‘But Arabella said he never had any of his graduates in his house.’
Cressida sniffed derisively. ‘That’s quite true normally, but he invites certain favoured female graduates.’
She let the rest of her sentence hang in the air for a moment. I stared at her incredulously. ‘Oh, don’t tell me the great Sam suggested you stand up to Stefano in a really definite way by having a one or several night stand?’
Cressida giggled. ‘More or less. Except Sam likes sandwiches.’
I frowned, at a loss, and she giggled again. ‘Three in a bed, the other party being his wife.’
‘Crippen! So what did you do, beat it?’
She nodded. ‘I moved straight into Bosun’s View. It was very peaceful, I rather liked it there. After a couple of fraught weeks with Stefano it was bliss to be a place where the most tension-inducing thing was persuading Mrs Jessop to give you a second cup of coffee, and to go along to follow up seminars where you got ordered around and told what to think. I just drifted for a couple of days, didn’t bother to think about what I was going to do. Can you understand that?’
‘Of course.’
‘Then when you turned up and said Stefano was after my blood for taking the china, I knew he’d found out that the faun had gone but wasn’t saying.’ She looked straight at me. ‘Incidentally, I do know his father almost certainly didn’t find it in a shop in Milan but “liberated” it during the war. All I can say is that if it’s the real one, which incidentally one of Mussolini’s cronies forced the owner to sell to him at a fraction of its worth, the old Count’s sticky fingers saved it from going to Moscow with the Russian army to disappear into a vault somewhere, so maybe it was better off with Stefano.’ I was tempted to point out that if it had been lying in a vault in Moscow it wouldn’t have been hurled at the wall, but decided it wasn’t too tactful. Cressida smiled wistfully. ‘Stefano really believes I’m so naive I’ve never noticed the way he steers anyone who might know too much away from that faun.’
I stared at my interlaced fingers. So Stefano believed that Cressida, with James’s connivance, had helped herself to his favourite object in the world as well as his china collection. Of course as far as Stefano was concerned it must have been James who’d pointed out to Cressida that what they had was no minor copy but a major work of art and one that couldn’t be reported as missing to boot. Even sold through the criminal underworld for a fraction of its true value it would provide Cressida with the ample dowry Stefano claimed she had taken with her. Add to this murky scenario a good dollop of spiteful innuendo from Serena via a so-called journalist which had given it a spurious air of veracity, and perhaps it wasn’t so surprising that a man of Stefano’s volatile temperament had gone completely off the deep end.
‘But surely if you ’fess up to Stefano, maybe tell a few little white lies... you know, you fell over while carrying it and dented it. Leave out the bit about hurling it at high speed into the fire... he’ll be so pleased that, firstly you haven’t been nicking all his things, and secondly you haven’t been having it off with James, he’ll forgive all.’ Her eyes began to brim with tears again and I said flippantly, ‘What’s the problem? Have you lost it or something?’
‘Yes!’ She burst into tears.
It took quite five minutes to calm her down again. What she’d done was one of those classic stupid mistakes you can see coming a mile away when someone else makes it but with a sinking feeling in the stomach acknowledge you’d have been quite likely to make yourself. Sam had taken his rejection in apparent good part and offered to lend her some stuff, useful seasidey things like Wellington boots and a heavy raincoat as well as a selection of books and his wife’s spare hairdryer. They were in the two large carrier bags she had returned to his house on our way to Ashford with a message that she’d included a few of her own books which she didn’t want to take to Paris and Sam was welcome to them. I guessed it before she even told me. She’d wrapped the faun in newspaper and another plastic bag and put it at the bottom of one of the carrier bags. And forgotten it was there. It wasn’t until she was in Paris that she realised that she had inadvertently given it away but consoled herself that, basically being a nice bloke, Sam would give it back as soon as he realised it was a mistake. She’d discovered this evening she’d been wrong.
‘He says,’ she said, sniffing into her tissue, ‘that we don’t make mistakes, that everything we do is because we want it to happen that way.’
‘So if I run over my cat in the car it’s because I really want my cat dead?’ I asked sceptically.
‘Exactly. It sounded a bit funny at the time. Now I don’t think it’s true at all.’
‘It’s complete hogwash.’
‘I told him my husband would never forgive me if he discovered I’d lost his faun in that way but he said that deep down I must want to provoke a confrontation with Stefano - I’ve done that already without having to resort to giving away one of his favourite things, haven’t I?’ she asked quite reasonably. ‘So it is rubbish. And Sam says that one of the most important lessons to be learned from Lifesigns is that you have to take responsibility for your own actions no matter what the consequences.’
‘Of course you do, but I don’t see why that means he is refusing to return something you didn’t mean him to have in the first place.’ It was far more likely that this Sam reckoned he’d got his hands on something that might be worth a fair amount of money, even if he didn’t know exactly what it was he had, than that he actually believed all this sanctimonious cant he’d been spouting at Cressida.
‘Neither do I, but he’s absolutely adamant.’ Her face hardened with a flash of temper. ‘Do you know, he even said he couldn’t give it back to me because it would be bad for my personal development.’
‘The bastard!’
‘He’s worse than that,’ she muttered. ‘When I think of how much I looked up to him... I’m going to finish him. I’ll tell everyone what a fake he is, what a dirty greedy hypocrite, how he can’t keep his octopus-like hands off the women in his seminars...’
Loath as I was to drag her away from her empowering fantasies of revenge, I had to say, ‘We’d better get the faun back first.’
Her face fell immediately. ‘We can’t, unless we break into his house and steal it back.’ She looked hopefully at me.
‘That might be going a bit too far,’ I said firmly, trying to plan on the hoof so to speak, or rather to come up with some better idea on the spur of the moment. There was enough of a risk of a police presence in my life just now without positively inviting it. She shifted back against the pillows, looking absurdly young for a married woman with a husband like Stefano. The simplest ideas are often the best.
‘I’ll tell you what,’ I said. ‘Tomorrow, you and I’ll go down to Folkestone and demand the faun back in person from this Sam. It’s much more difficult to come out with all that choosing your own destiny and meaning all your mistakes rubbish when you’re face to face with a sceptical audience. I bet he thinks he can push you around because you’re pretty and look young and have a gentle manner. He imagines he can pat you on the head and treat you like some dizzy little blonde. He won’t try that with two of us. The last man who tried to do it to me couldn’t walk straight for a week.’ Not true unfortunately, but another black mark in the lie book which is being kept on me in heaven was worth it for the smile that replaced some of the bleak desperation on Cressida’s face.
‘But what do we do if he refuses?’
I gritted my teeth for a moment. Honestly it wasn’t surprising this Sam bloke thought he could pull a fast one and lay claim to an artistic treasure. Sometimes Cressida behaved like a complete wimp. She always expected someone else to come up with the answers. The most she did to help herself was to allow her eyes to fill with tears and then some man would rush in. Maybe she couldn’t help it. Pretty people always have others eager to do things for them, and if you never do anything how can you learn to be independent? Whatever, I found it
pretty exhausting. ‘If he refuses we move to Plan B,’ I said importantly.
‘What’s Plan B?’
Good question. ‘It’s... it’s... you tell Stefano and let him go down and get it back.’
Simple, obvious and very effective.
Of course Cressida didn’t see it that way. Her eyes widened in horror. ‘I couldn’t,’ she squeaked. ‘He’d be furious.’
‘Nothing like as furious as he will be if he thinks you really did go off with the faun,’ I pointed out. ‘He’s going to be beside himself with joy that he’s got you back and, I’ll bet, in a mellow mood too. Tell him a few little porkies about how you came to damage the faun, explain truthfully how you came to give it to Sam, and I can almost guarantee that though Stefano might get cross, if you play your cards right he’ll think it’s the sort of mistake anyone could make. Especially his very pretty, contrite and much adored wife. At the very least he’ll realise you didn’t deliberately give it away.’ She nodded thoughtfully as if it had at last occurred to her what a powerful weapon she had in her ability to wheedle prettily. ‘Then leave the rest to Stefano. He’ll make Sam hand it back. You can be sure of that,’ I said with grim relish. I was rather sorry I wouldn’t be there if it ever came to a confrontation between Stefano and the patronising head of Lifesigns. ‘But, Cressida,’ I fixed her with a stem eye, ‘you really will have to talk to Stefano this time. No more saying you can only get through to his answering machine.’
She looked away. ‘I was frightened to speak to him,’ she said, not bothering to deny it. ‘I told you rows make me feel ill, and I know he’d never really do anything to James. He may have a dreadful temper but he’s not a wicked man. He might have accused James of stealing the china but he really believes that, doesn’t he?’
About as much as he believes pigs are supersonic, I thought, and decided that in the interests of everybody I’d keep quiet for a bit longer about what we’d found in James’s house courtesy of Cressida’s good as gold husband. If she got a sudden crise de conscience and decided she couldn’t possibly live with somebody who was prepared actively to err on the shady side of the law we’d all be in the soup. At least I managed to make her ring the number James had given me for the police officer who had questioned him about the whereabouts of a large collection of missing china. Inspector Lambert kept sensible hours and had gone home but she left a message for him to ring her back first thing in the morning. And I wouldn’t let her get away with fudging the issue this time, I thought firmly as I left her to go to sleep.
I was thinking that some sleep for myself would be no bad thing when Liv came roaring in, eager to catch up on what had been going on. According to her when I’d telephoned I’d been more interested in the welfare of my cat than in passing on news. So we shared one of the presents I’d brought back for her while she lay stretched out on the sofa with her feet comfortably propped up on the arms listening to me Tell All. I had to repeat myself in several places as she quite understandably got confused. She slopped some more of Intermarché’s best into her glass and said thoughtfully, ‘I don’t know why it is that things always seem to happen to you, Laura.’
‘I certainly don’t invite it,’ I said a bit huffily.
‘No, but you seem to be a sort of magnet for trouble.’ It was depressingly like the sort of thing Darian was inclined to mutter in my presence, though her voice didn’t contain Liv’s note of indulgence. ‘Still,’ she went on cheerfully, ‘if this Sam fellow doesn’t give the faun back I know William’s got a whole lot of pig slurry he wants to get rid of. I’m sure he’d be very happy to leave it in Sam’s garden.’
I thought about it for one glorious moment. ‘I wish,’ I said, plumping up the cushion behind me. ‘It’s just what the bloke deserves. But even for you and your lovely blue eyes I can’t see William driving the slurry tanker from Swindon to Folkestone.’
‘Well, he might if it was the EC commissioner who had the bright idea of cutting his subsidy. Are you going to take Daniel down for moral support when you go to Folkestone?’
‘Er, no,’ I said in a strangled sort of tone.
Liv looked up quickly. Sadly she knows me too well, and realised long before I got the chance to make up a face-saving excuse that something was up. ‘Have you dumped him?’
She needn’t sound so enthusiastic about it, I thought crossly. And she needn’t find it so funny either. There was absolutely nothing amusing about Daniel’s taking up with someone who was both fatter and older than me, even if said someone did have a more artistic sensibility. But frankly the early start, the events of the last week and the best part of a bottle of wine meant I couldn’t rustle up the energy to be offended by her misplaced sense of humour. I’d get even later.
‘I shouldn’t worry about it if I were you,’ Liv finally said in a sympathetic voice, obviously thinking my numbly tired expression was masking deep anguish. ‘From what you’ve said about her she won’t have your skill with a washing machine. He’ll be back as soon as he realises his socks don’t make the journey to the laundry of their own accord.’ The slightly sarcastic note was a bit rich coming from her. Until she persuaded William to get a daily to do it she used to do all his washing and ironing. I don’t do ironing. I have enough trouble coping with my own.
I half heartedly threw a cushion at her and yawned hugely. ‘Daniel can come back with his twin brother if he likes, and the local rugby team - especially the local rugby team - but not until I’ve managed to have some sleep.’
Surprisingly enough Liv took this incredibly subtle hint and even helped me wrestle with putting up the sofa bed, an operation which usually requires circus strong man muscles. After five minutes I realised why friends who have stayed overnight never seem to be very keen to repeat the experience. It’s not only staggeringly uncomfortable, but due to the amount of wine that has been spilled over it at one time or another - I sniffed at the arm, some this evening by Liv - it smells like a bar at the end of a long day. Thoroughly put out by my moving resting places Horatio signified his disapproval by walking round and round the bed, so that every time I managed to drop off I was soon woken up by leaden-footed steps up my legs and a heavy weight crashing down on my middle. He finally settled at about three-thirty, comfortably establishing himself in the middle of the bed with the duvet immovably anchored under him, so that I was both short of space and cold. I didn’t dare shift him over in case he started his marathon again.
I was so deeply asleep when Cressida shook my shoulder to wake me that I couldn’t think who she was or what she was doing here. ‘Laura, I’m sorry,’ she whispered, holding a hand to her stomach, ‘I think I need to see a doctor.’
I sat up blearily, blinking back the focus into my eyes. It was still dark outside. ‘What time is it?’
‘Six o’clock. I’ve been trying to hold on until surgery hours but the pain’s awful, and it’s getting worse. I think there really is something the matter with me.’
I took in her lank hair and cheesy pallor. ‘Well, you certainly don’t look the full quid,’ I said frankly. ‘Where does it hurt?’ She pointed to her right side and winced, staggering slightly. I was getting alarmed. My knowledge of first aid is limited to applying a plaster, but even I could see that she should have consulted a doctor hours ago. ‘Come on, I’m going to take you straight to hospital,’ I said, getting out of bed.
‘You won’t leave me there, will you?’ she asked, looking very frightened. ‘I hate hospitals.’
‘Sure, I was planning to chuck you out of the car at the doors to the Emergency Department and leave you to look after yourself. But I suppose if you insist I’ll stay for at least five minutes before I roar off to have a much better time.’
I scrambled into my clothes and threw a few things into a bag for her in case she had to stay. By the look of her it was a near certainty. Luckily, this early in the morning the roads were nearly deserted. My hands were shaking so much I’m sure I’d have wobbled into the oncoming traffic
if there had been any. They were incredibly efficient in Casualty; it took hardly any time for a doctor to see her, just as quickly he had her admitted to the wards as a case of suspected acute appendicitis. Within half an hour she was lying in bed in a small side ward looking young and very scared. She clung to my hand and refused point blank to let me leave, even though the staff nurse said rather frigidly that hospital policy didn’t allow friends to stay while the doctor was examining a patient.
Cressida’s grip tightened as if she was afraid I was about to be removed by force. I wondered if any blood was reaching my hand at all. ‘In that case I won’t be examined,’ she declared tearfully.
Staff Nurse’s capacious bosom rose indignantly while the doctor who, judging by the shadows under his eyes, was nearing the end of a very long shift wiped his hands on his coat. ‘There, there, don’t get upset,’ he said before the nurse could launch into a speech about spoiled young girls who didn’t care for proper hospital routine. ‘I’m sure we can stretch a point just this once.’
‘Thank you, doctor,’ said Cressida with one of her blinding smiles. He beamed back, looking less tired by the second. From his bemused expression he would have been prepared to examine her while wearing a gorilla suit if it would make her happy. He poked, prodded, declared he was fairly sure she needed to have her appendix out immediately but said that he’d like her to have a scan to make sure it wasn’t an inflamed ovary. I had to indulge in an orgy of form filling on her behalf while she was wheeled off to have it. I was still trying to remember where I’d put the piece of paper with her doctor’s address when she came back. ‘The ovary’s absolutely fine,’ she reported gloomily. ‘So it must be the appendix. Laura, I’m so frightened.’
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