Ryders' holiday retreat, and I must say, so did I.'

Rona hesitated. Anything she said to Lindsey might well get back to Dominic, particularly if they'd already discussed her interest.

‘No reason, really,' she prevaricated, ‘except that I'd have expected their holiday home to be somewhere exotic, like Barbados or the Canary Isles. Scotland seemed a bit tame.'

‘That's all it was?'

‘What else?'

‘I don't know, but you sounded . . . startled, rather than just curious.'

‘Imagination, dear sister.'

‘If you say so. What are you doing about Pops's birthday?'

‘I spoke to Catherine earlier. They're going out for dinner à deux – he doesn't want a fuss – so I said I'd drop in for a drink before lunch.'

‘That sounds a good idea; I might well join you.'

‘The more the merrier. See you there.'

‘I'll pick you up if you like, around twelve? Save you getting out the car.'

‘Thanks, sis, I'll be ready.'

Max phoned half an hour later.

‘Did you find the number?'

‘What number?' Rona asked innocently.

‘Come on, I know you too well for that! The Scottish one, of course.'

‘I did, yes, for all the good it did me.'

‘No reply? Well, that's hardly surprising. She's probably not there at all.'

‘Or she's just not answering,' Rona said stubbornly.

‘Be realistic, love; Scotland's a big place, and you're not even sure Elspeth's there, since all communications came from London.'

‘I just think Crispin's involved somehow.'

‘Because she had his mobile number? Again, a very tenuous link.'

‘And because he was in that photo.'

‘As were a crowd of other people.'

‘Oh, all right – stop being so pragmatic! The point is, I need to speak to her, and now I know she's been in touch, it's galling that I still don't know where she is.'

‘Well, it looks as though you'll just have to go on being galled!' he said.

That evening when Sarah arrived home, Avril heard voices in the hall, followed by a tap on the sitting room door.

‘Come in,' she called, and Sarah opened it to usher in Clive.

‘Good evening, Mrs Parish,' he said.

‘Hello, Clive.' Avril waited expectantly, surprised by his presence. It was soon explained.

Sarah's face was flushed. ‘We've got possession of the flat!' she said. ‘It's great – everything we were looking for; on the other side of Belmont, but still only ten minutes' walk from school.'

‘Well done,' Avril said lamely, wondering what was expected of her.

‘I did warn you, didn't I? That I'd be moving out when the sale went through?'

‘You did, yes.' She felt her heart sink. Though it hadn't been plain sailing with Sarah, they'd become used to each other – and after all, it was through her that she'd met Guy. Now, she'd have to go through the whole process again – the advertising, the worrying about choosing someone compatible.

‘So if it's OK, I'll leave at the end of term, in three weeks.'

‘Yes, of course.' She really should show more enthusiasm in the face of the girl's delight. ‘How exciting for you,' she added.

Clive said, ‘We're hoping to get settled in over the Christmas holidays.'

Avril turned to Sarah. ‘So you won't be home for Christmas?' Her heart contracted on Guy's behalf.

‘Not all of it, but I'll be moving my stuff out at some stage, now we've got somewhere permanent.' She hesitated, glanced at Clive, and burst out, ‘And I've got to tell someone! We've just got engaged!'

That did bring Avril to her feet. ‘Oh, my dear, that's lovely!' Impulsively, she hurried to kiss Sarah's cheek and shake Clive's hand. ‘I'm so glad for you!'

‘It only happened this evening, so you're the first to know. Don't say anything to Dad, will you, till I've had a chance to?'

‘Of course not.'

‘You must come and see the flat when we're settled in.'

‘I'd love to.'

‘Well, that's really all I wanted to say, so – goodnight, Avril.'

The door closed behind them, and, a few minutes later she heard the front door, as Clive took his leave. It was the first time Sarah had used her name, Avril reflected; a sign, perhaps, of the coming change in their relationship, from PG and landlady to . . . what? Superstitiously, Avril shied away from an alternative.

Guy phoned at lunch time the next day, on her return from the library.

‘I believe you heard the news before I did?' he began.

‘Yes – sorry about that! Are you pleased?'

‘I suppose so, apart from the usual fatherly reservations when a daughter leaves him for another man. I like Clive, though; I think they'll be good for each other. And actually, it's helped me make up my mind on something I've been considering for some time. Sarah tells me she'll be moving all her things out, which means this won't be her home any longer, and God knows I've been rattling around here ever since she moved to Belmont.'

‘You'll be looking for something smaller, then?'

‘Not only that; more of my work is now over your side of the county, and it would save a lot of travelling if I moved closer to Marsborough.' A smile came into his voice. ‘There'd be other advantages, too.'

‘Sounds a sensible idea,' Avril said guardedly.

‘I might call on your services to help me look for somewhere. As it happens, I'll be over your way tomorrow; we could discuss it over lunch?'

Tomorrow. Tom's birthday. Well, she'd posted his card. Nothing else was expected – or desired – of her.

‘That would be lovely,' she said.

‘Same time, same place?'

‘I'll be there.'

Avril was thoughtful as she put down the phone.

FIFTEEN

R
ona tried the Craiglea number repeatedly over the next twenty-four hours, but with continued lack of success. In the meantime, though she tried to concentrate on Elspeth's childhood, she was continually distracted.

First came the news that a man who'd been ‘helping the police with their enquiries' on Mary Strong's murder had been released without charge. One week on, and seemingly back to square one. Rona's thoughts strayed to the solid, loyal woman who had shown her over the house. Thank God neither of them had known what was coming.

Then, among Gwen Saunders' notes, she came across a list of private collectors specializing in Elspeth's work, and her mind veered off again. She must contact them at some stage – and, for the first time, wondered how the public would react to Elspeth's reappearance. Would there be a media fanfare, or would she slip back more or less unnoticed?

Oh God, why had she agreed to this biography? Impatiently, she pushed herself away from her desk. What was the point in forcing herself to concentrate, when Lindsey would be here in an hour to take her to Pops? Suppressing a sense of guilt, she switched off the computer and went to make a cup of coffee.

Catherine was at Tom's, as they'd expected, and a selection of minute sausage rolls, vol-au-vents and savouries was set out on the coffee table.

‘You really shouldn't have!' Lindsey protested.

‘Courtesy of M and S, I'm afraid,' Catherine apologized. ‘It's only a snack, but we couldn't have you missing out on your lunch hour.'

Cards and presents were exchanged, drinks poured and the food passed round.

‘So, how's the redecoration going?' Tom asked Lindsey.

‘All finished, Pops, and now open for viewing. When can you both come round?'

‘We'd love to see it, of course, but more importantly, are you pleased with the result?'

‘Very. Can't think why I didn't do it years ago. I'll call you tomorrow, and we can fix a time.'

‘Fine.' Tom turned to Rona. ‘And what of the biography? Coming along all right?'

She wrinkled her nose. ‘So-so. The big news is that the family's now heard from Elspeth, and she'll be home in the spring.'

Lindsey stared at her. ‘You never told me that!' she accused.

‘There hasn't really been the opportunity,' Rona fenced.

‘So where is she?'

‘That, she didn't say, though I've a pretty good idea.'

‘Ro, will you stop being so infuriating!'

‘Sorry, but it's only a guess at the moment.'

Lindsey would have argued, but Tom cut in peaceably, ‘So you won't be involved in a murder case after all! I must say, that's a relief!'

‘Did you look up Miss Burbage?' Catherine enquired.

‘Not yet,' Rona admitted, ‘but I took your advice and got on to Buckford High. The former art mistress was very helpful.'

Catherine nodded. ‘I thought that would be your best bet,' she said.

Lindsey was still sulky when she drove Rona home.

‘I can't see why you're being so all-fired secretive,' she complained. ‘You could at least tell
me
where Elspeth is.'

‘Honestly, Linz, I could be quite wrong, and you know I have to be discreet when working on a bio.'