Silver Guilt (9 page)

I shushed him with open palms. And walked gently to a glass-fronted bookshelf, crammed with a jumble of filthy Staffordshire pottery figures. I could have got a couple of hundred, maybe a little more, for most. But one wasn't Staffordshire. Nor was it pottery. It was Meissen china.

‘I know it sounds silly,' I said, ‘but I'd love one of your scene of crime officers to check that lock and tell me when it was last used.'

‘You
have
found something.'

‘Yes, but not what you're looking for.'

Arms folded, we watched Hazel, the Scenes of Crime Officer – on whom the standard white jumpsuit was embarrassingly tight – inspect the cabinet.

‘Dust of ages,' she said. ‘God knows when it was last touched. I might get some dinosaur's DNA off it, but—' She pulled a face.

‘So no one's put anything in there recently? In the last twelve months, say?' I said. ‘You're absolutely sure?'

‘Why?' Morris asked.

‘Because I might one day want to get something out of it.'

‘Not now?' The SOCO's hand hovered over the lock.

‘Nope. I try to limit the amount I sell for him, so I can ration his booze intake. He's got loads in his cellars, of course, but he's got some sort of pact with himself not to touch it for everyday use.'

‘Is he all there?' The SOCO touched her forehead.

‘Let's just say I'm glad I've got someone else's genes to balance his.'

Morris looked at me with narrowed eyes. ‘Whatever it is you've found: did you divvy it?'

‘I don't think so. I think this time it was just a case of observation at a level I didn't even notice. Like a batsman picking the wrong 'un.'

This time his eyes were laughing. ‘I didn't have you down as a cricketer.'

‘I didn't know you had me down as anything. Actually,' I admitted, ‘it's not me but Griff who adores cricket. Something to do with the white flannels, I should think. He's not nearly so keen on the coloured pyjamas forms of the game.'

‘Are you? Because I can usually get tickets for one of the big games at Lord's . . . if you wanted, that is . . . But back to this here figure. Talk us through it.'

Not at all sure whether he'd meant to invite me or Griff to Lord's, and not, for a moment, sure whom I hoped he'd meant, I thought I'd stick to the antiques side of the conversation. ‘You can see most of the figures are a bit crude. And one isn't.'

The SOCO peered. ‘That shepherdess?'

‘Exactly. And you're not a divvy, are you?' I laughed. ‘She's Meissen.'

‘And worth—?' Morris prompted.

They whistled in unison when I told them.

‘That's why she's staying where she is – until there's a real emergency.'

‘You don't feel tempted to take her home and look after her?'

‘And have you people suspect I'd nicked her!'

‘Point taken. I'd love you to divvy something, all the same,' he grumbled. ‘We could go to a fair where you and Griff didn't have a stall and you could try there?'

The SOCO shot me a look I couldn't quite read.

Again I played with what Griff would have referred to as a straight bat. ‘Maybe I'll be able to and maybe I won't. It all depends. OK, do you want to do the rest of the rooms?' I asked him and the SOCO equally.

‘I should think Hazel's finished for now. But I certainly need to check them out.'

The News had started by the time Morris was satisfied, and Lord Elham was halfway down his first bottle of the day. He waved the bottle at us as we went into his living room.

‘Get some more glasses, Lina.'

Morris muttered about not drinking on duty.

‘Goodness, this isn't drinking! It's only supermarket piss! Now, tell me, what did you find?' He'd obviously forgotten that he'd been a suspect.

‘Nothing to worry us, sir.' Morris found himself holding a glass. ‘Thank you for your time, and our apologies for any inconvenience caused.'

‘What, did you break something?'

‘With Lina watching?' He flashed a glance at me, his eyes crinkled in what I thought was amusement. ‘We didn't dare. She knows an enormous amount, doesn't she? You must be very proud of her, sir.'

Lord Elham blinked. ‘Oh, I am, I am. And of all the others.'

It would have hurt less if he'd kicked me. So he'd been in touch with my siblings and not told me.

‘All the others?' Morris repeated.

All thirty of them. Blood was whooshing in my ears.

‘All the other times she's been she's always found something worth selling. How do you suppose I keep myself in bubbly? And she bought me a microwave and this TV. Well, I paid, but she took me out to get it. Very proud all round. Are you staying to get me some lunch, Lina? She cooks very well for all she missed finishing school.'

‘Not today,' I said. ‘I've got to see a man about a dog.'

His beady little eyes brightened. ‘You found something, didn't you? I can read you like a book.'

What a good job he couldn't. ‘Something,' I admitted. ‘But I left it where it was.'

‘Why? You know I want you to sell it! She gets such good prices, officer. She's such a credit to me.'

I didn't dare catch anyone's eye. ‘Let's save it for a rainy day,' I said. ‘You've got plenty of other stuff to get rid of first.'

I left with the police officers. The team piled into their van, and a uniformed constable sat drumming his fingers on the wheel while Morris hung back.

‘The old guy really upset you in there, didn't he?'

‘I misheard something, that's all.'

‘All the same . . .' He looked at me the same way as our GP when he thought I might have glandular fever. ‘Are you sure? Is there some family problem?'

Only about thirty of them. I shrugged.

‘Come and have some lunch: there's a pub in the village, isn't there?'

Now why should he spring that on me? And why should I nod cautiously?

The uniformed guy having been sent off with the others in their van, Morris followed me to the Hop Pocket.

‘Low alcohol beer,' he sighed, staring at his glass.

‘Quite. But you didn't ask me here to discuss hair-shirt drinks, did you? By the way, what should I call you? Griff always says you should never drink with anyone if you don't know their Christian name.'

‘Mine's embarrassing, so my friends call me Morris. Well, would you want to be Reginald?'

‘Not in this century, no,' I conceded. ‘OK, Morris – what do you want? Or would I rather not hear?'

‘I'd rather no one else heard. What I said this morning was true. Items have been removed from the public part of the hall, and, as you suggested, by someone who knew his stuff. The only problem I can see is that the easiest place to elude the attentions of the camera is by the access door to your father's quarters.'

One of them, I corrected him silently. I knew of at least two highly unofficial ones. Possibly not even Lord Elham knew them, since if he dropped off while we were watching TV, I used to slip out and explore, for the sheer pleasure of recognizing places I'd been as a tiny child. Until I'd cleaned up his kitchen, I'd often taken plates and other things that were simply too filthy to identify through to the ladies' loos set aside for the visitors who during the summer coughed up a tenner a piece to see a few selected rooms. There was always hot water there. Lord Elham had gone with me through the door he knew about a couple of times to show me rooms he considered he'd lost but which weren't on the public route – his old nursery, for instance. I'd actually been with him when he'd removed stuff from there, but since no one would want his old school books and I valued my own Tim enough not to want to separate anyone from his long-lost bear I'd said nothing.

‘So you're not convinced by this morning's visit?'

He seemed to be pulling his hair out by the roots. ‘Can you imagine how the case would go? Even the thickest duty solicitor would be able to spot that your father isn't . . . hasn't . . . And the evidence would be hell to gather. And the CPS would go bananas. And if it ever came to a trial, you'd be one of the best defence witnesses he could have. And the press would have a field day.'

‘All the same?' I prompted.

‘All the same, something's going on. OK, it has nothing to do with your Hungarian plate. On which that vile old biddy's head should be served to you, by way of apology.'

‘The flowers she sent were nicer,' I said, not letting on who I thought had sent them. ‘A great big bunch,' I added. There was no point in telling him I didn't think she'd had a hand in them. Or that I'd had even more from Piers.

‘But I don't like people to get away with things, Lina.'

I waited while he gave our order. ‘Funnily enough, neither do I.'

‘Y
ou seem to enjoy your outings with Piers,' Griff observed, rather wistfully, a few weeks later.

I touched his nose. ‘You know our pact. If it gets serious, I tell you. But not otherwise.'

I didn't ever go into details about any of the men I'd seen, any more than I wanted to know about Griff and Aidan.

As it happens, I was enjoying the time I spent with Piers. Most of it. We tended to do silly, romantic things that made me laugh but might have made Griff wince.

One of the trips – easy-peasy – was to London. We met at Victoria Station, the train dragging in inch by inch and making me jog up and down with anxiety for over ten minutes in case he didn't wait. But he did. And had a secret smile about his face, the sort Griff had when he'd got a treat up his sleeve.

First we did a few touristy things – all my life I'd lived within a short train journey of London but I'd hardly ever been there. It was too cold to go on the top of a tourist bus, so he suggested we walk instead.

‘Anywhere special you want to see?'

I tucked my arm in his. ‘Burlington Arcade. I love it. Griff's sold stuff to some of the shops there – you know, things outside our usual range. And he's got a mate in one of them who occasionally gets us to sell things that aren't good enough for him to handle. Only he seems to be nicer about it than Nella.'

‘So I should hope. Anything take your fancy?'

We dawdled along. I stopped short outside one of the posher windows. So even top dealers handled dodgy goods. But I didn't want to show off in front of Piers, and since he was looking pointedly at his watch, I said nothing.

‘Are we late for something?' I asked, rather hoping it might be lunch in one of the restaurants Griff took me to.

‘We may be if we don't head there a bit smartish.' He grabbed my hand in a far from romantic way and led me hell for leather up Piccadilly.

It wasn't his fault he'd chosen one treat I could really have done without.

A trip on the London Eye.

I'd never admit to being scared of anything, but I just didn't do heights. Never have done. Probably never will. There were some people I could probably have confessed to as soon as I saw what was planned, but somehow I couldn't tell Piers.

I tried to pretend it was the romance of the occasion that locked me in his arms, my face pressed to his shoulder, but I rather gave the game away when I threw up within half a minute of being let out.

The next trip was better. He taught me to skate on a small rink at the O2 Arena, which was great fun, though I think Griff would have been even more disappointed than I was that we didn't see the Tutankhamun exhibition. We also went to some shows, but not what Griff would have called proper theatre. If, however, like me, you'd only ever heard about
Les Mis
and
Mamma Mia
and
The Lion King
, you weren't going to argue.

‘How about a trip to France?' Piers asked one evening as we said goodbye at Victoria.

‘Wow!' I jumped up and down like a kid.

‘I've got a good deal on Eurostar. Start early, I mean really early, from Ashford. Come back late. See a few sights. Would you like that?'

It was on the tip of my tongue to suggest we stayed over, but that side of our relationship was curiously taboo. Not to mention non-existent. He'd explained, in a fairly buttoned-up way, that he'd been badly hurt in his last relationship and just wanted to take this one slowly. I didn't argue. But like a good Girl Guide I got prepared. I did all you might expect someone like me to do to make sure there weren't any other of Lord Elham's descendants to clutter up the place.

The weather was vile – cold and wet – when we left Ashford at some God awful hour. But Piers had splashed out, and we had a champagne breakfast on the train. There was a slight hiccup as we left Gare du Nord on foot – Piers wanted me to see as much of Paris as I could, but set us going confidently in the wrong direction. At last, we retraced our steps, found a taxi, and he haggled, in confident schoolboy French (quite different from Aidan's smooth but throaty delivery) for a trip round the city. Clearly we ended up where he didn't want to be, and we decamped with a few bad words on both sides. Fortunately Griff had warned me about the amount of walking we'd have to do and insisted I wore shoes I described sulkily as schoolgirl sensible – as if schoolgirls didn't wear platforms and ballet pumps at random these days, whatever the weather. Griff had also pressed a wad of Euros into my hand, with instructions to buy something chic, if Piers forgot I'd never shopped in a boutique before.

In view of the English weather, we'd spent our journey revising our itinerary. The Louvre, we decided, and then Musée d'Orsay. We fetched up at the wrong end of a long queue, outside the Louvre. But we made giggly jokes about queues and Americans and some particularly severe-looking Russians and were generally what Griff would have called a disgrace to our nation.