Rogue in Porcelain

by Anthea Fraser

  ‘Couldn’t you excuse yourself?’ A note of irritation.

  ‘No; it’s a bit complicated, but it’s my future stepmother’s birthday, and we’re meeting her family for the first time.’

  ‘I see.’ Clearly, he didn’t.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Lindsey said, and waited with crossed fingers. Make or break time, she told herself; if he rang off without suggesting another date, she’d never hear from him again.

  ‘Are you free on Tuesday evening?’ he asked abruptly, and she breathed a huge sigh of relief.

  ‘Yes, I think so.’

  ‘Then we could at least have dinner, albeit in less exotic surroundings.’

  ‘I’d like to. Thank you.’

  ‘Very well. I’ll call for you at seven thirty.’

  ‘I live at—’

  ‘I’ll find you,’ he said, and rang off.

  Lindsey lowered herself slowly into a chair, her heartbeats nearly suffocating her. Easter in Paris! If only she’d been free to go with him! But at least he’d suggested an alternative. She reached for the phone, then stopped herself. Max would be home, and she didn’t want to appear foolish. She’d tell Rona on Saturday.

  Good Friday. Somehow, Avril had been expecting to spend it with one or both of the girls. But she must be reasonable, she told herself; they had their own lives to lead, and they’d all be meeting at Rona and Max’s for Sunday lunch.

  Sunday lunch. The phrase was laden with memories, layer after layer of them, the earliest going back to when the girls were young, and were allowed, once a month, to choose the weekend joint. Rona always chose beef, she remembered, and Lindsey lamb. There would be roast potatoes and two vegetables, with either Yorkshire pudding, mint or apple sauce, depending on the meat. And dessert was invariably served with fresh cream – the only meal of the week so blessed.

  Later, Sunday lunches had become less happy affairs. During her slide into irritation and depression, she knew the continuing tradition became an irksome duty which her daughters – not to mention her husband – would happily have foregone, but to which she had clung doggedly, as to the last remnants of happier days. And now it had come full circle, and it was she who received the invitation.

  With a sigh, Avril went into the kitchen to prepare her lunch, eying almost malevolently the single pack of hot cross buns lying on the table. Times were when two or three packs would not have sufficed. On one occasion, she remembered, the twins had made them during a cookery lesson at school. Lindsey’s had turned out very creditably, while Rona’s were a total disaster – perhaps contributing to her lifelong dislike of cooking.

  Cheese on toast, Avril thought, starting to prepare it. And there was a piece of salmon for this evening. The rule of no meat on Good Friday still held, though it wouldn’t have occurred to her to go to church. And this afternoon she planned to put the final touches to Sarah’s room.

  Sarah’s room, she repeated to herself. Not Julia’s. She must forget Julia had ever been here, had perched on this table on her return from work, making Avril laugh with her impersonations of the pompous men she’d met. Julia, who, when pressed to report anything lacking in her room, had suggested a small kettle and tray might be useful, so tea or coffee could be made without going down and disturbing Avril. That had already been put into effect, and it was Sarah who would benefit – Sarah, who was most unlikely to perch anywhere, or to regale Avril with tales of her day.

  Slowly, insidiously, the tears spilled down her cheeks, and Avril wept yet again for the young woman who’d met such a brutal end.

  Jenny Bishop awoke on the Saturday morning with a vague feeling of malaise. The prawns they’d had last night? she wondered. She lay on her back, letting her thoughts drift while her hands, splayed on her stomach, savoured the movements of the child inside her.

  Daniel stirred. ‘Cup of tea?’ he offered sleepily.

  She felt the bile rise in her throat. ‘Not at the moment, thanks.’ God, she hoped she’d be all right for the lunch. It would be tricky enough meeting her future relatives, without wondering if she’d time to dash to the ladies’. Catherine was so anxious all should go smoothly.

  Of course she’d be all right, she told herself firmly. Mind over matter. It worked every time. She reached out a hand to her husband.

  ‘Could I change my mind about the tea?’ she asked.

  As arranged, Max and Rona collected Lindsey soon after eleven, and the early departure proved a wise decision. The roads were clogged with traffic and there were constant hold-ups, partially explained by there being several garden centres along their route – a magnet for family outings on holiday weekends. Rona wondered how her father and Catherine were faring.

  In fact, they arrived just as Rona, Max and Lindsey were getting out of their car, and they walked together to the main entrance of the restaurant. It opened into a bar-cum-foyer, where people studied the menu over drinks as they waited for their tables.

  A young man stood up and waved, and Catherine led the way to join him. Introductions were performed, and Rona took immediate stock. Daniel Bishop was tall and thin, and although he had his mother’s smile, there was little resemblance between them. He was, frankly, better looking than Catherine, and there was something engaging about his slightly unruly hair and easy charm. Rona decided she approved of her prospective stepbrother.

  Jenny, on the other hand, who had also risen awkwardly to her feet, did not, Rona thought, seem at her best. She looked pale, there were shadows round her eyes and, since she wasn’t very tall, her seven-month pregnancy seemed to make her top heavy.

  They all seated themselves, more drinks were ordered, and gifts exchanged. Tom had given his privately, but Lindsey produced a bottle of champagne, Daniel and Jenny an amethyst brooch, and Rona and Max the paperweight. All were exclaimed over with delight, amid protestations that they shouldn’t have bothered.

  ‘Have you been here before?’ Daniel asked Rona, who was sitting next to him.

  ‘Only once, soon after Max and I were engaged. It doesn’t seem to have changed much.’

  ‘If it ain’t broke . . .’ Daniel said. ‘Jen and I come roughly once a month. It’s great to be within walking distance – no bother about driving home after drinks, or having to phone for a taxi.’

  ‘Yes, we’ve a restaurant near us that has the same advantages.’

  Daniel hesitated, then said in a low voice, ‘I hope you won’t think it a cheek, but I wanted to let you know how fond we are of your father.’

  Rona looked at him, surprised. ‘That’s nice of you.’

  ‘I mean it. Ma’s a different person; he’s made her come alive again. I hadn’t realized till now just how lonely she must have been since Dad died. I couldn’t be happier they’ve come together.’

  ‘And to return the compliment, I’m very fond of Catherine,’ Rona replied. ‘It was awkward at first, because I met her before she and Pops became an item and liked her enormously. Then there was a difficult phase . . .’

  ‘I know. It must have been hard not to resent her, on your mother’s behalf.’

  ‘Still, that’s behind us now. Mum’s made a new life for herself and seems happy, and you only have to look at Pops and Catherine to see how well suited they are.’

  They were interrupted by the maître d’ approaching to say their table was ready. As they rose to follow him, Rona saw a spasm pass over Jenny’s face, and made an instinctive move towards her. But Jenny caught her eye and smilingly, almost imperceptibly, shook her head. Then Daniel took her arm and they all went through to the restaurant.

  Rona was glad to see Lindsey was seated next to Daniel. Exposure to some of that charm should help soften her attitude towards the extension of the family. Having omitted to look at the menu in the bar, they now proceeded to discuss their choices. Jenny, apologizing for the fact that she wasn’t hungry, announced she would just like some soup, and Rona caught Daniel’s anxious glance. They gave their orders, wines were selected, and talk resumed again. And it was Jen
ny who brought up the subject Rona had been expecting.

  ‘We saw your name in the paper,’ she began. ‘It all sounded very gruesome.’

  ‘It was, yes,’ Rona agreed quietly.

  ‘How did you come to be there?’ Daniel asked, and she launched resignedly into an explanation of her connection with the Curzons, and her prior meeting with Julia.

  ‘So you actually knew her?’ Jenny exclaimed. ‘That makes it all the worse. What a coincidence, though, that she should turn out to be related to the Curzons, when you were writing about them.’

  Coincidence was hardly the word, Rona thought ruefully, but she didn’t elaborate, nor did she embark on the story of the handbag. She’d given an adequate explanation, and she didn’t propose to expand on it.

  The meal progressed, and conversation became less formal as they started to relax with each other. Pops looked ten years younger, Rona thought fondly; retirement from the stresses and strains of the bank, together with his new life with Catherine, had obviously paid dividends. Her eyes moved to her sister, chatting animatedly to Daniel. There was something about Linz today, some inner excitement that Rona couldn’t quite fathom. When they had a moment alone, she’d ask the reason for it.

  While the rest of them worked their way through the courses, Jenny, having managed barely half her bowl of soup, toyed with her bread roll and smilingly insisted she was fine, just not hungry. Since she was clearly embarrassed at not taking a full part in the meal, nobody pressed her, but Rona noticed Daniel’s constant glance in her direction, and found herself sharing his anxiety.

  The crisis came as they were finishing coffee. Jenny made a sudden movement, said hurriedly, ‘Please excuse me a moment,’ and, as she started up from her chair, gave a little cry and bent over, clutching her stomach.

  ‘Darling, what is it?’ Daniel was instantly at her side and Tom, too, was on his feet.

  Jenny’s face had blanched, but she attempted a smile. ‘Sorry, I’m all right now. It was just—’

  But she was unable to finish. Another wave of pain washed over her and she gasped for breath.

  ‘Where’s the nearest hospital?’ Tom demanded briskly, as, between them, he and Daniel helped her from the room, anxiously followed by Catherine.

  ‘Stokely.’ Catherine’s face was as white as Jenny’s; Tom knew she was remembering their headlong dash through the darkness, to be greeted with news of a miscarriage. Oh God, he thought, please not again.

  ‘No time to wait for an ambulance,’ he said. ‘We’ll take her ourselves – we can be there in twenty minutes.’ Then, to Jenny, ‘Sit down here for a minute, while I bring the car round.’

  As he hurried outside, Max, Rona and Lindsey, unsure what to do for the best, joined the group in the foyer.

  Daniel turned to Catherine. ‘It’s the baby, isn’t it, Ma?’ he said in a low voice.

  ‘It could be a false alarm,’ she answered steadily, ‘but Tom’s right, she needs to be in hospital.’

  ‘There’s a list of what she’ll need on the pegboard in the kitchen. Could you possibly get it together and bring it over?’

  ‘Of course.’

  Max said, ‘We’ll drive you to the house, then on to Stokely.’

  Lindsey, who’d been keeping watch at the entrance, said suddenly, ‘The car’s here.’

  Two minutes later, with Daniel in the back seat next to Jenny, Tom had driven off, and those who were left looked at each other in disbelief. Rona put an arm round Catherine. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘If it’s not a false alarm, seven-month babies are fine nowadays.’

  Catherine nodded. ‘The main worry, though, is when she lost the last one, they couldn’t stop the bleeding, and she nearly died herself. That’s what’ll be uppermost in Daniel’s mind.’

  Max, deciding no comment he could offer would be appropriate, turned to practicalities. ‘I’ll settle the bill, then I’ll bring our car round.’

  Catherine roused herself. ‘Oh, Max, I can’t expect you to do that. Tom—’

  ‘Don’t worry, we can sort things out later.’

  The next hour or so seemed totally unreal. Rona and Lindsey helped Catherine gather the necessities required – an easy task, since most of them were laid out ready in the spare room. Perhaps Jenny had had a premonition she mightn’t go full-term. Within fifteen minutes they, too, were on the road to Stokely, a journey passed for the most part in subdued silence.

  On arrival at the hospital, they found Tom in the relatives’ room. He came quickly to them, taking both Catherine’s hands in his.

  ‘Daniel’s with her,’ he said quickly. ‘They’ve confirmed she’s gone into labour, but apart from the fact that it’s several weeks early, all seems to be progressing smoothly.’

  Catherine nodded, her face tense. She turned to the others. ‘Thank you so much for coming to the rescue,’ she said. ‘There’s really no need for you to stay – Tom will be with me, and of course we’ll let you know as soon as there’s any news.’ She gave a tight little smile. ‘I’m sorry the lunch party ended so dramatically.’

  Rona kissed her. ‘Perhaps your grandchild will share your birthday,’ she said.

  At eleven o’clock that evening, Tom phoned to say that Jenny had had a little girl half an hour earlier. She weighed only four and a half pounds and had been put in an incubator, but seemed to be holding her own. Jenny was exhausted, but delighted with her tiny daughter.

  ‘Are you and Catherine coming home?’ Rona asked.

  ‘Yes, and Daniel too; there’s no accommodation here. He’ll be back first thing in the morning, and will let us know how things are.’

  ‘Give everyone our love and congratulations,’ Rona said.

  It was only as she turned out the light that she remembered she’d not asked Lindsey the cause of her secret excitement.

  Fourteen

  Avril heard the news when she arrived at Lightbourne Avenue the next day. Talk of Daniel and Jenny had taken her by surprise; it had never occurred to her that Catherine might have children – indeed, she’d never given the matter any thought. Now, suddenly, they were thrust, fully formed, into her consciousness, together with the realization that the son would be stepbrother to her own daughters. It was not an idea she found comfortable.

  ‘So Pops will be a step-grandfather!’ Rona ended with a laugh.

  ‘Which, the way you two are going, seems likely to be as close as he’ll get!’ Avril retorted, with a return to her old sharpness. Then, seeing the look her daughters exchanged, she flushed. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said quietly, ‘that was uncalled for. It took me by surprise, that’s all. I hadn’t realized – Catherine – had a son.’

  Who would also be Tom’s stepson, and she liked that thought even less. Though he’d never said so, she’d always suspected he regretted not having a son; now, by default, he’d been presented with one – another reason to resent Catherine.

  Max, who’d been down in the kitchen putting the last touches to the meal, appeared in the doorway to announce it was ready – a welcome interruption to the conversation. He escorted Avril downstairs, but Rona put a restraining hand on her sister’s arm.

  ‘Are you going to tell me why you’re glowing like a hundred-watt bulb?’

  Lindsey smiled. ‘I meant to yesterday, but events took over. Dominic did ring back, and guess what, Ro? He wanted to take me to Paris for the day! He has a private plane, apparently.’

  Rona gazed at her wide-eyed. ‘Well done, sis! This time you’ve netted yourself a millionaire!’

  ‘The only drawback was it was for yesterday; he was quite put out that I wouldn’t renege on the family lunch, but when I stuck to my guns, he invited me for Tuesday instead.’

  ‘There!’ Rona exclaimed triumphantly. ‘What did I tell you? So you’re going to Paris on Tuesday?’

  ‘Not to Paris, no, just out to dinner. But he is rather special, Ro, private plane or not.’

  ‘It sounds to me as though he’s used to having his own way, so be careful
you don’t always give it to him,’ Rona advised, as they went down to lunch.

  By tradition, there were two occasions each year when the entire Curzon family gathered for lunch. One was Christmas Day, the other Easter Sunday. This year, it was to be held at Edward and Anna’s house in Nettleton, and tables had been laid end to end to stretch the full width of the conservatory. Anna had placed the six children at one end, knowing they would want to escape as soon as possible. She’d considered the option of seating them at a separate table, but there were two disadvantages: firstly, Harry would refuse point-blank to be classed as a child and placed with his sister and four girl-cousins; and secondly, without the children and in the absence of Jackie and Bill, who were abroad and not really Curzons anyway, the adults would number thirteen.

  A ridiculous superstition, Anna had chided herself, but with all the trouble at the moment – sabotage at the factory, the advent of anonymous letters, and, worst of all, poor Julia’s murder – she didn’t want to take any chances.

  And now, after potage bonne femme, followed by roast lamb and all the trimmings and a choice of desserts, the children had indeed left them, Harry to escape to his room with a DVD and the little girls to open Easter eggs in what was still called the playroom. Coffee was on the table, and Edward had produced liqueurs.

  ‘A lovely meal, dear,’ Elizabeth said with satisfaction, sitting back in her chair. ‘Easter wouldn’t be Easter without roast lamb.’

  Charles gave a slight cough, and, as he’d intended, they all turned to him. ‘I know these occasions have always been purely social,’ he began, ‘but since James and I retired, we’re seldom all together like this, and I feel we should take the opportunity to discuss some matters that concern us. If Edward and Anna will allow?’

  Anna, whose heart had sunk, murmured the anticipated consent, as did her husband.

  ‘First of all, this ghastly murder. There don’t seem to have been any developments over the last few days. I’d ask you all to rack your brains and see if you can come up with any reason at all why Julia should have been in Chilswood, let alone at the cemetery.’