Second Time Around

by Marcia Willett

  ‘Must be mad,’ said Adrian softly. He let her see how much she attracted him. ‘Not looking for a replacement, are you?’

  ‘Why not?’ The old provocative look was back. ‘I’m a firm believer in mixing business with pleasure.’

  He laughed. ‘I should like to apply for the post. Where do we start?’

  ‘I’m afraid,’ she said, ‘that we start with the business. This commission …’

  ‘Well.’ He thought quickly about the least he could afford commensurate with keeping her on the hook. ‘Shall we say a percentage of the profit? Ten percent?’

  ‘You mean the real profit?’

  He stared at her. ‘Well, of course.’

  ‘You see,’ said Tessa, smiling, ‘I could sell those pieces at the cove myself, couldn’t I? I have to be sure that it’s going to be worth going in with you, don’t I? If I sell the things at the cove I have to split three ways. Of course, they trust me …’

  ‘I’m not quite with you.’ He frowned a little. ‘I can understand that you may want to dispense with me as middle man but you’d have to get rid of the pieces somehow.’ He hid his panic at the thought of losing the profit. ‘You see what I’m getting at? Whoever sells it for you will have to take a cut.’

  ‘True.’ She nodded. ‘But then they might offer us the real value.’

  Her eyes smiled coolly into his and he felt a lurching sensation in his stomach. ‘I don’t … quite understand.’

  ‘Don’t you?’ Her eyebrows lifted. ‘Let me be clearer. I could sell those pieces at the cove without telling the old ducks their real value. I could give them a bit but they won’t have any idea of the profit I should make. But that cuts you out and if we’re going to be partners I’d want to start fair.’

  He decided to bluff it out. ‘I’m still not with you.’

  ‘Pity.’ She pushed her mug aside and stretched back in her chair. ‘I really thought you might be up to playing it straight for a moment. You see I’m not just thinking short term. I know a lot of people we could … help.’

  Adrian was silent. If only he could be certain that she really knew the truth; if he could trust her. The golden eyes watched him coldly; presently she began to chuckle.

  ‘You’ve disappointed me,’ she said. ‘I thought you were in a different class.’

  For some reason this stung him. ‘I’m not saying I’m not prepared to deal,’ he said slowly, ‘but it’s a big step.’

  ‘It certainly is.’ She was still smiling. ‘Who wants to share a profit of five thousand pounds?’

  ‘Five thousand … ?’

  She pursed her lips. ‘Give or take. Isn’t that what you stand to make on the Regency writing table you’ve offered my cousin four hundred pounds for? And that nice eighteenth-century stick-back armchair? Fifty quid, was it?’ She was laughing openly now. ‘How much did you get for Mrs Carrington’s bureau? And that little Georgian chest? Come on.’ She leaned across the table and touched his hand. ‘I know lots of Mrs Carringtons. You should see the Queen Anne walnut tallboy upstairs. Don’t look so worried. I shan’t be greedy. After all, you have to get rid of the stuff.’

  He was still too badly shaken to respond easily and she squeezed his hand encouragingly. ‘I … may have misjudged a few items,’ he began.

  ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake,’ she said impatiently. ‘Look, let’s forget it. I’ll arrange to get rid of the pieces from home. Now you’ve so kindly valued them Will and Bea won’t expect much. I shall make a good profit and it will go a long way to sorting me out. It just seems a bit short-sighted, that’s all, but I don’t blame you. And you’ve got your girl in your London office to square, haven’t you? Myra, isn’t it?’ She shook her head at him. ‘Who else knows that it’s a dingy little room, up four flights in a back street? All that knitting she gets through! Is it your baby she’s expecting?’

  ‘OK.’ He stood up, frightened but fighting to stay in control. ‘So you’ve checked it all out, have you?’

  She smiled at him. ‘What did you expect? I don’t go into things blind. Myra had no idea she was being checked. She thought that I was looking for a friend who was supposedly living in the building. Look,’ suddenly she was serious again. ‘Let’s just forget it, Adrian. I understand how you feel but I hoped we might be able to get together, in more ways than one.’

  He looked down at her and she shrugged and crossed her legs. He began to smile a little, beginning to feel that he might trust her after all.

  ‘Perhaps,’ he said slowly. ‘Perhaps you’ve got an idea.’

  ‘Oh, I’ve got plenty of ideas,’ she said suggestively—and hesitated, looking up at him. ‘Is it your baby?’ she asked.

  The change of tone, some note of—what was it? Could it be jealousy?—gave him a much-needed surge of power. His confidence came back and he grinned at her. ‘Not as far as I’m concerned,’ he said. ‘So. Where do we start this new partnership.’ His eyes moved over her. ‘What about this tallboy upstairs?’

  She laughed at him. ‘First things first. Let’s talk about ways and means. I’m not as experienced as you are—’ he raised his eyebrows—‘in antiques. Tell me how we go about it.’

  He perched on the end of the table. ‘You look over the things and get the lie of the land. Go for the oldies. Find out if there’s a cash shortage. If there is, you bring me in when you’re on your own so that I can have a good scout round. Even with the Antiques Roadshow on TV every Sunday it’s amazing how gullible people are. I suggest that we use the ploy of the leaflet through the door so that no one suspects the connection. You leave one behind. I can cover my tracks. Not so easy for you. But don’t worry. I stay well within the letter of the law.’

  She stared thoughtfully at the table. ‘Sounds OK. How do I know you won’t cheat on me? I can’t check every piece thoroughly.’

  ‘I won’t cheat. Why should I?’ He hauled her to her feet. ‘Why should I risk the goose who lays the golden eggs. And talking of lays …’

  He bent to kiss her but she held him off. ‘Sure it’s not your baby? She spoke of you with great affection.’

  ‘That’s her problem.’ He strained her towards him.

  ‘Hang on!’ He swung round sharply at the sound of the voice behind him and blinked into the flash. ‘Thanks.’ Giles quickly took another photograph as Adrian gaped at him and smiled as he lowered his camera. ‘Nice one,’ he said and frowned. ‘Good God,’ he said slowly. ‘Andy Petersen.’

  ‘Andy … ?’ Tessa moved away from Adrian and folded her arms across her breast. ‘Who did you say?’

  ‘His name’s Andy Petersen,’ said Giles. ‘We were at university together. He had a nice little line in crime going even then. Same principle. Preying on the weak and vulnerable.’

  After one exclamation, Adrian Pearson stood still and watchful. ‘Giles Webster,’ he said scornfully. ‘Always so upright and boring. You’ve got nothing on me. Everyone has a free choice, remember. I’ve never made anyone do anything against their will. I suggest things; they respond. I don’t force them. I never make a valuation, I offer what I think I can get for something. They don’t have to accept.’

  ‘How can you?’ asked Tessa. She looked tense and distressed. ‘How can you deliberately cheat people like Mrs Carrington? Or Will and Bea? You pretended to be so kind and sympathetic.’

  ‘You put on a pretty good act yourself,’ he reminded her. ‘Quite the little tart, weren’t you? So what are you going to do with the photographs? Send them to Crimewatch and make even bigger fools of yourselves.’

  ‘No, no.’ Giles set his camera on the table. ‘I’m going to write an article about you and send it with the photograph to every paper that will carry it. Plus interviews and photographs of Mrs Carrington and Bea and Will. Good human interest. I can even write up one or two little memories of our university days. Remember Johnny Staines? Did you see that he hanged himself, he was so badly in debt? Well, I think it might be worth recording. What do you think?’

  ‘I thi
nk you’re the prig you always were. You honestly think anyone will print such rubbish?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ said Giles quietly. ‘And so do you. You’ll have to be careful when you knock on the next door, won’t you? … Watch out!’

  His warning was too late. Adrian pushed Tessa out of his path and made a grab for the camera. Their hands reached it together and knocked it to the floor. As Giles bent to retrieve it, Adrian seized a chair and brought it down on the back of his head. Giles gave a grunt and toppled forward, cracking his forehead on the dresser and slumping to the floor. Adrian kneeled above him, pulling the camera from Giles’s slack hands whilst Tessa tried to drag him away.

  ‘You bastard!’ she shouted at him. ‘You absolute bastard. You’ve hurt him.’

  ‘Get off, you silly bitch,’ he muttered, thrusting her violently away from him.

  Caught off balance she fell heavily and Adrian made a leap for the back door and, wrenching at the handle, disappeared.

  ‘JUST HERE,’ SAID SEBASTIAN. ‘Oh. Looks like she’s got visitors. Never mind. I can see her car up by the garage. Come on in and say hello.’

  Rob pulled in just beyond the gate and they climbed out and strolled up the drive together.

  ‘Nice spot,’ said Rob appreciatively. ‘Just on the edge of the moor here and handy for the town … Hello!’ His voice changed. ‘What the … ? Grab him, Seb!’

  The man, who had come racing round from the back of the house, hesitated and swerved away but Rob, sprinting after him across the lawn, brought him down in a rugby tackle. Sebastian bent to pick up the camera which had shot from his grasp and hauled the man to his feet.

  ‘Inside,’ he said. ‘Quick. Hang on to him, Rob. I want to check that Tessa’s OK.’

  They frogmarched him round to the back door at a run and pushed him inside.

  ‘Christ!’ Sebastian let go of the man’s arm and dropped the camera on the table. ‘What the hell’s going on?’

  Tessa stared up at him and her gaze went beyond him to Rob who had Adrian held in a half-nelson. ‘You caught him,’ she cried. ‘Don’t let him go. He hit Giles with a chair. I think …’ her voice wavered, ‘I think he’s dead.’

  ‘Have you called an ambulance?’ Sebastian was on his knees beside Giles, reaching for his heart, his eyes on the gash across his forehead. He took the tea towel with which Tessa had been attempting to staunch the flow of blood. ‘For God’s sake, Tessa, stop wailing and call a bloody ambulance! And then get on to the police.’

  As Tessa disappeared into the hall, Adrian struggled violently, swearing at Rob, who forced him down into a chair and grappled his arms behind him. ‘Got something to tie him with?’ he asked breathlessly.

  ‘Here.’ Sebastian grabbed Felix’s lead and together they secured Adrian firmly.

  Tessa came back. ‘They’re on their way,’ she said and went back to crouch beside Giles.

  ‘He’s not dead,’ said Sebastian. ‘What the hell’s been happening?’

  ‘He’s a con man,’ said Tessa, her eyes fixed on Giles’s pale face. ‘He’s been cheating old people. He tried it on Will and Bea and we decided to set him up to frighten him. He admitted it to me and then Giles appeared and took a photograph of him so that he could send it to all the papers as a warning. He tried to get the camera and when Giles bent to pick it up he hit him with the chair.’ She swallowed. ‘He hit his head on the dresser as he went down. And then Adrian … Andy knocked me over and made a run for it.’

  ‘What did you call him?’ asked Rob curiously.

  ‘He calls himself Adrian Pearson but Giles recognised him from university. His name’s Andy Petersen.’

  ‘Perhaps we should have taken him down to the hospital ourselves,’ said Sebastian, watching Giles. ‘How long will they be?’

  ‘I don’t know. The hospital’s not far away.’ Tessa stared up at him, her eyes full of tears. ‘Do you think he’ll … ? Oh God. It was all my fault, you see. I couldn’t bear to see him getting away with it. Conning these old people like Mrs Carrington. It was my idea to set him up. Oh, Giles.’ Her lips shook and holding his limp hand tightly she pressed it to her cheek and burst into tears.

  Sebastian stared down at her thoughtfully and then glanced at Rob who looked uncomfortable. Adrian, his jaw set, stared at the table and tried surreptitiously to free his hands. There was silence except for Tessa’s sobbing. The peal of the front doorbell made them all jump and Tessa looked quickly at Sebastian as Rob went out into the hall.

  ‘I’m going with him to Derriford,’ she said. ‘You’ll deal with … him, won’t you?’

  ‘The police will want a statement from you,’ he told her. ‘You’ll have to tell them what happened.’

  ‘I know. But they’ll have to wait. I’m staying with Giles.’

  ‘Yes,’ he said gently. ‘Yes, love. I can see that. Don’t worry. I’ll sort everything out.’

  She continued to look up at him, Giles’s hand still clutched in her own. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry, Sebastian.’

  He smiled reassuringly at her and touched her lightly on the cheek. ‘Forget it,’ he said. ‘Don’t worry. Everything will be OK, kiddo. Just trust your Uncle Seb.’

  Thirty-two

  ISOBEL PUT AN EMPTY cardboard box on the kitchen table and began to fill it with carefully wrapped plates. The cottage was being gradually stripped of Isobel’s character and warmth. It was beginning to look now as it had looked four years ago when she had come to see it and Mathilda had shown her round. Thanks to Will she could remember Mathilda now with love and gratitude; the guilt was gone. Isobel wandered to the window and stared out at the sea which pounded across the beach, creaming over the sand, and sending spray high over the rocks. The autumn was here and the equinoctial storms would soon be upon them. She knew how terribly she would miss this view and the cove but she had made up her mind and nothing would detract her. Through a friend with whom Helen worked, they had heard that there was a part-time vacancy for an assistant at the local crèche and Isobel had immediately made an appointment to be interviewed for the post. She had been honest about her situation hoping that, once Helen’s baby was born, the child could accompany her to work and, to her delight and surprise, she had been offered the job on those terms. She was much happier now that she had something of her own to look forward to, and the money would be useful, but it would be a wrench to leave all that she had come to love, here in the cove.

  Isobel glanced at her watch. She had arranged to meet Pat with the other two bookshop assistants, Laura and Louise, for a farewell lunch and, abandoning the packing, she collected her bag and hurried out. As she drove through the familiar lanes to Kingsbridge she remembered how Bea and Will had reacted to her news. She knew that Bea thought her quite mad to give up her work and her home for her daughter. She was shocked that Helen had asked it of her and had been unconvinced by Isobel’s attempts to reconcile her to a different point of view. To begin with, Isobel had found it difficult to come to terms with the idea of sacrificing her own life for Helen’s and, at first, it was almost wholly guilt which had persuaded her that she must support her daughter. Later she thought about it more carefully. It was no more selfish of Helen to make such a request than it had been of Isobel to leave husband and daughter to pursue her own idea of happiness.

  ‘Like mother, like daughter,’ she had muttered disconsolately to herself. ‘Except that I was forty-two and Helen is only twenty-one.’

  Bea’s reaction had made it much more difficult to be confident about her decision and even Will, whom she had counted on for comfort and support, had been strangely reticent. She remembered that afternoon clearly. Helen had gone back to Modbury when Will and Bea arrived home from their day in Tavistock. She had given them time to get indoors and, unable to keep it to herself any longer, had gone hurrying over.

  ‘But it’s madness, my dear.’ Bea had stared at her in consternation across the Georgian breakfast table. ‘You can’t be expected to give up everything. There are
excellent crèches and nurseries now for working mothers.’

  ‘But she needs me!’ Isobel had cried. ‘Can’t you see that if I let her down now I shall never have a relationship with her? This is my chance to make up for abandoning her. And be fair, Bea! Surely it must be better for a baby to be with its grandmother than with strangers. It’s a bit different when it’s three or four years old but a new baby … ?’

  ‘I should have thought a new baby would find it easier than a three-year-old,’ Bea had said stubbornly. ‘It knows nothing at that stage. It should be able to adapt to anything.’

  Isobel had looked helplessly at Will. Even now, three months on, she remembered the look of shock on his face. She had been surprised; surely Will was too broad-minded to be so deeply affected by Helen’s lapse.

  ‘Will?’ she’d said pleadingly. ‘What do you think? Am I mad? She’s frightened, you see. She’s got no one to turn to. She needs me.’

  ‘Yes,’ he’d answered quietly. ‘I quite understand that. It was you that I was thinking of …’

  ‘I know.’ She’d smiled at him gratefully. ‘But I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I refuse her. I let her down badly when I went off with Mike and, now that Simon’s got Sally, I think that Helen really feels that she’s on her own.’

  ‘It must be very frightening for her,’ he’d said quietly.

  He had sighed heavily as he turned away to feed Sidney and she’d suddenly realised that he would miss her. She had been so taken up with Helen’s news and the shock of it all that, for a moment, she had completely failed to understand his sadness.

  ‘I shan’t be far away,’ she’d said consolingly. ‘Bristol’s not far. I shall come and see you. I’ll bring the baby.’

  ‘When will you go?’ asked Bea. ‘As soon as the baby is born? When is it due?’

  ‘At Christmas,’ said Isobel, her eyes still on Will’s back. ‘But I shall go before then. She’ll get dreadfully tired, working full time. I can help her then.’