‘I thought the gang almost always stuck to the lesser known, less expensive artists.’
‘Well - ’ Serena shrugged her shoulders. ‘I guess Zoffany asks for it, in a way. If you’re right, that is.’
‘Oh, I wish you could see Rose for yourself! I don’t think you’d have any doubts then.’
‘Surely we can take Holly’s word for it, can’t we?’ Tim said, weighing in on my side. ‘After all, she saw the woman only yesterday. And I have heard of this happening before. The artist does it instinctively, I understand, not realising he is giving himself away by painting a contemporary face, someone known to him.’
Serena nodded slowly, agreeing with him.
‘Yes. It has been done, I know.’
‘Suppose - ’ I began. Then shut up. The thought that had crossed my mind seemed so bizarre.
‘Go on,’ Tim said. ‘Any suggestion might be helpful.’
‘I doubt this one will. It just occurred to me that maybe whoever painted it might have wanted Rose to be recognised.’ For a moment they both looked at me and said nothing. ‘Does that sound totally ridiculous?’ I added.
‘Not entirely,’ Serena said slowly. ‘I mean, it’s not altogether likely that Piers Craven paints every forgery himself, and it’s therefore not outside the realms of possibility that he could have fallen out with one of the artists. We know he has this kind of arty commune in Wales and it seems logical to suppose that if there’s some kind of scam, then they’re all at it.’
‘Steve Maitland said that one of them — a young man — was killed up there some time ago. Maybe it was because he wanted out. So perhaps if another of them wanted the same thing - ’
Serena had been looking down at the carpet, frowning as if it might give her inspiration if she looked at it long enough, but now she lifted her head slowly and looked at me.
‘I remember,’ she said. ‘He was run over, wasn’t he? Like Jim?’
‘I’m told so.’ I remembered, just in time, that I wasn’t supposed to know what Aunt Caroline had told me. ‘His girlfriend thought it was a suspicious death, Steve said, and tried to get the police interested, but they dismissed it as an accident.’
‘So,’ Serena said, ‘maybe it’s not easy to resign from Piers Craven’s little band of brothers. Maybe whoever painted the le Maire family thought that if he subtly showed his hand by painting a contemporary face, one which someone in the art world might recognise, then the whole operation might be blown apart.’
‘Which could land him in jail,’ Tim pointed out.
‘Maybe the lesser of two evils.’
‘So what do we do?’ I asked.
‘I’ll buy the Zoffany,’ Tim said, and I felt bound to protest.
‘No — it’s too much - ’
‘I can insure against it being a fake,’ Tim said. ‘At least, I think I can. You can insure against most things, at a price.’
‘The paper might be prepared to cover that,’ Serena said. I still felt dubious.
‘It’s still a lot for Tim to find.’ I was feeling responsible, besieged by fresh doubts.
‘Well, I suppose there’s a chance it might not reach a million. The Colmore Family picture is well known and excellent of its kind. This one isn’t quite of the same standard, and it certainly isn’t well known, if at all. It was said to have been discovered in France, in some remote chateau.’
‘Isn’t that a bit suspicious in itself?’ I asked.
Serena shrugged her shoulders again.
‘Not necessarily,’ she said. ‘That’s the way things turn up.’
‘I shall buy it anyway,’ Tim said firmly. ‘If it’s genuine, I’ll be glad to own it. And if it’s not, and proves to be instrumental in exposing Higginson and his cronies, then it’ll be worth it.’
‘But what happens after you’ve bought it?’ I asked. ‘How do we prove it’s a forgery?’
‘There’s a place in Cambridge where these things are tested,’ Serena said. ‘It’s horrendously expensive, but I feel pretty sure the paper will pay for that. After all, we pride ourselves on our investigative journalism.’
‘And if it does prove to be a fake, then Higginson will have some explaining to do,’ Tim said. ‘We would have to make damned sure that the alleged Zoffany was proved to be the tip of the iceberg.’ He beamed round at us, as if savouring this possibility. ‘Well, now — everything seems to be tied up very nicely, then,’ he concluded. ‘I think a drink is called for, don’t you?’
‘Love one, but I must be off,’ Serena said, gathering up her enormous bag and standing up to shrug herself into her cape. ‘I’m a bit late as it is. Forgive me, Tim — I’ll take you up on that drink some other time.’
‘Get those villains behind bars, and it’ll be champagne all round,’ Tim promised.
She left us, and somewhere out of sight Tim poured our drinks, leaving me to look around the room. The chairs and sofa were modern enough, covered in a kind of faded chintz, but there were a few pieces of furniture that looked interesting - a chest of drawers, a bureau, an old carved chest under the windows. There were a couple of watercolours of rural scenes - but no photographs, I noticed. No picture of his wife or daughter. I was curious to know what they looked like and found this rather disappointing.
‘When are you expecting your young man to come home?’ Tim asked as he came back into the room, glasses on a small tray.
‘Sunday, I think. He said he would phone - ’
The front door bell shrilled, interrupting me, and I fell silent.
‘Who the blazes — ? Excuse me a minute. I wasn’t expecting anyone.’ Tim put his drink down and went to open the door, his voice reaching me from the hall. ‘Probably Jehovah’s Witnesses. Or a double-glazing salesman.’
But I could tell by his exclamation of surprise as he opened the door that neither of these guesses were right.
‘Davina, my darling! You could have warned me! When on earth did you get in?’
‘Two hours ago. Heathrow.’
‘You should have said! I’d have met you.’
‘It was a sudden decision. A couple of our lot got a bit too mixed up in Burmese politics and we felt we ought to leave before things turned ugly. Oh, Dad - ’ There was a short silence which I, listening from inside the room, interpreted as time for a quick hug. ‘Dad, it’s wonderful to see you — to be here.’
‘It’s lucky I am here — I could easily have been at Fincote, but there’s a bit of business I have to take care of. I was actually just in the middle — listen, love, why don’t you take your stuff through to the spare bedroom, have a wash and brush-up, and by that time I’ll be totally at your service.’
Not able to avoid eavesdropping from the inner room, I felt even more disappointed and also a little hurt that for some reason Tim seemed determined, not only to keep me away from Fincote but to prevent my meeting his daughter, too. What was wrong with me? Not good enough, after all?
‘Oh, come on Dad, have a heart.’ I heard thumps, as if a bag of some kind was being thrown down in the hall. ‘Can’t you give a poor girl a drink before we start on the washing and brushing-up?’
I couldn’t see what was happening out there, but I sensed that she had stepped round her father and was coming nearer. Two steps and she was round the corner, through the door, and into the sitting room, where I was perched on the edge of the sofa, feeling unusually ill at ease.
I stood up as she came in, determined to show my readiness to leave, if that’s what Tim wanted. She was wearing jeans, a T-shirt that had clearly seen a lot of travelling, and one of those Barbour jackets in much the same condition. Her hair was cut short and curled all over her head, but although I took in all these things in one swift glance, it was her face that made my jaw drop with astonishment.
I could have been looking into a mirror.
Twelve
Tim, coming into the room just behind her, stepped forward a little and put his arm round her shoulders. ‘Davina,’ he said. ‘I want yo
u to meet your half-sister, Holly Crozier. Holly, this is Davina.’
Neither of us spoke, but we continued to stare at each other in astonishment.
‘Why — why didn’t you say?’ I managed to stammer at last. Then light slowly dawned and my astonishment turned to anger. ‘You weren’t going to tell me, were you?’
‘Now come on — sit down, both of you. Have your drink, Holly - ’
‘That’s your answer to everything, isn’t it?’ My bitterness surprised me and I made no move to do what he asked. ‘Is that what you all do — push it under the carpet, cover up any unpleasantness, have a drink and forget it? We have to keep our British upper lips stiff at all costs, don’t we?’ I was shaking, I realised, as I bent to retrieve my purse so that I could storm out.
‘It’s not like that!’ He left Davina and came over to me. ‘Holly — please listen and try to understand. I swear to you that until last evening I had absolutely no idea of your connection with me. Your mother never told me — never dropped the smallest hint! Do you think, if I’d known, I wouldn’t have insisted on seeing her — seeing you! You must believe me. Please sit down and let’s talk about this.’
But it was Davina who sat down, slumping wearily into one of the deep armchairs.
‘I don’t know that I can take this in,’ she said. ‘It’s been the weirdest day. But I agree with Holly, Dad. You’ve got some explaining to do.’
‘I know. And I’m trying to do it. Please sit down, Holly.’
I looked from one to the other, hesitated a moment more, then, slowly and reluctantly, did as he asked. I still felt hurt. It seemed quite obvious to me that without Davina’s untimely arrival, he wouldn’t have admitted to our relationship and would have allowed me to go back to the States quite unaware of my parentage.
‘I’ll get you a drink,’ he muttered to Davina, and headed for the kitchen.
‘Could it be coffee?’ she called after him. ‘I’m quite addicted to instant so don’t go to any trouble.’
For a second, in his absence, there was silence between us. We looked at each other.
‘Well!’ she said. ‘Quite a turn up for the books. Why is one surprised to learn that one’s parents have pasts?’
‘Doesn’t it bother you?’
‘It’ll take a bit of getting used to, I’ll admit that.’ She studied me in silence for a moment, then grinned widely. ‘He had no choice but to come clean, did he? No hope of keeping our relationship dark.’
‘I see now why he didn’t suggest I should visit Fincote.’
One trousered leg over the arm of her chair, Davina half turned as her father came into the room, coffee cup in hand.
‘Thanks,’ she said as she took it from him. ‘Any more skeletons in your cupboard, mystery man? Can either of us expect the odd extra brother or sister to pop out of the woodwork any minute now?’
She was cool, I thought. Even this revelation, young as she was, didn’t seem to have fazed her one bit. I saw them exchange smiles and suddenly I was conscious of the most unworthy feeling of jealousy. Davina was so secure in her father’s love. She knew nothing would alter it; that the affection they shared would be compromised neither by time or circumstances.
Whereas I... I caught myself up short, not wanting to go down that self-pitying road.
Tim came and sat down beside me, turning me round to face him. His expression was serious now. ‘Holly, I swear to you I am telling the truth. When I saw you last night for the first time, it was like a kick in the solar plexus. I knew at once, of course, that I was your father. How could I doubt it? Not only were you the image of Davina, but you were the right age, too. From the first, I had absolutely no doubt that you were the result of the love affair between Martha and me.’
‘But you didn’t say - ’
‘I didn’t know what to say! Put yourself in my place for a moment. I was totally shattered, could hardly string together enough words to say good evening, let alone find the right way to tell you I suspected I was your father! I needed time to think. Damn it, even now it’s only been a matter of hours! I simply didn’t know what to do. I wanted to tell you, but as I said, I’ve been in touch with Frank and Lilian over the years and never once have they mentioned you. Why, I asked myself — and I could only come up with one answer. Your mother hadn’t wanted you to know, otherwise she would have told you. And she hadn’t wanted me to know. That’s why she would never have anything to do with me, not ever. It seemed to me at first that perhaps I should leave well alone. Respect her wishes. Maybe you’d been fond of your father — your supposed father — oh, I know he was a rogue, but even rogues can be lovable, and it occurred to me that it could be a terrible blow for you to find out that he wasn’t your father after all. I felt I had to get to know you better so that I could sum up the situation.’
He paused, looking at me searchingly.
‘One thing I have to tell you,’ he went on, as I remained silent. ‘I thought you were a marvellous girl, and that Martha had done brilliantly without any help from me. So brilliantly, that I wanted to tell you. Wanted to claim you.’
I looked at him, longing to believe him. My tone was still cynical, however.
‘And not doing so had nothing to do with not wanting to rock the boat here, with your wife and daughter?’
He smiled a touch ruefully at that and lifted his shoulders.
‘Well, it can’t be the easiest thing in the world to tell a wife that you have a daughter from a previous relationship, but I have no reason to think that Marian wouldn’t understand and accept you. After all, you were conceived well before I’d ever met her. Neither of us were what you could call young and innocent when we married.’
‘I’ve always wanted a sister,’ Davina said. I looked across at her. Now that I studied her more closely, I could see that she was several years younger than me and that there were other differences in our two so similar faces. Her nose was slightly retrousse, her eyes deeper set. There were other indefinable differences, too. There was a gentleness about her, a confidence that was in no way brash or bumptious but spoke instead of someone who was happy within her own skin. She might be a few years younger than I am, I thought, but it wouldn’t surprise me if she could teach me a hell of a lot.
‘So have I,’ I said.
For a few moments we looked at each other assessingly, and then she smiled.
‘I must tell you something about my dad,’ she said. ‘He’s a good, kind, loving man and I trust him absolutely. He doesn’t tell lies. If only a few of his genes have trickled their way down to me and lodged in my bones then I feel I’ve been blessed. You should feel the same way.’
I glanced at Tim and saw that he was moved by this. He reached out and touched Davina.
‘Thanks, darling,’ he said. He then stretched out his hand towards me and, unable to withstand him further, I reached out and clasped it. ‘I would have told you,’ he said gently. ‘Believe me, I was so proud of you. Proud of you both. Did ever any man have two such beautiful daughters?’
Davina laughed.
‘Improbable as it may seem at this moment, Holly, I do scrub up quite well.’ A yawn seemed to catch her unawares. ‘Oh, sorry! I didn’t sleep a wink last night and very little the night before. It was all a bit hairy, getting to the airport before the security guards got to Jake — the guy who’d been spouting anti-government propaganda. I must say, all this coming on top of it, I feel a bit as if I’ve sleepwalked into a B-movie. How do I know this isn’t a dream?’
‘Because Holly will be around when you wake up,’ Tim said.
‘Well, I’m not going to bed yet! I want to know all about her.’
I knew - had known for some minutes — that Davina and I were likely to be friends. How lucky I was, I thought — how incredibly lucky, that having found a sister she should prove to be someone so immediately warm and likeable. And Tim, too. He, not that glowering, brutal-looking man in the photograph whom I had always unconsciously feared, was my father!
We’d been talking for some time when Tim suddenly leapt to his feet, having just remembered that he was due out to dinner.
‘And I must go,’ he said. ‘Can’t possibly cancel! I’m making the after-dinner speech. And I haven’t even changed yet!’
He rushed off and I stood up, saying that I had to go so that Davina could get some sleep.
She stood up, too, and for a moment, side by side, we looked into the mirror in its heavy gilt frame that hung over the fireplace.
‘We’re not really alike,’ she said. ‘Look — eyes, nose, mouth. All different.’
‘But put together in the same way,’ I pointed out. ‘Somehow the cumulative effect gives the impression we’re identical.’
‘We have the same chins.’
‘So we have!’
‘And cheekbones.’
‘You’re right.’
‘I wish I had your hair! I loathe mine.’
‘I don’t believe it! I used to pray nightly for curls when I was a kid.’
‘Well, aren’t you glad now your prayers weren’t answered?’
‘D’you know,’ I said, suddenly remembering the lady in the cafe where Steve and I stopped for tea, ‘I think I’ve already been mistaken for you. It was in a tea shop in a village called Something Cross, not far from Fincote.’
‘Simmings Cross,’ Davina said. ‘Quite likely! I do meet a friend there sometimes. I say — we might be able to have quite a bit of fun between us... Hey, do you know when you smile like that you look the image of Dad? Aren’t likenesses odd?’ ‘Spooky,’ I agreed. And I felt a small chill as I remembered how much hung on the likeness I thought I had detected between Rose Quigley and the woman in the picture. Suppose I was wrong?
The Caroline Quest Page 17
