Rogue in Porcelain (7 page)

‘Who handed it in?' Rona asked after a moment.

‘The wife of a local vicar.' Another pause, then: ‘Have you any friends in the area, who might have jotted down your address?'

‘No, I don't even know anyone in Surrey. So what happens now?'

‘We'll keep the bag in Lost Property, and if no one claims it within a certain time, it'll be disposed of. It's not as though there's anything of value.'

The policewoman waited, and when Rona made no comment, continued, ‘I'm sorry to have troubled you, Ms Parish, but if you remember anything that might identify the owner, perhaps you'd let us know.' She gave a phone number and reference, which Rona wrote down, and rang off.

‘What the hell was that all about?' Max demanded.

‘You heard most of it. A handbag was found in Reigate with a piece of paper in it, giving my name, address and phone number.'

‘It could have been supplied by
Chiltern Life
.'

Rona shook her head emphatically. ‘They never give out private details. It's weird, Max. We
don't
know anyone living in or near Reigate, do we?'

‘Not that I recall, no, but I suppose someone could have been passing through.'

‘And why didn't she – and it has to be a she – report losing the bag? It must have contained credit cards, not to mention house and car keys, and quite likely a mobile as well.'

‘The point is,
how
did she lose it?' Max mused. ‘It could have been snatched by a mugger, or pinched during a break-in, or simply taken from under her chair in a restaurant.'

‘Whichever way, you'd report it, wouldn't you?'

‘Not, perhaps, if it was in an incriminating place.'

‘
Incriminating?
'

‘Somewhere the owner had no reason to be.'

Rona shook her head dismissively. ‘It was
found
in some bushes; there'd be no way of telling where it had been taken from.'

‘Then there might have been something in it she didn't want to be linked with – drugs, say. For all she knows, they, or traces of them, could still be in the bag.'

Rona picked up her glass and drank from it. ‘We can speculate all night, but the fact remains that an unknown person has been walking round with my name and address in her handbag. Not a very comfortable thought.'

‘I admit it's odd, but there has to be a logical explanation.'

‘I'd certainly like to hear it.'

‘Well, there's no point in worrying, so sit down and relax while I make a start on the meal.'

After a moment Rona shrugged, and pulled out a chair. ‘The Curzons were amazed when I said you did the cooking. Not in their scheme of things at all.'

‘Let's face it, it's not in most people's. Generally speaking, it's the women who do the cooking, whether or not they go out to work. I hope you realize how lucky you are.'

‘Oh, I do. Talking of cooking, I told Barnie we'd fix a date for them to come to supper. Dinah's feeling rather down, now Mel and the family have left.'

‘Fine by me. This week's out, of course, with the visit to Tynecastle, but next Wednesday or Friday would be OK, if they're free. Now, how about making yourself useful, and peeling some potatoes?'

Four

L
indsey, who lived out of town, had offered to collect Rona on her way to supper with their mother, to avoid taking two cars. On the drive out to Belmont, the suburb where Avril lived, Rona told her about the mysterious handbag.

‘Creepy!' was Lindsey's less than reassuring comment.

‘Don't mention it to Mum,' Rona warned her. ‘She'd only panic that there's a stalker after me, or something.'

‘Perhaps there is,' Lindsey rejoined.

‘Well, at least it's a female one. Max says there must be an explanation, but I can't think of one. I've never been near Reigate in my life.' She flicked a sideways glance at her sister. ‘Did you see Jonathan today?'

‘Of course I saw him,' Lindsey said testily. ‘We work together, don't we?'

‘You know what I mean.'

Her sister sighed. ‘There wasn't a chance to talk privately, but frankly, I didn't want one.'

‘You haven't changed your mind?'

‘About finishing with him? Not really.'

‘What do you mean, not really? You're not having second thoughts, are you?'

‘Oh God, I don't know, Ro. He has a point, though, hasn't he? Provided Carol doesn't find out, we're not hurting anyone.'

‘I just don't
believe
you!' Rona said flatly.

‘I'm not sure I believe myself. Anyway, we'll see what transpires with Hugh this weekend.'

Perhaps fortunately, the conversation was cut short by their arrival at Maple Drive, and Rona braced herself for this first visit to the house since her parents' separation.

Avril opened the door to them, trim and attractive in plum velvet. An appetizing smell of garlic pricked at their nostrils as they hung their jackets on the hall stand, now bereft of their father's overcoat. Otherwise, Rona thought, relief mingling with indignation, the house looked surprisingly the same.

As though to negate the impression, Avril said eagerly, ‘Shall I show you the alterations before we sit down?'and at their assent led the way upstairs and into her bedroom. On the right-hand wall, where Tom's wardrobe had always stood, a doorway now led into an en suite, converted from the old box room
next door.

‘It's lovely, Mum,' Lindsey exclaimed, taking in the ivory fitments and pale blue tiling.

‘You wouldn't believe the problems I had!' Avril told them. ‘First there was a delay in delivery, then when the units did arrive, they were the wrong size and I couldn't close the door, so we had to start all over again. The guest room was just as bad; the decorator had barely stripped the walls when he went down with flu, and was off for two weeks.'

‘Let's see the finished result, then,' Rona prompted, and they crossed the landing to the other front room, where their grandmother, now dead, had stayed on her infrequent visits. Redecorated and with new curtains and bed cover, the ambience was altogether fresher than Rona remembered, and though the familiar furniture remained, including the button-back chair that had been Grandma's, a drop-leaf table now stood in the window, and a small television in one corner.

‘You've done wonders with it,' Lindsey said warmly.

‘The curtains only arrived yesterday. I was on tenterhooks in case they wouldn't be up in time for you to see them.'

‘It all looks lovely, Mum,' Rona told her. ‘Now all you need is an occupant.'

‘I may have some news on that front, too,' Avril said happily. ‘Come downstairs and I'll tell you about it over a drink.'

‘You've surely not had a reply already?' Lindsey asked, when they'd all seated themselves.

‘Not to the ads, no. But it turned out that Mary Price, who works at the library, has a friend at the school, and when she happened to mention I was looking for a lodger, this woman said she knew of someone who might be interested. A new teacher is due to start after Easter, and so far she's not found anywhere to live. Mary passed on my name, and I'm waiting to hear from her. It would certainly be a bonus if it could be settled so quickly.'

‘Oh – I almost forgot.' Rona leaned over to retrieve her bag from the floor. ‘I've a present for you.'

‘But you brought some wine; that's more than—'

‘This is a little extra,' Rona told her, handing over a small package and watching with a smile as she unwrapped it. Inside was a china marmalade pot and spoon, and as Avril exclaimed with pleasure, Rona added, ‘It's to mark your venture into B&B.'

‘Oh darling, it's lovely!' Avril jumped up and went to kiss Rona's cheek. ‘It's Curzon, isn't it?'

‘Yes; I was at the pottery on Wednesday – I'm going to feature them in the series. I had a wander round the shop, and when I saw that, I couldn't resist it. I'm assured it's in this year's design – scenes from the Chilterns. I think that one's the Bridgewater Monument.'

Seeing her mother's delight in the gift, Rona marvelled again at the change in her. For several years she'd let herself go, not bothering with make-up, wearing the same dreary clothes and, even worse, continually criticizing her husband and daughters. Ironically, it had taken the end of her marriage to shake her into a realization of what she had become. Now, with an attractive new haircut, her recovered sense of style, and an interesting job to stimulate her, she seemed a different woman. Too bad it had come too late to save her marriage.

Half an hour later, it was apparent that Avril's cooking too had transformed itself. She'd always been a good plain cook, happiest with roasts and casseroles, but this was nothing like the ‘stew' Rona remembered from childhood. Beef, mushrooms, peppers and garlic blended to form a delicious combination, served with a bowl of fragrant Thai rice. It was almost, Rona thought, up to Max's standard.

Dessert was pavlova, also an innovation, and as she served it, Avril glanced from one daughter to the other. ‘Have either of you spoken to your father today?'

They both shook their heads.

‘Then you won't know that we had lunch together.'

There was a startled silence. Lindsey was the first to find her voice. ‘Really? How did that come about?'

‘We bumped into each other yesterday, in Guild Street, and as it was nearly one o'clock and neither of us had eaten, he suggested we join up. It was – very pleasant.'

‘Well, that's – great,' Rona said lamely.

Avril gave her a brittle smile. ‘Don't worry, I'm not under any illusions that we'll get back together. Too much water under the bridge for that, on both sides. But it's nice that we're able to meet on friendly terms again. And I really have you and Max to thank for that, for more or less insisting we all spent Christmas together.'

And a traumatic day it had been, Rona recalled, though not due to her parents.

Impulsively, she laid a hand over her mother's. ‘I'm really glad, Mum,' she said.

Charles Curzon glanced at his wife, half-hidden behind the evening paper. ‘Oliver tells me the journalist turned up yesterday, and had lunch with them.'

Sybil lowered the paper. ‘How did she seem?'

‘They were quite impressed with her, Finn particularly. They think she'll do a good job.'

‘And publication will be over the anniversary?'

‘That's the idea.'

‘What about that suggestion of yours, to make her privy to Genesis?'

Charles pushed out his lower lip. ‘Time enough to consider that; I'll need to meet her myself and form my own opinion. At the moment, though, I'm far more concerned with this move of ours. I must say, I'll be glad when it's over.'

‘So shall I.' Sybil looked about her. ‘I thought I'd be upset to leave, having lived here for so long, but actually I'm quite looking forward to it. There are so many rooms we no longer use, and since all the family's nearby, there's no call for them to come and stay. We'll be much cosier and more compact at Coppins.'

Coppins was a large manor house on the edge of town, recently converted into luxury apartments.

‘My only regret is having to get rid of so much,' Charles replied.

‘Well, the boys have taken a fair bit, but you have to admit neither of them has room for those large pieces, especially Nicholas in his bachelor pad.'

‘Some of them have been in the family for generations,' Charles said gloomily.

‘Then offer them to the museum. They'd be glad to have them – old Frederick's desk, for example. Then you needn't feel you're parting with them.'

Charles's face brightened. ‘Sybil, you're a marvel! That's a splendid idea. Once we start enlarging the museum, there'll be plenty of space, and in the meantime they can be stored in the back room.'

‘Talking of the move, James and Elizabeth have invited us for supper on the day, to save us the bother of cooking. Elizabeth sounded quite envious; I shouldn't be surprised if in a year or two they follow us to Coppins.'

‘There mightn't be anything available,' Charles reminded her. ‘We were lucky to get in on the ground floor, in both senses of the term.' He smiled sheepishly. ‘And I'm not sure I'd like my brother and sister-in-law literally on our doorstep, however fond I am of them. Our living in the same town has been an advantage in many ways, but the same building is another matter.'

‘Well, I shouldn't worry about it, it was only an impression. They might feel the same about living close to us!'

‘Indeed. Only another week to go. Did I tell you the boys have volunteered their services for unpacking the crates?' He glanced out of the uncurtained window to where lawns and flowerbeds spread away into the darkness. ‘It will be good this summer to have all the pleasure of a garden, with none of the responsibility.' He straightened. ‘Yes, my love; it took us a long time to reach this decision, but I think we've done the right thing.'

‘I'm sure of it,' Sybil said equably, and, with a fond smile at her husband, she returned to her paper.

On Fridays, Max's only commitment was to his own work. At the moment, this consisted of a commissioned calendar of local views – which he'd almost finished – and an eighteenth birthday portrait of the Lord Lieutenant's daughter. Today, he'd elected to work on the latter.

After a quick breakfast, therefore, he went up to the studio, slotted a CD into the machine and, as the room filled with music, sat down at his easel. The girl had given him a couple of sittings, and he'd a sheaf of photographs and sketches from which to work, but as he picked up his brush, his thoughts were elsewhere.

That evening, he and Rona were flying up to Tynecastle to spend the weekend with his sister Cynthia and her family. The main object, though, was to see his father, who'd not been well. In fact the state of his health had necessitated a flying visit last December – the first time Max had seen him in over a year, which, though the fact had not previously concerned him, had since become a source of guilt. On that occasion Rona hadn't accompanied him, as the old man would then have refused to discuss his ailments and Max needed his undivided attention. But both father and sister had requested her company on his next visit, which he'd promised would not be too far distant. In the event it was now three months, longer than he'd intended, but regular phone calls had reassured him that the old man's health was slightly improved. He'd even started to paint again, a sure sign that Roland Allerdyce, Royal Academician, was on the mend.