SUSIE CALLED BY THE SHOP ONE EVENING JUST AS Rachel was closing up. ‘I wondered if you had that cash for me?’ she asked.
Rachel looked in the till and there wasn’t quite enough. ‘Walk down the road to the bank with me and I’ll withdraw the rest,’ she suggested. ‘Have you been Christmas shopping?’
‘Just a spot of business,’ Susie said, looking round. ‘I like your shop. It’s like a brothel in a 1920s film starring Greta Garbo.’
Rachel smiled. ‘Oh dear, those films always have tragic endings.’
It was a relief when the cash machine disgorged the money she needed to pay Susie, something it would not have done before the newspaper feature on the Van der Heyden clothes boosted trade.
‘Do you fancy a drink?’ Susie asked. ‘I could do with one.’
Her car was parked near the beach, so she suggested they went to a seafront bar, one of the ones that were packed with customers on summer evenings, when they spilled out, glasses in hand, onto the stony beach. Now the awning flapped noisily in the wind and there was only one barman on duty serving a handful of customers. The front wall was glass, with a view to the sea, but at six o’clock it was already so dark Rachel couldn’t pick out the West Pier.
She was wearing a dark green Jacquard evening coat that she loved, but it wasn’t quite warm enough for the icy weather. She kept it huddled around her as they ordered gin and tonics and a dish of olives, and chose a corner table next to a radiator.
‘The thing about the Mainbocher,’ Susie began, as if continuing their previous conversation, ‘is that it’s not mine to sell. I’m not sure why it was in the house.’
‘Wallis isn’t around to say that it wasn’t a gift. It’s in your possession so I’m sure we could get around that,’ Rachel countered.
Susie continued as if she hadn’t heard. ‘Besides, you must be very busy with your wedding coming up. Just a couple of weeks to go, isn’t it?’
Rachel persevered. ‘I have a friend who arranges auctions. I’d give it to him so it would be no trouble. Do you have any idea if one of your ancestors knew Wallis? Or mixed in her social circle?’
‘I think my grandmother was at school with her in Baltimore, but she didn’t like her much – said she found her stand-offish.’
Rachel was intrigued. ‘That’s interesting. Did she tell you anything else? Did she socialise with Wallis in the 1930s when she was in London?’
‘No, I’m sure she didn’t. I would have heard about it.’ Susie seemed keen to change the subject. ‘What are you wearing for the big day?’ she asked.
Rachel described the Molyneux dress that Richard had loaned her, and how excited she was to wear it.
‘Are you engaged?’ she asked, noticing a large diamond solitaire glinting on the ring finger of Susie’s left hand.
She looked down. ‘No, this is a family ring. My love life is unbelievably complicated. I’ve always been the independent type, and for the last five years I’ve been seeing a man just like me who lives in Cornwall. Trouble is, I find I want more than a weekend lover, but he won’t move and I won’t leave my estate, so we are stuck in an impasse.’
‘That’s hard,’ Rachel sympathised. ‘I’ve been in a relationship like that.’
‘It gets worse,’ Susie continued. ‘I hired a private detective to tail him – I’ve been meeting the detective this afternoon – and he told me my boyfriend has another lover during the week.’
Rachel snorted in disbelief. ‘You did what?’
Susie grinned self-deprecatingly. ‘It’s crazy, because it was hideously expensive when I’m supposed to be saving money. But at least I know how the land lies.’
‘What are you going to do about it?’ Rachel knew she would never hire a detective to check up on Alex, no matter what.
‘That’s just it: nothing probably. So it was a complete waste of money.’ She drained her glass and signalled to the barman to bring them two more drinks, although Rachel was only halfway down her first.
‘Why not talk to him about it?’
‘God, no! I’m far too proud to let him find out I had him tailed.’ She laughed. ‘It’s my little extravagance and now I’ll have to tighten the purse strings again.’
Someone walked into the bar and a blast of icy air hit them. Rachel rubbed her arms. The barman brought their drinks and Susie gulped hers thirstily.
‘So why not let me sell the Mainbocher at auction and get some of the money back?’ Rachel persevered.
Susie gave a deep sigh. ‘I’ve got my reasons.’ She sounded a little tipsy. ‘But I can’t possibly tell you when you have a TV producer boyfriend who makes documentaries about . . . about stuff like this.’
‘I promise I won’t breathe a word of it to Alex if you don’t want me to.’ Rachel was mystified. ‘You can trust me, Susie.’
‘It’s just that I don’t want anyone looking into my family’s association with Wallis Simpson.’ She gazed towards the blacked-out beach and seemed to be considering her words.
‘So there is an association?’ Rachel asked.
‘It’s not what you think. She was no friend of the family. In fact she stole something from us. Diana was trying to get it back for me when she . . . when she died.’ Susie’s voice tailed off, her face a mask of misery.
‘Wallis stole something? What was it?’ Rachel was spellbound.
‘Nothing especially valuable to anyone else: just a painting by my grandfather.’
‘But why did she steal it?’
‘That’s a long story.’ Susie shook her head. ‘The point is that I asked Diana to go to the Villa Windsor and try to persuade them to give it to me. Until I phoned, she had been planning to fly straight to London so she could see her boys the next day.’ Her face appealed for understanding. ‘But it was my grandma’s hundredth birthday and it would have been the best present ever if I could have got her painting back. Duch, bless her, would do a favour for anyone, so she agreed they would spend the night at Dodi’s flat in Paris and bring the painting to London with her in the morning. Without me, they would both still be alive.’
Her eyes filled with tears that started to spill down her cheeks. Rachel put an arm round her. ‘That doesn’t make it your fault,’ she said. ‘It was the fault of a drunk driver.’
‘Perhaps, perhaps not, but that’s how the media would see it. I keep imagining the world’s press arriving on my doorstep. Can you imagine the headlines? “She’s to blame” they would say alongside my picture. The coverage of Diana’s death has been so hysterical, I’m sure that’s what would happen.’ Susie wiped her tears with the back of her hand, smearing watery mascara across her cheekbone.
‘First of all,’ Rachel said, ‘there’s no reason for it to come out in the press. Secondly, if by some fluke it did, they would write about Diana making a selfless gesture to help a friend. That’s more the tone of the coverage. As far as the media are concerned, she’s a saint.’
Susie pulled a paper napkin from a dispenser and blew her nose into it. ‘It’s too unpredictable. I can’t take the risk. They might even turn up at Grandma’s nursing home. The paparazzi can be scum.’
Rachel was puzzling over Susie’s revelation. ‘Are you sure the painting was the only reason Diana went to Paris? I heard that Dodi picked up a ring from a jeweller’s near the Ritz that day, which his father thinks he was going to give her as an engagement ring. And I believe she might have been given some kind of bracelet while she was at the Villa Windsor.’ She described the platinum heart with a J on one side and XVII on the other, telling Susie that Diana wasn’t wearing it in pictures before going to the Villa Windsor, only after. It was still nestled in the zip pocket of her purse because she hadn’t decided what else to do with it, but she didn’t show Susie in case she asked awkward questions about how Rachel came to have it.
‘Who do you think gave it to her?’ Susie asked, dabbing at her eyes.
Rachel shrugged. ‘I don’t know. We can’t find out any more about it. But you mustn’t blame yourself. That’s a horrible burden to bear.’ She glanced at Susie’s empty glass. ‘Can I get you another drink?’
Susie shook her head. ‘No, I’d better not. I’m driving. I’ll help you with yours though.’ Rachel hadn’t even started her second drink so Susie poured half of it into her own glass and took a slurp.
‘Are you sure you’re OK to drive?’
‘On two G and Ts? Course I am. I can tell you’re a townie; everyone drink-drives in the country.’
As they walked up to Susie’s Land Rover, which was parked in one of the bays along the seafront, Rachel wondered if she should try to talk her out of driving, but sensed she wouldn’t pay any attention.
‘Thanks for listening,’ Susie said as she got into the driver’s seat. ‘You’re the first person I’ve told about all this.’ She gave a loud sniff, put her keys in the ignition and threw her handbag onto the passenger seat. ‘And you’re right: I can see it’s irrational to blame myself for Diana dying. It’s just that I miss her so terribly.’
She pulled her door shut, and as she drove off, Rachel could see that she was crying again.