20

‘YOU DID WHAT?’

The violence of Ursula’s reaction convinced Charlotte she had been wise to meet Derek Fairfax before going to Swans’ Meadow. There would have been no possibility of winning her consent to handing him the tape, let alone the private detective’s report. It might have been different had Charlotte been able to claim any success for her American trip. As it was, she could not. The hopes Ursula had nourished in her absence had been dashed. All of which would have been bad enough without Charlotte’s final revelation.

‘You gave them to Fairfax?’

‘He has a right to them, Ursula. His brother is completely innocent.’

‘So’s Sam, in case you’ve forgotten.’

‘I haven’t. But this has nothing to—’

‘How do you think she’ll feel when she knows you helped brand her father a murderer?’

‘Badly. As I did when I found out what he’d done.’

‘But the report was mine. Beatrix sent it to me, not you!’

‘And you were prepared to let Fairfax-Vane go to prison despite having the means to prevent it. That might have been forgivable while Maurice was alive. But not now.’

‘This has nothing to do with Maurice.’ Ursula’s voice dropped. Her eyes narrowed. ‘Or some washed-up antique dealer. You’ve done this to hurt me, haven’t you?’

‘Of course I haven’t.’

‘Yes you have. This is your way of getting back at me for Emerson.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. I’m simply trying to repair some of the damage caused by Maurice’s greed.’

‘And I suppose you know nothing about greed. Or envy. Or lust. They’re total strangers to you, aren’t they, Charlie? They’ve never crossed your virtuous path through life.’ She stepped closer. ‘What a nauseating little Miss Perfect you are.’

‘Insulting me isn’t going to help Sam.’

‘No. But nor is letting your conscience govern my life. I trusted you with that report – and with the information it contained. If I’d known what you intended to do with it, I’d never have told you it existed.’

‘Then I’m glad you didn’t know.’

A stinging blow from the back of Ursula’s hand caught Charlotte round the mouth before she was aware of it being aimed. She rocked back on her heels and clutched at the bureau for support. ‘What … What are you doing?’ she cried.

‘Get out of this house, Charlie! Get out of my bloody sight!’

‘But … We need … We need to talk.’

‘I don’t need to talk to you. That’s the very last thing I need to do. Now, for Christ’s sake, get out!’

‘What about Sam?’

‘Let me worry about her!’

‘But there’s so much—’

‘I’ll handle this on my own, as I should have done all along, without any interference from your bloody conscience!’ They stared at each other for a moment, then Ursula added, emphasizing every word: ‘Please leave my home. Now!’

Charlotte could find no answer. There suddenly seemed to be nothing between them except the hatred flaring in Ursula’s eyes. The pact they had silently concluded after Maurice’s death stood exposed as a sham. Their alliance was at an end. If, indeed, it had ever begun. Without another word, Charlotte turned and hurried from the room.

She drove across the bridge into Cookham, scarcely able to see for tears of shock and anger. There she stopped in a car park to dry her eyes and dab the blood from the tear at the corner of her mouth. She guessed Ursula’s diamond-encrusted eternity ring had inflicted the damage and recalled being shown it for the first time nearly ten years ago. ‘Look what Maurice has given me,’ Ursula had cooed, displaying her ring finger for Charlotte’s admiration. ‘He’s such a darling, isn’t he?’ Everything about those distant days had been false and fraudulent – every gift, every smile, every declaration of love and loyalty. Yet at times such as this, Charlotte wished she could still believe all the lies she had been told. They were so much more comfortable than the truth she was left with in place of them. And had now to face. Alone.